by me
Rating: R
Disclaimer: In case you're stupid, it's fake.
Notes: Just pretend I know what I'm talking about, hm?
Dedication: Camille for the lyrics to Drug Against War, though as I expected
they don't really fit the story *g* I still like the title, though.
�Sir?�
Dany looked up from his map at Lehtonen. �Yes?�
�You might want to...your Russian is...some of the Germans are...�
Gritting his teeth, Dany extinguished his lantern and stood up, following Kari
to the other side of the camp. He could see the fight in the dim glow of
moonlight and the little artificial lightning they had, and he pushed past
the Finn to grab his own soldier by the shoulders and pull him
backwards. �What the hell are you doing!�
�Teaching the little bastard some respect,� the soldier spat, running his
sleeve across face, wiping away blood that had leaked from his nose.
�Get out of my sight. I�ll deal with you later,� he told the man, who
swallowed and saluted and left.
Dany roughly pulled Kovalchuk to his feet. �You come with me.�
�The prisoner started it,� one of the bystanders called as Dany dragged the
Russian back towards his tent.
�Thank you,� Dany called back. He really did not want to deal with this. Why
couldn�t the damn kids just do what they were told and guard the
prisoner, not fight him?
�What were you doing?�
The kid shrugged and sat down in the corner of the tent, wiping blood from his
lip. �He said something to me.�
�What?�
�I don�t know. But it sounded bad enough that I should hurt him.�
�Great.� Heatley re-lit his lamp and went back to his work, effectively
ignoring Kovalchuk for about the next hour, until the lines on the page in
front of him were blurring. This cold just sapped his energy. The men
were getting a break tomorrow, though, they were being restocked and
wouldn�t move camp. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, glancing towards the
other man in the room. Kovalchuk�s eyes were closed and he was
shivering. Dany frowned. It certainly wasn�t the tropics, but out of the
wind and with a small heater, the interior of the tent was certainly
bearable. �Hey!�
The Russian�s dark eyes opened and Dany thought maybe they were shining with
more than their usual fire. �What?�
He approached Ilya. �Are you sick?�
�No. Not sick.�
Feeling very awkward, Dany touched the back of his hand to Ilya�s bare
skin. �You�ve got a fever.�
�Not sick.�
�You obviously aren�t well.� Dany wasn�t sure why he should care. Well,
except that Kovalchuk wasn�t going to do him any good dead, and illness
led to death in these conditions.
A shrug.
�Look. I don�t want you to die because that wouldn�t do me any good. So why
don�t you tell me what�s wrong.� It suddenly struck Heatley that if he
were taken prisoner by the Russians, he would probably rather die than
live to help them. So it surprised him when Kovalchuk sighed and reached
his gloved, bound hands to the buttons on his jacket. Of course, he
couldn�t possibly get the thing off by himself.
Eventually he gave up. �It�s an infection,� he said weakly.
Frowning, Dany quickly untied the heavy rope binding the prisoner�s hands
together and unbuttoned the jacket, pushing the shirt underneath up to
reveal an angry cut across his ribcage. �Did my men do that?�
Kovalchuk just looked at him.
�Right,� Heatley sighed. He stood up and rummaged around for a moment before
returning to the Russian�s side. He dampened a cloth with water from his
canteen and pressed it to the cut without warning, but the only sign of
pain Ilya showed was a quick breath. Once he finished cleaning out the
gash � which was not dangerously deep, just dangerously dirty � Dany
uncapped a bottle of Russian vodka he�d collected somewhere between here
and Germany. He poured a little into the cut. Again, no reaction from
Kovalchuk. �It�ll help clean it,� Dany explained.
�I know. I didn�t have any handy.� Heatley shot him a quick look of
surprise. It was the first sign of personality the kid had shown.
Actually, Dany realized, bandaging the cut, Kovalchuk looked pretty
vulnerable right now. He was on his back, only half dressed, dangerous
heat emanating from his pale skin. His eyelids were half-closed over the
deep brown fever-bright eyes that watched Dany work.
�There,� Dany said, swallowing. He let Ilya re-button his own coat.
�Thank you,� the kid murmured.
�Never mind. Go to sleep.�
�Aren�t you going to re-tie me?�
�Oh. Yeah.� Cursing his stupidity, Dany picked up the discarded ropes and
bound the kid�s wrists together again. He had a feeling they had been
about twice as tight before. But the Russian wasn�t going anywhere in
this state anyway. He was still shivering. �Want a blanket?�
He received a look clearly insulting his intelligence in return. He gave the
kid a blanket. Almost immediately Kovalchuk�s eyes closed completely and
his breathing evened out. Christ, he looked so fucking young asleep. And
so harmless. He didn�t look like evil personified as the Russians were
supposed to. Not that Dany had ever believed that perception, but...
Abandoning that train of thought, he lay down on his cot, but when his eyes
drifted shut the memories that flowed to him were ones he had thought he�d
banished.
Soft brown eyes, alight with passion. Dark curls tickled his face as their
mouths met eagerly. Whispered words as their bodies rocked together, �I
love you, Dany.�
His own lips moving, words escaping between gasps of pleasure, �Wil...love you
too...always...� Soft cries of release, and another body settling across
his, a warm weight, a comfort that had been there in one way or another
for his whole life. They both liked this way best...
Dany�s eyes snapped open. Goddammit he hated those dreams. They hurt
too much to have. Because when he woke up, he couldn�t see the good times
anymore. Instead he could only remember the last moment. In the darkened
doorway of his home, with the Nazi soldiers whose ranks he would soon join
patrolling outside, Wil had said goodbye. Dany had gripped his shoulder,
covering the cloth star pinned there, hating it, but his friend had gently
removed his hand and kissed the palm. �Whatever my fate is, Dany, I will
accept.� And he was gone, and Dany would not see him again.
He hated himself every day for now being allied with those who had taken Wil
from him. But he had no choice.
But as he watched the Russian sleep, a man full of pride and certainty that
his cause was the correct one, Dany wondered for what wasn�t the first
time if he maybe did have a choice.
TBC.