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taras_olekseiTaras lay in his bed, and thought he could still smell Lasha.
He had woken up alone again that morning.
It had been full dark yet. He'd lain quietly in bed for a moment, groggy and disoriented, listening to the wind hiss between buildings outside, reaching for the cool sheets next to him.
Lasha was sick, he had recalled, almost immediately.
That had given him the impetus to get out of bed. He'd looked at the clock. It was well past three. Taras got dressed, and went looking for Lasha.
He wondered which he was getting more used to: expecting Lasha to be there when he woke, or finding that he was alone instead. He supposed one went with the other.
He'd swung by their office first, then on a strange hunch, Liadov's. Both were empty. The mess hall had been Taras' third or fourth possibility, and it was there that he had found Lasha.
But Lasha had not been alone. He'd been sitting at a table with Liadov.
Isaev and Liadov in their grey uniforms, sitting across from each other, like comrades.
Fancy pricks, both of them, tall and blond haired. Lasha was arctic smooth and sleek while Liadov was more languid and sensual.
The sight of them together had made Taras feel strange inside, and his chest ached with an emotion that was not quite anger, or anything else he had a name for.
Taras had stood in the doorway, watching them for a while, mismatched gaze fixed and ravenous.
Eventually, he had turned away, and left them.
He had seen Lasha, later that day, looking a little pale but carrying himself with unthinking grace, as always. More or less normal. It was the less that worried Taras, but he hadn't seen any sign of Ilarion faltering.
Taras had hit the gym hard that evening, then showered and eaten, like usual.
Now, he lay awake in the darkness, thinking.
Finally he got out of bed, and pulled on his pants, and a clean undershirt, and grabbed a newly-acquired bottle of cognac off the counter.
His door was one down from Lasha's.
Taras knocked on Isaev's door.
"It's me, Lashka."
He had woken up alone again that morning.
It had been full dark yet. He'd lain quietly in bed for a moment, groggy and disoriented, listening to the wind hiss between buildings outside, reaching for the cool sheets next to him.
Lasha was sick, he had recalled, almost immediately.
That had given him the impetus to get out of bed. He'd looked at the clock. It was well past three. Taras got dressed, and went looking for Lasha.
He wondered which he was getting more used to: expecting Lasha to be there when he woke, or finding that he was alone instead. He supposed one went with the other.
He'd swung by their office first, then on a strange hunch, Liadov's. Both were empty. The mess hall had been Taras' third or fourth possibility, and it was there that he had found Lasha.
But Lasha had not been alone. He'd been sitting at a table with Liadov.
Isaev and Liadov in their grey uniforms, sitting across from each other, like comrades.
Fancy pricks, both of them, tall and blond haired. Lasha was arctic smooth and sleek while Liadov was more languid and sensual.
The sight of them together had made Taras feel strange inside, and his chest ached with an emotion that was not quite anger, or anything else he had a name for.
Taras had stood in the doorway, watching them for a while, mismatched gaze fixed and ravenous.
Eventually, he had turned away, and left them.
He had seen Lasha, later that day, looking a little pale but carrying himself with unthinking grace, as always. More or less normal. It was the less that worried Taras, but he hadn't seen any sign of Ilarion faltering.
Taras had hit the gym hard that evening, then showered and eaten, like usual.
Now, he lay awake in the darkness, thinking.
Finally he got out of bed, and pulled on his pants, and a clean undershirt, and grabbed a newly-acquired bottle of cognac off the counter.
His door was one down from Lasha's.
Taras knocked on Isaev's door.
"It's me, Lashka."
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no subject
Date: 2009-08-27 04:00 pm (UTC)"Taras," he said, watching Oleksei move his burly self into frame, his mismatched eyes fixed on the Ukrainian.
Distracted, he didn't release Irinarhov's hand right away.
"Yes, everything is copacetic here. Captain Irinarhov's private business is being taken care of, I believe."
no subject
Date: 2009-08-28 06:31 am (UTC)Irinarhov and Lasha were still close. Still touching. The khokol stood in Lasha's personal space.
"Da?" Taras asked, slowly.
He stepped closer, coming to a stop next to Irinarhov, looming.
Irinarhov held his ground, but did not make eye contact, glancing at him sidelong instead. The khokol was the sort who would have gotten along all right in the Zone, Taras thought.
He glanced at Ilarion. After a second his gaze fell to their clasped hands.
"You need some help with that...private business?"
no subject
Date: 2009-08-28 06:37 am (UTC)"I don't follow," he said, with a polite smile.
Oleksei's body language was screaming, even though he scarcely moved.
He released Irinarhov's hand slowly and sat back, steepling his fingers.
"Did you have some additional business you needed to address?"
no subject
Date: 2009-08-28 08:40 am (UTC)Oleksei was standing far too close for his comfort.
Kassian could feel the pressure of his gaze. His breath grazed Kassian's skin.
It was like standing next to a draft horse. Oleksei was tall, but it was more his sheer size and musculature that was so imposing. His chest, in particular, seemed improbably broad. Though his coloring was entirely off, Oleksei reminded Kassian vaguely of Andrei.
Kassian shifted slightly, and turned to look at Isaev.
"No, I have...no other business, Major. I'll just be on my way."
He moved to retrieve his rifle, but Oleksei shifted slightly, as if to block his escape.
"You sure?" Oleksei asked, quietly.
Something in his tone made Kassian swallow. He glanced up at Oleksei. "Da. What do you - "
"Don't you want your gun back, Irinarhov?"
"Oh. Da."
Oleksei produced the gun from his wasitband.
When Kassian reached for it, Oleksei grabbed his arm with his other hand. His fingers were like iron.
Kassian's jaw tightened, but he knew the more he struggled, the more Oleksei would like it.
"Let go of me," he growled at Oleksei, who smirked, and glanced at Isaev.
"What do you think, Lasha? Did he behave himself?"
no subject
Date: 2009-08-28 08:52 am (UTC)"Po khui. He behaved immaculately. Let him go, Taras. You break him, you buy him."
Irinarhov didn't look particularly charmed by Oleksei's manhandling, but then, since when did Irinarhov ever look particularly charmed by anything?
Taras, on the other hand, seemed rather fixated on the Ukrainian.
Lasha regarded Oleksei with cool, appraising eyes.
Then he shrugged, disaffectedly, a moment later.
"Play rough if you must, I suppose. Just don't leave any marks on him. He belongs to my brother."
no subject
Date: 2009-08-28 06:03 pm (UTC)He understood what that meant.
Taras liked Isaev's brother, and he respected Andrusha as well, even though he was younger than they were. But he didn't know Andrusha as well as he knew Lasha.
He didn't really have a right to help himself to Andrusha's property, like the way he did with Ilarion's.
Ultimately, it was up to Lasha, of course, because everything was, and if Lasha said it was okei to do so, then it was.
Taras held onto Irinarhov's arm for another few moments, deciding, then he slapped the gun into the khokol's hand and let go.
He shook his head.
"...I don't know if I could not leave marks."
no subject
Date: 2009-08-28 07:18 pm (UTC)He wasn't sure what Oleksei's sudden, pronounced and decidedly unwholesome interest in the khokol was, but then, many things that went on in Taras' dark head were inexplicable.
Ilarion didn't try to understand them; he didn't have to.
After a moment, he glanced up at Irinarhov, eyebrows shifting to vague inquiry.
"Are you going to inform Andrei Aleksandrovich about this little tête à tête, and the ensuing outcome? Or would you prefer we keep this little assignation...discreet?"
no subject
Date: 2009-08-28 07:54 pm (UTC)He was a little ruffled at their presumption, but he also saw the wisdom in not arguing. His 'belonging' to Andrei was what had moved Ilarion to help him in the first place.
Kassian glanced at his arm. He would probably have bruises anyway.
He put his gun away, holstering it behind his back.
Kassian turned his mind to what Ilarion had asked. It was something of a pressing issue.
"I don't know," he said, slowly. "I'd say keep it discreet for now. I'm not sure when I'm going to tell him."
Or how he would react, for that matter.
There was no use trying to keep it a secret. However, Kassian saw the value of strategic deployment of information.
He hesitated.
"But I'll probably be discussing my situation with Major Liadov. Just so you're not blindsided later."
no subject
Date: 2009-08-28 09:20 pm (UTC)"Major Liadov," he muttered, but there was no venom behind it.
He snorted, faintly.
"Whatever makes you happy, khokol."
He frowned, a crease forming lightly between his brows.
"The direktor has suggested that perhaps Liadov return to Leningrad and resume his duties there. Not that it's any of your concern, but I suppose if we're speaking of blindsiding; he was."
no subject
Date: 2009-08-28 10:06 pm (UTC)He had an idea of who that was.
Kassian also knew that the whole matter was probably fairly complex. It was strange to have heard one side of the story from Liadov, and now to be face-to-face and interacting with Ilarion himself. Kassian imagined that his version of events would be slightly different.
"Da, I see. I suppose Liadov wasn't....happy with that."
Oleksei was watching him narrowly. Almost suspiciously, Kassian thought.
He remembered something, and a few things fell into place.
"I was in the mess hall the other day, when you and he had a...vigorous discussion. Was that what it was about?"
no subject
Date: 2009-08-28 10:15 pm (UTC)An insulting assumption, and erroneous.
Not entirely unreasonable.
"However, I did no such thing. I came here solely for my brother."
The first half was true, the second was a fairly bold lie, and he didn't bother to correct the lie on his face. Perhaps the veracity of the first half would carry over.
"He was...mildly irked, initially. But he seems to have resigned himself."
Ilarion narrowed his eyes.
"In the end, we all must."
Taras shot him a glance with his odd lot eyes, unreadable. Intense but restrained.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-28 10:39 pm (UTC)Kassian glanced at the window. It was shaded, but a dim glow from the outside floodlights warmed the edges.
"I suppose so."
Kassian knew of nothing in his world that was inevitable. But he supposed Ilarion's point of view was quite different.
He wondered if Liadov felt the same way.
Kassian looked back at Isaev.
"I suppose it's not up to you, but wouldn't it be better if it wasn't a matter of resignation, and more of...choice?"
no subject
Date: 2009-08-29 09:07 am (UTC)It shattered.
Fine fragments of glass settled onto the carpet like diamonds.
"Yes," he said reflectively. "it would."
no subject
Date: 2009-08-29 10:24 am (UTC)Then he slowly turned his gaze toward the spot on the wall where the glass had hit.
Kassian ran his tongue over his lips.
"But he probably knows that you didn't really do it," he said, vaguely.
He glanced at Oleksei, who was frowning and looking at Isaev. Oleksei turned to look at Kassian as if he'd suddenly felt the pressure of his gaze. His eyes were hard and accusatory.
Kassian averted his gaze.
"Major Liadov isn't...unreasonable."
no subject
Date: 2009-08-29 10:05 pm (UTC)"I don't know what he knows," he said, after a moment. "I don't know that it matters."
There has been a certain weary camaraderie in the way Nika had arranged himself across from Lasha that morning, as if they were two people on divided sides of a very long war who had endured enough in common that everything came full circle once again and left them in a place of quiet.
Quiet and possibility.
"The air seems to have taken a turn," he said, softly. "Perhaps for the better, perhaps for the absolute worst."
Maybe Liadov had relented and was beginning to surrender to fate, at least as far as their twined lives were concerned. That was devoutly to be hoped.
But there was the other, disquieting possibility; that Liadov's love for him had worn out, extinguished like a candle flame, and he no longer cared to fight, because he no longer cared in that manner.
And maybe that was where they would be left standing; two distant, cultured men who would interact like intimate strangers, passing one another with civil nods and unreadable eyes, each holding the knowledge of what once was, silently bearing wistful, faded memories of a halcyon devotion that they could no longer touch.
Ilarion's eyes stung slightly behind his veiled lids and he closed them for a moment, until the pain subsided and he was able to reassemble his detachment.
When he opened them he was confronted by Oleksei's brown and blue regard, piercing and demanding, inexorable.
Lasha was taken aback at what he read there.
He held Taras' gaze for a moment, then returned his eyes to Irinarhov.
"A war of attrition is impossible to sustain without surrender or casualty."
He poured another shot and killed the bottle.
"May the casualty not be us," he said, darkly, raising his wrist.
He suddenly felt like a pillar of ashes.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-29 11:10 pm (UTC)It seemed almost respectful to do so, in the solemn, heavy moment, like not staring into the faces of the bereaved at a funeral.
Something about what Isaev said resonated in his chest, and he thought about Andrei.
They had only known each other a few months. He could not imagine what the pain of separation would be like for men who had known each other a lifetime.
Kassian no longer had the will to fight the sympathy he felt for Ilarion, more than a kinship now, but an understanding. It felt strange, almost like it was a betrayal of Liadov somehow to be consorting with the enemy. Ilarion had called it a war.
He risked a glance at Oleksei, who seemed wholly focused on Ilarion, and Kassian was reminded of what Isaev had said earlier of the brute captain, a warrior who loves his Caesar.
Kassian saw it, as improbable as that was. The pressure of his gaze did not even draw Oleksei's.
He looked away.
"There's another possibility," he said, into the pause. "That the war ends, and there's an accord."
He felt Oleksei stir, and he glanced up at him.
Oleksei's eyes were without the malice he would have expected. Instead, there was something else behind his eerie gaze, something more weighted, and significant.
"You need to go now, Irinarhov," Oleksei said, quietly.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-30 07:44 pm (UTC)Then he flicked his eyes over to the sniper, and offered a faint lift of his chin.
"Da, don't let me keep you."
There was an undertone to the words. As with most things, he meant them in both senses.
He was also aware that this was his brother's close friend. He'd declared his loyalty to Andrei before Ilarion; pledged himself. There was a necessary decorum that should be paid to that fact.
Ilarion well knew the value of close friends. Constrictively close, even, in some cases.
He paused vaguely, momentarily unsure of what to say. Civility to this man felt strange on his tongue.
"I assume we'll talk later, regarding the specifics of your reassignment."
no subject
Date: 2009-08-30 08:43 pm (UTC)He picked up his rifle and drew it to him, slinging the strap over his chest.
"Da. Once you know if they can take me, and when I'd be going."
Something occurred to him and he hesitated before taking one step toward the door, to appease Oleksei.
"There aren't a lot of transports that leave here. Even supplies come every few months. I imagine that we'd all be leaving together."
He could picture the scenario - a transport helicopter loaded with Ilarion and Oleksei, Liadov, Andrei, and himself. A long flight, close quarters. Heavy tensions. It would probably be a little awkward, to say the least.
Kassian wondered if they would ship Liadov directly to Leningrad, or if they would let him go home to Moscow first.
He looked between Oleksei and Isaev.
"Do you have an idea of the timeline? Major Liadov might actually want to...solve the case...before leaving."
no subject
Date: 2009-08-30 09:44 pm (UTC)Lasha sighed, exasperated, closing his eyes.
"Da," he drawled, reluctantly. "He's all about that chush."
He sipped his cognac distractedly, thinking it over with swift deliberation.
"All right. Manpower helps in these situations. We'll help him. We'll clear it up. Won't we, Taras."
no subject
Date: 2009-08-30 10:59 pm (UTC)"Da, okei. We can do that."
Ilarion seemed far more open to the idea than he had been previously. Taras thought maybe it was not just Nika who had changed his mind about things. He tried to picture the three of them working together and decided maybe it would not be a bad thing.
He turned his mind to what Lasha had said.
"We'll talk to him tomorrow, da, Lasha? I think he needs help with the interrogation part."
Taras pressed his fist into his palm absently as he considered.
"We'll just go down the list of everyone on the base. You can fuck with their minds, and I'll just fuck them up."
He frowned then, and glanced at Lasha.
"Nika's going to let us help, right? That's reasonable."
no subject
Date: 2009-08-31 12:52 am (UTC)"I see no reason why not," he said, smoothly.
That was, if Liadov believed their intentions were legitimate, and not some elaborate sabotage. Although from his perspective, Liadov might assume that Ilarion had gotten what he wanted, and could now deign to be magnanimous.
"However, I think this is one area where roughing people up will produce little. This, unfortunately, is the epitome of-" Ilarion shuddered slightly, "investigative and deductive work."
He frowned, turning his head to look at Taras, his gaze penetrating and blackly curious.
Oleksei had called Liadov by his first name.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-31 01:49 am (UTC)"We can do that too," he said, folding his thick arms. "Liadov's not the only one who can do it."
He narrowed his eyes at a spot on the floor as he considered.
"And it would be...good. To show him we can work with him. So he'll know he doesn't have to worry about Leningrad, da?"
He looked up at Lasha, and realized he was staring.
"What, Lasha?"
Taras glanced down, to make sure he had remembered to fasten his pants.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-31 02:33 am (UTC)"Nichevo," he said, after a minute.
He moved his gaze away, shaking his head and swirling the liquid in his glass.
There was a pause, as he regathered his thoughts.
"You're right. It would be good."
The idea of working beside Liadov again made him conflicted.
"Say that a statue was perfect," he murmured, vaguely. "Proportionate, balanced, artful, harmonious, symmetrical. And that one day it toppled over, and broke at fundamental places. The neck, the ankles, the wrists. Say it could be put back together by the labor of a craftsman. It might still resemble what it was, but will it ever be the same? Will it ever be as strong?"
Lasha snorted.
"What am I saying. I have what I wanted."
no subject
Date: 2009-08-31 05:01 am (UTC)There was an surprising synergy between the two men that he hadn't expected, one that seemed at odds with their demeanors. Isaev was cold and composed, an elite son of privilege, while Oleksei was bristling and brute, a criminal in Ministry skin. Yet they seemed to have a perfectly agreeable working relationship in addition to whatever else it was. Comrades in arms, warriors and Ceasars. Friends.
He shifted slightly. Oleksei seemed to have forgotten about expelling him from the room.
"Major...you have to start somewhere, da?"
There was a curious mixture of idealism and bitter resignation in Isaev's words. The resignation, he could imagine, but the idealism was also not what he would have expected.
"Whether it's to fix what was broken, or make something new."
He stepped forward slightly.
"I didn't tell you this earlier, but Major Liadov talked about you. It wasn't dissimilar to the way you talk about him."
no subject
Date: 2009-08-31 05:44 am (UTC)His lips curled humorlessly.
It didn't bode well, if Liadov had been speaking of him in the fashion he'd spoken of Liadov.
"I haven't been particularly kind regarding Major Liadov," he remarked, with a wry touch of bitterness, "lo these many months."
He gestured vaguely in Oleksei's direction.
"Taras will always take my part. He doesn't mind a little vitriol," he added. "He's an angry god of vengeance himself. We're good company that way."
Lasha snorted softly.
"Good, bad company."
He gazed at the floor for a moment, uncommunicative, then he raised his head.
"But yes. Everyone must begin somewhere. Even bad men."
He drank the last of his cognac and upended the glass.
"I submit myself to fate."
Lasha's eyes narrowed.
"What about you, Irinarhov?"