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Walter had thought Florence was going to come back. He thought that until the end, standing alone with her in an airport after she just parted ways with the man she said she loved. Said she loved, she never loved him, it was an affair, nothing else, he tells himself. She’s going to get over it, he thinks. He’s convinced himself of it.
Had he been honest with himself, he might have realized that this is different than those flings that Freddie has had, the one night stands where he comes home and cries to them both about it the next day, and they all forgive and forget. Here they are, and she’s crying, but she's not crying to him. He’s right there, dammit, he’s ready to take her back with open arms and pretend nothing ever happened. That’s why he’s here and Freddie isn’t. He can forgive and forget. Freddie might forgive her some day, but he’s never going to forget.
“We knew the Russians would offer a gambit sooner or later.” He tells her, eager to make this all feel a little bit better. There’s a greater good. Really, she should be thanking him.
“What was the gambit, Walter?” She challenges. She’s inconsolable, in no state to be rational about this. “That Anatoly and I would fall in love?”
In love , right. He wants to scream at her, tell her she’s all wrong. They didn’t love each other at all. Right, and he knows what love means, doesn’t he? It’s not worth it. “Actually, there was an exchange. Something you just didn’t see, Florence.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Russians and the Americans cut a deal. Our side agreed to make Sergievsky's life
miserable in the west, and they agreed to some kind of trade off.” He says, and Florence looks like he’s just hit her. It hurts her that badly, at least. She’s balling her fists in rage, getting ready to scream something terrible at him. It frustrates him to no end. Why can’t she just let this be over? Just before she goes to shout, he raises his voice first. “Wake up, Florence. While you were playing out your fantasies, a lot bigger games were going on.”
She has one more question before she lashes out. Maybe if he answers just right, he can avoid the outburst. Probably not. “Who told you this?” She asks through her teeth.
He could have lied to her. He should have lied to her, all things considered. Their relationship is built on dishonesty and it always has been. For some reason he doesn’t lie. “What do you mean, who told me? I brokered the deal!”
Wrong answer. She runs at him, would have thrown the punch if he hadn’t gotten out of the way so quickly. “You son of a bitch! You Judas!” She’s crying. Not the moping, quiet tears from before but really crying. She calls off the attack, she’d lose if it escalated to a physical fight. He’d never hurt her, not with his hands, but she doesn’t trust that anymore. She doesn’t trust him. Did she ever? “Does Freddie know?”
Of course Freddie doesn’t know. He wanted Anatoly gone just as much as Walter did, but he wouldn’t take too kindly to having the government's hands in this. He doesn’t trust the government. If he knew Walter was in on it, he’d start thinking Walter is watching him, tied into some sort of conspiracy against him. Walter isn’t like that, he just happens to have the right friends. Freddie would never believe that with the way this all looks. So no, Freddie has no idea.
“You and I both know Freddie’s not much good for anything but pushing pieces around a chess board, is he?” Walter answers indirectly. Freddie’s in even worse favor with her right now, maybe this is the angle he has to take. Just long enough to get her home. Long enough to think of a way to win her back. She’s coming back. She has to. “I took the liberty of having your luggage packed. I hope you don’t mind.” One way or another she’s getting on a plane home with them. That would be enough. They’d fix this back in the states.
“Bring me my luggage, Walter.”
“What do you need it in here for?” He knows why. She has to say it. Leave them both for good and she at least has to have the decency to tell him to his face. Say it, he thinks, for the love of god just say it and give him that closure. At least. Please.
“Bring me my luggage and get out of my sight.” She demands. He doesn’t move. She can’t be serious, can she? “Do you hear me? Get out of my sight!” She chases him off.
He’s alone now, just out of the room and around the corner. Oh, and Freddie’s there.
Walter puts on his best poker face. It’s a little harder than usual, but easy nonetheless. He’s not going to be the one to give Freddie the news if he can help it. “...Bring her bags in.” Walter tells him, a little too loudly. Just a little. Freddie doesn’t notice, but it echoes in his own head.
Then Walter’s alone. Really alone this time, no one around the corner or just out of sight, he double checks. Freddie will be back soon though, and it might take a moment to hit him but he’s going to scream and lash out once they get home, if not sooner. And Walter is going to stand there and hold him and make it better, and tell him they’re both better off without Florence and convince Freddie that, actually, this is all for the best. He’s going to lie like he always does, and Freddie, like the idiot he is, will believe him.
He envies Freddie at times like these. Freddie, who yells and fights and breaks things when he’s upset. There’s no question what that man is thinking. Then Walter- and up until this point, Florence- come to his aid and pick him back up again. He’s a nuisance, but he feels. He’s real in a way few people ever are.
Walter doesn’t get to feel. He gets to argue sometimes, but never those ugly words that Freddie uses. He’s a professional and takes that into his relationships as well, and that’s the only way it works. Without someone to take care of Freddie, he’ll break forever. Walter is okay enough to fix himself up, so he doesn’t take up that emotional space. Why should he? He doesn’t need it. When he wants to scream, make a scene, cause some real damage, he can just opt not to. And he does. But it’s harder now than it ever has been.
Without Florence, he has to deal with Freddie alone. He’s on damage control, rebuilding, everything in between. That’s terrifying. He has no idea how long he can do it before he completely snaps.
He puts all of that away, neatly folded in the back of his mind, like always. Freddie comes out, dejected, shocked.
There’s a lot of hard days ahead of them.