Work Text:
“You see, in this world, there’s two kinds of people Alex: those with loaded guns, and those who dig. You dig.”
Yassen Gregorovich made a motion with his gun and Alex groaned loudly. “You're the worst. I still don't get why you should get to use the shelter if I'm the one doing all the work.”
The Russian jerk somehow managed to look completely unimpressed while keeping his face as blank as the snow endlessly surrounding them. Alex almost wanted to ask Yassen to teach him how to do that, but now was probably not the right time.
“If the loaded gun isn't enough, then remember you're also the reason we're stranded in the cold just before nightfall, and you’re also the one who's not wearing appropriate clothing,” Yassen said simply. “Your mistakes. You fix them.”
“Seriously? I am to be blamed for this? You are the one who chose to work for a sick madman with a grudge. Again! Now I don't see you trying to fix that mistake, or are you?”
Yassen's Evil Employer of the Month was an Italian man called Benito Delli Colli, who was planning a coup against his government through means MI6 expected Alex to find out. Alex had therefore been sent to Delli Colli’s compound in the Alps as a seasonal worker with a waiter's job.
The cover was flimsy enough on its own; Yassen's presence had made it completely underrated. Alex had decided to cut his losses and he had run off as soon as he had caught sight of the familiar assassin. He had hoped to get far enough away to call for back-up, in case a miracle happened and he got extracted; but he had taken a wrong turn in the forest and got lost. Annoyingly, all Yassen had to do to find him was to follow his footprints in the snow.
Sometimes Alex really hated his life. Especially when the only person in his vicinity was named Yassen Gregorovich and the man appeared to be in a lecturing mood.
Somehow, Yassen in a lecturing mood was much harder to deal with than the traditional Yassen with a gun. Notably because the assassin seemed reluctant to shoot to kill whenever Alex was involved.
And also because his lectures were generally completely hypocritical.
“It's a job, Alex. Not a mistake,” said hypocritical assassin stated right on cue. “And you should be grateful I took it, or you probably wouldn't be breathing to complain about it any longer.”
“Grateful? None of this would be happening if you'd come after me and caught me at once, instead of taking the time to stop for the shovel and whatever else's in your pack!”
“We will need ‘whatever else is in my pack’ to survive the night, so once more, you should be thankful.”
Alex rolled his eyes. The worst thing was that Yassen looked entirely too convinced he was in the right.
“This is the moment when you tell me you did me a huge favour and I should say no next time and just go back to school, right? Because let me tell you: you're nothing like the responsible adult you're trying to emulate, and this little speech of yours is really getting old.”
“No. This is the moment when I remind you that my gun is loaded and you should get back to working on that shelter.”
“As if you would really shoot me.”
“Don't tempt me.”
Alex reluctantly got back to digging in the snow, just in case. They would need the shelter anyway, regardless of Yassen being unhelpful about it.
Alex was attempting to make a quinzee, a type of snow shelter Ian had taught him about many years ago during one of their holidays. Alex himself was much more fond of igloos, but he would have needed a blade of some sort to cut blocks in the snow. Unfortunately, Yassen had claimed a shovel was a sharp enough tool to trust him with and not to try his luck too hard ‘or else.’
Yassen was the worst. Not only was a quinzee the only option Alex could think of with only a shovel and a few branches at his disposal, but the man also absolutely refused to help him build it.
“If you insist that I do this on my own, you should at least lend me your gloves,” Alex tried.
Yassen languidly pulled off one of his gloves and threw it in Alex's general direction.
“Thank you so very much for your fabulous generosity.” Alex's voice was dripping with sarcasm. A micro expression on Yassen's face suggested the man had caught himself before he could frown.
“The night is falling very shortly, Alex. I suggest you spare me your witty remarks and hurry to get back to work.”
“It would go so much faster if only you helped.”
“I'm helping,” Yassen deadpanned. “I'm making sure you don't get completely distracted. And I lent you a glove.”
“For fuck's sake!”
“And no swearing. “
Alex threw him a look full of disbelief. “Are you for real? Or am I hallucinating? I am, aren't I? It's the cold, or I bumped my head again, and I'm dreaming this.”
“If you're thinking about using this as an excuse to build a shelter too small for the two of us, I suggest you restrain your impulse: you wouldn't be the one spending the night inside.”
“Yassen, come on! You threatened me, you had your fun, I learnt my lesson... now please, some help would be welcome!”
Yassen’s only reaction was to raise an eyebrow. “You think this is about me having fun?”
“You actually quoted a spaghetti western to me so yes, I think you’re having fun at my expense. Now, for the love you had for my dad, can you stop being a dick and help me make sure I don't die of hypothermia on your watch, please?”
“As far as I'm concerned, this is exactly what I've been doing since I chose to come after you.”
“Yassen, please!”
“Dig.”
Alex relented and went back to digging angrily.
“I am surprised you recognised that quote,” Yassen said conversationally a few minutes later.
“Ian made me watch that movie before you murdered him,” Alex replied, surly and unrepentant.
“Alex…” There was a hint of something dangerous in Yassen's voice, and Alex decided to get back to safer subjects.
“He also made me watch the movie where the ugly guy spends a hundred years just watching a fly without a single line of dialogue. He said they were ‘classics'.”
“They are.”
There was a pause. The next time Yassen spoke, he almost sounded thoughtful.
“Your father loved Sergio Leone.”
Alex blinked. “He did?”
“Well, he claimed an assassin has no preferences as they make him predictable, but he always watched Sergio Leone's movies whenever we came across one of them. Even if it meant suffering through French dubbing.”
“Oh. Then do you think that’s why Ian made me...” Alex suddenly remembered who he was speaking to and cut himself off.
“It's a plausible option,” Yassen offered with a shrug.
Alex mulled this over. Yassen volunteering information about John Rider right after Alex had reminded him he had murdered Ian sounded like Yassen's version of an apology. While the little piece of John's life was welcome, Ian was still dead and Alex was still in the tender loving care of MI6. Not to mention their current situation.
The convoluted apology was not accepted.
“Other option: my dad, good guy, you, bad guy. He couldn't afford to properly torture you in case he blew his cover, so he used boring movies instead.”
“That's obviously also a plausible option,” Yassen approved.
“Although you seem the type who'd enjoy watching spaghetti westerns.”
“Do I?” Yassen raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Yes. Look at you right now, doing absolutely nothing useful and not even remotely bored...”
“You should step back, Alex.”
There was a warning in Yassen's tone Alex was not in a mood for.
“Or else, what?” he taunted in return.
“You should step back before your sorry attempt at a quinzee crumbles and you get buried underneath the snow,” Yassen replied coolly.
“What?”
Yassen bodily removed Alex from the hole he'd been digging – just in time. As the Russian had foreseen, the small structure crumbled upon itself while Alex watched in dismay.
“Why? What happened?”
“Your sticks were too short, your snow not icy enough, and you've dug too much,“ Yassen explained evenly. “Your entire structure was unstable, it was doomed to collapse from the start.”
“Then why didn't you say so earlier instead of insisting I kept digging?” Alex snapped.
“If I had, you may not have remembered all of this the next time you made an attempt. These are the kind of details that can mean life or death.”
“So this is your idea of a practical lesson, huh? Not thanking you for this.”
“You're welcome, Alex.”
“Hmmpf.”
Yassen put his gun in his jacket pocket and opened his backpack. Alex brushed the snow off his own trousers, then he stuck his hands under his armpits as he watched the assassin. His sudden lack of movement made him acutely aware that he was underdressed in the mountains in the winter. A gust of wind gave him a shudder. He winced.
“Now what?”
“Now, I'm making us a shelter. Russian military style.” Yassen’s head was almost entirely buried inside the pack and his voice came out muffled.
“How do you do that?”
“With the tools I wasted my time for instead of coming after you at once.” Alex unconsciously stepped back when Yassen triumphantly took a large blade out of his bag. He set it down by his side and then stood up to give Alex more orders. The gun was back in his hand. For a change.
“You'll need to dig a large rectangle for this one. Long and large enough for both of us to lie down with a meter to spare, same depth as you would an igloo. Get moving.”
“’I’m building us a snow shelter,’ he says right before he makes me dig again,’ Alex mocked.
The truth was, he wouldn't have remained static even if Yassen had asked him to, not as cold as he was. But if Yassen insisted Alex dug again, then he might as well have his fun.
“I said a rectangle, Alex.”
“Why? If I dig a rectangle, then you build your thing while I watch and I get cold. If we build an igloo, I help, keep moving and refrain from freezing to death.”
“My way is faster.”
“Besides, if I know the design, I can put up the blocks of snow while you cut them off. No need to trust me with a blade, or to trust me not to attempt something stupid while you build us a shelter: just teamwork. And everybody wins!”
“Are you suggesting I shouldn't trust you not to do anything stupid while your life is in danger?” Yassen asked with a strange half-smile.
Alex groaned.
Yassen considered Alex for a few moments before he gave him a nod. “Fine. You win. We're building an igloo.”
Alex gave a crooked grin when Yassen handed him a rope to draw a perfect circle in the snow with.
Teamwork with Yassen was... easy, in a way Alex hadn't expected, but which didn't completely come as a surprise either. The man was efficient. He was also a walking lesson in economy of motion. Alex took to copying his moves almost religiously once Yassen pointed out getting sweaty in the cold was the surest way to catch pneumonia.
Yassen would guide Alex as he put up the ice block Yassen had just carved from the snow, then go back to cutting the next one while Alex smoothed the edges with the shovel and made the blocks fit together.
He had also put his gun aside and offered Alex his second glove and one of his own jackets without even being prompted. Alex didn't believe for one second Yassen could act like a decent human being for much longer, and he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It came when Alex needed help to put the last blocks up. The night was almost upon them and the temperature had dropped tremendously. Alex had figured Yassen would easily give him a hand when he asked.
“No.”
“But they're too heavy for me to lift so high on my own!”
“Something you should have taken into account when you suggested the igloo design.”
“Are you seriously lecturing me again? Now?”
“We only have one pair of gloves between the two of us, Alex,” Yassen retorted, exasperated. “I'm not looking forward to frozen fingers. Either you figure out a way to do this on your own, or you give me back my gloves and get out of my way.”
There was an edge of tension in Yassen's voice Alex hadn't expected. It made him acutely aware they would likely both freeze to death if they didn't get their shelter built in time. He wordlessly took off the gloves and gave them back to their owner.
Yassen put them on and he put up the next block swiftly. Alex hesitantly moved forward to even the edges with his shovel, the handle clumsy in his now exposed hands.
“Try to keep your hands on the exact same spot on the handle,” Yassen advised tersely. “It'll help.”
Alex did and he was surprised to find Yassen was right. They both kept on working quickly, silently, with a tension that hadn't been there before. Alex breathed a distinct sigh of relief when the last block was up and it didn't seem like their igloo would collapse. He would have admired their handy work, but his teeth were chattering hard enough his jaws hurt.
“Get inside while I fill the holes. There are emergency blankets in the pack. Spread one on the floor, it'll isolate us from the snow.”
Alex complied wordlessly. There were four emergency blankets in their square packets at the top of the bag, and he pulled one over his shoulders and one around his legs once he was done spreading the one on the floor. He left the last blanket out for Yassen. He wanted to search the rest of Yassen's gear and see if he could find anything useful, but there wasn't enough light for that.
Well, if Yassen was anything like Ian, there should be one or two headlamps somewhere in his bag. Alex decided to search the side pockets first.
The first one he opened was full of spare magazines, a garrotte and a couple of butterfly knives. Typical Yassen, that the most accessible part of his survival gear would be about killing. Alex, nonplussed, put his findings back in the bag and resumed searching.
The next pocket contained the headlamp Alex had been hoping for, as well as a Swiss army knife, a clean pair of socks, a scarf, a pair of sunglasses and what felt like a small packet of dried fruit. Alex flicked on the light just long enough to identify a water bottle and... what was Yassen planning to do with a bottle of Armani Acqua di Gio in the middle of nowhere? Was he truly that vain, or was it yet another hidden weapon? And what on earth was in those small packets?
Alex gave up his search for anything useful in case he stumbled upon something that would mentally scar him for life. Instead, he proceeded to put the scarf over his head and the socks over his hands. He twisted just enough of his body out of the igloo so that he could hand over the lamp to Yassen.
The man took in the sight of Alex’s bundled-up body and sock-clad hands with a raised eyebrow as his only comment. He put on the headlamp wordlessly and motioned for Alex to get back inside their temporary shelter. Not that Alex had waited for his prompt to retreat from the cold.
There was something strange about being alone in the dark igloo while Yassen was still working on it. The moves Yassen made against the snow echoed strangely, but the other sounds had an oddly muffled quality to them. Alex was still very cold, but he could tell the igloo was thick enough that its walls would isolate them from the worst of the frost.
And since when had he started thinking about Yassen and himself as a ‘them’? He didn't even remotely like the assassin!
He couldn't explore that line of thought any further, as said assassin crouched by the entrance and handed Alex the headlamp.
“If you need to use a tree, I suggest you do it now before it gets even colder.“
“To use a what? Oh.” Alex reluctantly extracted himself from the blankets and he went back into the cold.
He was surprised to find Yassen waiting for him with an open blanket when he came back. Alex's teeth were chattering once more, and he reluctantly but gratefully allowed Yassen to bundle him up. Yassen put the last blanket around his own shoulders when he was done. He then put the headlamp down on top of his backpack so their only source of light would remain static.
“Now, sit down and put your back against mine.”
“You trust me enough to turn your back on me? How touching,” Alex teased as he complied and settled down against Yassen.
“And I suggest you stop behaving like a brat unless I start treating you like one and make you sit on my lap,” Yassen added coolly.
“Ugh, no thanks. But I could use some food. Do you have anything that isn't dried fruits?”
“I do.”
Yassen didn't make a single move, which suggested the bastard wasn't about to offer any food. Alex rolled his eyes and considered complaining, but he had to admit to himself Yassen's warmth felt good against his back, and he didn't want to risk irritating the assassin into moving away.
Which should be a ridiculous fear, in hindsight. Yassen was a practical man. Sharing body heat in the cold wasn’t something he would stop doing just out of spite... right?
Alex's stomach chose that moment to gurgle loudly. Yassen shifted minutely but he didn't seem to move towards his gear at all. Alex decided now was the right time to be sneaky.
“Yassen?”
“Alex.”
“Do you think my hands have warmed enough that I could remove your socks to eat, yet?”
Alex felt Yassen turn to consider him, and he knew there was a good chance his attempt at guilt-tripping the Russian arsehole was working.
“I have a small heating pack. Do you want it?” There was an uncertain quality to the assassin's voice that surprised Alex. He debated with himself the pros and cons of making Yassen believe he was colder than he really felt.
Maybe it wasn't such a good idea, all things considered: while Yassen didn't actively want Alex dead, he never seemed to care much when Alex was uncomfortable. Which meant there was a risk he would make Alex's life hell if he found out his hands weren't actually cold any longer.
It was a shame. Irritating Yassen was Alex’s only available source of entertainment tonight, and he couldn't even afford to use it...
Well, back to playing ‘cold but brave', then. Yassen was less likely to be an arse if he thought Alex himself was trying hard not to be a nuisance.
“Maybe I'll ask for it in a few moments if I haven't warmed up enough on my own?” Alex said mimicking Yassen's uncertain tone.
There was a short pause before the assassin answered.
“Fine. Just let me know if you need it, or whenever you feel ready to eat something.”
Victory. Who would have guessed a world-class assassin would be so easy to manipulate?
Alex wanted to take his own sweet time before he asked for food, purely out of pride; but his stomach had other plans. Another loud gurgle echoed in the igloo and Yassen snorted.
“Have your hands warmed up enough or do you need me to spoon-feed you?”
“Ha, ha. As if you really had a spoon or that kind of food in your pack.”
“As a matter of fact, I do. However, the lyophilised rations can wait until the sun has risen and we can light a fire.”
“Good point.” Alex turned his head and he looked at Yassen from the corner of his eye. “I amend my earlier question: do you have any currently edible food that isn't dried fruits, and can I have some, please?”
“Only cereal bars, I'm afraid.” Did Yassen sound embarrassed? Alex thought he sounded embarrassed. Did he consider he had poorly planned his gear? Because if that was the case, Alex wanted to know more!
“What else did you pack?” he couldn't help but ask. “That is food-related, I mean,” he added quickly in case Yassen started listing the many weapons he must have secreted on his person as well as those Alex had already found in the bag.
“A few rations, some coffee and a can of coke,” Yassen said laconically.
“Why the coke?”
“Fast sugar.”
“...Okay. A saucepan?”
Silence was his only answer. Alex didn't know whether to be frustrated or amused with Yassen's unusual lack of preparation.
Oh well, as long as the coke was in a metal can, they would at least have a receptacle to cook their rations in the following morning. Although it would take a while, and the taste was likely to get... interesting.
On the other hand, considering the taste of lyophilised rations, maybe adding coke would be an improvement. Was this the true reason Yassen had brought the coke, maybe? To hide the disgusting taste of the rations?
An assassin has no preferences as they make him predictable, yeah, right... It seemed that this particular assassin actually had a sweet tooth.
Alex had a sudden mental image of Yassen pulling out a flask full of hot chocolate and hugging it close to his chest to show how much he didn't want to share. He couldn't help but grin.
“Okay, I'm ready to eat. Do you by any chance have anything with chocolate in it?”
There were indeed chocolate cereal bars in Yassen's pack, which he was unexpectedly willing to part with; although hot chocolate had been too much to hope for. Eating them and a couple of dry apricots didn't take much time, and Yassen suggested (or rather, ordered) that Alex get to sleep as soon as they were done.
Alex would have complained that it was too early, but there was no real source of entertainment in the igloo (Yassen didn't count) so he couldn't think about anything better to do.
However, falling asleep was easier said than done. Yassen had turned his lamp off, but there was an eerie dim light in the igloo, which probably came from the full moon's reflection on the snow. Alex had expected the igloo to be silent but for his and Yassen's breathing; yet there was an odd, ominous, continuous whistling background sound.
No matter how hard he tried, Alex couldn't get any rest. Not only was the position sitting up back-to-back with Yassen rather awkward and too uncomfortable for sleep, but his thoughts were also racing. He didn't think he would manage to relax while he felt filled with anxiety.
“Yassen?”
“Alex.“
“What happens tomorrow?” Alex's voice conveyed some of his vulnerability, much to his dislike
“Tomorrow, the sun rises, and we trek back to civilisation,“ was Yassen's only answer. Alex hated him at that minute.
“You know what I mean. What will... What will Delli Colli do to me?”
“Nothing.“
“Somehow, I doubt it.”
“I disposed of him.”
“What?”
Had he really? Again? Was there a single employer Yassen hadn't ‘disposed of’ in the whole time Alex had known him?
“Dear Benito's infamous first name had gone to his head, but he had neither the intellect nor the charisma necessary to become the next Duce,” Yassen explained calmly. “Scorpia expected me to remove him from the chessboard as soon as I could deflect all suspicion. You and MI6 provided a scapegoat. I will let you go with Scorpia's blessing.”
“Oh.”
“You're welcome.”
Yassen didn't have any reason to lie that Alex could think about. And truthfully, it wasn't a surprise that Yassen wouldn't have bothered to let Alex know earlier – he was always a bit of an arse like that.
But was the threat MI6 had sent him to investigate truly removed? Could things really be this easy? And was Alex actually safe for now? Was Scorpia truly willing to let him go?
“Yassen?”
“What?”
“Wouldn't Scorpia have been fine if you hadn't come after me?”
Yassen shifted a little and he turned the lamp back on. Alex had a feeling he had turned his head to look at him.
“I needed to make sure you couldn't materially link us to Delli Colli,” Yassen said. “Can you?”
“No.”
“Can MI6?”
“Not to my knowledge... Probably not, if they wanted me in.”
“Something I couldn't be certain of until I made sure.”
Yassen sounded satisfied and he turned the lamp back off. He shifted again and Alex figured he had turned back around.
Alex pondered this new information.
If he was to believe Yassen's words, then MI6 could deal with the backlash of being accused of Delli Colli's demise on their own. Which meant Alex's stupid mission was over and he was free to get back to school. And also, that he was safe from Scorpia, at least for now.
Just because Yassen had shot yet another employer.
Had the assassin realised how far the consequences of his actions would affect Alex when he had pulled that trigger? Had he deliberately chosen to help Alex?
... Oh.
“Yassen.”
“Get some sleep, Alex.”
“No, I need to say this,” Alex insisted.
“Will you shut up and go to sleep after you have?”
“Probably...”
“Wrong answer.”
“All right, then I will!”
“Fine. I'm listening.” Yassen turned the light on again.
Alex took in a deep breath. “You know, in London, when I said I would kill you?”
Alex felt Yassen tense against his back.
“Do you really think now is an appropriate time to threaten me, Alex?”
“No!” Alex turned his head to meet Yassen's eyes. “What I meant to say is... I think I’ve changed my mind.”
“You think so?”
“Well, I still can't forgive you for killing Ian. I loved my uncle, and I would be living a normal, happy life if you hadn't ‘disposed’ of him.”
Yassen motioned tersely with his chin for Alex to keep talking.
“Ironically, the kind of normal teenager life you claim you want for me.”
“Is there a point to this speech?” Yassen asked darkly.
“I’m getting there. It's also not the first time you've been decent to me...”
“Decent?”
“...which, considering who you are and who you're working for, is likely kind of a big deal for you.”
Yassen crouched up and turned around to look directly at Alex. “Are you trying to thank me or to insult me, Alex?”
“Can't I do both?”
There was a pause. The two of them gazed at each other over Yassen’s backpack, the same way they had over Sayle's body such a long time ago. Yassen eventually gave Alex a nod and he settled back down in their previous back-to-back position. He turned the lamp off again.
“Go to sleep, Alex.”
Before he complied, Alex needed to ask one last question.
“Yassen?”
“What, now?” The light remained off.
“Do you think my dad actually enjoyed The Good, the Bad and the Ugly?”
The disbelief in Alex's voice was so thick that their igloo's walls couldn't stand the comparison.
Alex couldn't see him, but Yassen smiled.