by me
Rating: R
Dedication: Fi ::hugs:: for all the plot help and betas.
Disclaimer: You know it's fake, yo. I just stole names.
Series/Sequel: Epilogue to the 6-part series.
Summary: Years after their meeting, neither man has been able to forget the
other.
Notes: Just wrapping up here. This takes place somewhere in the neighborhood
of six years after the last part.
Dany Heatley had never been so glad to be standing in front of a Russian
soldier. Of course, it wasn�t the Russian soldier part that was exciting,
really, it was the standing part.
Almost 3 years now. Three years since he finally stopped getting lucky. He�d
gone to France wanting to die, ready to die. And so many around him had
died, both his own countrymen and others. He saw all that death and he
realized that he didn�t really want to be part of it.
About the time he�d stopped wishing for death, it almost came to him. He
didn�t remember much about what happened, just the sudden shock of pain.
Then he woke up in a hospital in Berlin unable to walk.
Swelling around his spinal cord, he�d been told. Probably no damage. He
might get better. He was lucky to be alive. All the doctor bullshit.
They had been right though. It took months for the damage to his abdomen to
heal. Months more for his back, months of being able to move a little
more every day. He could walk now, though not terribly quickly. It
wasn�t as if he had anywhere to move quickly to within the confines of a
hospital, anyway, especially not one being run by the enemy.
So maybe he shouldn�t be so happy about standing in front of a Russian
soldier. �Why you are not in your place?� the man growled in something
that was almost intelligible as German.
�I was bored,� Dany answered flippantly, using the soldier�s native
tongue. �My back hurt, I had to stand up.�
�You speak Russian?�
�Obviously.�
�We didn�t know that any of you did.�
Dany just shrugged.
�Hm. Come with me.�
It wasn�t a request, so Dany complied. He thought his necessarily slow gait
was annoying to the Russian, so he slowed it down a little more. As a
result, it took them nearly 10 minutes to arrive at their destination.
It was simple what they wanted, simple and obvious. They were making the
German doctors concentrate mainly on the injured Russians, but there was
something of a communication problem between the two groups. Translate,
the Red Army officer offered, and they�d make sure the doctors were able
to spend time on their own injured. Dany was going crazy lying around, so
he agreed. And least it�d give him people to talk to.
And that was how he met the Czechs. There were five of them, and he�d come
across them in the examining room one morning during his rounds as a
translator. Enjoying the fact that the doctors didn�t understand anything
he said to the patients, he swaggered into the curtained area as much as
his still-healing injuries would allow. �Good morning, I�m Dany and I�ll
be your interpreter today. Whatever seems to be the problem?�
There was silence. The four men grouped around the one on the table glanced
at one another, and finally one of them said �We do not speak Russian so
good.�
Dany frowned. �But you�re Red Army.�
A shrug from another of the four. �Not Russian, Czech. They take over our
towns...easier to join them, they leave family alone then.�
�Oh,� said Dany, returning to his faked good mood and switching
languages. �Well, I can do that too. So what�s wrong?�
They all spoke at once, and Dany managed to sort out the five voices and relay
the message �His leg is broken� to the doctor. After that an emergency
came in and Dany was called away for that one, leaving the Czechs alone.
But that night, when he returned to his bed in the main ward, he found the
Czech with the now-casted leg to be in the bed right beside him. �Why can
you speak my language?� he asked softly into the darkness as Dany lay back
and winced when his back protested the movement.
�It�s what I did,� he answered the man. �Before the war. Studied languages.�
�Oh.� There was silence for a moment, then, �I�m Josef.�
�Nice to meet you.�
�You too.�
That was all they said to each other that night, but Dany soon found that
Josef and all of his compatriots were extremely friendly, and kept him
entertained through the long days. He hadn�t realized he was
lonely. �Dany?�
He looked up, realizing he�d been lost in thought. �Sorry. Yeah?�
Patrik leaned back in his chair. �So where are you from?�
Heatley stretched, easing the tight muscles of his back. �Freiburg. It�s
near Dresden.�
�Oh, yeah, we served in Dresden for a couple weeks,� nodded Radim. �Nice
place, I guess.�
Dany swallowed and leaned forward. There was something on his mind, something
he�d been itching to ask since his first encounter with the Czechs. But
he was sort of afraid of the answer, plus it was something he SHOULD have
put out of his mind long ago. Years ago. �Let me ask you guys
something. I doubt you�ll know the answer...�
Josef waved a hand. �Ask away. If it isn�t classified we�ll tell you. Not
that we know anything important, being Czech and all.�
�You ever heard of a Russian soldier named Kovalchuk?�
They looked at each other, as if gauging whether or not they could answer.
Finally the quietest of the five nodded. �He�s an officer,� Pavel
said. �He got some kind of recognition for escaping from German custody
back when he was a sniper and the information he gave led to the ambush of
the group that captured him. Heard it got him promoted and he led his
battalion into Germany.�
�He�s here then?� Dany�s mouth was suddenly very dry.
�Dresden, why?� Pavel said. �If you�re going to kill him or something we have
to stop you.�
�No...no. We just...saved each other�s lives. A long time ago.�
�Oh. Well, he�s still in Dresden.�
�Thanks,� Dany said, and changed the subject. But he didn�t forget, of course
not. The Russian had been on his mind in one way or another for years.
He had wanted to let it go, certainly. But...he never had. And now he
knew the man was alive and well, so that should be enough. Right? But
his subconscious was suspiciously silent.
The next few weeks passed quickly. The fighting had died down, and while Dany
didn�t hear much from the patients passing through, it was enough to know
the outcome. Germany had lost, and the whole country was under someone
else�s control, even Berlin was divided up. Somehow he didn�t feel so bad
to still be in the Russian-controlled zone. Josef�s leg healed after a
couple of months, and the Czechs were preparing to go home, their service
time completed. Seizing the opportunity, Dany informed the Russian
officer in charge of the hospital that he was going with them. The man
didn�t seem to mind. After all, Dany been there for more months than he
could remember and he never complained about translating for them.
So in less time than he could have thought possible, he was passing through
the city limits of Dresden. Josef pointed out his destination to him, the
outlines of the fourth house on the left barely visible in the dimly lit
evening. They bid him cheerful goodbyes � he had never found the group of
them to be anything but cheerful � and then he was alone.
It was impossible to describe or quantify his feelings at that moment. He�d
never been more nervous, not even in France, as he was now, standing on
this doorstep with the sky darkening over his shoulder. But he knocked
anyway.
It took a moment, but the door creaked open and there he stood. His uniform
shirt was unbuttoned, half-untucked. He had a generally disheveled look
that Dany found looked good on him.
Ilya was watching him, his mouth hanging open. Shock registered in his brown
eyes, and he stepped back to allow Dany entrance. Heatley shut the door
gently behind him. They still hadn�t said a word, and Dany didn�t care
because the butterflies in his stomach were still rampant, and Ilya�s eyes
were as Dany remembered, mesmerizing in their depths. He looked older,
much older, but...the spark was still there.
And he found his voice. �The last thing I remember,� he said, surprised at
the smoothness of his own words, �we were still kissing.�
Kovalchuk�s mouth closed, and the faintest smile graced his features. His
eyes locked onto Dany�s, and then they /were/ kissing. It was something
he had thought about, had remembered, many times in the previous years.
But he really wasn�t prepared for how much infinitely better the real
thing was. Ilya�s arm slid around his waist, pressing their bodies close
together as the kiss deepened, as if they�d just picked up where they left
off. Except this time there was no uncertainty and there would be no
interruption. Well, except for lack of oxygen. The kiss broke and Ilya
closed his eyes and dropped his head to Dany�s shoulder.
�I was sure I�d never see you again, you know.� Dany half-laughed at the
nearly-flawless German that Ilya uttered, and the Russian raised his head
to meet Dany�s eyes, smiling. �For you, so obviously I was not able to
really convince myself. My superiors thought it a useful skill.�
All traces of Heatley�s nervousness had vanished, and now he was feeling some
crazy mixture of desire and happiness and maybe even love. �I didn�t
think I�d see you again either. But...I couldn�t forget. I tried.�
�I thought I would have to forget. I tried also, though maybe not too hard
because...� He waved the hand not holding on to Dany around. �Here I am,
quite close to your home. But after so long...I thought you were dead.�
�I almost was.� Dany lifted his shirt, showing the scar where the bullet had
entered his abdomen. Ilya�s fingers traced the marred skin and he
sighed.
�You were lucky.�
�Very.�
�Are you going to stay here in Dresden, or will you be going home?�
�I don�t know.�
�Because-�
�Ilya,� Heatley said softly, and switched to Russian. �Not tonight. I don�t
want to talk about it tonight.� He kissed him softly again.
A quick nod and Ilya stepped back, pulling Dany with him. �I can�t believe
you...that you actually are here.�
�I guess...some things are just...meant to be.�
Ilya couldn�t think of anything to say to that in either of his languages. He
pulled on Dany�s arm again, urging him towards the back of the house.
Tonight, at least, he could ignore the doubts in the back of his head,
telling him that fuck he was a Russian officer and this was a very male
German citizen he was planning on making up lost time with. He smiled,
though, even at those thoughts. Logistics could be worked out later. Now
they had the night.
Fin.