Work Text:
The villain’s men stood at easy attention as he entered. Hands clasped behind his back, chin forward, he strode along the walkway encircling the room. Each time he passed by the space between the thick stone pillars, he resisted the urge to look down at the spy. He’d been anticipating this for far too long. Imagining the moment when they would see each other for the first time. When their eyes would meet.
His heartbeat quickened and a flash of heat rushed through his body. But his face remained impassive as he descended the stairs with a sure step. This was just another job. Just another agent. It was what he’d told his men and perhaps, if he told it to himself one more time, he would actually believe it.
Directly in the center of the room, his laser apparatus descended from the ceiling to hang ominous over the table below. But he didn’t look. Not yet. With practiced indifference he approached the control board. He didn’t actually need to check it. The operators had been here before him. They were paid well to ensure that everything was perfectly calibrated and they were excellent at their job.
So was he. He’d been intentional in building his reputation. Crafting the way he was seen by both his men and enemies. Ignoring the captive and pretending to make adjustments built suspense for the captive.
As if there wasn’t enough between them already. Shame it would all be over soon.
Finally he turned. Slowly, so that the spy would catch his full profile.
Loss of body parts was a common hazard in this line of work. He’d known that going in. But when he’d lost his nose it had still been upsetting. However he liked to think the replacement suited him. A striking gold prosthetic that reached around his left eye and up across his eyebrow and forehead. It was impossible to miss, perfectly matching his flair for the dramatic. And here, now, though of course the spy had seen it many times, there was something thrilling about his face being the last one he would ever see.
Still he didn’t look at him. Letting his eyes instead rove over the tray of sharp, metal implements at the table’s side. He chose one at random, a long handled wrench, examining it closely, letting his fingers trace its lines, before replacing it once again. It was all for show, as precisely choreographed as a dance. And he’d done it so many times.
But perhaps this time he savored the tension just a little bit more. Perhaps this time there was something beside hostility tightening the air between them. It was then, as an engineer approached him with the laser’s remote, that he admitted it.
As much as he’d tried to deny it, this job was different.
He’d never had to force his hand not to shake as he took the remote control. He’d never felt his heart racing as he finally approached the table. And he’d never, ever looked into a captive’s deep-as-the-ocean blue eyes and wanted nothing more than to call the whole thing off.
He had expected the spy to break eye contact quickly. To look away or close them tight. Instead his gaze was steady, even, vulnerable.
“Do you remember when we met up in that cathedral in Leipzig? Three, maybe four years ago?”
The question caught him off guard. That had been so long ago. Near the beginning of their..acquaintanceship. So much had changed since then. And yet so little. Of course he remembered.
His voice remained steady, “I recall.”
“You asked me if I had always wanted to be a spy when I grew up and I said yes. Do you remember that?”
He nodded.
“Well, I lied. When you’re a kid you just kind of say things. And whenever anyone asked me that question they always laughed at my first answer so I changed it to spy and everyone liked that better.”
“Is this some sort of last confession?”
“I suppose in a way it is. I just- I guess I wanted you to know that I wish I’d kept my first answer. Maybe then we wouldn’t be here.”
Again he was drowning in those eyes. There was fear there. He’d seen that before. And defeat. But there was something else. Something that spread heat and chills over his skin and filled his mind with memories and questions and…No. He looked away. This -whatever it was- had gone on far too long.
They’d both known from the very first confrontation that eventually it would come to this. That one way or another, this was how it would end. How it was supposed to end.
This time he didn’t try to stop the trembling as he raised the remote in his hand, the laser humming red as it charged above them. His finger hovered over the red button, waiting for the all clear. And as he waited, he tried desperately to push from his mind an image of lifeless, empty, ocean blue eyes.
The cue never came.
Instead the air was split by the flashing lights and blaring alarm marking the end of the work day. Relief flashed through him and then dread. The moment was postponed, but tomorrow it would be unavoidable.
He handed the remote off to one of the operators, the laser dimming as it powered off. Without a backward glance he left the room, fuming. He had been so close. But close to what? He hated that he wasn’t sure.
Somehow, without realizing, he arrived home. His entrance was met with his chidlren’s cheers and greetings. As their mother finished cooking, the children set the table, chattering excitedly. They gave detailed descriptions of their day from coloring and lessons to what they’d seen on their walk along the river. Normally he loved hearing about their adventures. But this evening his mind was elsewhere.
Even as they sat down to eat, he found himself staring into space, imagining the spy in any other profession. Had he wanted to be an astronaut? Or perhaps an athlete? He really could have been anything. Over the years he’d more than proven his mental and physical capabilities. Their back and forth had quickly become a mutual challenge, almost a game. On more than one occasion they’d voiced appreciation verging on admiration for the other’s efforts. It was more than a rivalry, they were two stones smoothing each other’s rough edges. And tomorrow it would all be over.
He couldn’t focus for the rest of the night. Every thought drew him back to the stone room and the man strapped to a table in its center. As the woman who raised his children slept in the bed beside him, he sat straight against the headboard, reliving each encounter he’d had with the spy since their first meeting nearly five years ago. When had it all changed? When had animosity become respect? And when had respect become something more?
It was impossible to say. And why was he still brooding over it when in just a few hours it would no longer matter? Tomorrow the spy would be eliminated from his life forever. After tomorrow there would be no more banter, no more shared smiles, no more eager anticipation of their next meeting. This would be their last.
He could stand it no longer. It would end now.
This time when he entered the room there was no pretense of composure. It was still early and the night shift hadn’t been expecting him. He was rarely there at this hour, and never unannounced. But they adjusted smoothly and pretended not to notice his equally uncharacteristic agitation.
As the laser was powered on and began calibrating, he paced the room’s circumference and tried to ignore the man in the middle. He failed. It seemed that with every glance, their eyes met and he was again sent spinning into dread and doubt his resolve failing. But he had to do this. It was the only way to evict the spy from the permanent space he occupied in his mind. It was the only way to finish this once and for all.
One last time he focused his attention on the table, his voice so hard he thought it might break, “You should have kept your first answer.”
Then the remote was once again placed in his trembling hand. It had just two buttons. One red, one green. With the red, the laser would do its work and it would be over. Surely then this torment would end. With the green, the spy would be released. And he knew that if he watched him go, he would be completely undone. Forever haunted by the ghost of what could never be.
In an instant, his mind cleared. He knew what he must do. There had only ever been one option after all. He turned his back on the table for the final time and pressed the button.
From across the room he heard the restraints click open. He heard the spy drop to his feet. And when he heard his men approach, knowing their weapons were drawn, he held up his hand with an order to stand down. But it was in the sound of the footsteps fleeing away from him, that he fully realized what he had done. Every step shattered something within him and nothing would be able to put the pieces back together. Because he now knew that the choice he’d made had been determined long ago and there would be no going back.
Then, at the top of the stairs, the footsteps stopped. In the silence, everything seemed suspended in time, but he didn’t dare look. Didn’t dare believe.
“Do you want to know what my first answer was?”
The spy’s voice was low, but it filled the room.
The echoes seemed to reverberate through every cell in his body as the villain turned, unable to hide the hopeful smile tugging at his lips. Could this really be happening? Again their eyes met and this time there was no question, no doubt. They approached each other slowly. Crossing the room with careful steps. When they reached one another his heart was pounding and his chest was aching.
“What was your first answer?”
Gently, the spy reached out and their fingertips met. Heat flashed through his hand and up his arm. And then their fingers were entangled, palm against palm as their bodies drew together and the air trembled in the breath between them.
“I said I wanted to be happy.”