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It was a scene he had witnessed countless times before. Therefore, shouldn’t have fazed him as much as it did, not to the extent that it would continuously replay over and over in Ivan’s head. At this time, at this place, he would really rather it didn’t. Perhaps it was the flash of yellow, of honey spun silk on a canvas of red that burned it into his memory banks. Ivan quickly shook his head, trying to dislodge the scene from playing for the hundredth time behind his eyelids.
Focus. Exhale. Squeeze. Each word he repeated under his breath, a mantra of sorts to remind him where he was and what he was doing. But thoughts had a way of creeping up, thoughts of her, thoughts of red. And blue, like her lips had been.
Today, with attackers at the forefront and not enough humans at his rear, he was fighting an enemy both tangible and intangible. Focus. Exhale. Squeeze.
Locking crosshairs on his target, Ivan fired. The body tumbled in a display of blackened splatters on the ground. He lingers a moment, making sure it stays down before his eyes search for another target from his high ground.
She's lifeless, brain matter and skull fragments spackle the ground in a pool of melted snow and blood, as a brother slowly lowers his pistol.
Hazel eyes catch the sudden movement of forward propulsion as an attacker launches toward one of his fellow humans in the distance. His body swivels, corrects, aims, fires. It's too late for his comrade, but in his death he was avenged.
It happened quickly, almost instantly. Ivan barely had a chance to register the world turning topsy turvy on him in a mass of arms and legs. With the lack of reaction time, he struggled getting his bearings back, tossed into a heap against the adjacent wall. Pieces of the rotten plaster fell near his hands as he attempted to right himself back to standing.
The effort was short-lived as a blur of white slammed into his gut knocking the air from his lungs, propelling him through the crumbling wall. In the seconds that followed Ivan concluded that the sky had never been such an annoying shade of gray before, and that green could very well be his new favorite color.
And then he was falling…
Falling…
And then he wasn’t.
~`~`~
"Undying."
"Immortal."
"Naive."
The words used to describe Anya hardly elicited a happy thought, but she sure did hear them often. Rarely spoken with malice, and often with a sense of wonder, most times the words just made her feel trapped. Locked within a description that she would have rather never had. Ordinary, was what she felt. No different than anyone around her, but with a sense of purpose now.
A better sense of purpose. To ease the regret in her heart, to soothe the soul of a sister she had failed to protect.
Memories of the accident still haunted her, but they no longer held her. Instead, she preferred to propel herself forward, meeting the future without the weight of the past. Doing what she knows she can do to help those around her. Even if that’s little more than holding their hands as they slip away to where she, currently, can not follow.
Reddened hands clenched and unclenched methodically. Sticky with the drying blood of the latest victim from the current and ongoing attack on their encampment.
His screams had been loud, gut piercing in such a way Anya could still hear them, though the lungs that had bellowed just moments ago were now stilled. Nothing could have been done to save him, nothing short of the medical advances humans had once been capable of. But in the barely lit and dingy room that currently passed as the clinic, such feats were improbable.
Another casualty of war, and there were so many.
Too many.
A wariness settled over Anya’s shoulders as she looked around the room, still clenching her fists.
Nothing to be done.
Slowly, she made her way to the water basin, needing to rinse her hands free of the blood. Standing there at the basin, Anya’s eyes stared blankly at the red streaks swirling down the drain. It was a vivid reminder of the blood that was on everyone’s hands. Never in her life would she have ever imagined she'd be the one to take a life.
Intentionally.
Shaking herself out of her reverie, Anya roughly finished washing her hands in the cold water. Her ears catching the sounds of another haunted scream, another serrated tear, another plea for death’s reaper to come a different day. No, her job was not quite yet done.
“Hun, why don’t you go take a break. I have to gather more linens for the beds and get more bandages… and hell, I might as well talk to Alexei about a few things too while I’m out.” Everly stated, rubbing a weary hand across her face. “You, rest. You’ve earned it.”
It wasn't until some time after Everly had left that anya finally took her advice and located an unused cot near the entrance. Situating herself into a comfortable slouch, a long and tired sigh passed from Anya’s lips while her fingers pressed firmly to her temples rubbing in a clockwise motion. To say she was tired would be putting it modestly. Wisps of golden hair tangled in her fingers from the tightly bound braid she had earlier pinned up behind her head. Eyes closed, Anya chose to ignore the lazy swinging of the cobwebs above her head. Instead, she focused on the echoes of the patients' groans that reverberated down the corridors mixing and joining with the muted laughter of those in the mess hall. Echoing both aspects of the life she now lived. Surrounded by death and laughter, both parts of humanity. The birth of a new kind of moral, a kind that keeps them going even when the odds are stacked against them.
The kaleidoscope of noise dimmed momentarily as she opened her eyes to the shadow of two figures limping toward her from down the hallway.
Raising his hand in a mock hello, Ivan smiled wearily, “Yo freckles. Fancy meeting you here.”
Smiling, Anya pushed herself up from the cot she had been resting on, her weariness promptly forgotten. “Oh, you know.. I like the nightlife here. It's always a bit exciting.”
Staring back at her with a befuddled expression, Luka blinked back his own weariness and remarked dryly. “Well, Romeo here decided that a wall was worth getting a good look at. With his, ya know… whole body.”
“It was a rather spectacular wall, Luka. You wouldn’t know… you didn’t see it as close up as I did.” groaning a tired chuckle, Ivan limped carefully toward Anya. “So, freckles… Mind patching me up? She hit me rather hard.”
Laughing softly, Anya rose and helped Ivan sit on the med table, then started to peel back the layers of tattered clothing from his wound. “You know, times like this dictate safe words Ivan.”
Wincing against the pull of fabric stuck to his body from the dried blood, Ivan glibbly responded, “It all happened so fast. Didn’t have a chance to ask for a safe word.” glancing down at the blonde still carefully pulling his vest and shirt from his body he sighed, “Aw. That was my favorite shirt.”
Rolling his eyes from the background, Luka remarked “No worries mate. I’m sure we still have some more standard issue, enticing shirts that you can have on loan.”
“Won't be the same. We had good times, me and that shirt.”
Pulling a pair of scissors from the med kit, Anya raised her eyebrow, “would you like me to give you a moment to say goodbye?”
Chuckling, Ivan waved his hand slightly, “Nah. It's all good. Besides I know how much you like getting me out of my clothes.”
“Annnnnd I’m out.” Waving goodbye Luka excused himself with a snort. “If you need me to help you keep him in line, just holler Miss Anya.”
Silence fell over the pair as Anya continued to carefully remove the remains of Ivan’s top layers. Her hands worked quickly to cleanse and bandage the seeping wound at his side. Her fingers momentarily running along the red line of the last wound she had stitched up all those months prior.
Patching him up was becoming a repetitive action she'd gotten very tired of. And if she was being honest, it was something she was terrified one day she wouldn't be able to accomplish. That a day would come when they brought him into her small workstation and there would be nothing she could do. The thought alone had kept her up many nights fighting back the bitter feeling of dread rising from her stomach.
She was thankful that at least this time he didn’t need stitches, “This can’t keep going on, Ivan.”
Feeling him shift on the table, Anya waited for the argument she knew her remark would bring. “Anya, we know you want to do more… I know you want to do more. But hey, when is doing more going to end up with you doing too much?”
Gently jerking at the wrapping around his gash, she doesn’t hide her frown. “I really feel like I don’t do enough as it is, Ivan. I just keep thinking that if I can get to Delta, maybe I'll buy us some more time. Maybe I can save a few more lives… maybe I won't have to keep patching you up every day.”
“I don’t think talking to that thing is going to work, Anya.”
Glancing up to read his expression, Anya paused in dressing his wound. His face was severe and tired, “How do you know that?”
Sighing heavily and running his fingers through his hair, Ivan mentally forced his expression to stay neutral. “Listen, it doesn’t matter. What matters is you. You worry about me going out there day after day only to return to be patched up. But Anya, we lose you almost every time you step foot out that airlock.”
Halting her hands and biting her lip, Anya's expression winced for a moment before she responded. “I… don’t always die. But I just… Ivan, we can’t keep doing the same thing over and over. There’s so much death, so much destruction… I just know I have a real chance of ending this without more bloodshed.”
Her fingers fluttered over his dressings, she continued softly, “Don’t you want this to just end? I know you want everyone… Luka… Misha, to be able to enjoy their lives. To be able to just live without fear every day. Please, please… I know I can do this.”
Reaching out and firmly grasping her arm, Ivan’s hazel eyes narrowed, “Of course I want that. I want that for everyone. But I fail to see how you acting like a martyr is going to be the solution we all missed.”
Anya’s large green eyes stared back unabashed for a moment before she lowered her gaze to her lap, “Do you trust me?”
“This isn’t about trust Anya, yes I trust you. This is about you trying to fix a war with machines that don’t give a rats ass what we think. They want us dead. There is no ‘fixing this’, Anya. This is just the way it is until one of us is dead.” His eyes were hard as he removed his hand from her arm.
“I refuse to believe that Ivan.” Hands resting in her lap, Anya met his gaze once more, “And I think you don’t think that either.”
Silently, Ivan stared back. His face set in the tense lines of a man that had seen too much and lived thru more. His hazel gaze traveled over her softer features for a moment before he gently pushed her away. Exhaling a heavy breath, Ivan hopped off the med table and began to move away.
Reaching out, Anya caught his arm. Her eyes downcast she struggled for a moment to get the words in her throat past her lips. “Ivan, please don’t walk away. I need you…to understand. I need your support in this.”
Lifting his hand to remove hers from his arm, Ivan glanced over his shoulder at the woman behind him, “I understand. More than you think I do. However, I still don’t like it, its a incredibly stupid idea.”
Frustrated, Anya tightened her hand on his forearm, “So your answer is just walking away?”
He didn’t turn back to face her, so she was unable to see the look of agitation on his face. She could, however, hear it in the tone of his voice. “If I can’t shoot it why bother?”
“Stop it. I’m being serious.”
“So am I. Wars are created with words and fought with blood.”
Taken aback, Anya’s heart plummeted into her stomach. “I… I’m just trying to help.”
Finally turning to face her completely, Ivan carefully removed her hand from his arm. There was understanding in his eyes, and with it empathy. She hadn’t seen the things he’d seen and he'd be damned if she ever would. “Listen, let me keep fighting the baddies. And you can keep fixing up us muscleheads.” He watched as her forehead crinkled with displeasure, and was hard pressed to keep his fingers from rubbing out the wrinkles she created.
“What an amazingly medieval concept,” huffing and crossing her arms for his safety, Anya resisted the urge to slap him.
His expression once more slid back into the reserved man she knew, “I’m not sorry freckles. I’m tired of watching you die.” Taking a step toward her now, he continued, “What if next time is the last time? What if next time you stay dead, Anya.”
Closing the distance between their bodies, green eyes clashed with hazel. “And what about you? What if tomorrow is the last time you walk through those doors? What about how I feel? I’m tired of wondering if you’re going to die.”
Her sincerity wasn't missed by him and he can barely hide the astonishment he felt at her words. Breathing softly, Ivan responded gently. “Then I believe we are at an impasse.”
At that moment, something changed. Blinking slowly, Anya struggled to gather back her thoughts through the charged atmosphere. “Er. Yes?”
It was in the way his body came closer to her own, the look in his eyes. A softness was there she had only ever briefly seen when he gazed at Misha. Only this felt different. The softness she was used to, but there was also something deeper, darker. Drawn like a moth to fire, Anya couldn't look away. Warmth quickly bloomed on her cheeks as she stared transfixed up at him.
His fingers brushed against the fringe of her hair at her cheek. His touch drew her in, her eyes drifted shut at the sensation of his fingertips against her flesh. She could hear the sharp inhalation he made and the soft rustling of the fabric of his track pants as he bent further toward her.
Tilting her head toward him in unspoken permission, her lips parted in anticipation. The charged atmosphere around them was practically electrifying as she reached out to grasp his forearm. Time seemed forgotten and all she could focus on was him and now and nothing of the prior conversation or anything further than his lips.
His eyes watched hers drift shut as he was inexplicably drawn closer to her lips. Watching with lidded eyes as her pink tongue moistened her lips in preparation. His fingers splay against her cheek as he directs her more fully to him. How long had he wanted this to happen? How many nights had he wondered at this outcome?
Her lips are chapped and he’s sure his are as well, but when they touch it's the desire that shoots down his spine that drags the groan from his throat. Only to repeat when her gentle moan echoes back. Her small hands cup his face as she tenderly pressed back against him.
Her gentleness was doing very little to still the raging desire that threatened to explode from him. Her encouraging little sounds made it absolutely impossible for him to resist deepening the kiss. It's a battle he chose not to fight any longer when her body practically rolls against him.
With fingers grasping her cheeks, he angled her head and poured his desire into the kiss. Giving little bites against her lips as he pulled her in, claiming her mouth… hungry. The ferocity of it stealing all strength from her legs.
Feeling too much too soon, Anya was the first to react, pulling away to put distance back between them. Her eyes large, they searched Ivan’s face for meaning while her left hand came up to caress her lips. And what they found caused Anya to gasp.
His eyes spoke promises of a fiery passion, ready to burn her alive and swallow her whole.
Ivan’s hazel eyes flashed of amber in the fluorescent lights overhead within the dingy med room. His expression darkened, capturing her attention with the sharp look of danger reflection within. Small nervous breaths flitted passed Anya’s chapped lips as his gaze stilled her. Her breath felt captured almost as if his eyes alone held her captive.
She felt exposed… It was terrifyingly exciting.
Neither moved, either out of fear the moment would end, or because it wouldn’t. Slowly, as if time itself was holding him down, Ivan reached his hand out, his fingers lightly brushing against her cheek. And where they touched a trail of fire followed. Slowly, his fingers followed the curve of her cheek down along her jaw bone, his thumb lightly caressing her bottom lip as it did so.
Seconds burned into the back of her eyes, and she swore he was slowly closing the distance between them.
Slowly . . . ever so closer. Anticipation pricked at her throat, and Anya had to stop herself from lunging forward, from closing the distance. Her eyelids felt heavy as her heartbeat pounded in her ears so loud she was sure Ivan could hear it.
“Anya…” Ivan’s voice trailed off, his hand slipped from her cheek to the nape of her neck. His other hand resting at her hip.
She was unable to run away, even if she had wanted to.
His lips crash against her own, hungry for her, devouring her. Wanting everything she was, and promising even more.
In a quick movement, Ivan had lifted her from the floor, leaving her no other option than to cling to him with her thighs and her arms around his neck.
Quick steps drove her backwards, and with a heavy drop she felt the desk from her workspace beneath her. Momentarily disoriented, Anya’s fingers clenched at the firm muscles of Ivan’s neck before she pulled away to gaze up at his furrowed features.
Hesitantly, she reached forward to cup his cheek, wondering at the rough texture of his unshaven jawline. She knew the rational thing to do would be to pull away and end whatever fire was starting to burn between the two of them. However, she was also tired of being rational. She WANTED. And acknowledging that she wanted… she accepted the fact that maybe in this moment she really wanted him.
~`~`~
Fuck.
Consent. Naturally, Ivan took action without thinking and in most situations that was something he was proud of. However, here… he just jumped clear the fuck over that. Breaking free from her lips for a moment, Ivan sought to rectify the issue or apologize.
“Anya.”
What he was not expecting in his moment of reflection was the sudden press of her lips back against his own.
“Shhh… please don’t stop.”
Softly pleading, those words rang louder than anything else in his mind as the dam he had just attempted to erect, broke. Closing the distance between their bodies, Ivan pressed closer into her kiss, into her body. His hands moved from the dip of her petite waist, traveling up her sides, as if trying to memorize every curve of her body. Bending and pulling her closer as his fingers further traveled and tangled into the soft locks of her hair.
His hands were not the only pair on the move, Ivan felt the soft fluttering of her fingers as they brushed against his sides. Unsure, explorative little movements until he felt the cool press of her fingers against the warm skin of his sides.
Deepening the kiss further, Ivan nibbled at her lips, waiting for the small gasp he knew it would elicit. Smiling into the kiss, Ivan pressed forward enjoying the sensations of her hands on his abs as she carefully explored his torso around the dressings. Her gentle touches lighting the desire he barely repressed, igniting the passion he had just started to acknowledge but never accepted.
Need ached in her belly as Ivan deepened the kiss. Lost, Anya could only hang on as the fire of his passion was literally burning her up from the inside out. Gasping out with the pressure of his teeth against her lips, Anya reacted. Her hands skimming up and across the bandages she had only recently put in place. Leaning further into his kiss, Anya groaned in frustration as her fingers attempted to find flesh around those very dressings. Fingers moving lower in the pursuit of skin, they settled against the edge of his pants. Small, darting movements teasing the crease of his hip lines.
Groaning into the kiss, Ivan’s hands carefully collected Anya’s hands from dangerous waters. Tenderly lifting and bringing them to his lips, he gently nibbled at the sensitive flesh there. Opening his eyes with the intention of catching her lidded gaze, Ivan froze.
Glowing brightly back at him were the digits of her soulmate timer. A terribly bright reminder that she had been paired with another. That this other was a machine and quite possibly the entire reason she was still alive today. That without this timer, she wouldn’t be there with him. Slowly rubbing his thumb over the brightly glowing numbers, Ivan sighed. Looking at the woman that he, in that moment, desperately wanted, he let go. Resisting the temptation to continue the path they were on, Ivan placed a gentle kiss on her forehead as he finally and completely moved away. Without turning back to her, Ivan slowly snagged his torn clothing and moved further away from her still form. Heading back down the hallway that had originally brought him to her. And with him, he took the last of the heat his touch had created.
Anya took a shuddering breath, her hands still at her sides. Ivan had pulled away with a speed matched only by her disappointment, and she knew then that the moment had passed them by.
FIN