Conversations With Tom Kazansky

by fi3fi3

Summary:

Ice had only been five years old when he’d been adopted by the Kazansky family. It was a shock, then, when over thirty years later he was reunited with a twin brother he never knew he had. Simon Templar doesn’t call often, but his visits offer Ice glimpses of another life entirely; the life of an international thief and the spy that he loves. He may not be privy to all the details, but the one thing Ice can’t deny is that nothing about their relationship is straightforward.

~ Or ~

Ethan Hunt and Simon Templar’s relationship as seen through the eyes of Simon’s twin brother; Tom “Iceman” Kazansky.

A companion fic to ‘What’s In A Name?’, ‘Debt Collection’ and ‘Weak Spot’

Chapter 1: November 1998

Notes:

Here we go again! This installment has a greater number of much shorter chapters so I'll be updating more regularly than usual and sometimes posting more than one chapter at a time.

If you haven't read the rest of the series... welcome! I'm not sure how much sense this story will make on it's own. I have posted a timeline in the series summary to help everyone keep track of what happens in what order as this story covers quite a considerable chunk of time.

 

November 1998

“Do you love him?”

Ice sat back in his chair and stared at Maverick. They were both shirtless, wearing only their previously discarded trousers from the night before, and were sitting at Mav’s kitchen table. The first light of dawn was just beginning to peek through the window, although the overhead light had been switched on for hours. On the table between them, next to their long-emptied coffee mugs, sat two items; a card bearing a phone number, and a gun.

Tom Kazansky had just heard the most fantastical tale of spies and disguises, double identities and secret missions, and he was finding it hard to process. It didn’t sound real, like something out of the movies… not his life, not Mav’s. So instead he focussed on the one thing he could make sense of. The way Maverick’s eyes lit up and his cheeks flushed whenever he spoke about the man who had jumped out of the window merely hours before. Simon. A man who was, apparently, Ice’s brother.

He couldn’t quite believe that he had a brother! In fact, of all the incredible things that he’d learnt that day, his having a brother should’ve been the least surprising, given that he’d had vague memories of him as a child. His old Top Gun buddy and wingman Maverick Mitchell having a secret life as a spy should’ve taken the top spot but no, he had a brother. A real, flesh and blood, actual brother. Ice still hadn’t fully absorbed the news.

Maverick, for his part, seemed unusually understanding about the fact that Ice was having trouble accepting all that he was being told, and replied calmly, with a smile. 

“Do I love him? I’ve only met him twice, Ice.”

“That’s not an answer.” Ice answered gruffly.

Maverick laughed. “It’s hardly the most important part of the story, is it? Don’t you have questions?”

Ice thought about all of the questions that had been crowding into his head ever since Maverick had begun his tale. Questions like ‘What the fuck?’ and ‘Are you insane?’ and ‘You’re joking, right?’. 

“Sure,” he said, “I have questions. Are you putting yourself in danger?”

Mav shrugged. “Often. But so are you.” He wagged his finger, “Naval Aviator.”

That was fair enough. Ice had to admit he had him there. He let out a deep breath and ran some of the information through in his head. Maverick waited patiently for him in silence. Eventually he settled on another, he hoped, sensible question.

“So why ‘Ethan’?” he said with a weary shake of his head. “Was one callsign not enough?”

Maverick smiled a little sadly. “I didn’t choose it. It was assigned to me when I joined. I like it though, ‘Ethan Hunt’ - sounds like an action hero!”

Ice shook his head again and tugged a hand through his hair. There was none of the reckless thrill seeking that he associated with his former wingman present in the man before him. It was as though something in Maverick had been calmed, brought into focus and harnessed towards a greater cause. It suited him… he looked good. Not that he hadn’t always.

“Go on.” Mav said softly, “Ask me.”

“Why did you sleep with me?” 

The question left Ice’s lips as barely a whisper. Maverick met his gaze steadily. 

“You looked like you needed it.”

Ice let out a long, shuddering breath. “Really?” He asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. “Is that the only reason?”

Maverick’s green eyes fixed him with a stern stare which might’ve been intimidating had the corners of his mouth not been twitching into a smirk. The thought that Maverick might be capable of being intimidating at all was enough to set Ice’s head spinning, and yet Mav continued to stare him down.

“What are you asking Kazansky?”

Ice thought about starting an argument, for old times sake, but found that he no longer possessed the energy. If Mav had been imagining his brother in Ice’s place when they’d slept together then that was his business. Wanting more would be little more than selfish, and reckless, on Ice’s part. He didn’t dare allow himself to imagine the alternative.

“No… it doesn’t matter, you’re right. I knew it was a one time deal last night…” he sighed. “Nothing’s changed.”

Maverick nodded and then clapped Ice on the shoulder with a sudden burst of energy. “You’ll find someone Ice, I know you will.”

He stood and stretched. The shadows cast from the overhead light emphasised the rippling planes of his unprecedentedly muscular frame. Ice tore his eyes away with practiced self-discipline.

“Perhaps…” He said as a platitude more than in agreement, “What now?”

“Now we go back to our lives.” Maverick shrugged and tucked his absurdly long hair behind his ear. “You go back to work, climb the ranks, be the best and don’t mention the name ‘Ethan Hunt’ or the ‘IMF’ ever again. And I go back to doing what needs doing. Simple.”

He grinned.

“Will you keep in touch?” Ice asked plainly and Mav’s face fell.

“Even just telling you what I told you tonight puts you in a certain amount of danger Ice.” He said solemnly, “I can add you to the system here…” he gestured around him, “this is a safe house so if shit ever hits the fan you can come here… if you want?”

Ice crossed his arms and found his confidence - or, at least, enough of it to bleed into his voice.

“I’m not worried about myself, Mav. You’re my friend. I want to know you’re alright… y’know, from time to time.”

At least Maverick had the decency to look guilty.

“Yeah…” he said with a small smile. “Yeah, I could do that.”

Ice nodded in acknowledgement. 

“Good.”

 

 

Notes:

Let me know what you guys think... who's excited for Ice's point of view?

Chapter 2: New Year's Eve 1998

New Year's Eve 1998

Ice let himself into his single occupancy base housing without actually dropping any of the groceries he had precariously balanced in a worryingly flimsy bag. Whilst he would normally stop and take off his shoes by the door before proceeding further into the house, on this occasion he didn’t, prioritising instead the safe delivery of his grocery bag to the kitchen table. 

The house was cool and shadowy compared to the glare of the setting sun outside. Ice sighed and plucked the pack of cigarettes out of the bag.

“Hello brother.”

A smooth voice spoke up from behind him, somewhere in the vicinity of the small living room area next to the kitchenette. He whirled around, suddenly tense and alert.

“Shit!” He exclaimed as his eyes sought out the intruder. 

A man who looked identical to him in every way was sitting calmly on the sofa, staring up at him with an enigmatic smile on his face.

“Simon!” Ice exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

The other man stood up and moved gracefully across the space towards him. As he moved closer Ice was struck by just how like himself the man looked. His hair had been hidden the last time Ice had seen him but now he could see that it was the same golden blond colour as his own - if a little longer and more carefully styled. He was wearing a mossy green button up shirt with the sleeves folded up so that the unbuttoned cuffs hung off his elbows like wings. He smiled.

“I came to see you.” He said in a tone that invited no argument. “I’m taking you to dinner.”

“What if I’m busy?” Ice challenged him anyway, “I might have plans.”

Simon looked him up and down with an arrogantly cocked eyebrow.

“You’re not busy.” He said, as his gaze settled pointedly on the sad pile of groceries on the table.

Suddenly Ice felt an overwhelming craving that was usually only triggered by meetings with certain officious lower-ranking Admirals and looked down longingly at the packet of cigarettes that he still held in his hand. The corners had become slightly bent out of shape when he’d squeezed his hand in surprise when Simon had revealed himself.
He imagined the rush of calm that came with that first lungful of warm smoke, but then thought better of it and slipped the whole packet into his pocket. And then immediately reconsidered, retrieved it and tore the lid off. He balanced the end in between his lips to light up. The first puff was as miraculous as always and immediately he felt more in control of himself.

Only then did Ice take in that the other man had wandered off. Simon was standing over by the small side table under the window in the living room. He’d picked up one of the framed photographs there and was examining it.
Ice went to join him with more than a small knot of guilt in his stomach. The drawer underneath where that photograph sat contained two phone numbers; Maverick’s ‘only in case of dire life and death emergency’ number, and the card that Simon had left behind for him six weeks ago. Ice had thought about calling it every day since but hadn’t ever managed to pluck up the courage. Yet Simon didn’t seem angry that he’d never received a call. He was examining the photograph thoughtfully.

“Is this your family?” He said.

Ice nodded, blowing out a lungful of smoke as he did so. 

Simon returned to the picture and pointed to the figure of a young girl standing at the front of the perfect nuclear family group. “And her?”

“Younger sister.” Ice clarified, “Sarah.”

“What’s the story there?”

Simon replaced the family photograph next to the ones of Ice’s various squad mates and picked up a group shot of the old Top Gun class of ‘86. Ice took another drag on his cigarette and held the warm smoke inside him for a few, nerve-settling moments.

“Mother and Father believed they couldn't have children when they adopted me. Sarah was a complete surprise.” He recounted dryly before adding in a quieter voice, “Their little miracle.”

He didn’t add that from the moment the pregnancy was announced his life had changed for the worse. How after Sarah was born, young Tom could never hope to compete with her effortless perfection, how she could do no wrong in his parent’s eyes. Ice didn’t mention how he’d spent the last six weeks wondering, of him and his brother, which of them was truly lucky… because he knew the answer. Unfortunately, it was still him.

“Happy families.” Simon remarked flatly and Ice felt immediately guilty.

“I’ve been wondering if they still have any paperwork about the adoption actually.” He said quickly, and stubbed the stub of the cigarette out in a nearby ashtray, “See if there’s any official record of us. It would be good to know officially if we’re related, don’t you think?”

“Look at me?” Simon turned to face him and put his hands on Ice’s shoulders, holding him at arm's length. 

Ice felt unusually self-conscious as Simon stared intently at him. It was eerily like looking in a mirror, except that the image wasn’t reversed. From this close up Ice could see that the other man bore the same birthmark on his jawline as he’d had for as long as he could remember. It was uncanny… the same lips, the same nose, the same eyes… although, if anything, Simon’s seemed a little less blue than his own. Then the man grinned and that was the same too.

“I think it’s pretty safe to say that we’re related.” He released his shoulders and went back to taking in the sparse decorations of the room around him.

“Just brothers do you think?” Ice asked, trying to keep up with the speed of things in his head. “Or twins? The birthmarks would suggest identical twins I suppose.” He reasoned.

Simon tilted his head. “I remember us being close in age as children. And the priests named you Thomas for a reason. They always had a reason for their names and Thomas means twin - did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t,” Ice shook his head, his mouth suddenly dry, “but my name isn’t Thomas, just Tom. My parents changed it when they adopted me.”

Simon stopped prowling at that and turned to face him. 

“Do you know why?”

Ice shrugged. “They said they wanted to make me theirs, but that I was too old for them to change my name completely. I was five.”

Simon seemed to take a moment to absorb this information and Ice couldn’t help but feel guilty again. His instincts told him that he should stop mentioning his family out of politeness, and yet Simon was the one asking about them.

Ice was still wrapped up in his indecision when Simon clapped him jovially on the shoulder and smiled enigmatically at him.

“Right. Put on your nicest shirt then Tom. We’re going out.”

Ice looked down at the slightly sweat-stained white t-shirt that he’d thrown on just to run to the store.

“My nicest shirt?” He said incredulously and Simon laughed.

 

 

It had taken Ice a worryingly long time to pick out an outfit to wear. His nicest was, arguably, a powder blue jacket with three quarter length sleeves that he would usually wear over a white t-shirt on the rare occasions he was brave enough to seek out an underground queer establishment. But there was no way in hell he’d risk being caught seen wearing it this close to the base. His other options were much more limited. Frankly, apart from his uniforms, Ice wasn’t really one for dressing up, and he found himself second guessing each option that was available to him.

Eventually, after much agony, Ice had picked out a navy blue collared shirt and had slipped it on with his newest pair of jeans before he emerged from his room. Simon gave him a quick appraising glance but didn’t comment on his choice, and Ice felt strangely pleased. He found himself wanting to please his brother, to be worthy of him in a way he never had for his Father. The idea of being a disappointment, again, was a fate he felt compelled to do everything in his power to avoid.

Although that dream had taken a knock when he’d seen Simon’s car.

It was a bright red, low slung sporty convertible that Ice had actually admired privately on his way back from the shop. It was well polished and clearly expensive, and sported custom number plates that simply read ‘ST 1’.

“Is this your car?” he’d exclaimed when he’d seen it. 

Simon had merely smirked as he’d replied “For tonight,” before getting behind the wheel.

The drive into the commercial centre of San Diego had been a dream and at first Ice had enjoyed watching the splashes of colour in the sky produced by distant fireworks. But the further towards civilisation they travelled the more worried Ice became.

Simon had told him the name of the place they were heading to and Ice had recognised it as the hotel that was rumoured to be the place that high ranking Admirals were billeted whenever they came to North Island. If that hadn’t been enough to set his nerves on edge, he was also fighting against an internal instinct which was screaming at him about the dangers of two men being seen out for dinner alone. Whilst on the one hand, anyone with eyes could tell that the two of them were related, but that in turn came with its own problems. Tom Kazansky did not have a twin brother, and was known to have been adopted. It was in his file, one nosy superior away from being discovered.

But all of those worries fell away when, after arriving at the grandest hotel restaurant Ice had ever seen, Simon immediately steered him towards a private dining room whilst waving away the fawning staff.

Ice’s mouth fell open at the sight of it. Underneath an elaborate crystal chandelier sat a long table covered in a crisp white tablecloth that spanned the length of the room. It looked as though it would seat at least twenty, if not thirty people if fully set but clearly Simon wasn’t expecting guests. The table was only set for two.

It took some considerable effort for Ice to pick his jaw up off the floor as he followed Simon down the length of the room towards the place settings and he wondered about the fact that his brother appeared entirely ‘at home’ in the ostentatious surroundings.

“Are you…” he started as he finally sunk into his seat. He swallowed, “...wealthy?”

Simon laughed and sat down opposite him. “Yeah.”

Ice took in the array of polished silver cutlery laid out before him. He looked back and forth between the chandelier, the silver and his brother’s face. “What is it that you do?”

Simon raised an eyebrow. “Ethan didn’t tell you?”

Ice thought back to the conversation he’d had with Maverick in the aftermath of… well everything. It had been a lot to take in when Mav had explained about his double life as a spy but he’d been more tight lipped when it came to Ice’s brother.

“He had enough to tell me about himself.” Ice explained. “All he said about you was that he had to steal something from you on one of his missions recently. Are you a businessman?”

A slow, enigmatic smile spread across Simon’s face before he replied.

“I’m a thief.”

Ice blinked, worried for a moment that he’d heard incorrectly. “What?”

Simon picked up a bottle of wine that was sitting, uncorked, in the centre of the table and poured some into his glass. He picked it up and swirled it around by the stem, allowing the light to catch on the vortex of deep red liquid within.

“I’m an internationally recognised thief for hire, if you can afford me.” He took a sip from the glass and smiled. Ice gaped at him. “A little over two years ago a world famous Van Gogh went mysteriously missing from a gallery in the Netherlands…”

Ice nodded with a sinking feeling in his chest. “I remember reading about it.”

Simon smirked. “What you would not have read about was that the theft was attributed to a dashing and very expensive professional who was paid several million pounds sterling to retrieve it. Who pulled it off, I may add, ahead of schedule and with a certain amount of flair!”

Ice felt the knot in his stomach tighten. “You’re saying you stole it?”

Simon merely grinned and took another sip of his drink. 

Ice thought about it for a moment and then folded his arms. “Did you drive me here tonight in a stolen car?” He said, firmly.

Simon shrugged. “The owners are on holiday. I’ll have it back to them before they can miss it. But the number plates are a fun touch, don’t you think?” He grinned again, “I have some made up in almost every country. ‘S’ ‘T’, Like the short form for Saint.” 

Ice pursed his lips and waited, in the same way he waited for the men he commanded to explain themselves whenever they were hauled before him. 

“The Saint, see, that’s my alias - my professional identity…” Simon paused, “What?”

Ice put on his best serious voice and stared Simon down. “I don’t approve of you parading me around in stolen property. I am a respectable Naval Officer! A Captain-” And then something about what Simon had said clicked in his brain and he changed tack. “Wait. Is that why Maverick was teasing you about Saint names?”

Simon regarded him coolly for a moment. The stern voice hadn’t appeared to have phased him, unlike the seamen who’d been known to quake in their boots when faced with Ice’s ire. Then he nodded with a pleased expression on his face.

“Good, yeah. Well remembered.” Then he leant forward and grew serious. “Look. Aside from you and I there are only two other people in the whole world who know my real name and can connect it to my alias. And your buddy Maverick only knows because he was there when I told you. So, Captain Kazansky, I’m trusting you not to bring the world’s authorities to my door.” Then he shook his head and suddenly appeared bashful, “But I am sorry it didn’t occur to me about the car. I shouldn’t’ve compromised your position. From now on all my dealings with you will be legit. Deal?”

He reached across the table and offered his hand. Ice watched him but he knew the man’s face as well as he knew his own and could see that Simon was genuine. He reached forward and shook his brother’s hand.

“Thank you.”

Not, of course, that it was as straightforward as that. Ice knew immediately what this would mean. For the rest of his career - more likely the rest of his life - he was going to have to live a lie. Another one. If being gay wasn’t enough to have him kicked out of the Navy (which it was), having an internationally renowned criminal as a brother that he hadn’t immediately declared to the authorities most certainly was. Simon was a huge security risk… a risk to national security if Ice made it high enough in rank, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had a brother. And, to that, everything else became secondary.

It was that moment that the doors at the far end of the room opened and a waiter bustled in, carrying two plates. Simon motioned for him to set the food down and then poured some of the wine into Ice’s glass as the man did so. Then, when they were alone again, he motioned for Ice to begin eating.

The food seemed more like some sort of delicately arranged collection of shapes and textures covered in sauce and was unlike anything Ice had ever been served before, and yet it tasted delicious, whatever it was. Simon seemed completely unmoved, as though he ate so finely every day and once again Ice couldn’t help but feel a stab of inadequacy. He pushed it from his mind and focused instead on a question that he’d been thinking about since the day that he and Simon had met and, really, the timing couldn’t’ve been more perfect.

“Is today significant for you?” He asked, casually, as a lead in.

Simon seemed a little confused by the question. “No, should it be?”

Ice thought about dancing further around the topic but then thought better of it and just asked outright between delicate mouthfuls of food. “When’s your birthday? My parents admitted to me that they chose the day they adopted me and celebrated that as my birthday. But I’ve always been curious.”

Opposite him Simon all but waved the question away with his fork.

“I don’t know, I’ve never had one, I don’t really know for sure how old I am…” he shrugged, “Lost count somewhere in my twenties.”

“Oh…” Ice absorbed, he hadn’t considered that. He’d assumed Simon would know more than he did but clearly that wasn’t the case. “We’re thirty seven”, he clarified. 

At least, that was what it said on all of his own paperwork. But he’d known for a long time that it was likely he could be a year or so out, on either side. Stood to reason if no one knew his exact birth date.

“Huh.” Simon seemed a little surprised. “That’s older than I expected. I guess time flies.” He took another delicate sip from his wine glass. “So what day do you celebrate?”

Ice swallowed. It was now or never.

“Today.” He said quietly, “New Year’s Eve. It’s my birthday today.”

Simon blinked, frozen for a moment, and then suddenly he smiled.

“Well then, Happy Birthday.” He said and reached into his pocket for a small box which he then slid across the table. He smirked. “Don’t worry, I paid for it.”

For one absurd moment Ice thought that it might be a ring before reality caught up to him. He picked up the box and opened it. On a plush, velvet cushion sat a round disk in silver bearing the image of a bishop. The whole thing was dangling from a delicate silver chain and he realised that it was a necklace.

“It’s a Simon Zealots medallion…” Simon explained as Ice examined it. “I know a Saint Christopher is more usual for people who travel far from home but… this way you’ll always have a piece of me with you and we never have to be separated again.”

Ice looked up and saw that Simon’s face was blank. It was an expression that he recognised from himself whenever he was trying to hide his own feelings of vulnerability. He examined the medal more closely to afford his brother a measure of privacy and formulated an appropriate response; his Catholic upbringing for once coming in useful. 

“What’s he patron of?”

Simon softened ever so slightly. “Oh he’s really boring! Couriers, woodcutters and tanners! I’m not named after him anyway… it’s just, you know, the name… sorry.”

Ice smiled. “It’s a wonderful gift, thank you.”

He arranged the medal back into the box and slipped the whole thing into the pocket of his jeans.

“Solid platinum, as well, if you ever need to barter your way out of trouble-” Simon continued as he resumed eating with gusto, “anyway, hope you like it.”

“You have expensive taste, I’m not even going to ask how much that’s worth!” Ice gestured to the thick, flashy watch on Simon’s wrist and chuckled. “I’m going to have to get used to the idea that we exist in entirely different worlds.” 

The idea that he might ever be in a situation where he would need to barter with precious metals rather than cigarettes was somewhat ridiculous to him, but he supposed there was a lot that went into being an internationally recognised thief that he wouldn’t have the first idea about.

“What’s life without a little risk?” Simon replied, grinning, which Ice took as rather proving his point. “Now, let’s see about getting a very expensive bottle of wine. We’re celebrating!”

Notes:

I could not believe it on a rewatch of The Saint when Simon drove off at the end in a car with ‘ST 1’ plates. What a show off! This explanation was my solution to that particularly annoying canon tidbit XD

Chapter 3: January 1999

 

January 1999

Ice stood by the phone in the hall with nerves fluttering in his stomach. He’d resolved to call days ago, ever since the New Year, but had been preoccupied with all of the new information running around his head. He and his brother had agreed, in the end, not to do any kind of DNA test to find out for sure how they were related but had, quite happily, both accepted that they were identical twins. The evidence was undeniable, really. But a gentleman’s agreement, whilst much more prudent to protect both of their careers, did not satisfy Ice’s gnawing curiosity. He needed to know if there were ever any official reference made to him having a brother. He needed to see his adoption papers. Which is why he’d resolved to call.

He dialed, waited, and then heard the line connect after only two rings.

“Hello. Kazansky residence.” A woman’s voice spoke, her greeting identical every time he called.

“Hello Mother.”

“Tom!” Her voice softened immediately, losing its plasticy edge. “This is a surprise. Are you well?”

“I am well, thank you.” He answered, truthfully. “How are you?”

She sighed before launching into a reply.
“Your Father has been suffering with his sciatica again but you know him, only the Lord himself could get between your father and his morning newspaper. He’s down to the shop every morning at the crack of dawn. I tell him, I do, that he should take things more slowly…” 

Ice tucked the handset between his shoulder and his chin and popped a cigarette into his mouth whilst he listened. He let his mother’s voice wash over him as she regaled him with stories about his father and his sister and all of their achievements and problems. Ice puffed on his cigarette, letting out increasingly deep lungfuls as the nicotine worked to calm his nerves. Then, after a particularly luxurious inhale his mother paused.

“Are you smoking!?” She demanded.

Ice coughed in surprise and stubbed the remainder out in the nearby ashtray.

“No.” He lied smoothly. “Look, mom, I was calling to ask you something.”

“Oh yes?”

“Do you remember how when I was little I used to dream about having a brother?” He said without leaving a pause for her to fill. “Well I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently, you know, the memories I have of the orphanage-”

She interrupted him anyway. “Oh Tommy, don’t be ridiculous! How could you possibly remember anything from that age?”

“I was five!” Ice snapped back. “Don’t you have memories from when you were-”

“Don’t talk back to me young man.” His mother said sternly and suddenly Ice felt as though he were a child again.

A booming voice echoed through the phone, clearly a distance away but still clear as crystal.

“Is he giving you lip? Put me on with him.”

Ice was quick to react. “No, I don’t want to talk to him.” He said firmly but forced himself to keep his tone polite. “Look, Mother, I was just wondering if you had any of the paperwork still. I was thinking about maybe trying to trace my biological pare-”

It wasn’t true. He had no intention of trying to search for his birth parents, but it had been the best excuse he’d been able to come up with for wanting to see his adoption records.

“Now why on earth would you want to do that?” His mother interrupted again, her voice rising higher with every word. “Were we not enough for you? We did our best, you know.” She sniffed and Ice could hear a tremble in her voice. Guilt flared within him as she continued more forcefully. “We did right by you, raising you in the eyes of the Lord from your sinful origins-”

A scuffling sound indicated that the receiver was changing hands and Ice braced himself.

“Tom.” A deep voice boomed. “You’ve upset your Mother.”

A chill ran through him. “I know, I’m sorry Father-”

“You know better than to upset your Mother, especially after your absence was felt at Christmas this year.” 

Ice bowed his head. He really did feel guilty about that. It would’ve been so easy to make it home for Christmas a few weeks ago as he hadn’t been deployed, he could’ve taken leave, and yet he’d chosen not to. He’d chosen to spend Christmas alone in his base housing in San Diego whilst his whole family sat round a table together only two hours away in Los Angeles. But, for the first time, he’d been acutely aware that they weren’t his whole family, and he’d needed time to think. 

“Sorry Father-” He said, but was interrupted. 

“Will you be here for Christmas next year?” The man demanded.

“I don’t know,” Ice said truthfully, “it depends on where I’ll be stationed and if I’m deployed-”

His father interrupted him again.
“You give too much time to the Navy, Son, you should’ve thought about going into politics like me. Respectable, community driven, visible. A good, honest day's work and plenty of time for family too.”

Ice rubbed his forehead. A headache was beginning to form and his hands itched to light another cigarette but he resisted.

“Yes Father.” He said meekly.

“Good. Now apologise to your Mother and we’ll say no more about it.”

“Bu-” Ice started but a scuffling sound signalled that he was too late.

He heard sniffling on the other end of the line before his mother’s watery voice came through the speaker.
“Tommy?”

Ice sighed internally. “I’m sorry Mother, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She sniffed again and he could just picture her standing up a little straighter and smoothing out her blouse as she always did when she was composing herself.

“That’s alright dear,” she said and her voice was warm again, “I miss you. When are you next coming home?”

Ice thought about it. He still had the option to take some leave.

“Soon.” He promised. “I’ll come soon, mom, I promise.”

It was the least he could do, really. He owed them that much, after all, in fact, after meeting Simon properly Ice had been consumed with guilt about how much he owed his adoptive parents. His brother had remained tight-lipped about his own past, but Ice could tell the wounds ran deep. Ice had been the lucky one, even though his childhood had been far from perfect.

He promised himself he’d make time in the next month to go up and see them. And he’d take his mother some flowers. And maybe he’d have more luck searching for his adoption papers in person.

 

 

Notes:

I'm seeing Mission Impossible: Final Reckoning later today... I am so excited!!! I just hope it doesn't have too many implications for my SaintSpy timeline spreadsheed haha XD

Chapter 4: August 1999

August 1999

A knock on the window had Ice bolting upright on the sofa. He’d been resting his eyes in front of the game that was still flickering on the television screen and was surprised to see that the room had gone dark around him. He stood, stretched, and switched on the light as he padded over to open it.

The face that greeted him when he leaned out to look down into his front garden made Ice blink in surprise.

“Mav!” He exclaimed, “What are you-?”

“Hey Ice, you got a minute?” Maverick grinned, jumped up and hauled his way into Ice’s house without waiting for a reply. 

Ice closed the window behind him in shock and took in the details of his old friend’s appearance. His hair was even longer now - so well beyond regulation Navy length that it was almost laughable, and he was dressed casually in jeans and a black t-shirt and jacket. Only the thick-soled combat boots and bulge of a holster under his jacket gave away that he might not be all that he appeared.

Maverick - or ‘Ethan’, Ice supposed - wandered over to the kitchenette and helped himself to a beer from Ice’s fridge. Ice folded his arms.

“Not that it isn’t nice to see you,” he started, “but are you here for any particular reason? Or are you just here to drink your way through my alcohol supplies?”

Wouldn’t be the first time, he thought dryly. Although usually Slider helped.

Maverick hummed noncommittally before dropping down onto the sofa. “Have you heard from Simon recently?” 

Anxiety flared in Ice’s chest. “Not for a few months now, why? Is he okay?”

“Oh yeah he’s fine.” Maverick waved the beer bottle around, “Pops in on me now and then, you know how it is.”

“No, actually, I don’t know how it is.” Ice said firmly as he sat down on the other end of the sofa and fixed his wingman with a pointed look.

“Oh…” Mav replied, and the ghost of a smirk appeared on his lips. “Well, we haven’t put a label on anything, but he and I sort of…” he paused and the smirk widened, “...have an arrangement.”

Ice couldn’t claim to be surprised. If the chemistry that existed between his brother and his wingman hadn’t been obvious from the night when they’d all first met, then he’d seen it plenty since in the way they each talked about one another. They were both smitten, that much was clear.

“You’re seeing each other.” Ice stated.

“Yeah.” Maverick smiled, shyly. “Just thought you ought to know.”

Ice almost shook his head in disbelief, but restrained himself.

“Thanks,” he replied, “well, like I said, he hasn’t been in touch for a few months.”

Mav nodded and focused on the game still flickering on the screen. Ice watched him as he took another swig of his beer and rested his boots on the coffee table. There was something tense about him that Ice couldn’t quite put his finger on. To all intents and purposes Maverick looked entirely at ease and yet Ice knew his old wingman better than that.

“What’s really going on Mav?” He asked gently.

Maverick looked round at him with sharp grey eyes and a disarming smile.

“What? Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You just ‘popped round’ to tell me that you’re getting regular sex from my brother but you look fucking depressed. What’s going on?”

Maverick looked sad for a moment, as though the emotion had slipped through a mask that he wore to hide it, before the bright smile returned and the faintest hint of a blush.

“It’s not just ‘regular sex’.” Maverick all but whispered. “I- I love him, Ice. And he loves me too.”

Ice stole every bit of self control that existed within him to resist the urge to say ‘I told you so’ and instead fixed on a smile of his own.

“I’m really happy for you Mav, for both of you. You both deserve to be happy.”

Maverick’s green eyes pierced into him although his voice was soft.

“You’ll find someone Ice, I know you will.”

It was the same thing that Maverick had said to him the night after they’d both slept together, the night that he’d first met Simon and seen how he and Maverick sparked off one another. This time he didn’t humour his wingman with his answer.

“No I won’t.” He said sadly but without leaving room for any argument. “That’s not my path in life. I’m going to the top. Commander of the Fleet - you’ll see.”

Maverick looked at him, really looked at him, for a moment and Ice felt pinned under his gaze.

“I don’t doubt it… but you know,” Mav said slowly, “if the worst ever does happen I can always see if there’s a place for you at the IMF.” Neither of them acknowledged out loud what Maverick meant by ‘the worst that could happen’, but they both knew. “And Simon has pots of money. You wouldn’t have to hide. You’d be alright.”

Honesty poured out of Maverick’s open expression and Ice sighed. What his wingman was saying was undoubtedly true, but it wasn’t a possibility that he really wanted to think about. Plus it brought up a topic that Ice had been wrestling with for a while now.

“You could’ve warned me that he was a thief!” He said suddenly and Maverick cocked an eyebrow curiously.

“Why should that matter?”

Ice rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot Mav.”

“Ah, keeping secrets from the Navy?”

“I’m already keeping one secret from the Navy, what’s the harm in keeping another?” Ice replied coolly, “No, it wasn’t that. Just… theft, Mav… It doesn’t sit right with me.” 

Maverick’s expression flickered. “You’re not going to walk out on him though? You’re still going to see him?”

Ice frowned. “Of course! Mav..? What’s really going on?”

At the other end of the sofa, Maverick’s face fell. In a moment the man before him transformed into the same shell of a man that Ice had known in the aftermath of the disastrous accident at Top Gun when Mav’s RIO, Goose, had died. And suddenly Ice understood that something was seriously wrong.

Maverick’s voice was coarse and quiet when he eventually spoke.

“Bradley’s cut me out.”

“What? Why?”

“I pulled his papers from the academy.” Maverick whispered. His knuckles had gone white where he clutched at the beer bottle in his hand. “It was- Carol asked me to before she died. It was her dying wish!” He looked round, his eyes shining, wide and desperate. “What was I meant to do?”

“Jesus Mav.” Ice whispered before he could stop himself but clearly Maverick wasn’t done.

“This job means I couldn’t be there for him when Carol died. He might as well not have a godfather… part of me thinks he’ll be better off without me in his life anyway.” 

Ice couldn’t let that one slide. “Jesus Mav!” He exclaimed.

“But the selfish part of me wants him back.” His wingman continued undeterred. “How long will it take him to forgive me? A month? Two?”

Green eyes stared at him. Ice swallowed, thinking of young Bradley Bradshaw and how devoted he had been to the idea of becoming a pilot, just like his dad. The last time he’d seen the lad had been three years ago at his mother’s funeral. Parentless, just like Maverick… Like Simon, he thought with a lump in his throat… like me.  

“That’s not how it works.” He said slowly, “Do you want me to talk to him?”

Before his eyes Maverick crumpled. “No, that’s ok.”

Ice tried to keep his voice light, although in his heart, and from Maverick’s reactions, he could tell that the situation was more serious than Mav was letting on.
“Maybe he just needs some time to think.”

Maverick nodded and then seemed to reassemble himself before Ice’s eyes. He sat up taller and fixed the confident smile back onto his face, although it didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Yeah. I’m sure he’ll come round once he’s settled. I’ll check in on him then.” Maverick nodded towards him, “Thanks Ice.”

Ice nodded too before standing up. “Right,” he announced. “If you’re staying for a bit then I’m going to join you in a beer. You want another?”

Maverick laughed. “Getting me drunk will get you nowhere Kazansky.”

Ice scoffed and cuffed him on the back of his head as he moved past to the little kitchen. Maverick only laughed harder. And suddenly, his wingman was back and it was as though nothing had ever changed.

 

 

Chapter 5: December 2000

Notes:

Some homophobic language in this one just FYI...

December 2000

Ice was at the end of his tether. His mother’s insistence that the entire family gather in whatever room she was currently inhabiting had been nice on the first day but now, after the three days of Christmas festivities it was starting to wear thin. His younger sister, Sarah, and her husband Grant had delighted everyone on the first day that they’d arrived by announcing that she was pregnant and conversation hadn’t strayed far from the topic since. 

“Grant and I have been looking at apartments in the downtown area.” Sarah was saying whilst picking from a bunch of grapes which was hanging over the edge of the fruit bowl. “We finally found one that was big enough last week. The building comes with its own car parking spot as well so it’s really convenient for Grant’s work.”

Ice picked at his fingernails and let the voices wash over him. He was simultaneously incredibly bored and on constant high alert. Not too dissimilar to being put on standby for a mission on a carrier… although in that case he could at least have a laugh and a joke with like minded people. 

“I don’t like the idea of you living in the inner city.” Ice’s father interjected from behind his newspaper, “Think of the crime rate!”

Quietly Ice thought to himself that it was the responsibility of people like his dad to do things about the crime rate, but he kept his opinion to himself. He didn’t even lift his head. 

“It sounds like it could be dangerous.” Ice’s mother fussed. “Who knows what kind of people you might end up mixing with!”

“The first place we looked at was right around the corner from one of those bars where the queers go.” Ice’s blood suddenly turned cold at Sarah’s words. He froze in his seat. “If we’d stayed a few hours longer the whole street would’ve been crawling with faggots!”

Over by the sink Ice’s mum gasped and clutched at the crucifix around her neck. His father pursed his lips and lowered his newspaper. 

Ice’s mum’s voice was shrill. “We can’t have you living in a place like that, not with a baby on the way!” 

Sarah nodded. “Yeah I don’t want my child exposed to people like that. That’s why we’re taking our time to find the right place.” She looked over at her parents with large, doe eyes, “It’s a shame we’re having to restrict our search to the city centre.”

Ice tried to avoid moving so as not to draw any attention upon himself, even going so far as to hold his breath. 

“Would it help..?” Ice’s mum looked nervously over at his father. “We could..?”

His father folded his paper carefully and placed it on the kitchen table before speaking. 

“You should look up on the hill. That’s a very acceptable neighbourhood. A good school. It would be a very appropriate place to settle down.”

Grant at least had the decency to look embarrassed. “I’m afraid, sir, our resources don’t stretch that far…”

“Nonsense.” Ice’s father declared, “Come to me with the details and we’ll say no more about it.”

On the other side of the kitchen Sarah and Grant looked at one another with growing delight. Then Grant rushed across the room to shake his father-in-law’s hand. Sarah followed close behind, squealing, and hugged each of their parents with barely concealed joy. 

Ice kept still and silent and tried not to feel too disappointed in the blatant show of favouritism. His parents had never offered him a drop of financial aid - not that he could complain about his salary, but still, it stung. 

“I’m so proud of you dear.” Ice’s mum crowed, “Grandchildren! At last!” 

Ice felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as she turned to him with a slightly frostier look. Here we go, he thought to himself. 

“When are you going to settle down Tom?”

Before Ice could decide on which old excuse to recycle, Grant laughed. 

“I can’t imagine many good God-faring women would be happy with the idea of a husband who disappears out to sea for months at a time!”

Ice’s father joined the ranks of accusatory stares and Ice tried to resist sinking down into his seat. 

“I’ve spoken with Tom before about the optics of him not having a wife at this stage of his career,” Ice’s father said and everyone turned to him as though he were an emperor holding court. “It’s not a smart look. Makes an interview panel nervous. Makes them wonder what’s wrong with him.”

Grant nodded, “I’ve heard about the sort of girls who tend to hang around sailors. Not exactly wife material.” 

Great, Ice thought, and now they’re talking about me as though I’m not here. 

Grant hugged Sarah close into his side with one arm and she looked up at her husband as though he were God’s gift. Of everyone in the kitchen, only Ice’s mother was still looking to where Ice sat. 

“Are you sure you can’t just find a nice girl to settle down with?” She asked, “Start a family of your own? It might make you happier, sweetheart.” Ice tried not to flinch at the idea that he needed to ‘start a family’, as though he’d never been wanted in this one. “Maybe a girl from church?”

And Ice certainly was not going to tell them that he hadn’t been to church since joining the navy - excepting, of course, whenever he came back home in order to keep up appearances. He glanced around. His mother and Sarah were both wearing delicate crucifixes around their necks. He resisted playing with the chain of the Simon Zealots medal he had tucked under his shirt in place of his dog tags. 

He tried desperately to think of an answer as every eye turned towards him, but luckily was interrupted by a loud chiming noise. 

“What’s that noise?” Ice’s mother cast about for the source of it. 

Ice reached into his pocket. “That’s my cell phone… it’s probably work,” he lied, Simon had bought it for him. He stood up from the table and walked towards the back door. “Excuse me.”

Outside he waited until the door was fully closed behind him before he answered.

“Hello?”

“Merry Christmas Brother.” Simon’s soft voice echoed through the speakers and Ice felt the knot in his chest loosen marginally.

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, placed it in his mouth and lit up.

“Merry Christmas to you too.” He said after his first, gloriously necessary puff.

“You don’t sound particularly full of festive cheer. What’s wrong?”

Ice took another drag, trying to figure out a way to say anything without appearing ungracious about his comparatively privileged upbringing.

“Nothing. Family.” He eventually said.

“Ah.” Simon acknowledged, “I, too, was recently reminded that Christmas is a traditional time to spend with family. I apologise that I neglected to wish you a good one last year.”

Ice felt strangely touched.

“That’s alright,” he said as he blew a lungful of smoke out across the garden, “I was deployed this time last year so you wouldn’t have got through. Anyway, you remembered my birthday. I have an office on base in North Island now so I’ve hung it up in there… several members of the admiralty have complimented me on it.”

He pictured the beautifully detailed oil painting that Simon had had sent to him for his last birthday - a glorious rendition of the early Naval sailing vessel Enterprise upon the occasion of her commission into service in 1799. He’d hung it in pride of place over his desk the day that he’d moved into a position that came with an office.

“I should hope so. It’s a masterpiece.” Simon’s voice was dry but suggested that the man was smirking.

Ice’s stomach dropped. “…Is it?”

“Certainly.” Simon replied. “I’ve deposited the authenticity papers in a deposit box under your name, in case you ever wanted to sell it.”

Ice swallowed the uncomfortable feeling that sprang through him. He’d been so focused on whether or not the painting was stolen that he’d forgotten to worry about how much it might be worth. He felt slightly uneasy about the idea that people who know about that sort of thing might now be connecting something so precious and valuable to him. He was a Captain in the US Navy… he shouldn’t have the means to buy priceless paintings. It was the same reason that he continually refused Simon’s offers to buy him a house and instead bounced between base allocations.

Still… he didn’t want to be rude.

“…I shall look at it with a renewed appreciation.” He said eventually, “I’m sorry I can’t get you something so equally fine.”

On the other end of the phone, Simon scoffed just as the kitchen door rattled behind him as the booming voice of his father protruded distantly from indoors.

“Where is he?! No, no, I’ll get him!”

Ice hastily stubbed out the cigarette he was holding onto the handrail of the deck but before he could flick it away his father cuffed him none-too-gently up the back of his head.

“Tom Kazansky you know my thoughts on smoking!” He scolded. “What are you doing out here?”

Ice gestured with the phone as he flicked the offending cigarette butt into a bush. “Father, I’m just taking a call…”

“You’re disrespecting your mother by being out here when dinner is ready. Get inside boy.” 

His father grunted as he turned and began returning to the house. Ice brought the phone back up to his ear and rubbed away the sting across the back of his skull.

“Sorry, gotta go.” He said hastily and hung up before Simon could reply. 

He had no doubt that his brother had heard every word of the conversation with his father and so would be left in no doubt as to the reason for Ice’s abrupt departure. He followed his father into the house dutifully and, as the kitchen door closed behind him, tried to do his best to ignore the man’s continued ranting.

“And after your mother and I put so much into teaching you manners too! I thought the navy might instill some discipline, some respect…”

Ice sighed and took his place at the table and tried, once again, to make himself as small and forgettable as possible. In his pocket his phone buzzed and, once conversation had moved on, he risked a peek at it under the table. 

A single text, from Simon, reading simply ‘I shall visit for your birthday. S.’.

Chapter 6: New Year's Eve 2000

New Year's Eve 2000

One of the problems with having an international thief as a brother was that he displayed little understanding of the concepts of privacy or socially acceptable calling hours. It must be something to do with the cloak and dagger lifestyle, because Maverick - Ethan - displayed the same tendencies. 

Which is why Ice felt particularly pleased when, on his birthday, Simon knocked on the door to his house instead of just letting himself in. Sure, it was the back door rather than the front, but Ice was willing to take it as a compromise. His brother waved through the screened window with his hands full of a decently sized cardboard box and a honeyed glass bottle.

He crossed to the back door and greeted his brother warmly. Simon slunk into the kitchen and deposited his burdens onto the table before turning back to Ice with his arms outstretched.

“Happy Birthday Tom.” Simon said as they embraced.

“You’re well?” Ice enquired.

Simon smiled. “Yes. You?”

“Yeah.” Ice watched as his brother began stalking around the kitchen, pulling open various cupboards as he went and peering into them before shutting them again. “Have you come far?”

“Pretty far.” Simon shrugged as he continued to make himself at home in Ice’s kitchen. “I was doing a job in China and Ethan travelled over to spend Christmas with me.”

“That’s nice.” Ice said and Simon grimaced.

“It was alright. Cold. But nicer than yours by the sound of things.”

Ice shrugged. “It is what it is… my sister is pregnant.”

Simon’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “That will make you an uncle! Congratulations.” He reached over and pushed the box towards Ice across the table. “Your birthday present.”

“This is hardly fair,” Ice said as he received the box into his hands, “you won’t tell me when your birthday is. How can I reciprocate?”

“I told you, I dont have one.” Simon grinned like a shark, “Go on, open it up.”

Ice relented, needing little persuasion. Had the exquisite and varied nature of the gifts not been enough to intrigue him, witnessing his brother’s excitement at the prospect of sharing his fine things had become infectious. 

He reached into the plain cardboard box and withdrew a finely polished wooden chest from within. Inside that, surrounded by plush velvet cushioning, sat a beautifully ornate cut crystal decanter and a whole set of identical matching glasses.

“Wow.” He breathed, in awe of the craftsmanship displayed before him. “This is… very nice. Even nicer than the one at home.”

Simon’s grin widened. “And I brought this to christen it with…” He plucked the bottle from the table and held it up. “Thirty five year aged, limited edition whiskey… Scotland’s finest.”

Ice licked his lips. “My father would be very jealous.”

Simon’s expression darkened instantly, like a thundercloud rolling in off the sea. He placed the bottle back down on the table with a definite clunk and folded his arms in a posture that screamed defensiveness.

“I didn’t like the way he spoke to you.”

“Oh, you heard that.” Ice replied quietly, having suspected as much from the moment that he’d hung up the phone.

His brother’s cool grey eyes pierced into him. “Is that usual?”

“Unfortunately.” Ice shrugged, “He was always pretty strict.”

He eyed the forgotten bottle mournfully and decided instantly that he wasn’t going to ask for it to be opened. It actually made him slightly uneasy, the idea of drinking away some presumably vast sum of money. He had a few beers in the bottom of his fridge and would be happy enough with those, especially if the conversation lingered on the topic of his father.

“He’s a local politician?” Simon asked softly.

“A State Senator, yes.” Ice sighed. “Father always used to go on and on about how he would’ve gone into the forces when he was younger but for the fact that his eyesight wasn’t good enough. I thought…” he paused and had to force his head not to duck away from Simon’s strong gaze with shame, “I thought that if I went into the navy… got high enough, then maybe he would be proud of me.”

“Did it work?”

Ice gave in and looked away. “Hasn’t yet.”

“It sounded as though he hit you,” Simon growled and Ice’s attention snapped straight back to him.

“A clip round the ear for a minor offence.” Ice shrugged in an attempt to shrink the truth into something ordinary. Simon looked at him expectantly and made a gesture which seemed to say ‘and all the rest? ’. Ice swallowed. “When I was younger he’d dish out a few strikes with his belt if he was really angry.”

Simon’s hard stare bore into him again. “And that was the worst of it?”

“Yeah.” Ice said, quite truthfully, and his brother relaxed.

“Good. The priests weren’t as restrained.”

Ice felt his mouth run dry. Before him Simon seemed to be donning an armour of stiffness to protect against the horror of being seen to wilt. Ice recognised it from himself. He also knew which question it was that no one ever asked him, and asked it. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.” Simon seemed to shake himself and suddenly snapped back to the more carefree persona that Ice had come to know him by. “I would like you to crack open this bottle and share a drink with me.”

“Alright.” Ice agreed although internally he was jumping for joy at the thought of getting a taste of the rare liquid within. 

He pulled a couple of the crystal tumblers from their velvet bed whilst Simon cracked into the bottle. As two generous measures found their way into the glasses Ice found himself wondering, not for the first time, just how much money he was about to drink away before resolving not to worry about it. He could think of worse things that Simon could do with his stolen fortune.

Simon raised his glass and flashed another disarming smile as he made his toast.

“Here’s to a childhood survived and an adulthood worth living.”

Ice snorted but raised his glass in acknowledgement. “Cheers.”

Ice took his first sip and immediately decided that this was a drink that deserved to be enjoyed sitting down. He crossed to the sofa and sat down heavily. Simon, it turned out, was only two steps behind him and together they sipped at the honeyed nectar in silence.

It was clearly expensive from the taste. A delicate smokeyness reached his nose first before coating his tongue. The flavours were subtle but clearly present in a way that they weren’t in less finely honed examples. Ice took another sip.

Simon seemed uncharacteristically quiet as he stared into his glass. Ice watched out of the corner of his eye as his brother began to chew nervously on his bottom lip.

“It was much worse, at Saint Ignatius'.” Simon said eventually as he stared down into the swirling amber liquid inside his glass. “The priests could be singularly cruel. You got off lightly.”

He swallowed another mouthful and Ice felt a sudden surge of indignation.

“You don’t think I don’t know that? I know I’m the lucky one Simon. I… I don’t know why they picked me instead of you. I’m sorry!” He paused. “Do you resent me for it?”

“No!” Simon turned to him with an expression of horror. “Not even the smallest amount!”

Ice nodded as a weight lifted off his chest. 

“My father once beat me for embarrassing him at a work function because the press found out that I’d been adopted.” He remarked deliberately casually. “Apparently it didn’t fit with his image.”

“I once snuck into the chapel and replaced the big bible with a rather crude facsimile made out of toilet paper. Father Brennan beat the soles of my feet so hard that I couldn’t walk properly for a month!” Simon laughed even as Ice’s blood ran cold with fury and disbelief in his veins. His brother continued as though nothing were amiss. “I wonder what our lives would’ve been like if we’d grown up together?”

“I doubt either of us would’ve ended up doing what we’re doing now.” Ice sipped at his whiskey as his decorated naval career flashed before his eyes.

“Drinking?” Simon tilted his head and grinned.

Ice snorted, “Certainly not anything as fine as this…” he held up his glass, “maybe we’d have run away and joined the circus? Twin freaks or something…”

“Speak for yourself.” Simon replied, “Out of the two of us I got the looks.”

Ice laughed. “Somehow,” he shook his head and chuckled into his glass, “you’re right.”

“Nonsense,” Simon shot back, “it’s just knowing how to dress well. And to resist the urge to go through life looking like you’ve just rolled off an aircraft carrier. You must let me take you shopping sometime.”

“So I can end up looking like you?” Ice replied sarcastically, “Thanks!”

A playful shove knocked him suddenly sideways and Ice fought to recover so that he could shove his infuriatingly grinning brother right back. They laughed and jostled each other, even as priceless droplets of whiskey spilled out of the glasses and onto their clothes.

Although the moment was as brief as it was natural and free. Simon collapsed back into the sofa cushions and rolled his neck to look over at Ice who was struck by the open honestly of his face.

“Are you happy Tom?” The man whispered.

Ice considered the question carefully before answering.

“I’m fulfilled.” He said eventually. “What about you?”

“Yeah,” Simon grinned, “I am happy. You and Ethan make me happy.”

Ice smiled. His brother still had an innocence about him that the navy had taken from him long ago. No wonder Maverick with his free spirit had latched onto this man. It was like they were two halves of the same whole. 

He raised his glass in a silent toast and Simon met the gesture in kind. Their eyes met, their glasses clinked and together, they both drank.

Notes:

In The Saint novelisation it is said that the priests beat the children’s feet when they’re bad. Apparently that has a technical name ‘bastinado’ - who knew! (This came in useful for a very different fic I was writing at the time lol)

Chapter 7: May 2003

May 2003

“Three months!” Maverick exclaimed in mock anger, poorly disguised behind the wide smile splashed across his face and the laughter in his eyes. “Three months it took me to find him! Do you know where he was? Hiding in a mud hut in the middle of nowhere in Botswana!”

Next to him on the sofa Simon nodded along. Ice could see that, despite his deadpan delivery, his brother was deeply amused.

“The Bakoena are a lovely people. Very friendly.”

Maverick poked Simon in the chest. “He spent three months getting drunk and feasting whilst I was going out of my mind with worry!”

Simon was lounging with his arm across the back of the sofa, more relaxed than Ice had ever seen him before. Maver- Ethan, was sitting beside him, leaning forward excitedly whenever he spoke but collapsing back into the cushions in moments of calm. Ice watched as his former wingman settled back again and was casually brought into an embrace when Simon’s arm slipped around his shoulders. Mav’s hand rested lightly on the blond man’s knee. They were so obviously and unashamedly in love. It made something in Ice’s chest twist with jealousy as Ma- Ethan continued.

“Well it’s not happening again. I got him an emergency SOS bracelet…”

Simon rolled his eyes but didn’t resist as Ethan tugged a little on one of his trouser legs to show off a thick braided cord with a metallic strip woven into it which was wrapped around his ankle.

“I’ve agreed to wear it sometimes,” Simon said pointedly, “if I’m doing something dangerous.”

Ice chuckled. “And coming to visit me is dangerous is it?”

“Not remotely.” His brother flashed a grin in his direction. “But he pinned me against the dresser and wouldn’t let me leave the hotel room this morning until I agreed to put it on.”

Ethan pouted. “You loved it.”

Ice watched as his brother glared at his lover with faux annoyance and Ethan giggled. A sort of silent communication passed between them that seemed flirtatious and charged. They were so in love it was almost sickening.

The intimacy of it made him jealous but he’d accepted long ago that his career came first. He’d known that even before that night that he and Mav had shared together… before he’d even met Simon. He was pleased for them, indeed, their love warmed his heart and made him proud in a way that he hadn’t anticipated, but he was jealous of their ability to love freely whilst he still had to hide. But, that was the price he had to pay for his career.

Across the room the lovebirds seemed oblivious to his internal conflict.

“Ethan’s not as good at gift giving as I am.” Simon remarked as he pulled his lover in closer to him.

“Hey!” The other man answered before turning to Ice conspiratorially. “Your brother does give wonderful presents.”

“I know.” Ice smiled, “I- actually. I have a gift for you.”

He stood up quickly and crossed to the cupboard under the stairs, from which he pulled a large box containing the item that he’d stolen from Top Gun in a moment of madness.

“I didn't realise Mav- I mean Ethan would be here too… I guess that means it’s a present to both of you.”

He offered the box to Simon who peered into it with a look of unrestrained curiosity.

“It’s one of Mav’s old helmets.” Ice explained and Maverick’s eyes lit up.

“No way!” He said as he jumped up and grabbed the helmet from the box.

“I thought you might get a kick out of seeing it.” Ice explained to Simon a little apologetically. “A piece of his past. I can’t really give you anything fancy…”

Simon pushed his way up off the sofa and immediately enveloped Ice in a big hug. Ice relaxed into it and had to admit to himself that he’d been nervous about his brother’s reaction. He needn't have worried. When they broke apart Simon appeared to be genuinely moved.

“Thank you. I love it.” He said.

“It still fits!”

The two brothers turned around, as one, to see Maverick grinning widely from within the scuffed red and blue striped helmet. His long hair was poking out of the bottom around his neck which, Ice thought, rather spoilt the look.

In a familiar move that took him right back to his locker room days, Ice grabbed the helmet and jostled it roughly causing Mav to squawk in protest.

“Idiot!” He laughed, “I gave it to Simon, not you.”

Maverick pulled off the helmet, grinning widely. “This takes me back. I wonder which one it is?”

Ice had been curious about the same thing simself when he’d stumbled across it in the back of a cupboard in the Top Gun offices. As fighter pilots their helmets were replaced often, at least once a year but more so if a pilot ever had to eject or if they had crashed. Maverick had seemed to get through at least twice as many helmets as everyone else. At least, that’s what it had felt like.

“The log said eighty eight to eighty nine.” He said and Maverick nodded sagely.

“Ah, the Amber Eagle mission.”

“Presumably. I don’t see why they would’ve kept it otherwise.”  Ice explained to Simon who was wearing an expression of confusion on his face. “Evidence.”

Simon raised an eyebrow and looked toward his lover.

“We were flying in close formation and an enemy fighter tried to bully his way through our line.” Maverick explained. “He came up right in between us and clipped both our wings. All three planes went down. Only time Ice and I ever ejected on the same mission.”

“Saints preserve us!” Simon exclaimed as he threw his hands into the air. “You’re dangerous too! Spare me these daredevils!”

Ma- Ethan laughed joyously, and Ice joined in.

“Like you haven’t done anything equally as dangerous!” Ethan pouted at his lover.

“I have never crashed a plane!” Simon replied indignantly.

Ethan scoffed. “You’ve never flown a plane!”

“Exactly.” Simon grinned.

Ice watched them bicker fondly… thinking, not for the first time, how perfectly matched they were as a couple. It was surreal… his wingman a spy, his brother a famous criminal and yet, here they were, in his tatty living room just being themselves. They were happy, that much was obvious, and Ice was pleased. He’d long accepted that the relationship that existed between them was probably the most stable thing that any of the three of them had going on. Ice could feel it in his heart. Ethan and Simon would be together forever.

 

 

Chapter 8: April 2005

Notes:

A triple bill today... and a reminder that if anyone needs help with dates they can look at this timeline. Maybe when I'm finished I'll upload the absolutely insane spreadsheet I use to keep track of all of this nonsense...
Anyway, yeah... 2005... enjoy!

April 2005

Ice’s phone rang in the middle of the night.

He staggered out of bed, down the hallway to where the phone, mounted on the wall, continued its shrill demand for attention. 

“Kazansky.” He grunted into the receiver.

“Tom?”

A sniffle on the other end of the line made him frown. He’d been expecting the dry, tired voice of a night-desk Petty Officer efficiently issuing orders, not the sound of someone in distress.

“Simon? Is that you?” Ice immediately snapped to high alert. His instincts screamed at him that something was wrong. For one thing, Simon never rang his landline.

“I need help.” Came the thin reply. “Ethan’s gone. I’m hurt…”

“Where are you?” Ice demanded.

“Poland. I made it to Warsaw where I have…” He let out a shuddering breath and what sounded like a squeak of pain, Ice’s whole body tensed. “I have some supplies but I don’t know where… I haven’t…”

“How badly are you hurt?” Ice cut across him, already formulating plans and charting flight routes in his head.

“Bad enough to call for help.” Came the pained reply.

“Can you get to Radom-Sadków?” Ice started hurriedly making notes on the pad he kept on the hallway table. “I know that there’s a joint service transport plane landing there tomorrow. I’ll make some calls, get you on it, bring you here.”

“Yeah,” Simon’s weak voice agreed. “Yeah… I think I can make it there… Give them the name Andrew Fisher. It’s the only identity I have documentation for at the moment.”

Ice wrote the name down with rock-steady fingers. This was where he thrived; crisis management. Just another day at the office… except this time he was going to have to pull in every favour he had accumulated and risk exposing both Simon’s identity and the fact that he had a secret criminal for a brother. He was going to have to bluff a civilian onto a military plane and get emergency leave immediately afterwards… the whole thing was foolish and reckless. But his brother’s life was at stake so Ice didn’t even hesitate.

“Be there as soon as you can. Give them my name. I’ll get you here, I promise.”

 

Chapter 9: April 2005 (Part 2)

 

Ice stood nervously at the edge of the runway as the rear bay door opened on the back of the large transporter and personnel began to disembark. He’d managed to pull some strings to get the plane to make an additional journey so that Simon could be brought the whole way to North Island, instead of stopping at Joint Base Andrews in Washington which had been the original flight plan. The plane had refuelled there, though, and Ice had received an update that they’d taken medics on board in order to attend to his passenger. They’d used the phrase ‘injuries suggestive of torture’ and Ice had been in a state of panicked anticipation ever since.

He watched as a figure in a wheelchair was pushed down the ramp onto the tarmac and resisted the overwhelming urge to run towards them. The cover story he’d concocted was as classified as he could make it, but he was still playing the part of a commanding officer welcoming home an injured serviceman. Ice just hoped that no one looked too closely at their faces.
Luckily, although there had been some naval equipment being transported, this particular run had been mostly in the hands of the army, which provided him a little more distance from the personnel on board.

“Captain Kazansky?” The soldier pushing Simon’s wheelchair greeted him formally with a salute. He nodded in acknowledgement and the soldier handed him a file. “The medic’s report and his documentation.”

“Thank you,” Ice replied as he took the documents and tucked them under one arm.

“Will you need help getting him to the car sir?” The soldier asked.

“I’m fine.” Simon’s weary voice piped up.

Ice took a moment to look at his brother properly for the first time. The most obvious issue was the stark white bandage encircling his head, pushing the hair sticking out the top off in crazy directions. He was dressed in plain sweatpants and had tucked his hands into the large front pocket of an army branded hooded jumper. Ice couldn’t see anything else immediately wrong with his brother, but the red rims and dark circles under his eyes told another story. Ice clutched tightly at the medical report that he knew contained all the answers but forced himself to wait.

“I’m sure you’re not fine.” He chastised him gently, remembering that he was supposed to be talking to a colleague before turning back to the soldier, “But I will manage from here thank you. You’re dismissed.”

With a curt nod the soldier turned on their heel and left and Ice took up their place at the handles of Simon’s wheelchair. 

“Let‘s get you home.” Ice said and began to push his brother towards his waiting car. 

Simon rode the short distance in silence but looked weary when Ice applied the brakes and opened the passenger door. 

“Can you stand?” Ice asked after a moment of inaction.

Gingerly Simon edged forward in his seat and braced himself by placing his hands on the armrests of the chair. Ice’s blood turned cold as he caught sight of coiled rope burns standing out a stark red around his brother’s wrist and realised exactly what that meant had happened. 
Slowly, one foot then the other touched the floor and Simon seemed to brace himself before he attempted to stand. Ice could see instantly that his brother was in need of assistance and swept in with an arm around his waist before the other man could object. Simon sagged into him and hissed in pain as he wobbled.

“Alright?” Ice asked softly once his brother was upright and steady.

“Fuck, I just-” Simon gasped, “Stiff knees.”

Ice tightened his grip around his brother’s waist and was relieved when Simon wrapped his arm around his shoulders in return. 

“We’ll go slowly.” He said, eying up the three or so steps distance to the open door of the waiting car.

Each step was torturous and their progress was slow as Simon limped, leaning heavily into Ice’s hold, but eventually they did reach the vehicle. Ice lowered his brother into the passenger seat and belted him in as though he were a child, before collecting the wheelchair which he folded up into the boot.
He settled into the driver’s seat with a heavy feeling in his chest and set off in the direction of home. It wasn’t until they were safely off the base that he dared ask what was on his mind.

“What happened?”

Simon grunted and replied without looking at him. “I got caught.”

Ice’s knuckles were going white with the tight grip he had on the wheel but he forced himself to keep his voice calm.

“By who?”

“Doesn’t matter.” 

The reply was a dismissal, he could tell, and so Ice replied sharply.

“Simon, I will be reading that file. I would rather hear it from you-”

“I’m not one of your soldiers.” His brother interrupted as he finally turned to meet Ice’s gaze. His expression was a mask of anger but beneath it Ice could see a desperate vulnerability. He looked like a cornered animal preparing to fight for his life.

“No you’re my brother and I care about you deeply.” Ice replied firmly, although he made sure to keep his voice a little kinder. “What happened?”

Simon turned back to face the front and his voice took on a robotic quality as he began to speak.

“Some guys I’d pissed off lured me to Spain on the promise of a job… They beat me up, stuffed me in a trunk and transported me somewhere. At the other end they thought it would be fun to stage a private Passion Play in the basement of some church by way of revenge. My knees are fucked because I was kneeling on a stone floor for hours, days, I don’t really know… At some point Ethan appeared and he-”

Ice looked over as Simon’s story faltered and was alarmed by the silent tears running down his face.

“We’re nearly home,” He said, swallowing the guilt he suddenly felt upon hearing the bare bones of his brother’s story. So eager was he to know what had happened that he hadn’t stopped to consider how the recounting of it might affect Simon negatively and resolved to stop asking questions until, at least, he’d gotten the man settled.

Ice pulled his car into his driveway and rushed to bring the wheelchair around to the passenger side door. It was only a short walk from there to the house but he didn’t want to cause Simon any more pain than was strictly necessary. He could heft the chair up the two front steps of his porch, and thereby deliver his brother all the way to the sofa bed he’d pulled out in the living room.

Through teary eyes Simon eyed the chair warily. Ice faltered. 

“Would you prefer it if I carried you?” He asked, hesitantly, and Simon shook his head.

Ice brought the wheelchair as close to the car as he was able and Simon was able to manoeuvre himself into it with little fuss. The journey into the house was equally as uneventful, but by the time Simon had been transferred to the sofa bed and his bandaged head hit the pillow, he looked utterly drained.

Ice allowed the man a few minutes to collect himself without pushing for a reaction - he’d learnt his lesson on that front already. Instead, he silently made two cups of tea in the kitchen and flicked through the file the medic had handed him whilst he waited for the water to boil. It made for sobering reading.

Broken ribs, significant internal and external bruising, lacerated rope burns on both wrists, bruising on the neck consistent with strangulation, surface trauma to the skin of the back, swollen knees and ankles, multiple deep cuts in the scalp surrounding the head…

Ice skimmed over the details of each injury and the recommended treatment plan before looking over the rest of the folder’s contents. Also included was an Irish passport bearing the name Andrew Fisher next to a photograph of someone who might’ve been Simon, at a squint, and a prescription note for a significant quantity of painkillers.

He sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair wondering, not for the first time, if he was out of his depth with this. Ever since Simon had outlined what had happened to him in the car, Ice’s brain had been working overtime trying to make sense of it all. Clearly his brother had been tortured… the words ‘Passion Play’ echoing loudly in his ears. Illustrations from his children’s Bible of Christ dragging a cross through the streets of Jerusalem flickered in front of his eyes with his brother’s face superimposed over the top and suddenly Ice felt sick.

He took a shaking breath, swallowed it all down and composed himself. He picked up the two mugs and moved back to his brother’s bedside. Simon was lying propped up against a couple of pillows staring, unmoving, out of the window whilst silent tears fell like a waterfall down his cheeks. Ice sank onto the sofa bed beside his brother and placed one of the mugs into his hands checking, as subtly as he could for evidence of stigmata as he did so.

“Are you okay?” He asked gently and Simon turned to him looking as though his entire world had ended.

“Ethan’s gone.” He whispered.

“Gone?”

Fresh tears spilled out of Simon’s eyes and followed the tracks that the previous ones had left down his face.

“He’s left me.”

“What?” Ice blinked, struggling to comprehend what he was hearing. “Didn’t you say he was there?”

Simon’s lip quivered. “Ethan rescued me… pulled me out, patched me up…” His voice still had that robotic quality to it as he recited events. Yet fresh, silent tears still fell with every word. He let out a sob as he continued, “and when I woke up again he was gone.”

Ice frowned. This was Mav they were talking about. He couldn’t think of anyone more loyal than his former wingman. And he knew the way that Mav and Simon felt about each other. There was no way that Ethan would’ve just left… no, there had to be a better explanation.

“Maybe he was called away on a mission…” Ice offered and Simon let out a dry, hollow laugh.

“No.” He said. “He left a note.”

Before Ice could ask, or even process the statement, Simon reached gingerly into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulled out a crumpled slip of paper. He handed it over silently with shaking fingers and Ice looked down at the words written there.

‘I saved your life. We’re even. Debt cancelled.’

It was unmistakably Maverick’s handwriting… He’d read too many incident reports that his wingman had been forced to file in the short time that he’d actually been in the Navy not to recognise it instantly. But the words themselves didn’t make sense to him.

“Debt cancelled? What debt?”

Before his eyes Simon’s whole face crumpled and suddenly it was like the flood gates had opened. His whole chest heaved as great wracking sobs began to spill out of him. His breath shortened and wheezed and he choked out his words as though they were trying to suffocate him.

“It was a joke! I thought he knew it was a joke! He’s gone, I don’t know where he is-” Simon’s eyes grew wild and rolled as he cast about in panic, “I don’t know where he is!”

Ice reached for his brother instinctually and pulled him gently into his chest. He wrapped his arms around him and began to rock him gently from side to side as the man wailed. He shushed him even as Simon’s tears began to soak through the material of his uniform shirt.

“I want him,” His brother sniffled, “where is he?”

Ice’s heart broke.

The exact facts and figures of his brother’s story still eluded him but it was impossible to ignore that his experiences had affected him greatly. He cast the uncertainty about the fact that this was Mav out of his mind for the moment and decided, instead, to focus on getting his brother to feel better. There would be time for talking and investigation later. Indeed, Maverick himself would probably show up in a day or so and explain it all with his characteristic grin.

Ice had managed to wrangle three whole days of emergency leave. He had no doubt that by the time he went back to work, this whole mess would be sorted out and his brother would be well on the road to recovery.

But for now he just rocked, and soothed, and told him that everything was going to be okay. 

Chapter 10: April 2005 (Part 3)

 

Ice padded downstairs as quietly as he could so as not to disturb his brother who was still fast asleep on the sofa bed. Simon had eventually cried himself to sleep against Ice’s chest the evening before, although it had taken hours for him to do so. Ice had thought to himself, as he’d tucked his brother under the covers and rolled his head onto a pillow, that he was making up in some small way for the lifetime that they had missed by growing up separately. He could just imagine the two of them together, as children in the orphanage, tucking each other into bed and soothing one another’s cries. He imagined that they would have been so close, inseparable even, as they shared their every secret and whispered their fears and dreams to one another. 

The Simon that he knew as an adult hardly ever displayed any such vulnerability, and yet last night he had been filled with such pain and grief that he seemed as vulnerable as a child, and Ice understood without being asked that it was his task, alone, to comfort him. 

He was still disturbed by Simon’s claim that Ethan - Mav - had walked out on their relationship and he’d lain awake most of the night preoccupied by it. Simon seemed convinced by the note and he was usually such a good judge of character, but right now he was compromised and surely his experiences might be affecting his judgement. Plus, Ice just couldn’t see it. He’d seen the love in Maverick’s eyes whenever he spoke about Simon. He’d seen the way the two of them were around each other. They’d been together for years… 

Ice watched the slow rise and fall of his brother’s chest under the covers as he breathed. His hair was still mussed, dislodged from its usual perfect form by the large bandage that was wrapped around his head. The dark circles under his eyes had faded given a good night’s rest but the ghost of tear tracks still lingered around his red rimmed eyes. He looked peaceful-

“You’re staring.”

Ice jumped as his brother interrupted his thoughts without moving so much as a muscle or even opening his eyes. 

“I thought you were asleep.” He exclaimed. 

“I was.” Came the sleepy reply as Simon’s eyes opened and, after a moment, fixed on him. 

“How are you feeling?”

Simon didn’t answer immediately. Ice moved into the room and sat himself down on the edge of the sofa bed, watching his brother intently. 

“Better. Thank you.” Simon said eventually, although his expression was still glum, “Although physically I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. I miss those pills…”

Ice tilted his head in a silent question. 

“The nurse on the plane took one look at the IMF painkillers I found in the safe house and confiscated them. Ethan probably gave me something highly illegal.” Simon explained. 

Ice noted the emotionless mention of his former wingman with interest, but didn’t press the point. 

“I’ll go down to the pharmacy as soon as it opens today to get everything you need. Don’t worry, you can stay as long as you want. You always have a place with me, always.”

Simon’s lip twitched into the beginnings of a sneer.  “Ethan used to say that too.”

Ice lay a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder and then withdrew it guiltily when the man flinched. 

“Well, blood is thicker than water.” He said whilst berating himself internally. 

Simon chucked, although it came out as more of a wheezing cough. 

“You know that’s not actually the whole saying?” He said as he propped himself up in the bed to be more upright against the pillows. “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. It actually means the opposite… common misconception.”

Ice blinked. He hadn’t actually known that. His mind raced through all of the times he’d heard the words throughout his childhood, usually sung at him by Sarah with all the cruelty of a child trying to get their own way or as justification of some privilege that Sarah was given in preference to him. 

Simon continued, oblivious to Ice’s recollections, “The priests were very keen to distance us from the sinful wombs from whence we came.”

“Goddamn it.” Ice cursed and thumped his fist into the soft bed covers. Simon jumped and again he felt guilty. 

“Can’t handle it when I’m right?” Simon muttered but followed the question with a half-hearted grin. 

“Sorry.” Ice smiled back and released some of the tension that he was holding before he continued. “Do you mind if we talk about some of your injuries? Is there anything that you need? Anything I can do?”

Simon grunted and turned back to the window. 

“Nurse said to ice my knees every few hours until the swelling goes down. They’re not broken or strained or anything, just sore, so I should be able to walk fine in a day or two. Gotta keep pressure off my ribs and not lift anything heavy for a few weeks whilst they heal but everything else will probably sort itself out given time. Might need you to change the bandage later though.” He gestured to his head. 

Ice nodded, grateful for clear and precise instructions. He stood and quickly retrieved a couple of bags of frozen veg from his freezer. Simon received them gratefully but hissed as he placed one onto each knee. 

“Fuck, that’s cold!” He exclaimed through gritted teeth. 

Ice checked his watch. He still had half an hour until the pharmacy opened. Enough time to open a can of worms. 

“And are you ready to talk about Ethan?” He said and Simon immediately stiffened. 

“He left me. There’s nothing more to say.”

“But Ethan loves you,” Ice implored, “he wouldn’t just leave…”

Simon cut him off. 

“Drop it Tom.”

Ice swallowed down any protests that he wanted to make. It was still probably too fresh. He nodded and pushed to his feet. 

“Alright. You want any breakfast before I go? I was thinking about making some eggs…”

 

 

Chapter 11: May 2005

May 2005

The house felt empty without Simon in it. 

All in all his brother had only stayed about two weeks but it had been enough time for Ice to get used to having him around and now, even though he’d been gone for longer than he'd been around, this time it was harder to adjust and Ice found he still missed him. 

Which was probably part of the reason why he’d taken to working late almost every day. 

Ice was still sitting at his desk at least two hours past the time he was supposed to have left when his phone rang. Not the landline sitting atop the polished surface, but instead the discreet mobile that he kept in his pocket at all times. 

“Kazansky.” He answered it instantly, knowing that it could only be one of two people calling. 

“It’s over Tom.” A flat voice came over the line and he recognised it instantly as Simon’s. “It’s really over.”

“Simon?” Ice answered, once again immediately on alert. “What’s over?”

“Ethan…” his brother’s voice sounded small. “He’s got together with some woman called Julia. He’s retired.”

Ice absorbed the news with the tactical part of his brain - he was still at work after all. Again, nothing about Ethan’s behaviour made any sense. To leave what was a, frankly, cryptic note and then less than two months later to be seen settling into a relationship, and with a woman no less! Okay sure, he’d known for a while that Maverick swung both ways but… well maybe that was his own prejudices shining through. There had to be something greater at work here… he could sense it. 

“Do you want me to contact him?” He asked. 

“He’s wiped all his numbers.” Came Simon’s dejected reply. “Only way you’ll be able to do that is to turn up at his place of work and if you did that you’d probably get arrested.”

Ice snorted. “I’ll do it, just say the word.”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a brief moment before Simon made his reply. 

“No. He’s made his choice.” He said sadly, “Now it’s up to me to live with it.”

Ice couldn’t accept that lying down. 

“Are we sure this isn’t just cover for a mission?”

Simon sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to think any more. Has he contacted you?”

Ice shook his head. “Not a peep.”

“Promise me you’ll tell me if he does?”

Once again Simon sounded small, unsure of himself, vulnerable. Ice immediately softened. 

“Of course.” Ice paused for a moment and then asked. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” Simon replied in a voice that suggested he was anything but.

“Really?” Ice pressed.

Simon let out a sigh. “I will be.”

His voice was sure and resolute, as though he was speaking the condition into existence. Ice’s heart ached in sympathy for his brother.

“Do you want to come and visit again?” He asked, secretly hoping that the answer would be ‘yes’.

“No…” Simon replied and Ice’s heart sank. “I don’t think I can stay still. Thanks though.”

Ice could understand that, he supposed. His brother lived a very free life and was unaccustomed to staying in one place longer than a few weeks. Just in the time he’d spent with Ice already Ice had watched him grow bored with the confines and contents of the house and didn’t wish to subject him to it again, especially not now that his body was largely healed. But still, he missed him.

“Okay,” Ice acknowledged softly. “Take care of yourself though, won’t you.”

“I will.” Simon promised. “You too.” 

The phone call ended with a click. Ice slipped his phone back into his pocket and rested his head in his hands. What a mess.

 

 

Chapter 12: August 2006

August 2006

Ice felt the wind whipping through his hair as the Aircraft Carrier made the final approach back into port, bringing him back home. Around him sailors and aviators alike cheered and whooped. For most of the personnel it had been a long and draining tour, but he himself had only spent the last three months out at sea - drafted in to replace another officer taken ill. But now the end was in sight and he, like everyone else, was glad to be coming home. 

Before he’d been deployed, Ice had spent the previous year expecting Maverick to pop up at any moment. He’d expected Mav to explain that he had been in deep cover or busy saving the world, but every month passed and no call came. Not from Maverick anyway. Simon called often, although he refused to speak about Ice’s former wingman, and shut down any questions that Ice dared to ask on the subject.

Truth be told, spending three months out in the open ocean, away from it all, had been good for him. It had given him time to think and, if a line in the sand really had been drawn, then he knew which side of it he was going to be standing on. No contest really. Simon was family. 

A sudden buzzing in his pocket suddenly caught his attention. He pulled out the cell phone that Simon had given him years ago and looked at it with a frown. The ship must’ve just come back into signal range… Ice snuck away from the crowd and answered the call. 

“He got engaged. The bastard got engaged!” Simon spat instantly the moment he picked up. 

Ice didn’t need to clarify who ‘the bastard’ was that they were talking about but it was a change to hear Simon so angry. Usually he projected a disappointed but calm acceptance. 

“What? To who?” Ice asked but he suspected he knew the answer.

“Fucking Julia! They bought a house together!”

“A house?” Ice’s mind whirred with this new information. “They bought a house together? You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m fucking sure. I broke into the estate agents to check.”

Ice’s heart sank. “You’re there? Nearby?”

“Yeah. I can go wherever I want you know!”

Ice lifted his eyes to the heavens and took in a steadying breath.

“How long have you been hanging around him Simon?”

Simon at least had the decency to pause and when he spoke again sounded a little sheepish. 

“I just wanted to see for myself.”

Ice sighed. He could understand that. He himself had barely been holding himself back from marching round there and beating the little fucker to a pulp… not that he was under any illusions about who would win that fight. But still, the impulse was strong. 

“Simon, I’m not sure it’s good for you to be following him like that.” Ice deliberately didn’t use the word ‘stalking’, sensing that that would be inflammatory. “As you say, he made his choice, maybe it’s best to move on?”

“I didn’t fucking believe it!” Simon’s voice was immediately angry again,  “I fucking believed you when you said he must be on a mission! Or something! I don’t know…”

Ice closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose but didn’t interrupt Simon’s continuing tirade.  

“How could he do this to me? Me?! ” Simon yelled, “I gave him everything! I fucking stood by him! I was the one who showed him how to live - he didn’t fucking have a life before me!”

Ice let Simon’s words wash over him, giving his brother the space he needed to get it all out of his system. 

“What’s she got that I haven’t? It sure isn’t money! She’s hardly got any! I checked her bank accounts…”

“Simon!” Ice interrupted with all of the stern authority he could muster. “Stop this. I get that you’re angry at him - I want to kill him myself - but she hasn’t done anything. Leave her out of it.”

Simon let out a long, shaking breath and Ice could just imagine his brother unclenching his jaw the way he did when he was forcing himself to be calm. 

“I don’t think it’s good for you to be watching him so closely.” Ice continued, “Why don’t you come and stay with me for a bit instead? Take your mind off it?”

Simon grunted. 

“I get it, I do,” Ice pressed the point, “but being there is only going to hurt yourself. Sometimes you’ve just got to take a step back.”

“When did you get so wise?” Simon huffed. 

“Comes with the rank.” Ice deadpanned as he fiddled with the bird pin that designated his status as a Captain.

“Ha!” Simon shot back and then his tone grew serious, “thanks for the offer, but I’ve got a job I’ve been putting off. Other side of the world… maybe it would do me good.”

“Sounds like a smart idea.” Ice agreed. 

“I promise I’ll come and visit you soon,” Simon continued, again, a little sheepishly, “now that you’re back on shore.”

Ice smiled, “don’t worry about me, just look after yourself, alright?”

“Yeah… thanks.” 

The call ended with a click and Ice stowed the phone back into his pocket. He hoped his brother would be okay, although he couldn’t help but worry. He hated to think that Simon had spent the last three months festering alone whilst Ice had been deployed. Still, at least he was back now.

Ice wandered back across the deck to the gathered sailors who were still waving and cheering as the boat made its final manoeuvres into dock. 

He lit a cigarette and puffed on it pensively as he allowed his anger towards his former wingman to rise in his chest. Maverick had better have one damn good explanation for this, or so help him, Ice would find a way to make him sorry for all the hurt he had caused. 

Chapter 13: August 2006 (Part 2)

 

First thing Ice did once back on shore was to race across the base to his office. Once inside he settled himself into the chair behind his desk and reached for the phone. He dialed the number by heart. 

“Slider?”

“Hey, Iceman!” Came his old friend’s cheery greeting, “How’s tricks? You back stateside?”

“Yeah the boat just got in.”

“And your first action was to call me? I’m flattered Ice, really I am, but I’m a happily married man and-”

“Shut your face Slider!” Ice snapped playfully and he could hear the other man grinning. “No, I needed to ask you something.”

“Fire when ready.” Slider replied and Ice took a deep breath. 

“Have you heard from Maverick recently? Has he contacted you?”

“No.” Slider seemed confused. “Should he have?”

“If he does, I need you to tell me about it immediately, alright?”

Slider laughed. “Why, what’s the little pipsqueak done this time?”

“I’m serious, Slider.” Ice reiterated, “If you hear anything from him, anything at all, I want to know about it.”

“Is this- is this a work thing Ice? Surely you have better ways of contacting him than asking me..?”

Ice made a noncommittal grunting noise. 

“Couldn’t you just ring him?” Slider asked, “Who’s his commanding officer now? He’s not- is he AWOL?”

Ice didn’t want Slider to be unnecessarily alarmed, but neither did he want to reveal too much. 

“No,” He said, “nothing as serious as that.”

“Then what? Did he break your heart Iceman?” 

Slider was clearly joking, but he’d hit closer to the target than he probably realised.

“Heartbreaker, yes. Me? No.”

Apart from Maverick himself, and Simon of course, Slider was one of the only people in the world that knew the secret of Ice's sexuality. Certainly he was the only person in the navy that Ice had ever told and that was only because Slider had gotten drunk one night and had asked him outright. Ice had been terrified that night but Slider, loyal to a fault, had never breathed a word in the years that followed - and only teased him about it occasionally. 

“Whose heart did he break?” Slider asked with interest, “Your sister?”

He knew the man was speaking figuratively. Slider knew that Sarah was married. But he didn’t know about Simon. No one knew about Simon, and Ice was determined to keep it that way. 

“Something like that.” He muttered.

Slider let out a low whistle. “Damn. He always was a magnet for trouble.”

If only you knew, Ice thought to himself. 

“Look,” he said instead, “just, if he contacts you or you hear anything about him, please let me know.”

“Will do,” Slider agreed. “What are you going to do when you find him?”

“I’m going to kill him.”

Slider laughed. “Iceman on the warpath! I don’t envy him. Whatever man, say hi to the little shit from me before you bury him, yeah?”

Ice huffed a laugh. 

“Nice catching up with you.”

“You too Iceman, see you around!”

Ice ended the call with a sigh, still no step closer to speaking to his former wingman. Clearly Simon knew where Maverick was but he wasn’t telling and Ice knew better than to keep asking. But still. He wanted to hear what Maverick had to say. Wanted to pin him down and force an apology out of him. But he had to find him first. 

With a weary determination Ice picked up the phone once again and punched in Wolfman’s number. It was going to be a long night. 

 

Chapter 14: September 2006

September 2006

Ice was just settling down to his pre-work morning coffee when he was startled by an alarming scratching sound coming from the decking behind his house which was followed by a muffled bang. He crossed to the back door and threw it open, expecting to have to chase away some racoons but instead found himself staring down at a figure in the process of picking himself up off the floor.

“Simon?” Ice exclaimed as, before him, his brother stumbled clumsily to his feet.

“Brother!” 

Simon wobbled as he righted himself, leaning heavily on the wall for support. His eyes were red rimmed and his hair was uncharacteristically ruffled. In fact his whole appearance was unusually shambolic. 

“Are you alright?” He asked as he stepped forward to offer a steadying hand.

“Tommy!” Simon sniffed and threw himself at Ice who caught him with a huff. Simon’s arms wrapped around him in a great hug. “Tom… Ice-man,” he murmured against Ice’s shoulder.

Ice blinked in surprise. “Are you drunk?”

Simon shuddered against him and let out a great wail. Ice felt a wetness seeping into his uniform shirt. He tried to pry his brother away but Simon clung to him, drunkenly weeping.

“I’m a terrible person!” He sobbed.

Ice rolled his eyes. “How much have you had to drink?”

“I’m evil.”

“You’re not evil.” He pushed his brother upright and then guided him inside the house. He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. “Come and sit here.”

“I am evil. Very bad. You shouldn’t want me. No one wants me.”

Ice’s initial impatience at his brother’s drunken rambling began to fade in favour of worry as he took in Simon’s words - too used to dealing with overindulgent servicemen to have automatically assumed that this was serious. He patted the back of the chair pointedly and made sure that his voice was kind.

“Right now I want you to sit here Simon alright? That’s it.”

Simon sank into the chair heavily and immediately curled in on himself as his crying intensified.
Ice turned to the sink and filled a large glass with water from the tap and plonked it down in front of his brother before he settled back into his own seat opposite and eyed Simon warily.

“Okay, are you going to tell me what’s happened?”

Simon looked up at him as tears ran freely down his cheeks, and then looked down again. He slipped his watch from his wrist and clutched it tightly in his hand. Ice watched as his brother’s hands trembled, causing the expensive timepiece to clatter against the wooden surface of the tabletop. Silence fell over the room for a moment before Simon took in a great, shuddering breath.

“I’m a bad person.” Simon looked up and Ice could tell from his expression that he was deadly serious. “I do bad things.”

“What have you stolen this time?”

Simon’s whole face crumpled and his sobbing intensified as he clutched the watch tighter in his fist. Ice could see his knuckles turning white with the pressure. He checked his own watch. Damn, he was going to be late to work if he didn’t leave the house soon. But Simon didn’t appear to be giving any signs of slowing down.

“Look, Simon,” he said cautiously, “I need to leave for work. Will you be alright if-”

Simon’s hand darted out quicker than Ice had ever seen another human move, and snatched at his wrist, holding him tight.

“Don’t leave me.” Simon’s voice was small and desperate and his eyes were wide and pleading as he begged. “Please. Please don’t leave me.”

Ice sighed, “Simon I have-”

“No!” Simon snarled, his anguish giving way entirely to anger in a sudden flash as he jumped to his feet. “I need you! You promised I could always come here! You said you’d always be there for me! Or were you lying? Are you a liar? Like him?”

Ice bore the accusations with a calm veneer. His brother’s words were clearly intended to sting but he knew that it was the alcohol more than any true malice speaking. He allowed Simon to get it all out of his system before he responded calmly but firmly.

“Alright! Sit down!” Ice ordered in a tone that made it clear that he was used to being obeyed. Then he stood and waited until Simon did so with wide eyes and a trembling lip. “Good. Wait there.”

Ice crossed to the phone on the wall and picked up the receiver. He punched in the number that he had pinned to the notice board next to the phone and waited only one or two rings before the line was picked up.

“This is Captain Kazansky speaking.” He said without waiting for any kind of greeting, “I’m afraid I’m unwell and will not be coming into work today.”

A hesitant reply echoed tinnily out of the speaker. “You don’t sound unwell sir?”

“If I say I am unwell Ensign, then I am unwell.” Ice stated.

“Yes sir, sorry sir.” Came the immediate reply. “Hope you feel better soon sir.”

Ice replaced the phone feeling only slightly guilty before he returned to where Simon was watching him with wide, mournful eyes.

“You will drink that.” He pointed at the untouched glass of water that was still sitting in front of his brother, “And you will eat something. I can offer you freshly made eggs or leftover chicken casserole.”

Simon rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and flopped his head back.

“There will be neither eggs nor chicken casserole in Hell… which is where I’m going.”

Ice rolled his eyes. “Stop being unnecessarily dramatic. You’re going to sober up and tell me what’s wrong.” 

He pointed again to the glass of water and fixed Simon with his most authoritative stare. This time, his brother reached for it with a trembling hand.

“Are you angry with me?” He asked quietly.

“Eggs or chicken Simon.”

The reply was quiet, but definitive. “Eggs.”

Ice nodded and then set about his task with quiet efficiency. He left Simon to himself, although kept a worried eye on him from a distance. Simon appeared to be trapped in a loop of emotions, or at least that was what appeared to be happening from the outside. He kept looking at the watch in his hand which caused a fresh wave of weeping to overtake him, although these episodes were interspersed with angered muttering and reasoning which was always just too low for Ice to hear.
Still, through it all, Simon was making significant headway through the glass of water so Ice let him be and focussed on his cooking, and it wasn’t too long before he was sliding a plate in front of his brother.

“Voila!” He deadpanned, “Eggs à la Iceman.”

Simon looked up at him wearily.

“You’re too good to me Tom. I don’t deserve as much. I’m not a good person.”

Ice fought the impulse to roll his eyes again. 

“Shut up and eat your eggs, then, when you’re sober, we can talk about what kind of person you are.”

Simon began dutifully prodding at his food with a fork and even managed a mouthful or two before his melancholy seemed to take over again.

“Would you abandon me if I did something bad?”

Ice watched the sincere worry spread over his brother’s face as they stared at one another across the kitchen table. He answered him seriously.

“You steal things for a living, and I haven’t left yet.”

“Does that bother you?”

Ice kept his face deliberately blank. The short answer was ‘yes’ but he had enough self-awareness to know that answering so simply would not be helpful in this situation. His brother’s profession had always bothered him, but he valued Simon’s presence in his life more than the discomfort that his morality brought, and so he viewed it as a small price to pay for having gained a family member.

“It’s the only thing I can do.” Simon continued mournfully as though oblivious to Ice’s internal dilemma, “Only thing I’m good at.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Anyway you bomb people from planes!” Simon suddenly rallied and turned on him with an accusatory finger. “How are you any better? Judging me. You kill people!”

“I defend my country.” Ice replied calmly although inside his heart was beating wildly in his chest. 

“Pffffffft!” Simon snorted loudly and Ice was instantly assaulted by the stale stench of alcohol that sprayed from him across the table. 

Ice wrinkled his nose against the smell but otherwise did not react as Simon crumpled before him again.

“They got married.”

Fresh tears ran down Simon’s cheeks and he began crying again. This wasn’t some small display of sadness but rather the heaving sobs of desperate, heartbreaking anguish. Ice let it happen, realising as he contemplated his brother’s words what it was that must’ve been the catalyst for this incident. 

Rage bubbled up inside him as he thought of Maverick standing at an altar pledging his life to some woman, but he kept his own feelings on the matter stamped down. No wonder Simon was distraught… so would he be if the love of his life had dumped him and married someone else. But clearly that wasn’t the end of it… Simon had clearly also done something that he now regretted. Ice thought back through the conversation they’d had and a chill ran through him as he remembered Simon’s defensive accusation about his own career. 

“Did you…?” He didn’t know how to phrase it as cold dread gripped him. “No, it doesn’t matter.”

Simon seemed to pick up on his question anyway.

“I didn’t kill him.” Internally Ice let out a sigh of relief as Simon continued, “…I couldn’t- I love him too much for that… is that wrong? To still love him after all this time?”

He looked up, imploring and Ice felt his own heart twisting in sympathy at his brother’s distress.

“It’s only been a year.” He said feebly, knowing that it wouldn’t help.

“But every year will be the same... for the rest of our lives…”

“Alright stop that.” Ice commanded. “You done?” He looked down at the half eaten plate of eggs and decided tactically to withdraw from that particular conflict. “Right. Drink this, go in there.”

He placed a fresh glass of water into his brother’s hand and pointed him in the direction of the living room whilst he cleared up the plate from the table. Simon stood on shaking legs and wobbled away in the direction that Ice had sent him, still sniffling quietly to himself.

Ice watched from the corner of his eye as Simon collapsed down onto the couch and began to regard his wristwatch closely once again. It seemed to have the same effect as before, although Simon’s crying lacked some of the desperate heat that it had had earlier. Now it just seemed tired and endless. This time, however, Simon appeared to come to a decision before slipping the watch back onto his wrist.

Taking that as his cue to enter, Ice moved through into the room and took a seat.

Simon looked up at him tearily with a small smile.
“You look good in that uniform. Suits you. Like you belong to something. Belong somewhere…”

Ice fixed him with a pointed look.
“Are you going to tell me what you did?”

Simon eyed him warily.

“Got drunk.” He said eventually.

Ice raised an eyebrow. “Before or after this bad thing that happened?”

“After.” Simon acknowledged. “Got drunk. Came here.”

Ice waited him out. His patience was legendary amongst those under his command, and he had no problems waiting. He wanted an answer and was prepared to wait for it, for as long as it took.

Simon, however, still tried to deflect.

“Do you believe in Hell, Tom?”

Ice raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

Simon hummed but didn’t answer. Then, sleepily, he added a further thought as his head began to nod.
“Maybe we’ll end up there together. That would be nice.”

Ice scoffed gently. “I’m not sure that thought is as comforting as you intend it to be.”

Simon hummed again as his eyes fluttered and closed.

“Simon?” Ice prompted, “…Simon?”

But there was no reply. Simon was asleep. Ice sighed and roused himself from his seat to collect a blanket from the arm of the chair which he laid over his brother gently. Quietly he retrieved some painkillers from a drawer in the kitchen and placed them next to the glass of water on the side. It seemed likely that Simon would be in need of them when he awoke.

The man looked peaceful, finally, now that he was unconscious and Ice wished him a restful sleep. The answer to his question would wait. But until then Ice had an unexpected day of freedom. He chuckled lightly to himself in disbelief… It wasn't often that he took a day for himself. Yet another gift that his brother had brought. Ice took one final look at his slumbering brother and then went to change out of his uniform. He had a day off… and he was determined to make the most of it.

 

 

Chapter 15: September 2006 (Part 2)

 

Ice had spent the day pleasantly in an armchair catching up on his reading whilst his brother slumbered peacefully on the other side of the room on the sofa. It wasn’t until the light began to fade around them that Simon awoke with a hitched breath and a startled groan.

“There are painkillers and water on the side for you,” Ice said calmly as he marked the page of his book and moved to switch on the standing lamp, casting a warm glow over the darkening room.

Simon groaned as he swallowed a couple of pills and massaged his forehead gingerly as Ice rose to pull the curtains closed over the windows.

“I expect you have questions.” He said eventually through a voice that was thick and gravelly with sleep. 

“I do.”

Simon raised his head briefly to look him in the eye before collapsing his head back with a small frown of pain.

“However disappointed you are in me, know that I hate myself more.” He said simply. 

Ice was surprised. “I don’t hate you-” he started but was cut off.

“No one can be as disappointed in me as I am with myself.”

Ice pursed his lips. “That’s as may be, but I want the full story.”

Suddenly Simon regarded him with an unusually sharp expression. It appeared as though he were calculating, turning the facts over in his mind. Usually this happened so fast that Ice was unaware of his brother’s thought processes until after the fact, but clearly this time the hangover was slowing him down. Simon’s eyes eventually narrowed and he turned away dismissively. 

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Bullshit!” Ice snorted. “You turned up here first thing in the morning blind drunk and you kept saying that you’d done something and that you thought you were a bad person. I want to know why.”

Simon chuckled darkly. “How indiscreet of me. My apologies.”

“It has something to do with Maverick getting married.” Ice insisted and fixed his brother with a hard stare but Simon stayed resolutely silent. “When did that happen?”

Still Simon kept quiet. Ice waited him out for as long as he could before his legendary patience failed him.

“Come on…I just want an explanation. You owe me that at least.”

Simon scoffed. “I don’t owe you anything. Don’t owe anyone. No more debts to pay.”

“Did you see him?” Ice pressed.

Simon paused before he replied, and when he did so his whole bearing tensed. “Yeah, I saw him.”

Ice frowned in confusion, “I thought you were going to do a job on the other side of the world to get away from it all?”

Simon chuckled hollowly. “Yeah, I didn’t do that.”

Ice ran through a quick mental calendar in his head. It had been about three weeks since Simon had agreed to stop stalking Ethan, but as he thought about it, Ice didn’t know how long he’d been hanging around before that. 

He frowned. “How long were you watching him?”

Simon shrugged. “A couple of months.”

“A couple of months!”

Simon regarded his outburst coolly, at first, and then he appeared to deflate within himself.

“I just wanted to be sure… and then he got married and I… I…” 

Simon raised his eyes upwards, blinking back tears as words failed him and suddenly Ice’s anger overtook him. He hated Ethan in that moment for what he had done to Simon. Hated him for walking out of both their lives without so much as an explanation. Hated him for daring to try and move on whilst they were both stuck suffering the consequences of his actions.

But instead of letting his rage fuel him into action, Ice kept himself calm. For Simon’s sake more than anyone’s. And still the biggest question remained.

“What did you do?” He asked gently.

Simon eyed him warily. “That’s between me and him.”

Ice sighed, “Simon-”

“I’m not going to tell you Tom.” His brother said flatly, “I thank you for all your help, but that’s an end to it. It’s done.”

“Last night you seemed pretty convinced that whatever it was that you did made you evil.”

Simon laughed bitterly. “Yeah… maybe it does.” He scraped a hand through his dishevelled hair. “I’m going to have to live with it. I’m not going to burden you with the knowledge of it too.”

“Simon, I-”

“I mean it Tom.” He said firmly, “I’m not going to tell you. In fact, as soon as this headache goes down I’m going to disappear and you won't have to see me again for a while.”

A surge of indignation ran through Ice at his brother’s words and he was quick to respond.

“Simon,” he said, “I want to see you. We’re family.”

Simon smiled.

“Family. Yes, you’re right, I’m sorry.”

“I’m worried about you.” 

Ice pressed the point further. He hated the idea of his brother withdrawing into himself and isolating himself from the world. By all accounts, before he’d reconnected with Ice and had found Ethan, Simon had been incredibly lonely. Ice knew what it was to be lonely but at least he had an entire fleet of personnel around him. Simon worked alone and he couldn’t imagine how much more isolating that would be.

“I’m sorry.”

Ice shook his head. “You don’t-”

“I am.” Simon interrupted. “I’m sorry about arriving here in the state I did. And I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Simon, you can always come here. I really do mean that. Always.”

Simon smiled again and, although the expression was tinged with sadness, Ice could see the genuine gratitude shining through.

“What are you going to do now?” He asked and Simon considered the question for a moment.

“Work, travel. Back to normal.”

Ice nodded. “Keep in touch, yeah? I want to know that you’re okay.”

Simon looked him dead in the eye as he made his promise.
“I will brother. I will.”

 

 

Chapter 16: July 2007

July 2007

After days worth of second guessing himself and many internal debates, Iceman put down his work phone, picked up his other mobile phone and called the only number that was programmed into it. It was supposed to be strictly ‘in case of emergency’ but Ice had decided, eventually, to use it anyway.

Simon picked up after only two rings.

“Tom?”

His voice sounded worried. Ice kept his tone deliberately light so as to convey the relative lightness of the circumstances of his call.

“Hi Simon, how’re you doing?”

Nevertheless, Simon still seemed concerned.

“Are you okay? Has something happened?”

“Nothing’s happened.” Ice reassured quickly, “I hadn’t heard from you in a while and just wanted to check that you were okay.”

“Oh.” Simon paused, “I'm fine… busy. Working.”

Suddenly Ice felt an awkwardness that he hadn’t felt with his brother since they’d first met.

“That’s good.” He said stiffly.

Truth be told he’d been increasingly worried about Simon ever since that day that he’d arrived drunk and distraught on Ice’s doorstep. Simon had been true to his word and had kept in frequent contact in the beginning, but as time had passed so had the number of their calls waned. And now it had been a few weeks since his last contact, and Ice had become concerned.

“Whereabouts are you?” He asked after a beat of silence.

“Everywhere.” Simon muttered, sounding distracted. “Haven’t stopped.”

Ice knew that feeling only too well. 

“Do you have any plans to come back to the States?” He asked, “I’d love to see you.”

“I can’t.”

Ice’s heart sank. “What? Why?”

Simon’s reply was hesitant. “He’s looking for me.”

“M- Ethan?!”

Ice was surprised. Simon had been resolutely silent on the subject of his former lover and Ice’s former wingman ever since that same day. Not that Ice hadn’t been curious… and, as it happened, furious with the little bastard, but he’d taken his cue from his brother and had refrained from asking. But he’d been dying to know what had passed between the two men after Ethan had gotten married.

“He’s been tracking me for a few weeks now.” Simon murmured cryptically. “Got to keep moving or he’ll catch up.”

That shocked him. Suddenly Ice’s mind flew into overdrive as he considered the sort of man he knew that Mav- Ethan could’ve become.

“Does he want to hurt you?”

“I have no idea.” Simon replied without any trace of emotion. “I don’t want to see him.” A pause, then… “Has he made contact with you?”

“No, nor any of our mutual friends.” Ice sighed as he remembered the alert he'd put out with each of the flyboys when Ethan had first dropped off the radar, “I haven’t heard anything from him in over two years now.”

The separation, although for the best as far as his relationship with Simon was concerned, did weigh a little heavy on Ice’s conscience. At first he hadn’t believed his old friend Maverick to be capable of such cruelty to one that he loved and thought that if he could just have a chance to talk to him then all could be salvaged, but as time had gone on his disbelief had turned to anger and now the memory of Ethan weighed him down with the desire to get his hands on the man. Two years was a long time to hold a grudge, but Ice had never shied away from harbouring a resentment.

“Good.” Simon grunted in reply, snapping Ice out of his thoughts.

Something about Simon’s tone caught in Ice’s subconscious. He seemed insecure in some way.

“You know I’d choose you, right?” Ice said slowly, “No contest.”

There was a pause before Simon replied with a grandiose recital.
“A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.”

Ice fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Which one is that?”

“Proverbs 17:17.”

He scoffed, taking wry pleasure in the idea that his Sunday School teacher would be disappointed in him for forgetting it. 

“I mean it.” He said, wanting to hammer home his point, “You’re my priority Simon.”

“Yeah. I know. Thank you.” Simon replied softly after a moment, and then, after a pause, “I’m in Indonesia.”

Ice smiled to himself, “Sounds nice.”

“Not with a spectre looming over my shoulder. Ethan is getting closer.”

Ice stiffened at that, “And you have no idea what he wants?”

Simon’s voice was cold. “His desires are entirely irrelevant. I don’t want to see him.”

This time Ice kept his sigh inward as he replied. “I can understand that.”

“Anyway,” Simon announced, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to go, Tom, my flight is being called.”

“You’re at an airport?”

“Just about to depart.” Simon confirmed.

“Ah, well, have a safe flight.”

“Thank you,” Simon sounded genuine in his gratitude, “…and, Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for calling.”

Chapter 17: January 2008

January 2008

Ice had grown surprisingly used to life behind a desk. He still flew every now and again, and still loved it, but he hadn’t been an active aviator in so long that each time he did it was a fun and thrilling novelty. But there was something to be said for the order and satisfaction that an operational overseer could achieve. Ice ran a tight ship and was proud of the reputation that he had earnt amongst those under him for being firm but calm and fair. Still, he could do with slightly less paperwork.

This week had been particularly bad for generating paperwork and today was the day that Ice had finally managed to carve out some time to deal with it all. He’d instructed his secretary to hold all but the most important calls and had set to work with only his treasured painting of the The Enterprise for company. It had been a gift from his brother and had moved with him from office to office over the years, as much a fixture of the base now as he was himself.

He made it halfway through the afternoon before the phone on his desk actually rang. He picked it up with a sigh, knowing that the call must be important.

“Captain Kazansky speaking.”

A faint voice rattled on the end of the line. “Ice?”

Ice frowned. “Who is this?”

“It’s me Ice.” 

Suddenly the voice clicked into place in his head.

“Maverick?!” A dormant rage awoke inside him and he gripped the phone harder as though it were Maverick’s neck he were squeezing. “Where the fuck are you?”

Maverick’s voice sounded strained and thick with emotion as he answered.
“Japan, err… Tokyo. I just missed him Ice, again. I missed him!”

“Listen here Maverick” Ice growled, “you leave Simon alone, do you hear me-”

“Ice I need to speak-”

Ice interrupted. “Save it Mitchell- Ethan, whoever you are. You’re not to go near him or so help me God-”

“I can’t live without him, Ice!”

Ice almost laughed. “Well you should’ve thought of that before you left him for dead!” He said angrily as on the other end of the line Maverick gasped.

“I didn’t leave him for dead!”

“Didn’t you?” Ice shouted, vaguely aware that the staff in the office beyond could probably hear him but blinded enough by rage that he didn’t care. “The medics on the plane said they’d seen torture victims less badly treated than him!” 

“He was-” Maverick stumbled over his words, “I couldn’t-”

“Weeks!” Ice continued, “I looked after him for weeks until he was better. How could you just leave him like that!? You said you loved him, Maverick! You’re a reprehensible moral vacuum! The most selfish, unfeeling-”

“That’s not true!” Ice could hear that Maverick’s voice was now thick with desperate tears, “I left because I care.”

“Don’t interrupt me!” Ice snarled, “You have no concept of the damage you’ve caused. If you did, you wouldn’t be stalking him all the way around the globe. I know you’ve been tracking him for ages, I know you got married-”

“Ice-”

“I know how fucking devastated he was when you left and how hard he’s tried to forget you-”

“Ice I need to speak to him.”

“No! You don’t!” Ice bellowed into the phone, “You made your choice Maverick. Fucking deal with it.”

“I’m divorced!”

Ice paused as he processed the new information. He took a breath. On the other end of the phone Maverick was clearly waiting for an answer. Ice clenched his fist and replied through gritted teeth.

“Your personal life is no longer of any concern to me.”

Faintly he heard Maverick gasp and there was a pause before he replied in a sad, small sounding voice.

“That’s cold, Iceman.”

Another burst of rage surged through Ice again and he jumped to his feet as he shouted.
“You want to talk about cold Maverick? Cold? You think leaving a note wasn’t cold? You think cutting off all communication wasn’t cold? Getting married only a year later!?”

“Ice, we used to be friends-”

“You broke my brother’s heart!” Ice roared. “You are as good as dead to me Pete Mitchell! I know you’re not even remotely under my command but I promise you this; if you show your face back here so help me I will do everything in my power to have you court-martialled! I will make your life hell-”

Again Maverick interrupted him. “Ice there’s no reason to-” 

“I will find a goddamn reason.” Ice thundered, “Any reason! I never want to hear your voice again!”

“Ice-” 

“Fuck off Maverick!”

“Ice please-” 

The other man sounded desperate but Ice knew that he had said all that he wanted to say. Any more would be unnecessary.

“I said fuck off!” He finished with a flourish and slammed the phone back onto its cradle. 

The silence of his office in the wake of the call was stifling. Ice took one look at the pile of papers on his desk and made a decision. He crossed to the door and opened it.
A bank of terrified wide-eyed stares from the office staff greeted him. Ice took a deep breath.

“My apologies for the disturbance.” He said softly. “I’m taking ten minutes, and when I return we will never speak of this again.”

He left the command building and retreated to his usual spot behind the supplies shed before he lit his first cigarette. He pictured his secretary’s terrified face. The poor woman had had standing orders for years to prioritise any calls coming in from Maverick Mitchell, and was probably now questioning whether or not she’d done the right thing by putting him through.

Ice stubbed out his cigarette end before it burnt his fingers and immediately lit another. He’d bring in some cake for them all tomorrow to say sorry. He knew he could rely on each and every one of them to be discrete, but an apology was appropriate. Calmly firm but fair… after all, Captain Kazansky had a reputation to uphold.

 

 

Chapter 18: November 2008

November 2008

“...one of the youngest promotions to Captain in naval history and an impeccable record as both an active Aviator and in Operational roles. Now only a decade after that last promotion, I am delighted to finally present this rising star with his first star…”

Ice had listened to the praises and received his promotion from the Commander of the Fleet with great pride. In the front row of the gathered audience, in pride of place, his parents had sat watching, having travelled the whole two hours to North Island especially for the occasion. 

And now, at the celebration reception, he’d sought them out as quickly as he’d been able. That was, once the various other officers and greasy pole climbers had each taken their turn at congratulating him.

Ice’s mother greeted him with a hug, his father with a firm handshake and a smile, although Ice kept himself stiff - he was still in uniform after all.

“I’m so glad you could both make it.” He said, honestly, as his mother fussed over some imaginary speck of dust on the lapel of his dress blues. 

“Oh very smart, Tommy,” she said with tears in her eyes, “You look so handsome.”

“Congratulations son,” his father said and Ice’s heart jumped in his chest, “although you do really need to work on your public speaking. Needs more passion, you should’ve come to me for advice.”

Ice’s heart sank again as his mother continued to fuss, apparently unbothered.

“It’s such a shame you don’t have a wife to come and support you…” She said wistfully and Ice resisted a shudder.

His father hummed, “It’s important for a leader to have a wife, son. Sends the right message. Probably why it’s taken you so long to be promoted.”

“I am still one of the youngest-” Ice started before cutting himself off at the look his father shot his way.

Suddenly a hand appeared at Ice’s elbow and he turned to be met by the sight of a tall man with short dark hair and a large, bristling moustache. The man was smiling at him.

“I would like to offer my congratulations.” He spoke in a slow, southern drawl.

Ice regarded the stranger cooly, unable to place the face in his mind. There was something familiar about him though. He was just starting to wonder if he’d ever met the man before when his dad asked for him.

“And you are?”

“My apologies.” The stranger drawled, “My name is Brendan Blessed. I am named for the Saint of travellers and sailors. I’ve known Tom here a very long time, in fact, he’s like the brother I never had.”

A sudden anxious static overtook Ice’s brain and he froze in surprise. Simon, for now he knew it was him he could recognise his features beneath the disguise, was grinning at him with a mischievous look that spelt only danger.

“Tom’s never mentioned you.” Ice’s father shot back but Simon seemed to take it all in his stride.

“You must be Senator Kazansky,” ‘Brendan’ smiled dangerously, extending a hand, “I followed your campaign work for the introduction of Proposition 8 with interest.”

Ice watched his dad’s face change to one of flattered pride even while it made his own stomach turn. His father took Simon’s offered hand and shook it warmly.

“Well thank you son, it was important work, we had a heck of a job getting it through.”

“And this must be Mrs Kazansky,” Simon turned to Ice’s mother, took her hand and bowed to kiss the back of it. “Charmed.”

She let out a giggle and blushed in a way that Ice had never seen before which was enough to pull him out of his stupor. 

“Hello Brendan.” He said pointedly. 

Simon released Ice’s mother’s hand and turned back to Ice with a grin.

“Hello Tom… or should that be Admiral?”

Ice stared at his brother for a moment, having trouble processing that this was actually happening. 

“Could I have a word?” He choked out before turning back to his parents. “Excuse us a moment.”

He took Simon by his arm and steered him away into a corner before turning on him. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked. 

Simon laughed. “Pleasure to see you too!”

“Simon! This is a naval function,” Ice hissed, “how did you even get in here? …Wait,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t answer that.”

“I just wanted to come support my brother on his big day.” Simon drawled. “That’s not a crime is it?”

“Depends very much on how you got into the building.” Ice muttered and then reconsidered with a sigh. “It’s good to see you.”

Simon smiled genuinely and when he next spoke it was in his own soft voice without any trace of the southern drawl. “It’s good to see you too.”

He opened his arms in an invitation to an embrace and Ice accepted it gladly. He kept the hug short though, not because he wanted to but because, like his father, Ice was acutely aware of the optics required of him whilst under the watchful eyes of the naval elite. 

Truth be told it was a relief for Ice to see his brother in such a playful and exuberant mood. For too long Simon had been trapped in dark swells of anger or sadness that seemed to threaten to consume him. The Simon that stood before him today reminded Ice very much of the man he had first met all of those years ago, before Ethan had broken his heart and sucked the joy from his life. 

It appeared, although Ice hadn’t told Simon so, that his little chat with Ethan had gotten through to him. The spy had, to all intents and purposes, ceased his relentless stalking and Simon had been relieved at the extra breathing room that afforded him. 

The last couple of times Ice had seen his brother he’d been thrilled to see glimpses of Simon beginning to enjoy life again. Some of his old humour had returned and it seemed as though he might finally be moving on. 

“They seem exactly as charming as I had imagined.” Simon said with a grimace and a subtle nod back towards where Ice’s parents were now mingling with several higher ranking Admirals. 

Ice pulled himself back into the conversation with a sigh. “Nothing’s ever quite good enough for him. I had thought… never mind.”

“Ah fuck ‘em!” Simon grinned. “Let’s have a drink to celebrate!”

With barely one flick of his wrist, Simon lifted two bubbling champagne flutes from a passing waiter’s tray without the waiter noticing. Ice snorted. It was easy to forget that his brother was exceptional at sleight of hand and so the small displays of it (which were all he ever saw) were always disproportionately impressive. 

“To you, Tom, and to all you’ve achieved.” Simon raised his glass in a toast before fixing Ice with a serious expression. “I’m proud of you.”

Ice raised his glass in acknowledgment of the words. Simon clinked his glass against Ice’s lightly and then they both drank. Ice was grateful for the excuse not to talk as a treacherous lump rose in his throat. 

He made his own toast, silently in his head, as he drank, thanking the powers of fate that had brought his brother back into his life. It was good seeing Simon happy again. He just hoped that it would last. 

 

Chapter 19: October 2009

October 2009

Ice was quite glad to be returning home. He’d even left the base on time for once, such was his desperation to get out of there. All day people had been pointing out his resemblance to the blurred photograph on the news of the ‘Vatican Villain’. Someone had pulled off a daring heist, had broken into the Vatican and had stolen the Pope’s Piscatory Ring right from his bedside table whilst His Holiness slept. Or, at least, that was the story. It had made headlines around the world and Ice was fed up already. 

He’d endured a day of good natured teasing by his fellow officers and now he just wanted to put his feet up and relax in the comfort and solitude of his own home. But alas, by the time he finally made it, someone was already waiting for him. 

“Simon!” Ice exclaimed as he took in the figure of his brother calmly cleaning what looked very much like a set of thieves’ tools on his kitchen table. Dread settled in his stomach. “You can’t be here.”

“Hi Tom.” Simon said casually as though he wasn’t currently the most wanted man in the world. “I need a favour, I need to lie low for a bit.”

“Simon-” 

Ice tried to interrupt but then his brother pulled something dark and metallic out of thin air and plonked it down on the table with a thunk. 

“And I need you to get rid of this gun.”

Ice stared at it for a moment. 

“I thought you didn’t use guns?” He croaked. 

Simon shrugged, “Well sometimes I have to. Anyway, you’re a military man, you should be fine handling firearms, just… I don’t know, slip it into the armoury or something.”

Ice mind reeled as the enormity of the situation caught up to him. 

“Do you have any concept of how much trouble that would cause!?” He shouted, causing Simon to look up in shock. “How much trouble you’re already in? How much trouble I’m in?”

Simon dismissed him infuriatingly casually. “You’re not in any trouble.”

“Simon, your face was on the news!”

“So?”

“Which means my face was on the news!!”

Simon scoffed. “Hardly! They haven’t got a recent picture of me without a disguise. Anyway, we look more different now.”

“Not different enough! I have a reputation to uphold. I’m an Admiral now!”

“And don’t I know it!” Simon rolled his eyes. 

Ice forced himself to take a deep breath, and then another until his racing heart calmed a little. 

“Why do you even have a gun?” He asked eventually, eyeing the thing warily. 

“I had a bit of trouble at the rendezvous with the buyer.” Simon shrugged. “The police are closing in faster than I anticipated. So I need to get rid of certain incriminating items…” 

He looked at Ice pointedly and gestured as if to say ‘get on with it’.

“I’m not touching that thing!” Ice held up his hands and took a step back. “And I can’t believe you would lead the police to my house!”

Simon all but growled in response. He stood and faced off against Ice. 

“What’s the point in having a brother if you won't help me?” He spat. “What are you for?”

“Not this!” Ice shouted back, the frustrations of the day bubbling up inside him to add fuel to the fire. “Not aiding and abetting the most wanted criminal in Europe! Why’d you do it?”

“I was paid!”

“How much?”

A brief flicker of smugness overtook Simon’s face. “Over thirty million.”

“Was it worth it?” Ice shouted. “The papal ring? It means a lot to a lot of people Simon!”

His brother scoffed. “Why do you care? It’s not like you believe!”

“Don’t you have enough money now?”

“There's never enough.” Simon snapped back. “All I have is money! What else is there?”

“Family!” Ice yelled. 

“Fat lot of good family is doing me right now!” Simon yelled back. 

Anger crashed over Ice like a wave. “I don’t like your thieving!”

“And I don’t like your smoking!”

That took Ice more by surprise than anything else. A sudden flip book of memories fluttered through his mind showing him every time that he remembered lighting up in his brother’s presence. It had always been accompanied by a small frown of disapproval, he realised with surprise, although Simon had never said anything, not until now. Ice’s fist clenched and relaxed as he considered this new development. His fingers suddenly itched to light a cigarette but he resisted. An idea formed in his mind. 

In a quiet voice Ice said, “I’ll quit if you do.”

Simon stared at him in what looked like disbelief. 

“I’m not going to stop working.” He said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You do as you wish.”

Ice watched as Simon turned his back on him and went back to the table laden with tools. An old pettiness that Ice hadn’t felt in a while rose up within him. 

“It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.” He said, haughtily.

Simon paused and then turned back, his face a blank, emotionless mask. 

“Fuck you Tom.” He said and suddenly began sweeping the contents of the table off into a bag - gun and all. “Fine. I’ll be perfectly alright on my own!”

“Simon…”

Ice suddenly felt helpless as he watched his brother gather his items in a silent huff. It wasn’t long before he was moving towards the door. 

“Simon, please…”

“See you around brother.” Was all Simon replied. 

The door closed behind him and suddenly Ice felt very, very alone. 

Chapter 20: October 2009 (Part 2)

 

It was less than two days later that Ice was called to an interview with a mixture of both civilian and military police investigators. 

They, like everyone else who had seen the footage, had spotted the resemblance between him and the so called ‘Vatican Villain’ and, whilst that in itself could be written off as a weird coincidence, the fact that the thief had been tracked as far as the city where Ice lived, wasn’t as easy to explain.

Luckily at both the time of the Vatican robbery and the subsequent shootout in a hotel in Vegas, Ice had been irrefutably on the base, surrounded by other personnel and CCTV cameras. Even so, they had grilled him for over an hour before they’d relented. 

Coincidence - Ice had just about managed to convince them, but the incident had gone on record and Ice had got the message in no uncertain terms that people were going to be watching him closely.

Whilst Ice was not particularly worried for himself, nor for Simon, he knew the value in caution and so, although he felt terrible about how things had been left between himself and his brother, he resolved to wait until the heat had died down before trying to get in contact again. He wasn’t actually sure that Simon would want him to get in touch either way, as they’d never had cause to argue before and Ice hated it.

His feelings regarding his brother’s profession hadn’t changed, in fact, had only solidified with this latest incident and yet, so too had his resolve not to allow his own discomfort to come in the way of their relationship. Especially since Ethan was now out of the picture. The last thing Ice wanted was for Simon to be all alone in the world.

But clearly, Ice thought as he stared down at the note he found lying on his kitchen table that evening, he was probably worrying about the wrong thing.

The note was handwritten and brief. Mt. Hope Cemetery. 11pm. S.

Ice’s stress levels which were normally kept under such control, suddenly shot through the roof. This wasn’t the sort of thing a naval officer usually had to deal with - this was spy stuff! Nevertheless, for all of his anxiety regarding the note, Ice knew that he would follow Simon’s instructions to the letter. He trusted that it would be safe to attend, though. He trusted Simon implicitly.

Not that it gave him particular comfort when the time came to actually make his way to the cemetery. Ice took three different taxis around the city, walked several blocks between each, and did it all whilst wrapped up in the biggest coat and scarf that he owned, despite the mild evening.

When he eventually arrived, a redheaded man with a scraggly beard took one look at Ice’s many layers and began laughing uproariously.

Ice sat down heavily on the bench next to where Simon was lounging and gave him a playful shove.

“I’m not used to all this creeping around.” Ice admitted, “Disguises are your department, not mine.”

Simon’s laughter slowed to a chuckle and he scratched at the ginger hair stuck to his jaw.

“Thanks for coming.”

“I’ve had one hell of a day Simon.” Ice sighed as he pulled the folds of the scarf away from his face. “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be in the wind by now?”

“I wanted to apologise.”

Simon’s voice was serious all of a sudden, and Ice didn’t have to look at him to know that he was sincere. Instead Ice looked out over the dark rows of graves and allowed a feeling of peace to wash over him.

“Thank you.”

“You’re right,” Simon continued, “I shouldn’t have compromised your position.”

Ice huffed a laugh. 

“True.” He said. “But I managed to convince them that our resemblance was entirely coincidental. Not that I enjoyed the experience of being interrogated, you understand.”

“I’m sorry.”

An easy silence fell between them as Ice nodded his acceptance of the apology.

Although the experience of interrogation had not been a nice one, Ice knew that he would go through the process a hundred times more if it meant keeping Simon safe. Of course he wished more that Simon would give up his criminal ways altogether, but he knew that that was an impossibility in the other man’s eyes. The discomfort he felt about his brother’s profession was something he’d lived with for a decade now, and yet was infinitesimally insignificant compared to the joy that having his brother in his life brought him. Joy, and stress.

Ice snorted, suddenly unable to keep his incredulity inside. “The Vatican!” 

A part of him had to admit he was a little impressed.

“I know.” Simon looked back at him with a grin. “You know I’m top of Interpol’s most wanted list?”

Ice rolled his eyes in disbelief although he could feel a small smile playing across his lips.
“You idiot. Go and lie low somewhere for God's sake!”

Simon smiled back at him. “I’m flying out soon, I promise. I’ll send you a new phone once I’m established somewhere. I just wanted to make sure we were… okay, before I left.”

“Thank you.” Ice pulled his brother into a hug and immediately the world felt right again. “Be safe.”

They pulled apart and Simon smiled from beneath his beard.

“You too, thanks brother.”

Chapter 21: April 2010

April 2010

Ice wandered through the bustling conference hall with little purpose other than to enjoy his relative freedom. He had half an hour until his next scheduled meeting and had, for once, managed to ditch his entourage of secretaries, researchers and civilian contractors. He honestly had very little interest in applied energy research but somehow, after his recent promotion, keeping up with the topic had somehow come under his list of responsibilities. And whilst it didn’t interest him personally, it interested the US Navy greatly. After all… what use were fighter jets without anything to power them?
Still, it was at times like these that Ice wondered if he shouldn’t’ve stayed as an active pilot for longer. 

He adjusted his uniform slightly self-consciously. He always felt slightly out of place wearing it around civilians as it made him stand out. And if there was one thing he’d spent his life perfecting it was his ability to blend in when it mattered.

“Impersonating an Admiral, Simon?” A voice called out from behind him, “A bit risky for you, isn’t it?”

Ice turned suddenly and was confronted by a petite blond woman who was smiling back at him fondly. He felt himself frown and then watched as her face fell and took on an expression of horror.

“I, I-” she stammered and then turned as though to run.

Ice blinked, found his voice and called after her. “Wait! He's my brother.”

“Oh!” The woman turned back with a look of intense relief on her face. She all but bounced back to him. “So you’re Tom!” She smiled, “He didn’t say you were twins. Or anything much about you to be honest.”

Ice frowned again. This woman clearly knew his brother well enough for Simon to have mentioned him, but clearly not any details of his life… that was unexpected.

“Who are you?” He asked, a little abruptly.

“Emma-” The woman offered out her hand, “Doctor Emma Russell.”

“Ah.” Ice relaxed slightly and shook her hand. “He has spoken about you. Pleasure to meet you. Admiral Tom Kazansky.” He glanced around at the swirling crowd around them. “Perhaps we should take this conversation somewhere a bit more private?”

Emma’s eyes widened briefly and Ice inwardly cursed as he remembered that this woman had once been intimate with a man who looked just like him. He gestured across the hall to the designated area for refreshments.

“May I offer you a coffee?”

She seemed relieved by his invitation and nodded enthusiastically. Ice began to cut a path across the conference hall and Emma fell into step beside him.

“The resemblance really is striking.” She said, casting furtive glances up at him as they walked. “You look just like him!”

“It’s caused us some problems once or twice…” he acknowledged with a wry smile.

“I can imagine.” Emma agreed with wide eyes as they collected their drinks and moved over to a quiet corner to sit. “So what brings an Admiral to an energy conference?

“The US Navy has a vested interest in efficient power delivery mechanisms.” Ice replied dryly as he sipped at the sub-standard coffee that was all that was on offer. “What is your field?”

“Cold fusion.”

Ice raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware that there was anyone still seriously working on that idea.”

Emma nodded with a grimace and Ice worried for a terrible moment that she might cry before she replied in a steady voice.
“Simon has single handedly kept our research centre going all these years. He’s very generous. Ninety percent of our funding comes directly from him, one way or another.”

“Really?” Ice was taken aback. “That’s kind of him.”

“And I know for a fact we’re not the only cause he supports.” Emma continued without a pause, “Orphanages and charities for underprivileged children, mostly, centres for people who’ve suffered religious abuse… he’s a good man.”

Ice blinked in surprise. His brother had never once mentioned any charitable work to him, only boasted about how much money he had. He’d always gotten the impression that the man was selfishly on the make for himself… although, he had always been generous with his gifts. In fact, Ice had spent the last twelve years systematically turning down Simon’s every offer to buy him a house.

“Do you see him often?” He asked, suddenly desperately curious.

“Not often, no.” Emma shook her head sadly. “He pops up every now and again, less and less as the years go on. It’s nice to see that he’s not lonely anymore, that he’s got you and, what’s his name... Ewan?”

A flicker of rage burst into life at the bottom of Ice’s stomach. “Ethan.” He corrected sharply. “They broke up.”

“Oh.” Emma wrinkled her nose and pulled an expression of socially expected sympathy, “That’s a shame.”

She doesn't know the half of it, Ice thought. And then he thought more about what Emma had said. He was having trouble reconciling the image of Simon that she had presented with the version that he himself knew.

“I’m sorry.” He said abruptly, “Is he- are you saying that my brother is a philanthropist?”

Emma regarded him with wide, curious eyes. “Yes, I suppose. You didn’t know?”

“No…” Ice wrapped his hands around his coffee cup to prevent his fingers from unnecessary nervous fidgeting. He could feel Emma’s eyes boring into him and he wondered if her ditzy eccentricity was an act.

“What’s wrong?” She asked and he immediately added ‘perceptive’ to the assessment he’d made of her in his head.

Ice huffed a laugh. “I’m suddenly reevaluating everything that I thought I knew.”

Emma smiled knowingly. “He has that effect doesn't he.” 

“He does,” Ice sighed, “But doesn’t it bother you? That your work is funded by…” he lowered his voice to a whisper. “...crime?”

Emma seemed to weigh the question seriously before answering.

“It comforts me to think of it going to some good instead of staying in the hands of dictators and corrupt tyrannical billionaires.” She said seriously, “Simon doesn’t steal from just anyone you know… he’s more like Robin Hood or something. Steals from bad people to give to good causes.”

Ice’s heart sank at that. Emma’s information was clearly out of date.

“He doesn’t always.” Ice remarked a little too sharply - too used to dealing with other admirals rather than civilians. “He’s stolen from galleries and museums, he steals things to order.” He leaned in and lowered his voice against any potential eavesdropping ears. “He stole from the Pope!”

Emma’s eyes widened to such an extent that it was almost comic. “That was him?! ”

She worried her lip and her brow creased in thought for a moment before her whole face relaxed and she waved her hand dismissively.
“Oh I’m sure he had a good reason. He’s a good man. I trust him.”

Deluded, Ice thought to himself, absolutely caught in Simon’s spell, just like Mav…  

The thought of his former wingman pulled Ice up sharply. It wasn’t often that M- Ethan popped unbidden into his thoughts any more. In fact, the memory of him was so jarring that it seemed to dislodge something in Ice’s brain. Suddenly he was replaying memories of the times that he had spent with them, and the times he’d spent with Simon alone and a realisation crashed over him.

Aren’t I the same? He thought and remembered how so many times it always came back to one thing… that he, too, trusted Simon implicitly.

“Can I ask you something?” Emma said, interrupting his racing thoughts.

Ice nodded once and she leaned in, her eyes sparking with intrigue.

“So… if you’re twins,” Ice could almost see the gears of her mind turning. “How come you didn’t grow up together? Why was he in an orphanage?”

“We both were, to start with.” Ice explained thinly, “I was adopted when I was five. He wasn’t.”

Emma’s whole face changed to one of pity, “Oh, that’s so terribly sad! Split apart… like two hydrogen isotopes…”

Ice blinked in surprise. Unused to such naked displays of emotion from a relative stranger. He wondered, not for the first time, if the Navy had sharpened him too much.

“But you found each other again!” Emma continued, blissfully unaware of the raging turmoil inside of her conversation partner. “That’s wonderful! Like something out of a storybook…”

Ice held up a hand, deciding that, on balance, he wasn’t whimsical enough to indulge too much of this line of expression. “Doctor Russell.”

“Oh please call me Emma.” She smiled a smile that was entirely open and genuine.

“Emma.” He corrected, “Do you happen to know of any specific causes that he supports?”

She tilted her head in confusion. “Sorry?”

“Simon…” Ice clarified. “His charitable works?” Other than yourself, he added in his head and then berated himself for the unkind thought.

“Oh yeah, I used to keep them in a scrapbook!” Emma said as she reached into her bag and began rummaging around. “Back when… anyway I saved a few links.” She pulled out her phone triumphantly. 

She handed over her smartphone and Ice noted with judgement the several long cracks cutting across the screen. She gestured for him to scroll through an album of photos marked only with an emoji wearing a halo. They were all screenshots of news articles and Ice realised with a jolt as he read that he even recognised one or two of them.

A headline from 2004 describing a generous donation to a school building project in Mongolia.

Fifty children saved from homelessness with orphanage rebuild. Dated 2001.

Abusive priest jailed after anonymous tip off - victims awarded unprecedented compensation payout. 1999.

Jailed Russian billionaire denies donating entire fortune to UN Children’s Fund and Red Cross. “My accounts were hacked.” Ivan Tretiak speaks out from Rankow Prison one year after his infamous arrest. 1998.

“A lot of it goes unreported…” Emma finished with an apologetic glance. “But there’s much more than that.”

Ice felt his desire for precise and reasoned understanding kicking in. If this were a topic he was researching for work he’d have already mentally assigned several researchers to the task, but alas, this was a strictly private matter.

“Do you still have that scrapbook you mentioned?” He asked quickly.

“Yes, at home, somewhere.” Emma cocked her head. “Why?”

“Would you be willing to share it with me? Send some of the details over? If you don’t mind, I would like to learn more about Simon’s life before he and I were reunited.”

Perhaps if he could identify some sort of pattern, he’d be able to find out whether or not Simon was still engaged in philanthropic works. Ice felt emboldened, relieved to have a project that he could actively pursue.

“Oh, of course!” Emma seemed delighted. “I’d be happy to.”

Ice smiled and stood up so that he could reach into his pocket. He pulled out his card and handed it to her. “My details.” She could be an invaluable ally in his task.

“Oh. Thanks.” 

“It has been a pleasure to meet you Doct- Emma.” Ice said and offered his hand to shake. “But I’m afraid I have a meeting to get to. I look forward to hearing from you.”

“Yeah, of course. You too.” Emma stood and shook his hand warmly. “It’s been great to meet you Tom. Any friend of Simon’s is a friend of mine.” 

She smiled genuinely. Ice turned to leave and then paused. He looked back at her, suddenly understanding how his brother could’ve fallen for her all those years ago. She was sweet and brightly innocent in a rare sort of way. There was a purity to her that seemed to defy the cruel realities of the world at large.

“Thank you,” Ice said genuinely, “you’ve helped me more than you know.”

Emma seemed confused as she answered. “Okay…”

But Ice didn’t prolong the conversation any longer. He turned and strode away, melting back into the crowded conference hall without a second look back. The scant view he’d had into his brother’s past and Emma’s resolute faith in the man had brought a certain calm quality to the air of complexity that always surrounded his relationship with Simon. Something had changed and Ice, ever one to take advantage of an opportunity, made a decision.

He pivoted and changed his course to take him past a bin. As he did so, without slowing his pace even an inch, he reached into his pocket, dug out his packet of cigarettes and discarded them without so much as a second thought.

 

Chapter 22: June 2011

June 2011

 

Ice stepped out of the meeting room with a barely disguised sigh of relief. It had taken all day, in the end, to thrash out the details of the budget and had been prolonged unnecessarily by some of Ice’s more bull-headed colleagues, each out for themselves and their own departments rather than for the good of the Navy as a whole.

He stepped out into the evening air and allowed the breeze to run though his hair for a moment - enjoying the simple pleasure of it as he resisted the ever-present urge to sneak behind the supplies shed for a smoke. Fourteen months smoke free and still going strong. Call him what you like but Tom Kazansky was no quitter.

Instead he stilled his fidgeting fingers by checking his Blackberry. Too many emails awaited him but there was nothing unusual about that. They would wait until later though, he decided. Of much more interest was the blinking indicator that someone had left a voicemail. He navigated the menus with practiced ease and then held the whole handset up to his ear as the message began to play.

The voice on the other end sounded breathless and emotional… as though the person were running.

Hey brother.. I, er… I’m on route to Russia. I’ve decided… it’s all pretty last minute… look, the thing is, Ethan’s getting out of prison and I’ve decided to go and meet him. I wasn’t planning to go but… fuck. Sorry. My head’s not on straight. I’ll call you when I land.

Ice checked the time and then listened to the message again. It had been received hours ago, right when he’d been stuck in that godawful meeting. The possibilities of it all swirled around in his head. Quickly he navigated to the number from which the call had originated and pressed the button to call back.

It didn’t even ring, but instead went straight to an anonymous sounding voicemail service. Ice took a deep breath as the beep sounded.

“Simon, Tom speaking. I’m guessing you’re in the air. Sorry I was in a meeting when you called.” He paused as he struggled to wrap his head around all of the relative details. “Am I to understand that Ethan has been in prison?” He asked. “In Russia? How long for, and what for? I dread to think. Anyway, don’t do anything you’ll regret later. Let me know when you land safely. Bye.”

He slipped the phone back into his pocket with a sigh and decided to call it quits for the day. He was already a couple of hours late heading home as it was, given how long the meeting had taken, no one would begrudge him leaving his email inbox until the morning. And in any case, he now had another topic to research.

 

---

 

Ice’s methodical searching through newsworthy arrests in Russia over the past few years bore little fruit other than to have taken up his entire evening. The next morning, after a night of troubled, fitful sleep, Ice did what he always did and sipped at his morning coffee whilst scanning through the work that had piled up in his email inbox overnight. But on this particular morning the blinking indicator of another voicemail message drew his attention first. 

It was from Simon again, although this time he sounded stressed.

Yes he’s in prison in Russia. Things are moving much faster than I’d anticipated. I’ve decided to be there when- shit, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.

Ice almost rolled his eyes about the drama of it all. The message had come in several hours ago, whilst he’d been sleeping. He pressed the button to call back and was unsurprised, although a little annoyed that the call rang out and he was again forced to leave a message.

“Hi Simon. What’s going on over there? I’ve been trying to look into Ethan’s arrest but I haven’t been able to find any mention of it so I presume he was arrested under a false name. Please call me with details when you can. Thanks.”

Ice clicked through to his emails distractedly as he contemplated whatever ludicrous and dramatic situation his brother was caught up in now. Hearing that Ethan was in some way involved worried him greatly and he just hoped that his brother wasn’t going to let himself get hurt again. If he were here instead of all the way over the other side of the world in Russia-

Ice blinked as the word ‘Russia’ blared out at him in all capitals from several email subject lines marked urgent. He clicked on one and read through it quickly.

Kremlin explosion… suspected terrorist attack in Russia… all personnel called in… all forces placed on high alert… DEFCON 3.

It was just at that moment that the landline rang shrilly on the wall. He leapt up to answer it but he knew what the call would be. High alert. Get to work immediately. There’s a situation in Russia to respond to.

 

---

 

Ice kept his Blackberry on the desk in front of him all day determined, this time, not to miss a call should it come through. But, alas, the Navy had other plans. It seemed as though every five minutes he was being called away from his desk to meet urgently with someone to discuss the crisis situation, or take a call to answer questions from his counterparts stationed in other areas.

The entire Navy was poised to respond should the president order it, and yet it was painfully obvious that no one had any idea what was going on. Ice did his best to keep up with everything. He was good at his job, calm and efficient and yet his thoughts kept straying back to the two men that he knew were in Russia. He wanted desperately to shove everything aside and call his brother but still distraction after distraction called him away.

When he eventually returned to his office after yet another urgent and hurried conversation, Ice was practically tearing his hair out with worry. He leapt for his cell phone and was both relieved and disappointed to see the notification for a voicemail blinking back at him. He slammed his office door shut and leaned against it as he listened to the message.

It was Simon. It sounded as though he was crying.

Tom… Ethan was… he was in the Kremlin. I think he might be dead. I don’t know what to do. I promised to wait for him… I… he said he loved me, Tom! He said he loved me. I don’t know what to do.

Ice’s heart twinged with a complicated sadness that he didn’t quite know how to process. He pressed the call back button and pinched the bridge of his nose as the call was left to ring out.

“Jesus, Simon.” He started, not knowing what he was going to say until he said it. “You’ll be okay. I promise.” 

A sudden knocking on his door had Ice leaping away from it. He waved away the anxious looking Lieutenant who poked his head in before continuing his message.

“Sorry, things are a bit crazy at work right now. Look, why don’t you come and stay with me for a bit? We can talk about it properl-” The knocking returned, more urgently. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. Let me know you’re alright.”

 

---

 

Simon’s phone was switched off when Ice tried to call back that evening when he finally made it home to sleep. There was no telltale ringing to indicate the call was getting through, but instead it went straight to the answering service. At least, Ice hoped that the phone was just off, and that this wasn’t indicative of a larger problem. If Simon died in Russia, Ice knew that there was every possibility that he would never get to hear of it. It would be as though his brother just disappeared off the face of the earth. And that thought was almost too much to bear.

Ice swallowed away his fear and left a message anyway.

“Sorry it’s been one hell of a day. To say that the diplomatic situation is deteriorating would be an understatement. Call me back when you get this, alright? I hope you’re okay.”

 

---

 

Ice spent the next few days in a whirlwind of activity. He barely even made it home to sleep, let alone enjoy any downtime and yet he made sure to call at least once a day, hoping to catch his brother for even a brief conversation about what was going on in Russia.

Every call went straight to voicemail and with every emotionless beep Ice grew less and less hopeful. He didn’t leave any message - he couldn’t. He didn’t know what to say. The void on the other end of the phone felt oppressive and hungry, and he felt more and more that what was needed was less an entreatment to call back and more a eulogy. 
And so Ice just hung up. 

He dared to hope that somewhere Simon was seeing his repeated missed calls and would eventually contact him, but he didn’t allow himself to wallow in the terrible alternative. Work was too busy for that, in any case, what with the heightened crisis of the Russian government that was still causing panicked ripples around the world.

Ice had taken to wearing his Simon Zealots medallion under his uniform, alongside his dog tags. He wasn’t a superstitious man by nature and yet it felt appropriate to keep the memory of his brother close as he waited with growing dread day after day for a call which didn’t come.

And then the international situation worsened.

Word came through of a Russian nuclear missile launch, although the Russian government denied it. Fighter jets scrambled, the whole fleet was put on alert. The United States made it all the way to DEFCON 1 as the missile approached American soil. 
Ice, and everyone else deemed ‘important’ in North Island were ordered into the nuclear shelters and for a while he wondered if this was the end of it all. And then the call came through to say that the bomb had splashed down harmlessly the San Francisco Bay and the mood amongst them all turned exuberant as they rushed back up into the open, uncontaminated air.

Ice kept away from the celebrations, however, as all throughout his brief brush with the threat of nuclear destruction there had only been one thing on his mind. 
He shut himself in a cupboard to give him five minutes to himself and rang Simon with shaking hands. The call went to voicemail and Ice screwed his eyes shut in grief as the ghastly beep sounded in his ear.

“Simon, I’m alive. I hope you’re alive. Shit” He spoke into the phone desperately as tears threatened to fall. “There was a Russian missile launch and it came down just up the coast. They’re saying it was… deactivated, or something. No one knows. The whole navy has been on alert since the Kremlin bombing, so if you need to reach me I’ll probably be at work. There’s so much to sort out and- oh my god.” He let out an uncharacteristic sob. “I just had to tell you I love you, brother. Please be alright, dear God, please.” Ice wiped the tears from his face roughly with his sleeve. “Call me back if you get this. Bye.”

Ice slipped his Blackberry back into his pocket and wiped his face again. He allowed himself one, steadying, deep breath, and then he exited the cupboard and went back to work.

 

---

 

That last message must’ve done the trick. Or else Simon had seen what had happened and had turned his phone back on out of concern for his brother’s safety. Because twelve hours later, when Ice was bleary eyed and crashing from the adrenaline and yet still doggedly working, a text came through.

Glad you’re ok. I’m fine. I’ll come visit soon. Need to sort some stuff out first. Ethan’s in hospital. S.

Nothing like the threat of global annihilation to inspire communication, Ice thought bitterly. But the tightness of his chest eased. His brother was alive. Ice was alive. Even Ethan was alive… although Ice still didn’t quite know how to feel about that. Everything else was secondary.

If there was one thing about coming face to face with one’s own mortality, is that it put everything else into very sharp perspective and Ice knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that family was the most important thing.

Chapter 23: July 2011

Notes:

Turns out I'm posting this July '11 chapter on the 11th July lol. Couldn't have planned it better if I'd tried. Enjoy the last chapter folks!

 

It was typical of Simon. A flurry of messages all at once followed by months of silence. The man was incapable of consistent communication and yet, strangely, Ice was used to it. He’d had confirmation that his brother was alive and well, and in the end that was all Ice needed to set his nerves at rest. He had always had a pragmatic approach to their relationship, given the instability that both of their jobs created.

And, to be fair, Ice himself had also been incredibly busy. The fiasco with the aborted missile detonation had been successfully kept out of the news (goodness only knows how), but for the people in the know it had succeeded in generating a significant amount of work. The nations of the world were at each other’s throats and yet were all also terrified enough of one another to make the international conversations productive, but still tense. It was exhausting, but at least now the initial crisis had passed, Ice was allowed home to sleep and was occasionally even allowed to enjoy a few hours of the odd weekend.

A month seemed to fly by. Then another week or two before Ice heard from his brother again. And when he did it was in the form of another text.

En route to see you. Arriving tomorrow. S.

Ice sighed, although he was overjoyed that he was finally going to get a chance to see his brother, Simon wasn’t always the best at considering how his actions might put other people out. Still, logistics were and always had been Ice’s department, so he unfolded himself from behind his desk and went to find his boss. Begging for the day off was small fry if it meant the chance to hug his brother again. And frankly, after working the last six weeks all but non-stop, Ice felt that he was probably owed at least that.

Which is how he came to be at home at lunchtime the following day, relaxed and well-slept and comfortable in his civvies when there was a knock at the back door. Ice jogged to open it, excited to see Simon again after such a long and harrowing period and he opened the door with a flourish, only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him. 

Simon was grinning back at him, as he’d expected, but what Ice hadn’t prepared for was that his brother was standing hand in hand with Ethan fucking Hunt… who was somehow, miraculously alive. Not dead in the Kremlin. Alive, and standing on his fucking doorstep. 

Both of them were dressed casually in clothes that were clearly ludicrously expensive and looked as though they'd been tailor made. Ethan was spoiling the picture slightly, however, by sporting a medical brace boot on his left leg. He looked up at Ice a little sheepishly from beneath his ludicrously floppy fringe and offered him a nervous smile.

“Oh no.” Ice sighed as he resisted the urge to slump against the door frame. “Oh, hell no.” He looked at his brother who’s smile was starting to slip. “Don’t tell me you’ve got back with him. How the fuck has this happened?”

Simon and Ethan appeared to glance at each other nervously.

“Tom.” Simon stated calmly as he let Ethan’s hand drop and stepped forward alone to meet Ice in the doorway. “Ethan and I have spoken about everything and we’re going to do things differently this time. We’ve forgiven each other.”

Ice searched his brother’s face. Simon seemed, unbelievably, happy. Much happier than he’d seen him in a very long time. There was a glow about him that had been missing ever since Ethan had broken his heart the first time.

Ice rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this. He turned his head to address his old wingman.

“Go inside Maverick, I want to talk to my brother alone.”

Ethan glanced briefly at Simon before meeting Ice’s gaze and offering a sombre nod. Ice noted with remote coolness how Simon’s arm seemed to twitch as the man rocked with the effort of keeping his weight off his injured foot as much as possible, but Ice stared him down. Maverick could bloody well make it by himself… and if it hurt him then it was no less than the bastard deserved.

Ice waited until Maverick had hobbled inside the house before he closed the door behind him and gestured for Simon to join him on the bench that looked out from the back porch over the sparse garden. For a moment only silence existed between them before Ice hung his head and let out a long sigh.

“Damn you,” he said, “I have a sudden, desperate desire to smoke. You’ve driven me to it.”

“I thought you might.” Simon snorted quietly and reached into his pocket. When he withdrew his hand he offered up a single cigarette and a lighter. Ice regarded it hungrily. 

“You know I’ve quit?” He said sharply.

“Yeah, but I knew us turning up together would be a shock. Just one.”

Ice thought about it. He really thought about it. He thought about the warm, comforting smoke entering his lungs and the rush of the chemicals entering his system. It took great restraint, but in the end he waved it away and forced himself not to feel disappointed when Simon slipped it back into his pocket.

“Where have you been?” He asked, suddenly.

“A great many places.” Simon answered. “Russia, then India, and I had to go off grid for a while… and Paris most recently. We spent the last week or so in Paris.”

“Do you have any concept of how worried I’ve been?” Ice said rather sharply, “I thought you’d died. I almost died… I thought Ethan was dead!”

Simon cut him off before he could become hysterical.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, I should’ve called. I just wanted to explain in person and… what he and I were rebuilding… it felt so fragile that a gust of wind could’ve swept it all away. I wanted to be sure.”

Ice looked at him. Simon appeared deadly serious. He leant back in his chair with a sigh.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Simon nodded. “I’m sure. He and I- we’ve talked about everything and… I’m sure.”

“But why?” Ice couldn’t help but ask. “He hurt you. He abandoned you! Why take him back?”

“I've forgiven him.”

Ice’s anger flared. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

“You don’t know all of it.” Simon said patiently, “Or what I did to him. Neither of us deserve it, but I can’t live without him and that seemed a good enough reason to me.”

“Are you ever going to tell me about that?”

“No. You’re just going to have to trust me on this one.”

“But can you trust him?” Ice snapped back.

“I believe so.” Simon replied calmly, “We’ve taken steps to strengthen the connections between our lives… and to leave less of it to chance. We’ve talked, I mean really talked, at length and we’ve both learnt from it. What happened before will not happen again. Ethan and I… our love is worth the potential pain.”

A jealous fist tightened deep inside Ice’s chest. He couldn’t imagine loving someone so much that he’d be willing to risk or forgive such heartbreak, or being loved so fiercely in return. The Navy was a cruel mistress, but at least she was consistent and predictable. He dragged his hands over his face and then sat up straight with a sigh.

“Alright. Practicalities.” He said, relieved to be slipping back into familiar territory. “You’ve taken steps? What are they?”

“You remember the emergency beacon bracelet that Ethan got me?”

Ice nodded. He vaguely remembered hearing about such a thing.

“Having that on is what saved my life all those years ago. Ethan’s going to get us both one again. In case either of us get into trouble.”

“Sensible.”

“And all the usual things.” Simon waved a hand. “Accessible money caches, weapons stores, emergency documentation. Some other tech stuff. You know, normal things, but this time we’re doing it together.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Ice blinked. He looked over at his brother and asked the only other question that mattered. “Are you happy?”

Simon smiled. “More than I can tell you brother. More than I ever dreamed I could be.” 

Ice took a deep breath and centred himself. That was, in the end, the only thing he needed to hear. His own feelings were irrelevant. His brother’s happiness was paramount and, despite it all, he did trust Simon’s judgement.

“Alright.” He said and gestured back towards the house. “Send him out.”

Simon blinked in surprise for a moment and then stood.

“Don’t kill him?” He said with a small frown.

Ice snorted. “No promises.”

Simon seemed to accept that this was the best answer he was going to get because he turned and made his way back into Ice’s kitchen. Ice moved from where he had been sitting on the bench to a plastic table and chair set that he’d had tucked into the corner of the deck for years. It was starting to go green with age but right at this particular moment he couldn’t care less. He wanted to look Maverick in the eye during this conversation.

After only a minute or two, the man himself hobbled out and took the seat opposite.

Ice cleared his throat.

“Simon told me about the bracelets you’re getting for the both of you.” He began and Ethan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I want you to add my name to that list. I want to be notified if either of you get into trouble.”

“Ice-” Ethan interrupted but Ice continued over him.

“I am in a position to help. What happens if something befalls you both at the same time? Or you have an emergency together? Who will help you then?”

Ethan swallowed. “Luther-”

“Who is Luther?”

“My colleague at the IMF. He’s setting this whole thing up.” Ethan explained admirably concisely.

“Right then,” Ice nodded, “I’ll need his contact information too.”

“Ice-” Ethan started again but Ice cut him off with a fierce look. 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his Blackberry and navigated to the new contact input screen before handing the device over. He fixed Ethan with an expectant stare and folded his arms.
With a sigh Ethan entered some details and then handed the phone back. Ice glanced over it. ‘Luther Stickell’ had been entered into the ‘Name’ field, and an email address had been attached to it. Ice nodded in satisfaction and then slipped the handset back into his pocket.

“Good.” He said. “Now that’s settled… Explain yourself.”

Opposite him, so slightly as to almost be imperceptible, Ethan flinched. 
Ice felt a twinge of smug satisfaction, but kept his face inscrutable as he stared down his former wingman. He wanted Mav to squirm.

“I’ve caused you both a lot of pain.” Ethan started. “I’m sorry Ice. Neither of you deserved that.”

Ice crossed his arms and waited. Ethan met his gaze steadily but there was a nervousness to his demeanour that Ice hadn’t seen in the man before.

“I thought…” Ethan continued to fill the silence, “I thought I was protecting him by leaving. It was a mistake.”

“You got married.”

“Yeah.” At that Maverick looked down and almost seemed to retreat inside himself. “That wasn’t fair on anyone.” He whispered. “Least of all Julia.”

Ice raised an eyebrow.

Ethan looked back up at him suddenly. “I’ve done my best to atone.”

“How?”

Ethan closed his eyes briefly and Ice was suddenly struck by how much older he looked. There was a heaviness to the man that hadn’t been present before, evidence of a huge weight that he’d clearly been carrying for a while.

“I just spent two and a half years in prison.” Ethan said quietly.

“Sounds suitably unpleasant.” Ice sneered and Maverick looked back at him with wide, green eyes.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you it was?”

“Yes, it would.” Ice said, only dimly aware of how the pain of the lie stung.

Mav laughed a little bitterly and then grew sombre once again. “It was. Awful, actually. It was bad.” He paused, and cast a nervous glance back towards the house. “I haven’t told Simon that…”

Ice pursed his lips. “This new era of truthfulness is off to a great start, clearly.”

“We’ve drawn a line in the sand.” Ethan continued quickly. “Before is before and after is what matters. Now matters. This matters.”

“This?”

“You and your brother.” Maverick clarified fiercely. “Simon needs you. And you need him.”

Ice leant forward. “So I should just forgive you just because he has? Do you honestly think you deserve that?”

Maverick shrugged. “People rarely live the life they deserve. But I can be the man he deserves - this time… I will be this time.”

Ice let out a controlled breath.

“Tell me something.” He said with a quick glance back towards the house to check that Simon wasn’t eavesdropping. “What happened when you got married? Something happened between you two,” He gestured back towards the house. “The state he was in- He was… I’ve never seen him so affected by something. What happened?”

Ethan stared back at him seriously as though he was reading him. 

“He didn’t tell you.” He said eventually. “That’s good.”

“What happened Mav? What did he do?” Ice pushed but Maverick shook his head as he finally looked away.

“Nothing I didn’t deserve. It’s ancient history now.”

Ice watched his former wingman’s body language with the practiced eye of a commanding officer. Whatever it was had been important and had affected both men deeply and yet both were resolute in their determination to keep it private. Ice let out a frustrated sigh and accepted that this would probably be one of many things that he would just never get to know. Like almost everything else about the lives of this pair of international troublemakers.

“The line in the sand?” He asked and Ethan seemed to relax minutely.

“That’s the one.”

Coming to a decision, Ice shifted to sit tall in his seat from where he could look down his nose at the man before him. He took a deep breath and regarded him sternly.

“If it were up to me I would not give you a second chance Maverick.” He began seriously. “But Simon clearly believes that taking you back is worth it and I respect his judgement. But, believe me when I say this,” Ice fixed the man with a pointed stare and waited until he met his gaze. “If you ever hurt him like that again you will not be afforded the same leeway. Am I understood?”

Maverick at least had the decency to look suitably chastised.

“Yes Sir!” He replied properly, before shrugging in response to Ice’s narrowed eyes. “Technically you still outrank me… Being an Admiral suits you Ice.” Maverick smiled. 

“God help the navy if you ever decide to come back to active service.” Ice held back a shudder as he considered such a scenario. “I said all along you were dangerous.”

Maverick laughed.

“You threatened to have me court-martialled if I ever came back.”

“I’m still considering it.” Ice kept his tone serious and suppressed a wry grin as Ethan’s grin fell and he squirmed again in his seat. Ice leaned forwards and once again looked down at the other man. “Promise me something.”

Ethan didn’t immediately nod but instead made eye contact to signal that he was waiting intently for Ice to continue speaking. Ice felt a flare of respect and knew that whatever Ethan’s answer was, it would be carefully considered and therefore something he could trust.

“Promise me that Simon is going to be happier with you than he would be alone.”

Before him Ethan’s green eyes started to glisten and he sucked in a breath that wobbled a little as he did so. 

“Your brother means the world to me, Ice.” He said entirely gravely. “He is… everything. I promise you that I will do everything in my power to be worthy of him. Everything I have, everything I am… it’s his. Forever. I promise.”

Ethan stuck out his hand. Ice looked at it and then back up into the eyes of a man he once trusted with his own life. He took the offered hand in his own and they shook. Ice squeezed Maverick’s hand as he did so. 

“Very well. We’ll say no more about it.” He said. “But I will rain all kinds of hell down on you if you break that promise Maverick.”

Maverick grimaced as the handshake broke. “I would expect nothing less, Iceman.”

Ice stood up. “And you can sort out dinner tonight as well.”

Maverick laughed as he stood too and began his slow shuffle back towards the house.

“Deal. And I suppose the washing up has my name on it too. I’m going to be working this one off for a while aren’t I?”

“Damn straight.” Ice replied as a weight lifted slightly from his chest.

Together they made their way back into the house and into the living room where they found Simon standing by the window examining one of the framed photographs that were arranged there. He turned and smiled as they entered, clearly pleased to see them both alive and intact. He waved the picture frame in Ice’s direction.

“Who got you this, it’s hilarious!?”

Ice frowned as he moved closer. The picture that Simon was holding was the one that had been taken shortly after his most recent promotion of him looking proud in his dress blues.

“Is it?” He asked. “That’s my official flag officer portrait.”

Simon snorted as he pointed to the inscription on the base of the frame, “You’re joking right? Rear Admiral… Lower Half…” he looked around incredulously, “it’s a gay joke?”

Ice shook his head and noticed, to one side, Maverick doing the same.

“No,” he cleared his throat, “That is in fact my rank.” 

Simon’s face fell into an expression of aghast horror and Ice couldn’t help but look at his brother incredulously.

Ice rolled his eyes. “You were at the promotion ceremony!”  

“Were you?” Ethan turned to Simon quickly before hobbling over to join him by the window.

Simon put the photograph down carefully in his proper place looking a little sheepish.

“Well… not all of it. But in my defence, I wasn’t invited.” Ice watched as his brother snaked an arm around Maverick’s waist and pulled him in close. “All good?” Simon asked, looking between the two of them.

Ice nodded curtly. “For now.” He replied and Simon visibly softened.

Maverick slotted effortlessly into Simon’s embrace and flashed Ice a charming smile that hadn’t faded with age. 

“Ice has fulfilled his brotherly duty and given me a sufficiently scary talking to. We’ve worked things out.”

“Good.” Simon smiled at Ice gratefully. “Thank you.”

Ice watched as Simon dipped his head down and captured Maverick’s lips in a brief and chaste kiss. 

“Well done.” Ice heard him whisper. 

He rolled his eyes again and lowered himself down into his favourite armchair. Maverick extracted himself from Simon’s grasp and sank down onto the sofa opposite before propping his injured leg up to rest along the length of it with an apologetic shrug. 

There was a beat of awkward silence between them as Ice and Maverick stared at each other whilst Simon resumed his prowling around the room. 

“So it’s been a while huh?” Mav said, with a shy grin. 

“Yes,” Ice acknowledged, feeling the full weight of that time suddenly pressing down on him but he fell back on a deeply ingrained politeness. “I gather that you two have spent time gallivanting in Paris-“

“What’s this?” Simon interrupted from the corner of the room. 

Ice looked up to see his brother shuffling through a folder of papers. He got to his feet abruptly. 

“Do you have no understanding of the concept of privacy at all, Simon?”

In all honesty Ice had all but forgotten that the folder was there, given how busy he’d been with each unfolding crisis recently. The folder was full of newspaper cuttings, internal memos and debate transcripts following a legal ruling that he himself was particularly interested in. 

He had been worried that the emergency situation would’ve set the implementation back yet again but in fact the reverse had been true. The military and emergency services had been very starkly reminded of the need for capable personnel in the last few weeks. Every capable person, regardless of their personal circumstances.

Simon seemed to be flicking through the contents of the folder with interest but Ice knew the headlines by heart. 

‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell Repealed: President Signs New Law’.

‘Pentagon Submits Long-Awaited Report On Gay Policy’.

‘Congress Seeks To Delay DADT Policy Change’.

Ice sighed. “It’s getting close and it’s taken a lot of work to get the certification together, but I expect we’ll be given the go-ahead any day now.”

“What!?” Ethan exclaimed from the sofa. “That’s amazing! Ice, congratulations!”

“Don’t congratulate me yet,” Ice replied a little too sharply, “nothing will change for me. I’m already too high up in the chain.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mav waved his concerns away with a dismissive gesture. “Once it’s legal I’m sure loads of guys would be thrilled to come back to…” he looked around the living room, “this sad looking bachelor pad.”

Ice glared at him and Mav gulped when he caught his eye.

“No, I mean, it’s nice.” He continued quickly, “It’s just not usual for the admiralty to be living in base housing… is it?”

It wasn’t. Ice knew that. He’d also endured a decade of increasingly pointed comments and decreasingly good-natured teasing on the subject from his colleagues. But, in truth, buying a house had never made it far enough up his list of priorities to have been actioned. That was best left to the people with families; wives and children who needed the space. Ice had long ago come to terms with the necessity of his lonely existence, and his house was merely an extension of that. 

“I think he’s just being stubborn at this point.” Simon interrupted and Ice looked at him sharply. 

“You two have some nerve, ganging up on me like this!” He replied. 

Simon’s eyes widened a little in surprise.  

“You’re right, I’m sorry brother.”

And then Ice actually absorbed what it was that Maverick had said. Bringing people back to his house… Maverick was talking about dating! Sure, he’d been following the proposed repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell with interest but he’d never actually considered the possibility of dating anyone. The idea, he found, wasn’t as horrific as he expected. 

“If I let you buy me a house…” he said slowly, directing the question towards his brother, “will you at least let me choose it?”

Simon looked delighted with the question. His grin was as wide and honest as Ice had ever seen on his brother’s face. 

“Only if you let me consult on your choices.” Simon replied quickly, “I don’t want you choosing something too small. After all, you need something befitting of a top star admiral.”

“Senior flag officer.” Maverick coughed the words behind his hand. 

“A senior flag officer.” Simon corrected smoothly with a smirk. “The full posterior admiral… waist down.” 

Mav stifled a laugh but Ice rolled his eyes. “On the understanding that you two would assist me with the move. A senior flag officer…” he couldn’t resist flashing a grin at the both of them, “can’t be seen doing his own manual labour.”

That was a lie, of course. If anything it was good for morale to see the brass pitching in, but Ice wasn’t about to invite anyone from work over to help him. Not when Simon’s presence would be the cause of too many questions. 

“Of course.” Simon agreed quickly as Mav said at the same time;
“Yep, happy to help.”

Ice couldn’t quite believe he was agreeing to this finally. He fixed Simon with his most serious stare. 

“And the money had better be squeaky clean!” He warned. 

Simon stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. 

“You have my word.”

Ice allowed himself to relax into his brother’s embrace. Truth be told he had saved up more than enough money himself over the years to be able to afford his own house, but he knew how much his brother enjoyed giving extravagant gifts and, this way, Ice could spend his own on furnishings more freely. After all, he had many years worth of expensive gifts that would look out of place next to any tatty old furniture. Perhaps Ethan and Simon were right, and it was time he got a place that was fit for an Admiral.

Ice hugged back, tightly, trying to convey his eternal gratitude that Simon was such a significant part of his life. Simon patted his shoulder and they both withdrew from the embrace with smiles on their faces. As they parted Ice looked to where Maverick had hauled himself back up to his feet and was looking on with more than a tinge of jealousy. He moved toward Ice as though he too was going to move in for a hug but appeared to catch himself at the last second and hold himself back. Ice looked his former wingman up and down as Simon appeared to catch on to the awkwardness between them. 

Ice made a decision. 

“Oh come here!” He said and pulled Mav into his arms. 

Ice didn’t know exactly how many years it had been since he’d last seen, let alone hugged, his friend but he felt the years melt away as Maverick relaxed into his embrace and hugged back. This embrace was, Ice felt, perhaps even more significant for the two of them than the first one had been, back on the deck of the carrier after the Layton mission. Both had been symbols of new beginnings but the history between them now was so much greater and it was only now, in the moment, that Ice understood how much he’d denied himself by not acknowledging the extent to which he’d missed his wingman. 

It felt good to have Maverick back in his life. And to see Simon so happy. 

Maybe this time they would all get their happy ending after all. 

 

 

Notes:

Wow and there we have it. This point in the story marks a few milestones that I'd like to take a moment to mention. I have now passed the 200k mark in writing for this story - officially the longest thing I've ever written ever - and also by posting this chapter I have now hit 400k words I have published to AO3 (and almost 40k hits on my collected works wow!)

This story brings to a close the first 'arc' of this series but as you can tell from the word count, I am well into writing the second 'arc'. I have absolutely fallen in love with Ethan and Simon and there is plenty more story to tell. Especially having now seen Final Reckoning I've decided I'm taking Ethan and Simon all the way to the end of canon. I'd love it if you came with me on this journey exploring the rest of their lives.
So watch this space...

Thanks so much to my beta reader the_melon for everything. Couldn't do it without you friend :D

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to comment or chat with me about this series. It means the absolute world every time I hear from you! <3

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 6 of A Spy and His Thief