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- You look like shit.
You raised your brow and scoffed without any sign of amusement. Judging by the tone he wasn't joking either and right now he was probably burning a hole in your back with that deadpan/angry expression of his. Hell, you could almost feel the weight of his disapproving gaze.
All of that because you looked like shit? Or was it because of multiple bottles of beer that surrounded you?
Doesn't matter.
Without turning around to face him you took a good chug from the bootle before giving an answer, cringing at the burning sensation in your throat and the way it made your voice weirdly hoarse.
- No surprise since I feel like one.
There was burning sensation in your stomach and some dizziness too but the amount of alcohol you just downed should have you sleeping under the table in the puddle of vomit long ago.
Maybe I was a heavy drinker... Back there.
Despite your bitter tone Woods remained in his spot behind you and that wouldn't do, not when you were in no mood for company. Not tonight.
Your eyes wandered down to the radio lying right there, somewhat inviting and dangerous. There was a time, a few minutes or so, when you wanted to use it, find and contact that one person you were willing to die for in your past life. It wasn't the first time you thought about that either. It also happened when Park and Adler told you about... Well, you. A few long minutes of wandering if he'll take you back if you only called. But morality outweighed loyality and it felt like stopping the man behind the red door was the right choice.
Perhaps Woods was worried that you'll do it now, when you're no longer as useful to the team as you used to be at the beginning.
'Damaged goods', said Volkov and now it made more sense that it did in the past.
Who would want 'damaged goods'. Not CIA, not M16 and sure as hell not Perseus himself.
Scoffing at the true but painful thought, you partially looked at the man above your shoulder, without fully turning around. There was high chance if you'd do that you'd fall of the seat. So it did affect you after all. Nice.
- You don't have to watch me all the time. If I wanted to betray you I'd do so long ago.
The atmosphere seemed to become heavier than moments ago. Even though your words were slightly slurred they carried enough malice to be taken seriously.
You didn't want them to come out so harsh and vicious but it just happened and left sour aftertaste in your mouth and in the air of the room. After all they did to you they deserved some truth, though. To some extent you hoped this whole conversation would end up with a fight, a big one. Bloody too.
I blame this goddamn alcohol for that.
Woods seemed like he hadn't really acknowledged what you just said (he most certainly did) and stood in the door frame, unmoving and silent.
You both stayed quiet for some time after that, maybe a good few minutes- enough time for you to think he had simply left while you were too busy staring at the half empty bootle. But then you saw a shadow moving on the surface of the dark glass and soon warm, heavy hand was laid on your shoulder.
He was surprisingly quiet for a man his size.
It was removed as soon as he noticed the way you tensed under his touch. Despite your clear hostility he cleared his throat and tried to reason with you once more. This time he clearly tried to speak more softly, his normally gruff voice turning into more calming tone.
- You should, uh, get some sleep, ya know?
You smiled at his awkwardness but there was no humor behind it. His concern would be appreciated more if you were sure it was completely honest and true.
Rising bootle once more you decided to humor him anyway.
- Not when he's in here.
With those cryptic words and a quick nod of the head you mentioned the room behind the crates. There was no one in there, all of them sleeping or troubled by insomnia and paranoia like you. Just like normal, non brainwashed and completely fucked up people like you, should do.
Woods instinctively turned his gaze the way you did and furrowed his eyebrows like he actually tried to find someone creeping around between thick, metallic wires. Imagining him trying to catch some cartoonish looking thief- mask and hat and all, caused your pretty drunk self to giggle.
Chuckling ceased as soon as you caught him looking at you weirdly with the corner of your eye. Maybe he thought this whole brainwashing thing realy drove you crazy after all and you're seeing things. Or numbers.
Finally he decided to take a wild guess.
- Hudson?
No. But also yes.
Seeing you shaking your head and quickly gulping down what's left from the bootle, Woods made one abrupt move and yanked it away. Pretty stupid of him to do, since it was already emptied.
You've met his glare with yours (why is he swaying?) and made a move to grab another bootle. Oh, he didn't try to stop you because it was also empty. Huh.
The corner of his mouth went slightly up at your lost and bewildered expression. He patted your arm with silent chuckle and this time his hand stayed there in comforting manner.
- That's enough for you, Bell.
That's not my name.
Okay. Okay maybe I'll tell you. Again: blame the alcohol. It's not like you actually need to pour your heart out to another human being. Nah, mama raised no bitch. Maybe. It's not like you could remember anyway.
Grasping his hand in yours you tried to pull him down to lean closer and, with his brow raised questioningly, he complied. Forcing your voice to hoarse whisper you told him what was keeping you awake, voice getting shakier and unsure.
- Adler. He's going to kill me, Frank. Don't know when, don't know how. But he will.
You turned around to meet him face to face (and caught your balance in the last moment) but for a few seconds he just refused to look you in the eyes. His hand faltered on your shoulder but you continued anyway.
- I know too much, and you know that too.
It was like Woods sudenly got lost in his own thoughts and took his vocal chords with him. But that was fine. Even if he tried to comfort you and tell you pretty lies to get your guard down you wouldn't let him.
He knew. You knew. Everyone knew what has to happen next. You did it- made the decision to be on the right side of the history, destroyed the nukes, saved the Europe, saved America... And no one would ever know because you had to die now.
The matter was- when. And how.
Woods suddenly let out a heavy, tired sigh, his hand wandered from your shoudler to his face. Looking up to him again was like looking at someone who just aged twice in the span of few seconds.
Okay. Maybe he did care. He cared enough to check up on you while no one else did. It was the middle of the night but still.
Oh god am I actually tearing up?
Thankfully Frank just coughed awkwardly and clapped you on the back a bit too hard. Good thing that seconds he was halfway to the exit of your hideout and never noticed the way you struggled to stay upright in the chair.
Heavy drinker my ass.
- Don't stay up for too long. It's suspicious.
No pretty lies then, just avoidance. Good for him
Unconsciously your blurred eyes wandered to the radio while the man made his way back to get some sleep.
A terrible mistake.
Because two beers later a little call seemed like a fantastic idea. Apparently your brain and sorry excuse for sanity agreed to it too. In the fight MK-Ultra vs. alcohol the latter won without question- even your hands went to pick coordinates automatically, without any thought behind it. Like you did it so many times in the past it imprinted itself in your muscle memory.
As easy as opening the door again and again. Now you just didn't know who will you find there.
You started talking as soon as hum of static made it's way through your foggy mind. Not caring who was listening on the other side, if there was anyone at all. It's not like you were in need of active conversation.
You just wanted to let all of the pain out.
And so you talked.
About Trabzon. About man called Arash who shoot you and left you barely alive before getting himself killed (karma's a bitch), letting you to be captured and tortured. At least you couldn't even remember the interrogation part, but once you knew about it all those bruises that were littering your body made sense. Next came the topic of Berlin, Lubyanka, Vietnam- often in the wrong order, all of it turning into messy story without any logical timeline. You mentioned Volkov words of 'damaged goods' in the middle of describing thick jungle and clones of Adler attacking you there. About endless corridors, we have a job to do, red doors, Solovetsky, Spetsnaz training grounds, all while switching languages now and then. Maybe I am going crazy. Oh, and about the fate that was awaiting you in the nearest future. We had a job to do.
But it was only one life in the exchange of peace. It was worth it. That thought, even if very true, caused you to get angry- at yourself (how could I get caught?) but mostly at your 'team' because who gave them the right?
Right?
Nevermind, you didn't need the answer since it was there all along.
Only when your slurry speech ended with heavy tears sliding down in never-ending river and ugly sobs mixed with hiccups shaking your whole body- static turned into voice, first time in at least half an hour.
You raised your head at the familiar tone, not notixing that there was some piece of paper sticking to your cheek side due to the mixture of snoot and drool. Ew.
- It is not to late to make the right decision, comrade.
Radio fell completely silent and you were left alone again, with nothing more but your unclear thoughts. With the silence came the ultimate revelation.
I think I need another drink.