Chapter Text
When he told Gaby to “step on it”, her blood boiled. She wanted to tell this spoiled American that the gas was pressed down all the way and that cars in East-Berlin simply didn’t go that fast and that he maybe should take some more shots. But she kept her mouth shut and applied some more pressure on her foot, willing the little Wartbug to go faster, because it had just to. If she didn’t want to end up in Soviet hands, beaten, killed and dumped in Siberia (not necessarily in that order) for treason, at least.
They had sent their most intimidating agent to come and get her, she was sure of it. Gaby had only seen their assailant for a second before he retreated back into the shadows, hat pulled over his eyes, but to her, he looked about three meters tall and wide with every intent to kill her and her newfound partner who was currently drawing some lines on a map.
“Take a left and an immediate right,” he spoke up from the backseat, seemingly satisfied with his navigation. She threw the car around, not bothering to look into the rearview mirror to check if the American spy had been slung to the other side of the vehicle.
They ended up at a stoplight. The roads were completely desolate - as per usual in East-Berlin this late – but she still stopped. Ignoring the red stoplight would be too suspicious, right? But they were already suspects, or they wouldn’t be tailed.
The questions she was asked barely registered. Is he looking? Does he have one hand on the steering wheel? She hummed twice. She wasn’t sure why he was asking her, but she had little time to think at all as she heard two shots from behind her, and pressed in the gas pedal as hard as she could. Her heart was racing, not only from her partner-in-crime shooting someone in cold blood, but also because the stare-down with the KGB-agent would be etched into her memory forever. He’d seen her, he knew what she looked like. There was no doubt in his eyes – only resolve, an order to fulfill. An order to capture, dead or alive. Even though the adrenaline was keeping her warm, a chill went down her spine.
She let the American out of the car and drove around the block like he’d told her. She took a quick look at the grey buildings passing by. If all went well, she wouldn’t have to see them ever again. Hope took over suppressed panic and anxiety for a second, and she arrived at the CIA-agent’s feet, nearly hitting him with her car in the process. A shrug is all she granted him before they’re off again.
When she saw a tall figure running behind their car, her night officially went from bad to disastrous.
“You can’t be serious,” the American (what was his name again? Gaby didn’t quite catch it, but it sounded very fake and sculpted, not unlike the man himself) didn’t bother to hide his amusement as the KGB-agent took a hold of the hood of the car.
“He’s trying to stop the car,” He informed her (Solo! That was it. Might as well have named him Badboy, that would’ve sounded just as ridiculous), still looking out the back window.
“Why don’t you take a shot at him?” Gaby offered, her frustration obviously showing. She wasn’t trying to mask it anymore, this was getting ridiculous. A Russian agent was trying to stop a car with his bare hands. And he was succeeding.
Solo refused, and Gaby was on the verge of kicking him out of the car and letting him sort it out himself, mission and father and freedom be damned, when the hood popped off the car and was being flung at them like a disc.
Gaby wasn’t sure if she was awake. As if things couldn’t get any more surreal, she’d just driven her car stuck between two walls right in front of the Berlin Wall. The entire police force would probably be after her now.
She kept catching glimpses of the agent that was still after them, and every time the knot in her stomach tightened. The west was so close now, she didn’t want to give it up.
When she was safely in the back of the truck with Solo and his partner, she realized she was actually in West-Berlin. Solo severed the cord of their impromptu zip-line and Gaby watched the KGB-agent, hanging on for dear life, drop into the minefield. She didn’t hear a mine go off, but figured he wouldn’t get out of there. She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
Gaby Teller was no longer property of East-Berlin.