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Entry tags:
fic: Wolf and Lamb
Title: Wolf and Lamb
Series: TF2
Character/pairing: Scout, Scoutma, Miss Pauling, Spy, (Spy/Scoutma)
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4,854
Author's note:
Part of a multichapter work called "Loving Ghosts."
Other chapters: After I'm Wild Again, Beguiled Again, Playing House. Did You Have to Let It Linger? and Haunted and, before Last Call, Trace The Ghost Family
For Sarah.
1969
"Here's your paystub, like you asked. Funny, I asked at the accounting and they couldn't find any issue."
The room was dim. The light of the room, and the screens reflected off her glasses. She'd certainly used this to her advantage plenty of times when she was called in to kill certain troublesome employees whose services were no longer needed.
Spy looked over the numbers. No change. At the very least the Voice could've paid them extra for such a stunt. Of course, to expect even the smallest mercy from her was foolishness. They were paid well because money was expendable to her, and more, to keep them quiet.
"Hmmm... How quaint, calling us to the interviews only to blackmail our families. Of course you had nothing to do with that..." Spy said softly.
For a moment, he thought she hadn't heard. But, she clutched at her clipboard tighter.
"I--" She cleared her throat and put on that smile like a mask. "I wouldn't know what you are talking about. And even if I did, it's surely classified. Extremely classified."
"Of course you wouldn't," he murmured.
It was a fools errand to give her mercy, to keep making excuses for her. He'd known it even as it happened, yet he'd laid his logic aside a long time ago, that inconvenient moment when he'd gained a heart. The little lost lamb had grown into a wolf. And now, his family was in peril yet again.
He'd even been her guardian on Scout's behest. Something that left quite a bitter taste in his mouth, and something that wouldn't be repeated anytime soon, even if Scout begged.
I should've killed the Voice years ago, he thought.
As if it would be so easy.
But, he'd stared into hell before, he could do it again.
"Um, was that all?" Miss Pauling said.
He did not allow the conversation to end so easily. "It is as they say, 'no honor among thieves.' Tell me, Miss Pauling, did you offer the Voice a picture from your personal stash? All the ones you stole from me over the years? Even the ones I gave you when you were but a little girl?"
She didn't say a single thing, not an excuse. She couldn't quite meet his gaze and instead, she busied herself with organizing her files.
"I..I wouldn't know about that," she said finally.
He shoved the paystub into his jacket. He was a fool to ever think she'd be anything more than the Voice's attack dog. He'd been stabbing at shadows, allowing her far too much access to his life, and moreover, to Liam. He had sat aside and let Liam be besotted with her, even knowing the dangers. He had foolishly figured that Liam would strike out with his chances with her, or fall for some other girl.
He'd indulged Liam's foolishness for long enough. He could no longer take such a risk.
"Surely," he said. He disappeared without saying goodbye.
It certainly wasn't the first time he'd done such a thing. The momentary hurt in her expression stung more than it should for a killer like him.
*
Looking at magazines about coffins reminded him of his mortality, a thing he tended to forget when one died and came back so frequently. Ah, well. Hell was a little ways off yet. He doubted even the prayers of a woman like Colleen Dempsey could undo the thousands he'd killed.
And he couldn't say he was sorry for the mass graves he'd filled, not with what they'd done to his beloved city.
He would have his taste of paradise in Colleen's arms, for the few moments before he was brought back to this desert and endless war.
He usually didn't spend much time in the living room of the base, especially as some of the utter fools left it in a state. Bullet wounds and scorch marks and even in some places, the remains of caved in rubble from an explosion.
He had his own places. Call it reconnaissance, or the damned reason he couldn't let go, even after so many years of failing to be anything like a father to Liam.
At least, that he knew of.
The rest of the mercenaries were somewhere else, he couldn't say, did not care, for that matter. But Scout remained here. He kept tapping his foot, only to get up and pace again.
"You're pacing like a caged animal," Spy said, irritation filling his voice.
"Miss Pauling ain't been around in ages. You think she's all right?"
"She isn't at this base," Spy said without looking up from his magazine.
"Really? She's off somewhere else? Wish I was there...."
Spy set his magazine aside. Leave it to Liam damned Dempsey to run headlong into his demise. No, it wasn't enough that he had to take up this tailgating stealing attempt, that he couldn't stay in school. He had to fall in love with a killer.
Even as he thought this, he knew the hypocrisy of it. But, it didn't matter. Stakes changed when blackmail was brought into the picture, and when Colleen was endangered by Scout's infatuation.
Still... there was a chance. Scout and her weren't married. They hadn't even gone on a date, and perhaps Miss Pauling was too busy serving her master to ever deign to fall in love. This could still be fixed. Scout had once been a complete flirt, though few women would even look his way. He'd been far too enraptured by Miss Pauling, and Spy had let this whole thing go on for far too long.
He'd even rooted for them, a bit. If anyone could make Scout behave, it'd be her. If anyone could thaw her, it'd be him.
But, no longer. Miss Pauling had chosen her side, and Spy chose his. He just had to help provide Scout with enough distraction that he forgot this budding puppy love, and make him return to his flirtatious ways. Then he would forget all about Miss Pauling, and the spell would be broken.
"Come now. It's a Friday night. No time to be alone and pacing the rooms."
"Yeah, that's what I would be tellin' Miss Pauling if she were here. Waaait, what have you got up your sleeve?"
"My sleeve? You'd have to be more specific. I have many things there."
Poison tablets, knives, and a litany of other things hidden away. Just as any killer would.
"We should, as you put it, have a 'night on the town.'"
Scout's eyes lit up. "Really? You'd go out to the bars with me? Man, I thought you were too high and mighty for such shit."
Spy shrugged. "It is 'ladies night.'"
And those magic words made Scout forget all about his pacing, and all his troubles, at least for the moment.
*
The beer was nothing compared to his aged wine imported from Paris, but he still took small sips. Enough to convince Scout that he was drinking along and enjoying himself, though the loud bar was anything but. Spy never spared himself any luxury. Heaven was promised to no man, and he might as well have every taste of pleasure before he died that one last time, and felt the lick of flames against his heels.
Much was sent to Colleen, but she tended to keep them. In bibles, and hidden away, because she'd lived to see banks fail. Those born in the Great Depression never quite lost that fear that everything would fall apart. She had a perfectly strange dream that she'd see her children go to Harvard and saved thousands to do so, only to see every son drop out of school. Most took their father's union card and joined the Teamsters.
Scout, however, always managed to find himself trouble. Be it in tacky bars, or cracked sidewalks.
There was so much gingham here in this bar, it should be criminal.
Scout threw back his bottle to guzzle, surely to impress Spy. Of course, as any man who actually drank more than soda would know, he sputtered and coughed.
Looking at Scout drinking himself silly, Spy could only shake his head. Truly, he loved Colleen for for her dreams, but even this one he couldn't suspend disbelief for.
The rest of his money was stored in the Virgin Islands, a nice tax haven. One day he'd leave it to the son he'd failed in being a father to. He'd tried to convince her to find a nice house, but she was attached to Southie. It was where she'd buried Finny, and Jack and many others. The pavement was broken beyond use and the people were poor, but she loved it there despite everything.
A shame there wasn't any burlesque shows. If he had enough time, he could buy one to perhaps give Scout extra attention. Spy would spend any amount of money if it could even get Scout to forget about Miss Pauling for a second. And if that moment turned to minutes, then hours, all the better.
Somewhere out in the world, there had to be some woman who would captivate Scout so much, he would forget about Miss Pauling's entire existence. Preferably not a woman with a body count high enough to be classified as a serial killer, but at this rate, he wasn't picky.
He'd take a minor murdereress if that was what it took to distract Scout.
There was a certain twinge, something like guilt or regret, though a man like him had little conscience left. He was no less than stabbing the back of that little girl who he'd taught to wield a knife. Pulling away the closest person she'd ever had to a friend.
But, had she not made the first blow? Had she not quietly gone on with this farce? Blackmailing them with pictures of their families, pictures she might have even taken.
He let out a soft sigh, which was lost in the noise of the bar. Truly, to have a heart was inconvenient in his line of work. Perhaps it was because he'd been raised Catholic, and the guilt still lingered with him long after he stopped believing in any god, as war killed such things as faith and hope.
But not love. Somehow that had survived, even through the worst. In such arid ground, a seed had spouted...in more than one way.
Any man who had been through the war questioned the existence of God. To see any city as lovely as Paris fall, the camps, the horrors. But if God did exist, He had a sense of humor.
"This is so cool! I always wanted you to come out with us. Demo and I go drinkin' all the time. But he's, like, got stages of drunkenness you know? Like there's the fun drunk, then he's weepin' because his friend fucked him over and then he's startin' a fight because somebody in the next table over was breathin' too loud. And we're lucky if he just breaks a bottle and doesn't blow the whole place down. And the less said about Soldier, the better. Not just because it was a Soldier who messed him all up, but get enough drinks in Soldier, and he thinks everyone's a communist."
Spy scanned the room. Occasionally, he nodded as if he were listening to Scout, but it was the plan which his mind focused on.
Yes, many of the women here were comely enough. None of them tempted Spy, but with luck, they might tempt Scout enough to change his course.
Scout was a romantic at heart, even if he denied it. If Spy could just find someone to awaken that latent romanticism, even for a night, then he might prevent this coming disaster.
The music blared loud from the colorful, lit up jukebox. Should he narrow it down to one woman to try and get Scout to pay attention to, or simply make him meet as many women as possible until he barely remembered Miss Pauling's name?
"Go on, approach them. Or do you need a...hmm, what do you call them? Wingman?"
"Hell no, I can do it on my own. I'm good at this kind of thing."
Spy lifted up his brows. "Mmhmm, so you say."
Scout pointed an accusing finger at him. "Don't you give me that tone! You ain't even flirtin'. What, you got somebody? Some wife hidden away?"
Spy remained silent.
"Fine, don't tell me. You probably get all the ladies, anyways," Scout muttered.
"I loved someone once," he said finally. "And I still do."
Scout slammed his bottle on the table loud enough to make the salt shaker rattle. "Wait, you tellin' crap? You never tell crap!"
Spy couldn't help but roll his eyes at that. "That is the point of being in a top secret place is to not tell every damn person everything about you. Yet you never seem to realize it."
"Don't be such a hardass. The guys are all my pals," Scout said. He ran his thumb over the top of the bottle.
"They are not your friends. They're hired killers who would gladly shank you in the back for even a penny, and you should treat them as such."
"They'd die for me! We all would. We're like brothers from another mother, every single one of us. Even you. Except you're not like a brother, you're like--our dad. Everybody's dad."
"Everyone's? Some of them are older than I," Spy said softly. Liam paid him little mind.
Liam downed another guzzle. "God, I need to be way more drunk for this kinda crap."
He scrunched up his nose and continued on anyways. "Except, I don't really know what a dad is like. But I can imagine! I seen it on television and comics, so I got an idea, really! Kinda just wish my dad wasn't nothin' but a fantasy."
"At the very least, quit mentioning where you came from and your mother," Spy said. Even though he knew that Scout probably wouldn't even remember this conversation. He never could hold his liquor. Where Scout got that little trait, with an Irish and French heritage, Spy had no idea.
"Why? What's it in for you?"
"Don't you want to keep your mother safe?"
Liam slammed his bottle down so hard that the salt and pepper on the table shook. "Always!"
Obviously, he couldn't get a bit of sense in his head. Of all the people for him to become fixated on, it had to be Miss Pauling. There were plenty of pretty women in this area, and none of them had a body count.
"Wait, why you mentionin' my ma again? Right after the picture thing...God, that was awful. I was on the phone with ma for ages about that."
"Any man wishes to protect his mother."
"What about yours? You remember to call your ma?"
"If only it were that easy. Many were lost in the war, when Paris fell; she was no exception."
Scout rubbed at his neck and gave Spy a somber look. "Oh, man, I'm real sorry. I can't even imagine life without my ma.... Fuck those Nazis, eh? If I had a time machine, I'd go and punch 'em all. I missed out," Scout said.
"If only it were so simple," he said. Though he had done far more than punch the German invaders who'd had the unlucky to cross paths with him.
Spy motioned for another drink. Scout instantly perked up as a comely and curvy blond brought them over on a tray. Her gaze lingered on Scout a moment too long.
Now here was potential. She was close, and if he could just convince.
He tried to not think what the consequences might be. To save them, he'd have to break Miss Pauling's heart.
(If she even had one, was his rueful reminder.)
She'd made her choice. He wasn't one to be made an enemy of.
"Thanks a bunch..." Scout suddenly broke off. His cocky smile disappeared.
The woman gave Scout an appreciative look and walked back to the bar.
"Go on," Spy urged. "Go speak to her."
"What?" Scout glanced back at the woman. For a moment, Spy truly thought he might get up and likely make a fool of himself, but at least it would be a few moments where his mind was not consumed with Miss Pauling.
"Perhaps she will say yes. Perhaps you could catch her eye."
Unlikely, but anything was possible.
Scout shook his head. "Nah."
Scout had been so close to flirting, and yet, he'd completely choked. Was it merely his horrible way with ladies, or had this crush on Miss Pauling progressed far more than Spy had given him credit for?
"Aren't you going to go ask her for her number?"
Stranger things had happened than Scout ever managing to not to completely make a jackass of himself while trying to flirt with women.
"What, her?" Scout rubbed at his cheek. "Nah, I'll pass."
"Don't tell me you're afraid," Spy said.
"What? Are you kiddin' me? I could flirt with her so hard if I wanted to! I ain't lost the touch. She would be wantin' some of this in a second, trust me."
As if he ever had the touch to begin with.
"Oh? Then what's stopping you? You're single and young. Yet you stay in every night these days," Spy said.
Even as he already knew the answer.
He took off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair.
"I keep tryin', but it's like, I got a Pauling on my shoulder and she's starin' me down and askin' why I'd ever even give another gal a glance than her. And I agree, why the hell would I? She's just so.... I can't stop thinkin' about her. The way her glasses fall down her nose like so....her green eyes she's just...special, you know? I ain't ever felt anythin' like this before. Even when I try and flirt with ladies, it feels weird and wrong. Because the only one I wanna be flirtin' with...is Miss Pauling. So lately I ain't even been botherin'."
"You aren't married. She has no claim on you. The world is full of beautiful women, plenty who you have a chance with."
"Maybe not, but still...This is what I'm dealin' with."
Scout pushed his chair back.
"Are you going for another drink?" Spy said.
"One more. After this, I'm headed home. I'd rather be alone there waitin' for her than out here. Feels less lonely somehow. I don't know. I never felt like this before, but I'm still breathin', so I must be doin' somethin' right."
"One more drink for the road," Spy said.
"One more, okay. I think I'm pullin' in my chips."
Far too much of a gamble, by far.
"Fine, I'll walk you home. You'd probably stumble off and die in a gutter at this rate."
Two tequila shots, one for each of them. Oh, how it burned all the way down. Scout swayed as he led him out those doors into the night. Spy held him steady.
For once, being the father in his life. Only when he was too drunk to realize, only when he didn't know.
*
By the time they got back, Scout was practically passed out against him. Oh, what hell he would have to pay if Colleen ever found out. He managed to open the door into the darkened common room of the base. He expected to see one of the fellow mercenaries passed out, if that.
He didn't expect to see her, waiting.
Considering her crossed arms and cold glance. She didn't have time to spare, yet she'd spared it to be here at this moment.
"Don't you have work to do, Miss Pauling? Surely there are people out there in need of being blackmailed and murdered. Families to threaten, and bury."
"Don't act like you're a saint. They called you The Angel of Death."
"Listening to myths and legends for bedtime stories?" Spy said.
"I overheard the Administrator say it once," she said.
"Of course, I should've known you'd find out about that," he said.
Just like she'd found out about his family.
Miss Pauling scrunched up his nose.
"Ugh, he smells like a refinery. How...how much did you two even drink? You know what, I don't even want to know."
"Hmm, some. He cannot hold his liquor well, I am afraid. I convinced him to come out to the bar with me. For, 'ladies night' I believe it is called. The alcohol was laughably poor, but the company was passable."
Her expression hardened. "I know. He always forgets to return the company property when he goes out," Miss Pauling said.
Had that fool left on his ear piece the whole time? This could complicate things, especially if she heard his drunken confession. He only hoped the din of the bar drowned his feelings out.
He helped Scout to the nearby couch. As he laid a blanket down, Miss Pauling watched.
It was the only moment they'd been alone since he'd gotten the news. Or, as alone as one ever could be.
"Miss Pauling, I find it very interesting these pictures we got. Reminding us of who is dear to us. We were led to help make this propaganda, then punished for following orders. In the end, we are simply being toyed with by the Administrator, no?"
She cleared her throat. "I told you, I wouldn't know anything about that."
"Wouldn't you? I will be blunt, Miss Pauling. Unlike many on this base, you are no idiot. Consider this your warning. Miss Pauling, I will not sit idly by and allow myself to be backstabbed twice. Remember that. I was a fool to think we could be allies."
"I never said I was your ally. I serve the Administrator only," she said.
"Then, you made your choice."
"M-my choice? Spy, you--"
"Are no ally of yours....isn't that what you said? You'd really even sell out Liam? And Colleen, too? I must say, the Voice certainly did a thorough job of hollowing you out, until there was nothing. No heart, no soul, nothing but a little automaton who follows the Administrator's every demand. And for what? Her to use you like an attack dog, and set hitmen upon you at every moment she can?"
"You act like you're any different." She touched to her chest in that moment. "Would you expect anything less of me? We're both killers here."
"Strangely, yes. I believed there was some shred of kindness in the girl I've known for so many years. I suppose I was a fool to think so."
For a brief moment hurt flickered over her face. And it was a vice to his chest. This was the girl he couldn't save. Even now he was damning her more. But he had to make a choice. His family or her.
For once, he'd have to be a father to Liam, and not a ghost.
"You were protecting me, for Scout then..."
"Now, I'm protecting him from you. Strange how things change, no?"
Her eyes narrowed. "You still owe me. Don't think I've forgotten our little deal. Make that deals, now."
"You know the rules. Not my family. By all means tell me who must be killed. Their heads shall be mailed to you shortly," he said.
She bit her lip and left a trace of blood red lipstick on her teeth.
"Listen.... I told you, I didn't....I didn't use those photos. I didn't start this. I was just following orders..."
"By all means that absolves your actions. I will certainly take it as comfort tonight when I'm wondering if tonight will be the time when I have to worry that hitmen have been called on my family again, and whether I could possibly get across the country in time to save them."
She flinched at that. "What did you expect me to do? I work for the Administrator. What she asks, I do. If you thought I was your friend, you were mistaken."
"For a moment, I thought that perhaps all those pictures you hoarded meant something. For so long you held a fascination with him. I thought maybe even more, the way you've been acting."
"If the memories of the times we worked together were meaningless, I hoped at least you wouldn't betray him in the end. Not when you clutched to any hint of him like air for decades, and acted so when you finally met him."s
He shook his head. "I even suspected you were in love with him."
Her cheeks colored at that. "You're....ahem, you're completely mistaken. I only serve the Administrator."
"Then you stole all those pictures simply blackmail me?"
She remained silent.
"Merde, even thinking of destroying me as a child. I should've known. I thought for a moment that you wouldn't betray him at least. Better to rip my own heart out while it still beats than threaten them again. I see I was mistaken."
"I haven't--"
"No, the Administrator. How do you think I came here? Do you think I suddenly just ambled here for a pleasure walk? I was a fool who let myself get ensnared by love and it led me here. I stopped running for a moment, and she caught me. She located me, threatened me and brought me here. That day I took the job, she showed me the video of a hired gun on a train. Perhaps next time, she will send you personally to spice things up, no?"
"That's..." she broke off, unable to finish the sentence. Because they both knew it was something the Administrator would absolutely do.
"Don't you think he deserves better?" Spy said softly. "Do you think someone like you is even remotely worthy to love him? You're a killer with no morals, no humanity at all. You've signed away whatever bit of kindness and soul you had to the Administrator to do her bidding, however messy it is."
He didn't need to elaborate, or call her by name. For just a moment, she looked completely devastated. But, her face hardened back to that professional killer.
It was the cruelest, and most hypocritical thing he ever could've said. And those were the words he'd said to himself countless times. In mirrors as he washed his face with cold water, and didn't recognize the face he'd taken on that night.
In the end, he was too selfish. He knew that Colleen and Liam deserved better, but he couldn't bring himself to ever let go.
He'd killed countless people in his life. But this, this was another regret to join the rest. To have his hand forced to become the enemy of the little girl he'd tried to save back then.
He'd failed in that, too. Look at what they were. Two ruthless killers in the end.
She held out her hand. "The ear piece."
Spy pulled it off Scout's head, and handed it over to her. Miss Pauling left without saying anything more. For a moment she paused at the door and gave one last look back. But, she shook her head and kept on.
For not the first time, he thought this all would be so much easier had he stepped away in the rain. Had he not fallen so in love with Colleen Dempsey. Had he not, somehow despite it all, gotten a heart.
He would've wandered from love affair to love affair. Men and women, none who captured him the way one Boston widow had.
In a sense, he could not blame Miss Pauling entirely, even as her actions pained him. She was a killer. To feel love and to kill were contradictory. He barely kept the balance, and only because even when he tried to leave her, he couldn't.
In the end, the blame was at his own, for ever believing in her. In that feral little girl who he'd helped learn to wield a knife.
"Well, boy, one of the parts of becoming a man is feeling a woman's wrath. You'll have worse than a hangover waiting for you. But, a little heartbreak is good for you. You'll understand one day."
Liam said nothing, of course. Spy sighed and sat down near the couch. He lit a cigarette and held close to his gun. Chainsmoking and wondering if tonight would be the night his family was murdered, and bitter coffee to get him through tomorrow.
To be a killer with a heart was certainly no easy task.
Series: TF2
Character/pairing: Scout, Scoutma, Miss Pauling, Spy, (Spy/Scoutma)
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 4,854
Author's note:
Part of a multichapter work called "Loving Ghosts."
Other chapters: After I'm Wild Again, Beguiled Again, Playing House. Did You Have to Let It Linger? and Haunted and, before Last Call, Trace The Ghost Family
For Sarah.
1969
"Here's your paystub, like you asked. Funny, I asked at the accounting and they couldn't find any issue."
The room was dim. The light of the room, and the screens reflected off her glasses. She'd certainly used this to her advantage plenty of times when she was called in to kill certain troublesome employees whose services were no longer needed.
Spy looked over the numbers. No change. At the very least the Voice could've paid them extra for such a stunt. Of course, to expect even the smallest mercy from her was foolishness. They were paid well because money was expendable to her, and more, to keep them quiet.
"Hmmm... How quaint, calling us to the interviews only to blackmail our families. Of course you had nothing to do with that..." Spy said softly.
For a moment, he thought she hadn't heard. But, she clutched at her clipboard tighter.
"I--" She cleared her throat and put on that smile like a mask. "I wouldn't know what you are talking about. And even if I did, it's surely classified. Extremely classified."
"Of course you wouldn't," he murmured.
It was a fools errand to give her mercy, to keep making excuses for her. He'd known it even as it happened, yet he'd laid his logic aside a long time ago, that inconvenient moment when he'd gained a heart. The little lost lamb had grown into a wolf. And now, his family was in peril yet again.
He'd even been her guardian on Scout's behest. Something that left quite a bitter taste in his mouth, and something that wouldn't be repeated anytime soon, even if Scout begged.
I should've killed the Voice years ago, he thought.
As if it would be so easy.
But, he'd stared into hell before, he could do it again.
"Um, was that all?" Miss Pauling said.
He did not allow the conversation to end so easily. "It is as they say, 'no honor among thieves.' Tell me, Miss Pauling, did you offer the Voice a picture from your personal stash? All the ones you stole from me over the years? Even the ones I gave you when you were but a little girl?"
She didn't say a single thing, not an excuse. She couldn't quite meet his gaze and instead, she busied herself with organizing her files.
"I..I wouldn't know about that," she said finally.
He shoved the paystub into his jacket. He was a fool to ever think she'd be anything more than the Voice's attack dog. He'd been stabbing at shadows, allowing her far too much access to his life, and moreover, to Liam. He had sat aside and let Liam be besotted with her, even knowing the dangers. He had foolishly figured that Liam would strike out with his chances with her, or fall for some other girl.
He'd indulged Liam's foolishness for long enough. He could no longer take such a risk.
"Surely," he said. He disappeared without saying goodbye.
It certainly wasn't the first time he'd done such a thing. The momentary hurt in her expression stung more than it should for a killer like him.
*
Looking at magazines about coffins reminded him of his mortality, a thing he tended to forget when one died and came back so frequently. Ah, well. Hell was a little ways off yet. He doubted even the prayers of a woman like Colleen Dempsey could undo the thousands he'd killed.
And he couldn't say he was sorry for the mass graves he'd filled, not with what they'd done to his beloved city.
He would have his taste of paradise in Colleen's arms, for the few moments before he was brought back to this desert and endless war.
He usually didn't spend much time in the living room of the base, especially as some of the utter fools left it in a state. Bullet wounds and scorch marks and even in some places, the remains of caved in rubble from an explosion.
He had his own places. Call it reconnaissance, or the damned reason he couldn't let go, even after so many years of failing to be anything like a father to Liam.
At least, that he knew of.
The rest of the mercenaries were somewhere else, he couldn't say, did not care, for that matter. But Scout remained here. He kept tapping his foot, only to get up and pace again.
"You're pacing like a caged animal," Spy said, irritation filling his voice.
"Miss Pauling ain't been around in ages. You think she's all right?"
"She isn't at this base," Spy said without looking up from his magazine.
"Really? She's off somewhere else? Wish I was there...."
Spy set his magazine aside. Leave it to Liam damned Dempsey to run headlong into his demise. No, it wasn't enough that he had to take up this tailgating stealing attempt, that he couldn't stay in school. He had to fall in love with a killer.
Even as he thought this, he knew the hypocrisy of it. But, it didn't matter. Stakes changed when blackmail was brought into the picture, and when Colleen was endangered by Scout's infatuation.
Still... there was a chance. Scout and her weren't married. They hadn't even gone on a date, and perhaps Miss Pauling was too busy serving her master to ever deign to fall in love. This could still be fixed. Scout had once been a complete flirt, though few women would even look his way. He'd been far too enraptured by Miss Pauling, and Spy had let this whole thing go on for far too long.
He'd even rooted for them, a bit. If anyone could make Scout behave, it'd be her. If anyone could thaw her, it'd be him.
But, no longer. Miss Pauling had chosen her side, and Spy chose his. He just had to help provide Scout with enough distraction that he forgot this budding puppy love, and make him return to his flirtatious ways. Then he would forget all about Miss Pauling, and the spell would be broken.
"Come now. It's a Friday night. No time to be alone and pacing the rooms."
"Yeah, that's what I would be tellin' Miss Pauling if she were here. Waaait, what have you got up your sleeve?"
"My sleeve? You'd have to be more specific. I have many things there."
Poison tablets, knives, and a litany of other things hidden away. Just as any killer would.
"We should, as you put it, have a 'night on the town.'"
Scout's eyes lit up. "Really? You'd go out to the bars with me? Man, I thought you were too high and mighty for such shit."
Spy shrugged. "It is 'ladies night.'"
And those magic words made Scout forget all about his pacing, and all his troubles, at least for the moment.
*
The beer was nothing compared to his aged wine imported from Paris, but he still took small sips. Enough to convince Scout that he was drinking along and enjoying himself, though the loud bar was anything but. Spy never spared himself any luxury. Heaven was promised to no man, and he might as well have every taste of pleasure before he died that one last time, and felt the lick of flames against his heels.
Much was sent to Colleen, but she tended to keep them. In bibles, and hidden away, because she'd lived to see banks fail. Those born in the Great Depression never quite lost that fear that everything would fall apart. She had a perfectly strange dream that she'd see her children go to Harvard and saved thousands to do so, only to see every son drop out of school. Most took their father's union card and joined the Teamsters.
Scout, however, always managed to find himself trouble. Be it in tacky bars, or cracked sidewalks.
There was so much gingham here in this bar, it should be criminal.
Scout threw back his bottle to guzzle, surely to impress Spy. Of course, as any man who actually drank more than soda would know, he sputtered and coughed.
Looking at Scout drinking himself silly, Spy could only shake his head. Truly, he loved Colleen for for her dreams, but even this one he couldn't suspend disbelief for.
The rest of his money was stored in the Virgin Islands, a nice tax haven. One day he'd leave it to the son he'd failed in being a father to. He'd tried to convince her to find a nice house, but she was attached to Southie. It was where she'd buried Finny, and Jack and many others. The pavement was broken beyond use and the people were poor, but she loved it there despite everything.
A shame there wasn't any burlesque shows. If he had enough time, he could buy one to perhaps give Scout extra attention. Spy would spend any amount of money if it could even get Scout to forget about Miss Pauling for a second. And if that moment turned to minutes, then hours, all the better.
Somewhere out in the world, there had to be some woman who would captivate Scout so much, he would forget about Miss Pauling's entire existence. Preferably not a woman with a body count high enough to be classified as a serial killer, but at this rate, he wasn't picky.
He'd take a minor murdereress if that was what it took to distract Scout.
There was a certain twinge, something like guilt or regret, though a man like him had little conscience left. He was no less than stabbing the back of that little girl who he'd taught to wield a knife. Pulling away the closest person she'd ever had to a friend.
But, had she not made the first blow? Had she not quietly gone on with this farce? Blackmailing them with pictures of their families, pictures she might have even taken.
He let out a soft sigh, which was lost in the noise of the bar. Truly, to have a heart was inconvenient in his line of work. Perhaps it was because he'd been raised Catholic, and the guilt still lingered with him long after he stopped believing in any god, as war killed such things as faith and hope.
But not love. Somehow that had survived, even through the worst. In such arid ground, a seed had spouted...in more than one way.
Any man who had been through the war questioned the existence of God. To see any city as lovely as Paris fall, the camps, the horrors. But if God did exist, He had a sense of humor.
"This is so cool! I always wanted you to come out with us. Demo and I go drinkin' all the time. But he's, like, got stages of drunkenness you know? Like there's the fun drunk, then he's weepin' because his friend fucked him over and then he's startin' a fight because somebody in the next table over was breathin' too loud. And we're lucky if he just breaks a bottle and doesn't blow the whole place down. And the less said about Soldier, the better. Not just because it was a Soldier who messed him all up, but get enough drinks in Soldier, and he thinks everyone's a communist."
Spy scanned the room. Occasionally, he nodded as if he were listening to Scout, but it was the plan which his mind focused on.
Yes, many of the women here were comely enough. None of them tempted Spy, but with luck, they might tempt Scout enough to change his course.
Scout was a romantic at heart, even if he denied it. If Spy could just find someone to awaken that latent romanticism, even for a night, then he might prevent this coming disaster.
The music blared loud from the colorful, lit up jukebox. Should he narrow it down to one woman to try and get Scout to pay attention to, or simply make him meet as many women as possible until he barely remembered Miss Pauling's name?
"Go on, approach them. Or do you need a...hmm, what do you call them? Wingman?"
"Hell no, I can do it on my own. I'm good at this kind of thing."
Spy lifted up his brows. "Mmhmm, so you say."
Scout pointed an accusing finger at him. "Don't you give me that tone! You ain't even flirtin'. What, you got somebody? Some wife hidden away?"
Spy remained silent.
"Fine, don't tell me. You probably get all the ladies, anyways," Scout muttered.
"I loved someone once," he said finally. "And I still do."
Scout slammed his bottle on the table loud enough to make the salt shaker rattle. "Wait, you tellin' crap? You never tell crap!"
Spy couldn't help but roll his eyes at that. "That is the point of being in a top secret place is to not tell every damn person everything about you. Yet you never seem to realize it."
"Don't be such a hardass. The guys are all my pals," Scout said. He ran his thumb over the top of the bottle.
"They are not your friends. They're hired killers who would gladly shank you in the back for even a penny, and you should treat them as such."
"They'd die for me! We all would. We're like brothers from another mother, every single one of us. Even you. Except you're not like a brother, you're like--our dad. Everybody's dad."
"Everyone's? Some of them are older than I," Spy said softly. Liam paid him little mind.
Liam downed another guzzle. "God, I need to be way more drunk for this kinda crap."
He scrunched up his nose and continued on anyways. "Except, I don't really know what a dad is like. But I can imagine! I seen it on television and comics, so I got an idea, really! Kinda just wish my dad wasn't nothin' but a fantasy."
"At the very least, quit mentioning where you came from and your mother," Spy said. Even though he knew that Scout probably wouldn't even remember this conversation. He never could hold his liquor. Where Scout got that little trait, with an Irish and French heritage, Spy had no idea.
"Why? What's it in for you?"
"Don't you want to keep your mother safe?"
Liam slammed his bottle down so hard that the salt and pepper on the table shook. "Always!"
Obviously, he couldn't get a bit of sense in his head. Of all the people for him to become fixated on, it had to be Miss Pauling. There were plenty of pretty women in this area, and none of them had a body count.
"Wait, why you mentionin' my ma again? Right after the picture thing...God, that was awful. I was on the phone with ma for ages about that."
"Any man wishes to protect his mother."
"What about yours? You remember to call your ma?"
"If only it were that easy. Many were lost in the war, when Paris fell; she was no exception."
Scout rubbed at his neck and gave Spy a somber look. "Oh, man, I'm real sorry. I can't even imagine life without my ma.... Fuck those Nazis, eh? If I had a time machine, I'd go and punch 'em all. I missed out," Scout said.
"If only it were so simple," he said. Though he had done far more than punch the German invaders who'd had the unlucky to cross paths with him.
Spy motioned for another drink. Scout instantly perked up as a comely and curvy blond brought them over on a tray. Her gaze lingered on Scout a moment too long.
Now here was potential. She was close, and if he could just convince.
He tried to not think what the consequences might be. To save them, he'd have to break Miss Pauling's heart.
(If she even had one, was his rueful reminder.)
She'd made her choice. He wasn't one to be made an enemy of.
"Thanks a bunch..." Scout suddenly broke off. His cocky smile disappeared.
The woman gave Scout an appreciative look and walked back to the bar.
"Go on," Spy urged. "Go speak to her."
"What?" Scout glanced back at the woman. For a moment, Spy truly thought he might get up and likely make a fool of himself, but at least it would be a few moments where his mind was not consumed with Miss Pauling.
"Perhaps she will say yes. Perhaps you could catch her eye."
Unlikely, but anything was possible.
Scout shook his head. "Nah."
Scout had been so close to flirting, and yet, he'd completely choked. Was it merely his horrible way with ladies, or had this crush on Miss Pauling progressed far more than Spy had given him credit for?
"Aren't you going to go ask her for her number?"
Stranger things had happened than Scout ever managing to not to completely make a jackass of himself while trying to flirt with women.
"What, her?" Scout rubbed at his cheek. "Nah, I'll pass."
"Don't tell me you're afraid," Spy said.
"What? Are you kiddin' me? I could flirt with her so hard if I wanted to! I ain't lost the touch. She would be wantin' some of this in a second, trust me."
As if he ever had the touch to begin with.
"Oh? Then what's stopping you? You're single and young. Yet you stay in every night these days," Spy said.
Even as he already knew the answer.
He took off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair.
"I keep tryin', but it's like, I got a Pauling on my shoulder and she's starin' me down and askin' why I'd ever even give another gal a glance than her. And I agree, why the hell would I? She's just so.... I can't stop thinkin' about her. The way her glasses fall down her nose like so....her green eyes she's just...special, you know? I ain't ever felt anythin' like this before. Even when I try and flirt with ladies, it feels weird and wrong. Because the only one I wanna be flirtin' with...is Miss Pauling. So lately I ain't even been botherin'."
"You aren't married. She has no claim on you. The world is full of beautiful women, plenty who you have a chance with."
"Maybe not, but still...This is what I'm dealin' with."
Scout pushed his chair back.
"Are you going for another drink?" Spy said.
"One more. After this, I'm headed home. I'd rather be alone there waitin' for her than out here. Feels less lonely somehow. I don't know. I never felt like this before, but I'm still breathin', so I must be doin' somethin' right."
"One more drink for the road," Spy said.
"One more, okay. I think I'm pullin' in my chips."
Far too much of a gamble, by far.
"Fine, I'll walk you home. You'd probably stumble off and die in a gutter at this rate."
Two tequila shots, one for each of them. Oh, how it burned all the way down. Scout swayed as he led him out those doors into the night. Spy held him steady.
For once, being the father in his life. Only when he was too drunk to realize, only when he didn't know.
*
By the time they got back, Scout was practically passed out against him. Oh, what hell he would have to pay if Colleen ever found out. He managed to open the door into the darkened common room of the base. He expected to see one of the fellow mercenaries passed out, if that.
He didn't expect to see her, waiting.
Considering her crossed arms and cold glance. She didn't have time to spare, yet she'd spared it to be here at this moment.
"Don't you have work to do, Miss Pauling? Surely there are people out there in need of being blackmailed and murdered. Families to threaten, and bury."
"Don't act like you're a saint. They called you The Angel of Death."
"Listening to myths and legends for bedtime stories?" Spy said.
"I overheard the Administrator say it once," she said.
"Of course, I should've known you'd find out about that," he said.
Just like she'd found out about his family.
Miss Pauling scrunched up his nose.
"Ugh, he smells like a refinery. How...how much did you two even drink? You know what, I don't even want to know."
"Hmm, some. He cannot hold his liquor well, I am afraid. I convinced him to come out to the bar with me. For, 'ladies night' I believe it is called. The alcohol was laughably poor, but the company was passable."
Her expression hardened. "I know. He always forgets to return the company property when he goes out," Miss Pauling said.
Had that fool left on his ear piece the whole time? This could complicate things, especially if she heard his drunken confession. He only hoped the din of the bar drowned his feelings out.
He helped Scout to the nearby couch. As he laid a blanket down, Miss Pauling watched.
It was the only moment they'd been alone since he'd gotten the news. Or, as alone as one ever could be.
"Miss Pauling, I find it very interesting these pictures we got. Reminding us of who is dear to us. We were led to help make this propaganda, then punished for following orders. In the end, we are simply being toyed with by the Administrator, no?"
She cleared her throat. "I told you, I wouldn't know anything about that."
"Wouldn't you? I will be blunt, Miss Pauling. Unlike many on this base, you are no idiot. Consider this your warning. Miss Pauling, I will not sit idly by and allow myself to be backstabbed twice. Remember that. I was a fool to think we could be allies."
"I never said I was your ally. I serve the Administrator only," she said.
"Then, you made your choice."
"M-my choice? Spy, you--"
"Are no ally of yours....isn't that what you said? You'd really even sell out Liam? And Colleen, too? I must say, the Voice certainly did a thorough job of hollowing you out, until there was nothing. No heart, no soul, nothing but a little automaton who follows the Administrator's every demand. And for what? Her to use you like an attack dog, and set hitmen upon you at every moment she can?"
"You act like you're any different." She touched to her chest in that moment. "Would you expect anything less of me? We're both killers here."
"Strangely, yes. I believed there was some shred of kindness in the girl I've known for so many years. I suppose I was a fool to think so."
For a brief moment hurt flickered over her face. And it was a vice to his chest. This was the girl he couldn't save. Even now he was damning her more. But he had to make a choice. His family or her.
For once, he'd have to be a father to Liam, and not a ghost.
"You were protecting me, for Scout then..."
"Now, I'm protecting him from you. Strange how things change, no?"
Her eyes narrowed. "You still owe me. Don't think I've forgotten our little deal. Make that deals, now."
"You know the rules. Not my family. By all means tell me who must be killed. Their heads shall be mailed to you shortly," he said.
She bit her lip and left a trace of blood red lipstick on her teeth.
"Listen.... I told you, I didn't....I didn't use those photos. I didn't start this. I was just following orders..."
"By all means that absolves your actions. I will certainly take it as comfort tonight when I'm wondering if tonight will be the time when I have to worry that hitmen have been called on my family again, and whether I could possibly get across the country in time to save them."
She flinched at that. "What did you expect me to do? I work for the Administrator. What she asks, I do. If you thought I was your friend, you were mistaken."
"For a moment, I thought that perhaps all those pictures you hoarded meant something. For so long you held a fascination with him. I thought maybe even more, the way you've been acting."
"If the memories of the times we worked together were meaningless, I hoped at least you wouldn't betray him in the end. Not when you clutched to any hint of him like air for decades, and acted so when you finally met him."s
He shook his head. "I even suspected you were in love with him."
Her cheeks colored at that. "You're....ahem, you're completely mistaken. I only serve the Administrator."
"Then you stole all those pictures simply blackmail me?"
She remained silent.
"Merde, even thinking of destroying me as a child. I should've known. I thought for a moment that you wouldn't betray him at least. Better to rip my own heart out while it still beats than threaten them again. I see I was mistaken."
"I haven't--"
"No, the Administrator. How do you think I came here? Do you think I suddenly just ambled here for a pleasure walk? I was a fool who let myself get ensnared by love and it led me here. I stopped running for a moment, and she caught me. She located me, threatened me and brought me here. That day I took the job, she showed me the video of a hired gun on a train. Perhaps next time, she will send you personally to spice things up, no?"
"That's..." she broke off, unable to finish the sentence. Because they both knew it was something the Administrator would absolutely do.
"Don't you think he deserves better?" Spy said softly. "Do you think someone like you is even remotely worthy to love him? You're a killer with no morals, no humanity at all. You've signed away whatever bit of kindness and soul you had to the Administrator to do her bidding, however messy it is."
He didn't need to elaborate, or call her by name. For just a moment, she looked completely devastated. But, her face hardened back to that professional killer.
It was the cruelest, and most hypocritical thing he ever could've said. And those were the words he'd said to himself countless times. In mirrors as he washed his face with cold water, and didn't recognize the face he'd taken on that night.
In the end, he was too selfish. He knew that Colleen and Liam deserved better, but he couldn't bring himself to ever let go.
He'd killed countless people in his life. But this, this was another regret to join the rest. To have his hand forced to become the enemy of the little girl he'd tried to save back then.
He'd failed in that, too. Look at what they were. Two ruthless killers in the end.
She held out her hand. "The ear piece."
Spy pulled it off Scout's head, and handed it over to her. Miss Pauling left without saying anything more. For a moment she paused at the door and gave one last look back. But, she shook her head and kept on.
For not the first time, he thought this all would be so much easier had he stepped away in the rain. Had he not fallen so in love with Colleen Dempsey. Had he not, somehow despite it all, gotten a heart.
He would've wandered from love affair to love affair. Men and women, none who captured him the way one Boston widow had.
In a sense, he could not blame Miss Pauling entirely, even as her actions pained him. She was a killer. To feel love and to kill were contradictory. He barely kept the balance, and only because even when he tried to leave her, he couldn't.
In the end, the blame was at his own, for ever believing in her. In that feral little girl who he'd helped learn to wield a knife.
"Well, boy, one of the parts of becoming a man is feeling a woman's wrath. You'll have worse than a hangover waiting for you. But, a little heartbreak is good for you. You'll understand one day."
Liam said nothing, of course. Spy sighed and sat down near the couch. He lit a cigarette and held close to his gun. Chainsmoking and wondering if tonight would be the night his family was murdered, and bitter coffee to get him through tomorrow.
To be a killer with a heart was certainly no easy task.