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They found him. After nearly five years Tretij Rebenok had thought he should have been ready to give up, yet he never did seem to be able to shake the feeling that this day would come; even just thinking about it brings shivers down his spine, from anticipation or excitement or fright, he can’t even tell anymore.
He wonders if Eli will even still remember him, ever thinks of him like Tretij Rebenok still thinks of his only friend.
All he knows has come in the form of an email alert that blips in the dark of the night, a little program he persuaded a tech from work to install on their computers to inform him at the first sign of Eli’s reappearance. Tretij Rebenok, taken in by the KGB back when Eli became a hostage in Iraq, had little hope or ability to find him on his own; coming to America to avoid the fallout of the Soviet collapse, prostrating himself before the FBI with what little knowledge he could offer and his powers in exchange for survival, for a scrap of hope… He had hated it, had even told himself he hated Eli for putting him in this position at all. But now, with the end of his wait so close, he knew it wasn’t hate creating this heady rush that left him shaking.
He doesn’t trust the FBI in the least, knows he’s nothing more than their pet project, a cute little weapon to trot out like a show pony whenever they need, handing him a string of codenames and wincing at his rough accent like a mongrel they begrudgingly let in from the cold. Being in his early twenties doesn’t help him in gaining any respect either, the youngest person ever in his department: untrustworthy because of inexperience, because of his heritage, his past that makes him a liability.
Now, pulling on his layers of coats and a dark surgical mask, Tretij Rebenok can’t help but snort a laugh through the thin cotton. They really were absolutely right not to trust him, and the numerous files he had hidden in a lockbox, seeing the light only briefly before they were tucked away again in a travel bag, was plenty proof of that. Smeared with the red ink of confidential stamps and the shadows of redactions, it had taken years of exhaustive manipulation to build it all, and as Tretij Rebenok continued to pack his bag, he chose not to think of the potential for it all to combust in his face.
Instead, he stood straight, grabbing a hat to cover his shorn but too-bright hair, leaving his small apartment without bothering to lock the door. He had a few calls to make, and somewhere to be.
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No matter how many years passed to dull the unfortunate memories, Tretij Rebenok was sure he would hate airplanes until the day he died. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, focused on nothing but keeping his mind clear and calm despite the pressurized cabin and the annoying cacophony of other thoughts pressing on his skull for the ensuing eight hours. Even if he hadn’t slept in well over twenty-four hours at this point, he couldn’t lose composure, couldn’t forget the focus of his mission as he was continually prodded in a sea of prying eyes.
Heathrow was hellish in a different way, but at the very least the continual crush of people provided him with decent cover, everyone more concerned with their own business than the affairs of strangers. No, the truly difficult part of this venture was yet to come, hailing one of the taxi drivers in the arrivals sector to take him to the Royal Airforce Hospital in Lincolnshire; he couldn’t be completely certain that Eli would still be there, or if he would have been moved to another hospital in the meantime, but that remained a bridge to cross if he ever got to it at all. It was difficult enough to sit through three hours in a car after eight on the plane, stomach gnawing him apart with nerves and his driver in constant need of persuasion to continue so far out of his way, led by a young man that strangely seemed to float rather than really sit.
Nocton Hall wasn’t really was Tretij Rebenok was expecting for a hospital, the building more like an old house than anything he was familiar with, the secluded location leaving him with a vague sense of unease as the chill fall air settled on his clothes. He and the taxi driver were both glad to be rid of each other, Tretij Rebenok setting his shoulders before heading up the street toward the Hall; it looked to be nearly abandoned in its old age, only a smattering of people and bored officers still hanging on to the cracked paint, their minds nothing worth prying into. It wouldn’t have been impossible to turn them all away and proceed inside unhindered, but there was a need for answers he wouldn’t get for doing that alone.
The guard at the station near to the door stiffened up once he noticed Tretij Rebenok’s approach, a hand on his rifle and brain abuzz with curiosity and worry – strangers out of the blue like this rarely boded well. The hospital already looked enough like it was only a few ghost stories from being shut down, never mind the appearance of someone who looked like a phantom. Tretij Rebenok did his best to wave his hand genially, a wooden smile behind his mask that was useless as it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Can I help you… sir?” The guard ventured, Tretij relaxing slightly at the accent: American. He knew well enough from the location report he had read on the flight that despite the location, Nocton Hall was still technically under use by American troops, but he had presumed a few native British might still be running about, especially since the Gulf War ended long enough ago that it was surprising Nocton Hall would still be of use at all. Then again, a private hospital like this would be a good location for the sort of integration and recovery necessary for someone like Eli.
“My name is Jan Novák,” Tretij Rebenok lied readily, pulling his wallet from his pocket and flipping it open for the officer’s view. “FBI. Had a long flight here to speak to one of your recent acquisitions: Elijah, the prisoner of war taken back from Iraq,” While his voice was rough and caught on his accent, the guard didn’t seem to be listening close enough to care at all, focused on the badge in front of him until Tretij Rebenok took it back with a snap of his gloves. “Can you take me to see him, or must I wait for someone else?”
“Let me call someone for you – new guy’s under a lot of security right now, more than usual for someone who damn near took out ten men alone when he first started coming to,” The man grabbed a walkie situated on his hip, flicking it to the correct channel before asking his superior officer to come down to meet with an “urgent guest.” Tretij Rebenok briefly attenuated to his thoughts, sensing the anxiety and interest swirling together; it wasn’t every day that an FBI agent showed up to the middle of nowhere looking to speak to a patient.
The lieutenant who came to bring Tretij Rebenok along into the hospital was on edge at their first meeting, looking him over like a feral creature that might suddenly turn and bite; Tretij Rebenok had no desire to quell those nervous thoughts, knowing they gave him an edge. But there was tightness in his own chest that only bound tighter with every step they walked, his mind wanting to escape its confines and seek familiarity in another. Being so lost in thought, he missed the majority of the lieutenant’s needless yammering about the historical value of Nocton, catching up only when the subject changed to what truly mattered.
“…figured there was something real strange about this guy,” The lieutenant’s voice just barely echoed in the dusty hall, covered up by the shuffling of nurses and doctors, the coughs and murmurs of the ill. “We’ve held control of this place for some time without the Brits coming by to say shit about it – then suddenly we get this POW, first any of us have seen in an age, and British himself to boot and a real nightmare to bring in, the brainwashing is so bad on him… and of course once we get him calmed down enough to be cooperative for an identifier, the Secret Service was in and out of here…” He rambled with only Tretij Rebenok’s occasional hum of interest or nod to continue, not once finding his sudden chattiness strange.
“The British Secret Service was here looking at him?” Tretij Rebenok finally spoke, eyes narrowing beneath the brim of his hat. That wouldn’t bode well, if they decided to act soon. He may very well have far less time than anticipated. “I don’t suppose you have any idea what they were speaking to him about? Or if he was cooperative with them at all?” He asked, sensing the answer before the lieutenant even shook his head. Useless.
“Not a clue. They wanted privacy for whatever discussion they had, nobody in or out for hours. I don’t think they got anywhere, except maybe further into frustration,” The lieutenant shrugged, unbothered. “Between them showing up and now you, I guess I should know better than to get involved. Don’t imagine it would get me anything but trouble.” They turned and entered a wing that was quieter than the others, one door near to the end that Tretij Rebenok could see had two sentinels in front, guardians should the unruly charge make an escape attempt. To know his goal was so close made his heart hammer into his ribs.
“…Due to the sensitive nature of my visit, I hope I can expect you and the rest of the personnel to forget they saw me,” Tretij Rebenok spoke around the lump in his throat, thankful that his voice didn’t waver at the thought of what lay beyond the door. He didn’t truly listen for the confirmation, knowing the answer already; even if they didn’t say as much, he would make sure any memory of him they did keep was warped or erased to the point of uselessness. “I will send for anyone should I need them. Until then, I don’t want anyone down this wing, not even the guards, understood?” The trio looked at him with apprehension, soothed over easily with a nod of his head and wave of his hand. It really was all too easy sometimes, to redirect fools back to their follies and out of his business.
Then it truly was just him left in the silence of the great hall, decorated like a decaying mansion more than a hospital, forgotten but trudged back up like so many of Tretij Rebenok’s memories were to be. Panic was starting to set in with a thousand questions: would Eli remember? Could he, after all this time apart, the trauma they both endured in the years since? Did Eli even care to see him again? There were so many things said and unsaid that followed him like a wraith, irreparable scars carved on his soul. It took several shaking breaths to steady himself, aware of his control slipping by the clatter of the paintings on the walls, dislodging dust into the air. This meeting had to go well. To have any hope of a meaningful future, it could be nothing short of perfect.
Tretij Rebenok finally opened the thick wooden door, the hinges groaning briefly as he stepped in and shut it firmly behind him, twisting the lock for good measure. The room itself was sparsely decorated; nothing available that could be readily made into a makeshift weapon, the windows barred and curtains closed, the space lacking the homier touches the rest of the hospital maintained. The bed looked so small in the center of it all, white on dingy white blurring Tretij Rebenok’s vision as he walked in further, boots barely brushing the ground. Beneath the covers there was no movement other than the steady rise and fall of breathing, no indication of awareness.
Eli might have changed in their years apart, but here and now, this young man was still certainly, unmistakably him. His blond hair was slicked back with dirt and grease, a style reminiscent of when they were children in Africa, tan and lightly freckled from his time spent in the sun. There were lines of scars and old injuries, some familiar and some new, even more hidden beneath the stiffly bleached covers and pristine bandages. Minute frown lines had begun settling in beside chapped lips, causing him to look older than his twenty-three years – for just a moment, even Tretij Rebenok had forgotten how long it had been, dropping his bag and raising a hand briefly before withdrawing.
He so desperately craved that connection, that old feeling that was long dead and gone; Eli’s mind was changed now, and even just a caress of contact proved how different things were, how closed off they had both become to protect themselves in a hard world. It wasn’t that Tretij Rebenok had expected to find the same boy from years ago tucked up here, untouched by time, but the difference was so terribly stark, a cursory shift through subconscious thoughts revealing further years of bitterness and loneliness and pain, that same anger and spite fueling him as it had so long ago. At least that would always remain recognizable.
There remained a sluggishness just beneath the surface there, the warmth of a drugged stupor that Tretij Rebenok wasn’t surprised to feel; of course they wouldn’t want Eli at his full strength when he was still so unpredictable. A cursory glance at the medical equipment nearby was enough to confirm his suspicions, noting the leather bracers keeping Eli’s arms tight to the metal railing of the bed, one wrist turned upward for the IV needle to stick in. Never a fan of needles, having to remove it himself made Tretij Rebenok’s stomach turn, dabbing at the small pinprick of blood that welled up there with the corner of the blanket. Eli would come to soon enough.
Or sooner, if the grumbling huff at the needle’s removal was any indication, Tretij Rebenok flinching at the sound and catching those blue eyes cracked open and fixed on him, hardly any hint of responsiveness in that dark gaze. It made Tretij Rebenok’s heart stop regardless, looking for recognition there that wasn’t forthcoming in the haze of Eli’s head. The bed creaked briefly as Eli tested his bonds again and, unable to do more than he had before, settled back to where he was, eyes slipping shut; if he had any worry for having someone like Tretij Rebenok standing over his bed, he didn’t show it. Of course, it was equally unlikely that he had the ability to at the present.
As much as he felt that he should say something, anything, any words he could come up with got stuck in Tretij Rebenok’s throat before he could voice them. Years apart and a thousand hardships between them, the resentment and hope that tainted it all… Maybe none of it truly mattered now, but it made anything Tretij Rebenok could think to say feel truly superfluous. Even now he was still waiting on Eli to make the first move, he thought, how pathetic.
It was an eternity to wait for the drugs to ebb out of Eli’s system enough to drag him into lucidity, Tretij Rebenok a silent observer. Monitoring his mind was a dangerous proposition when all Tretij Rebenok wanted to do was break down the barriers Eli had built, to dig in deeper and see for himself the answers to all the burning questions he had amassed in his years alone. Like this, Eli was surprisingly pliant, likely wouldn’t even feel a thing if Tretij Rebenok had tried… He allowed himself a little give, pulling off his gloves and tucking them with shaking hands into his coat pockets. Eli’s skin was so warm compared to his own that it felt like fire on his fingers when he brushed them along the back of Eli’s hand, shuddering at the way his power pushed at the edges of his control, like a hungry monster clawing frantically for a way to slip in and take hold, recognizing the broken connection and wanting more.
Reigning in that latent desire, Tretij Rebenok breathed slow, his grip on Eli’s arm spreading, relaxing. He didn’t dare push too hard and risk Eli’s already fragile mental state, but even this small breach to the subconscious wasn’t easy to maintain, not with the way Eli had grown so guarded and suspicious, years of torture and uncertainty scarring his mind even more than his body. A gentle caress was unheard of, an offer of trust unbelievable. To have only this small glance, it made Tretij Rebenok wonder if Eli would remember him at all, if this whole journey was going to be for nothing. Was there enough of either of them left, to be recognizable?
Drawn up by the mental interference there was a quickening pulse, a sharp intake of breath, a sudden surge that made Tretij Rebenok pull back quickly to see Eli’s eyes on him again, focused and weary, something strange that was hard to pick out amidst it all. Tretij Rebenok held his breath, waiting for an inkling of recognition, of some sort of familiarity, quivering with nervousness and biting his tongue. For a long moment, nothing seemed to be forthcoming, Tretij Rebenok lost trying to think of the right words to say in such a situation when Eli pulled weakly at his bonds as though trying to sit up further. Tretij Rebenok moved forward as though to help before stopping, unsure of what he should really do, if setting Eli loose was the right move when he still seemed so unpredictable.
“It really is you this time, isn’t it,” Eli spoke, his words rough with sand and sleep, grit built up in his years gone. Tretij Rebenok balked a little at that, silent as Eli looked him over as though picking him apart. “You never looked any older when I would see you before, you were always…” he trailed off, pulling again with more force against the trappings that kept him in place, a dangerous animal confined.
“You… saw me…?” Tretij Rebenok found his voice then, confused, daring to edge a little closer again now that he didn’t sense any hostility; instead he felt a lingering sadness, a lonely ache that Eli resonated, so uncharacteristic of the boy he once knew. It was enough to draw Tretij Rebenok in again, brow furrowed as he tried to understand what he was feeling, what Eli was trying to say. Eli’s increasingly frustrated tugging at the bands had Tretij Rebenok cautiously reaching out, gently resting his hand again on Eli’s bared arm.
His intent had been to calm but as one moment shifted to the next, his mind was inundated with visions of another past: scenes of torture in the desert, blood spattered on the sand and dirt, beatings and crude brainwashing techniques to keep their victim pliant. There was anger and regret, enough to curdle Tretij Rebenok’s stomach as the world tilted and he understood; in the blur of red from a fresh wound Eli’s mind conjured limp red curls, the flapping of the dark tent cloth was a tattered straitjacket, the chill of the night air came from bony fingers caressing his flesh. To Eli, put to pain enough to leave him out of his mind, Tretij Rebenok had never left him, the psychic imprint in his mind too much, a piece of the other lonely child left behind in the shadows of memory.
“Maybe I knew it wasn’t really you, but I wanted it to be,” Eli’s words were quiet, somewhat slurred as the drugs continued to leave his system. His mind was laid bare before Tretij Rebenok in a way it had rarely been before, nearly defenseless. It was all starting to feel like a dream, unreal and overwhelming; how much of it was what Eli wanted him to see and know, and what did he no longer have the strength to hide? “I didn’t deserve it to be you. Not after…” Eli trailed off, another flash of imagery that made Tretij Rebenok grit his teeth and close his eyes as he pushed it away. No fight between them had been quite so awful, where the both of them seemed so determined to prove that they were both monsters.
“It was my fault as much as yours.” Tretij Rebenok rasped, swallowing thickly and deciding this vulnerability didn’t suit Eli at all, determined now to undo the bracers and set him free. It was certainly the truth that Tretij Rebenok was no innocent party in all of this - hadn’t been innocent in a very, very long time. Eli watched him undo the buckles at his wrists with something akin to disquiet, rubbing his bared wrists and pushing himself to sit up on shaking arms. Hunched forward on himself he looked a decade older, lost and haggard, his body here but his mind somewhere Tretij Rebenok wasn’t so sure he could follow.
“I may have started it, but you certainly finished it, didn’t you?” Eli deadpanned, tilting his head to look up at his old companion with his gaze growing sharper by the second. Even with Tretij Rebenok attempting to safeguard his mind that barb dug deep and stung, knocking him off balance. Eli could be cruel, but it was nothing less than Tretij Rebenok deserved and he knew it, pierced through with the blazingly clear memory of their last day together: living as squatters in England with nothing to their names, absolute freedom but going nowhere, Eli still desperate for revenge that led him to choose the military for his last chance to find a way to kill his father. Tretij Rebenok’s love had never been enough to matter in the way he needed, and there could never be a happy ending for people like them, not in a lifetime where Tretij Rebenok had clasped Eli’s face between cold hands and thought of how easy it would be to change Eli’s mind, to create what he so desired by carving it into another’s psyche himself.
The terror he saw there in Eli’s eyes, the first and only time Eli had ever been truly, deeply afraid of him… it made Tretij Rebenok want to die. Given an ounce of affection, he had become the monster his father and Skull Face had known he was, that darkness lingering down inside of him just waiting for the chance to claw its way out and grab onto another. To see Eli now, striking him with nothing but that lingering memory, so strong that years and brainwashing hadn’t faded it… Tretij Rebenok rocked back as if physically pained, pulling away with regret rolling off of him in waves, wishing he had never done this, that he had thought better of his stupid plan--
“Shit… Tretij, Tretij stop,” Eli grit his teeth, quicker than he had any right to be as he lay in a hospital bed, darting forward fast as a snake to grab the empath’s arm and pull, keeping him close and grounded. Tretij Rebenok stumbled, forced to grab onto the railing for balance, wide-eyed and breathing far too shallow, shuddering and weak. This close he could see Eli more clearly, the lighter freckles and the lines of familiar scars, the smell of hospital disinfectant stinging his nose with Eli’s confusion pounding in his head. How could Eli worry about him when he was the one in the hospital bed, when they had last seen each other Tretij Rebenok had threatened to unmake his mind the same way Eli’s captors had?
“Listen to me,” Eli was commanding, enough so to make even Tretij Rebenok’s panicked attention redirect. “I don’t give a shit about that anymore, okay? We were both young and stupid and angry and it doesn’t matter.” His grip on Tretij Rebenok’s arm was unshakeable, leaving no room for anything else in the empath’s mind when their eyes were locked. “But… If you can stomach the idea of using that power on me now though, I...” Eli’s voice trailed though his gaze was intense, and Tretij Rebenok could feel in that moment some sort of struggle, a static overlaying what should have been clear between them, Eli searching for the loss of something precious that slipped between his fingers like grains of sand.
“…I don’t know that I can fix whatever has been done to you,” Tretij Rebenok spoke after a long pause wherein his heart felt like it had affixed itself into his throat, once he had figured out what Eli was looking for. Never before in his life or career had he ever needed to reassemble someone’s mind like Eli was asking of him, to sift through the lies and reinstall the truth in their place. Minds simply weren’t structured that way, in his experience; if someone could create a false memory but believe it to be entirely right, what hope did he have of knowing one way or another? “I don’t know that I can, and how can you even trust me to manage it? We’re… we’re hardly better than strangers now.”
Eli scoffed at that, the curl of his lip at such a ridiculous statement a painfully familiar sight. “After everything we’ve been through, after you show up at my hospital bed hours after they drag me back, you can’t honestly expect me to believe that, can you?” The intensity of his stare made Tretij Rebenok avert his eyes, feeling suddenly sheepish. Eli’s hold on his arm gentled slightly, rubbing the thick material of the coat in a strangely comforting gesture. “I know I was tortured. Brainwashed. It’s all they kept telling me, the moment they got me. I definitely know I can’t trust them, they’ll just tell me more lies and then I’ll never know the truth from what was implanted. But you?”
Tretij Rebenok looked back at the pause, noting Eli’s flush, the uptick of his heart rate on the nearby monitor. It was abnormal, this almost frantic build-up that caught the soldier’s breath, making Tretij Rebenok wonder just how much of this was the desperation of the last untainted part of Eli’s mind, reaching out against the rest. “I still have my memories of you. That’s still the one part of my mind they never touched, they never could. Part of you was left behind with me, and that’s how I know you can still help me, Tretij.” The complete and unabashed sincerity of Eli’s voice made Tretij Rebenok’s heart ache in a ribcage he previously thought empty.
Despite the room being far larger than any other hospital room Tretij Rebenok had ever seen, the empath was beginning to feel boxed in, held by a force he couldn’t identify, pulling away from Eli’s grasp and folding in on himself. “What if I don’t do it right? Maybe by accident, or… misremembering,” Tretij Rebenok pulled his coat around himself a little tighter, nails digging in as if it would be enough to ground him against these thoughts. “I could still be mad at you. I am still mad at you, leaving like that…!” The irritation snapped through Tretij Rebenok’s response and his gritted teeth, surprising them both. “You don’t even know what I’ve gone through, because you left!”
Looking up, Tretij Rebenok could see Eli’s expression, the way he grew guarded at the outburst and tensed, ready for a fight; the psychic waited to see if Eli snapped back, as he often did in his younger days, but instead there was an odd air of unfamiliar patience. It didn’t do much to stop Tretij Rebenok’s flourishing irritation, the words he had long thought of in his loneliness coming to light. “I didn’t know who I hated more: you for putting me in this position, or myself, for being so weak that I still came here to see you, to help you…” He paused, rubbing briefly at his face and pulling away the surgical mask to let it fall away, feeling like he couldn’t really breathe, couldn’t get out what he needed to say.
“…This was a bad idea. I don’t know what I thought would happen.” Tretij Rebenok admitted, and he could feel his control fluttering alongside his heartbeat, swallowing hard against it. There was never going to be an easy answer to any of this – that was a conclusion he had come to a long time ago. Two complicated and fucked-up children couldn’t make for rational adults, even if their symbiotic mental connection had kept them somewhat stable for a few years. Wanting everything to be like it used to be was an impossibility, and whatever wishful thinking had possessed Tretij Rebenok to this end now felt like it was suffocating him.
“For what it’s worth,” Eli spoke up, far too calm for the storm that was raging in Tretij Rebenok’s head, “I am sorry. For leaving like that.” Of course he was still too brazen to really look sorry, meeting Tretij Rebenok’s icy stare with not even a flinch. “It isn’t like I got anything out of it, other than getting screwed by everyone in charge. Not all that surprising…” Eli growled, and Tretij Rebenok felt the spark of a strong and pained memory coming from the soldier, one that aligned to the report he had read only a few hours before that detailed how the British Secret Intelligence Service had sold him out for information, knowing that Eli would likely be tortured and killed as a result. Of course those in charge weren’t celebrating his return, after that.
“It sounds like you’re only sorry because you got hurt, not for hurting anyone else,” Tretij Rebenok hissed, matching his tone with a scowl. Even after all this time of wanting an apology, wishing for something to ease the sting of Eli’s leaving, he couldn’t seem to accept it so readily. As an empath, he was searching for more emotion from the other man, looking for far more than what Eli was giving. But Eli never was the giving type. “You’ve always been so selfish. I don’t know what I expected from you.” The disappointment in Tretij Rebenok’s voice was thick with accusation, barbed enough to finally get a reaction.
“I have always been selfish, because that’s what it’s taken for me to survive!” Eli lashed out, sitting up further and leaning forward with the tense posture of a dangerous animal cornered. Tretij refused to be cowed by Eli’s physicality now, not when it hadn’t moved him during their arguments before. “I’d be dead if I always thought about everyone else, and you-“ Eli paused, his jaw set and something in his countenance shifting; Tretij Rebenok couldn’t quite puzzle it out by looks alone, narrowing his eyes and waiting for Eli to collect himself. Eli took one breath, then two, before he sat back again, gripping the bedrail as an outlet for his frustration. “You know I did a lot of things for you that I wouldn’t have done for anyone else. Or maybe you’d say that I was only making you happy for my own reasons?” Eli paused long enough to watch Tretij Rebenok shift uncomfortably, knowing he had been caught out there. Eli snorted, pushing away his blankets irritably. “I’m starting to think you only came just to see how badly I fucked up, by not listening to you back then.”
“And I think you’re projecting. I never wanted to see you like this, Eli,” Tretij Rebenok sighed, feeling some of the tension that had arisen during their spat starting to drain away. “But I suppose if you need a concrete reason, I did bring something I thought you might be interested in.” The psychic motioned for the bag he had discarded before, using his powers to pull it toward him and open the zipper. The folder inside floated free, clipped together so that it didn’t spread its contents even as Tretij Rebenok tossed it onto Eli’s lap. The other man appeared equally interested and wary as he glanced at Tretij Rebenok before opening it, consternation morphing into confusion as he read through.
“These papers… what are they?” Eli’s voice dropped to a rasping whisper, throat going dry as the seriousness of the contents began to dawn on him. Tretij Rebenok moved close enough to rest his fingertips on the cold metal railing.
“I went to work for the FBI in America, in 1991. I was able to gain access to a host of information that would have been impossible to find otherwise,” Tretij Rebenok said, pointing to a few of the documents in Eli’s hands and using his powers to flip between them. Many pages were nothing but text, interspersed with grainy pictures and statistics. “They’ve kept tabs on a lot of things I believed you would want to know about: your father, your twin brother, Diamond Dogs and Metal Gears… Anything I could find related to your past, I took. It isn’t the clearest picture of what has happened in the last decade or so since we were in Africa, but it is something. A few leads.” Tretij Rebenok acted as if it were nothing special, while Eli’s mind continued to reel.
“You brought all this for me?” Eli said but did not look up, though Tretij Rebenok could feel him radiating a sentiment that felt pleasantly like appreciation, warming in his stomach.
“Yes. I wondered for a long time if you would give up this military game of yours to work solo, after you realized the government would never see either of us as anything but pawns.” Tretij Rebenok’s comment was steeped in bitterness, knowing full well now just how little those in power cared about anyone who wasn’t useful to their machinations. If not for his abilities, he would have been left adrift and forgotten by everyone, perhaps even killed by his father all those years ago. Eli didn’t see fit to respond to that, quiet for a few minutes more as he continued to look through all he had been given.
“…Working for the FBI… I guess we both know too much about being pawns by now.” Eli looked up then, his attention turned from the papers to the agent who brought them. The intensity of his stare made Tretij Rebenok feel entirely too small. “I’ve learned the strength of having someone at my back who takes me as I am, not using me strictly for their own ends. It’s been too long since I trusted anyone…. Since I had someone to trust,” The way Eli says it, looking so intently at the empath, makes Tretij Rebenok’s face flare pink, far more sincerity than he’s used to. “But we can work together again! If you have access to this sort of information we-“
“Right back to the hunt?” Tretij cuts him off, whatever warmth he had before now dissipating in a flash of upset. “I didn’t work for the FBI for fun Eli, I did it because I had to, or else I would have had nothing! And now you’d ask me to go back? So you can use me to, what, farm information that might be useful? Is this not enough for you?” Despite the psychic’s fury, Eli holds his own tongue, not giving in to irritation that bleeds between them.
“You hated being in a warzone, I wouldn’t ask you to do it again. At least if you stay in the U.S. you would be safe.” Eli explained, his words picked carefully as to not to worsen the deteriorating conversation between them. Tretij Rebenok didn’t seem terribly convinced, advancing on Eli again until he was hovering over the bed, lithe body bent over with a spindly finger pointed at Eli’s chest. The soldier didn’t bother to move, straightening his back to take whatever scolding the empath had to give.
“You always think you know better than anyone else, don’t you! I’d rather be in a warzone if it at least meant that I didn’t have to do this by myself! I don’t-!” Tretij stopped, biting back any admittance of his loneliness though it doubtless showed regardless. It made him feel so weak and powerless to speak of these human urges and feelings, even to someone who used to know him so well. Tretij Rebenok eventually slunk back as the tension began to unfurl, defeated by his own cowardice and laughing resentfully at himself. “I get it, you know. I figured even you must have hated me in the end, to run off to become a dog of the military just to get away.”
Eli’s surprise at the admission was fleeting on his face, eyebrows raised then furrowing again before he resolved to not let Tretij Rebenok get away. At such close range it wasn’t difficult to do, unsettling the empath when the edges of his coat were forcefully pulled down until his knees settled awkwardly alongside Eli’s hips, towering over the soldier but looking as if he were the one pinned down, eyes wide. “You think I would have spent years with someone I didn’t like?” Eli snarled, sounding offended for a reason beyond Tretij Rebenok’s current comprehension. “I wouldn’t have shared a bed with someone I hated, let you into my head if I hated you! Be mad at me all you want, but don’t you ever think I didn’t care about you, Tretij Rebenok, because I cared about you so much it scared the shit out of me.” His declaration was absolute, shaking Tretij slightly to make sure his point was made.
Tretij Rebenok stared, frozen in place like an insect pinned to a board, held by Eli’s admission and grip. He didn’t know if the words made him want to laugh or cry, to realize that Eli had cared so deeply he had frightened himself. His hands slowly found their way to Eli’s shoulders, steadying himself against this push and pull of emotion. “You were in love with me, and so you ran away. Like a child.” He put it together easily, not needing to be a genius or psychic to know it. Even without the words back then, Tretij Rebenok had known how deeply Eli’s passions could run when he allowed them to. And now, Eli didn’t even try to deny it.
“Love makes you complacent,” Eli explained, “I couldn’t love you and carry out finding and killing my father. I couldn’t just stay with you in some city somewhere laying low for the rest of my life, pretending I didn’t care about my revenge anymore! At least if I made the choice to go alone, then you wouldn’t have to be dragged into any danger.”
“For a moment, you really did sound like you were thinking of someone besides yourself,” Tretij Rebenok’s voice had fallen quiet but retained a hard edge, distracted slightly by all Eli said and the emotion behind it. “But don’t think I can just forgive you because your intentions were good. You still made your choice, čurák.” The bite in the insult had Eli scowling, yanking at Tretij Rebenok’s jacket as though he was trying to retain some semblance of power.
“And what about you? You made your choice to come here and find me, even after all this time, keeping this documentation just in case?” Eli was equally as capable of biting back, a wolf digging its fangs into its prey and refusing to let go. “You came here because you still love me. Nobody else would do what you did, if they weren’t still in love.”
Tretij Rebenok flinched at being called out so thoroughly and accurately, knowing there was no reason to deny and no way could he do so convincingly. “And what if I am? Are you going to twist that against me too, use me until you get your revenge?” His fists clenched at Eli’s shoulders, trembling and worn out from this conversation that pulled at his sentiments and left him wondering what he was trying to accomplish. His voice rasped with an exhaustion born of more than just the last 48 hours, “I’m tired of being used, Eli.”
The tension began to drain from the room, alleviated further by Eli’s sigh of resignation and the mental bleed that washed over them both as a wave of fatigue. There was no point in this fight against someone already on his side, except to drive the empath away; but Tretij Rebenok had never been the sort to leave after an argument, digging in his heels until things calmed. That stubborn determination was likely the only reason he hadn’t left yet, pale eyes flashing. “Fine, I get it. You brought this much to me willingly, and it’s already a lot more than you ever owed to me.” Eli caved, closing his eyes and remembering that it was better to have Tretij Rebenok as an ally by his side, than to make demands and lose him again. “You can do whatever you want.”
“...Even if it’s staying here?” Tretij Rebenok asked warily, as if Eli might change his mind at any moment. Eli’s moods could be fleeting, after all, especially as his head was yet to be fixed and his other memories restored; Tretij’s presence and their tentative connection was likely the only thing keeping him together at the moment. Eli nodded up at him, releasing the coat and smoothing his hands over the multiple layers of clothes beneath his palms. Even under all the cloth, he could feel the thin skin and fragile bone beneath. “If that’s what you want to do,” he promised, and Tretij Rebenok felt a weight lift from his mind, more at ease than he had been in years, knowing he was finally where he wanted to be. “But I’m definitely not staying in Britain forever, if I can help it.”
“And where would we go instead? If we both abandon our posts, there may not be many safe places for us. We’ll have to go to the middle of nowhere, somewhere nobody will look.” Tretij Rebenok sighed and touched the sides of Eli’s face, fingers brushing at his temples and pushing back strands of hair, not seeming to mind the accumulated grime. The sensation brought to Eli’s mind some past memory that was so hazy as to be nearly forgotten except for the similar feeling of someone gently brushing his hair, something so far gone that it was likely only Tretij’s presence that was able to return even a fragment of the thought.
“Kde dávají lišky dobrou noc, right? We’ll be a couple of foxes.” Eli grinned with typical cocksure confidence, Tretij Rebenok returning a shy smile that became quietly flustered the moment the soldier reached up to mimic Tretij’s hand placement, knocking his hat away and pulling him down until the lanky man was forced to sit fully in Eli’s lap, foreheads bowed together. The psychic’s face was slowly beginning to turn the same color as his hair having nearly forgotten this sort of intimacy, breath caught as Eli’s mind relaxed and opened under his touch, an invitation.
“It might not be so bad… being foxes,” Tretij Rebenok barely spoke above a whisper, no more needed between the two of them as his hands cradled Eli’s face. Eyes slipped shut in unison as they both came together, a sweet pressure against Tretij Rebenok’s lips melding old companions into a moment of peaceful symmetry away from the world.