Chapter Text
Mat had been declared fit for duty, the act a begrudging one on behalf of Andrzej. He had requested that Mat only participate in light duty for the time being, but Mat had not taken no for an answer. After all, how likely at all was it that the uprising would last much longer? Andrzej took the metaphorical blow with gritted teeth, shooing his protege out the front door with barely concealed irritation. Irritation that mirrored Mat’s parents when he had gotten something that he had wanted despite their wishes. Grief was a never-ending process, deep sorrow reignited in everyday conversations and choices, reminders of what was missing.
Tasked for the first time of being in charge of an operation, typically Jon had been the head of missions that he partook in, Mat’s blood was thrumming hotly through his veins. If he failed at his duty, it would show Andrzej that he wasn’t leadership material, that he was as much of a useless afterthought as he believed himself to be. A corpse that the partisans only dragged along out of pity. Mat scorned the notion that he was useless, that his inability to function would bring a quicker end to the uprising, and forced himself to act with decisiveness and all the wit he could muster. “How’s the wire, Bernie?”
“Unspooling nicely, Mat. This is some good wire, I’m surprised the Soviets left it unguarded.” Bernie replied, his gaze focused entirely on the wire and not his steps forward. Eva was his eyes, her fingers wrapped around his wrist, guiding him through the ruins to ensure he wouldn’t fall flat on his face and bust open his skull.
Gimle held the other end of the wire, feeding it through a circular grip. Jo was not far behind, adjusting the position of the wire amongst the detritus, masking it from an obvious view with sand and small stones. Roza followed up the rear, holding a pistol that Mat had forced upon him with a light grip, a smile catching his lips as he noticed Mat’s gaze on him. Mat rolled his eyes and refocused on the path ahead, scanning for any threats. “You’d be surprised how often they leave useful things behind simply because they don’t want to carry its burden. We’ve gotten quite a few hearty meals thanks to them.”
“What is this wire for, anyway?” Eva questioned, stumbling on a bit of uneven road. She quickly caught herself, intentionally maneuvering Bernie around it. “It’s not like electrical wire, or barbed wire. Those are the only wires I have experience with.”
“That’s your mechanical brain thinking,” Bernie complimented, beaming toothily in a way that was far more charming than it should be.
“You are correct, it is neither. It's a telephone wire, communications wire. This will supposedly connect the districts without having to send runners into potential danger. That is why we are masking it, also. In the hopes that the Nazis and Soviets will not notice it immediately and cut it, assuming it is us.” Mat replied, pausing momentarily as his gaze narrowed. He thought he saw a flash of an olive uniform a couple of streets down, but only stray objects blown by the wind crossed his vision. Shrugging mostly to himself, Mat continued to move forward.
“ Egan ,” A voice whispered to the right of Jo, his eyes flashing with recognition. No one out here knew his last name, not if they didn’t work for the German military. And he knew that voice…Abruptly, Jo darted after the bodiless voice, running deeper into the ruined city. Roza and Gimle attempted to follow suit, but could not keep pace with Jo, who disappeared in seconds flat.
“Jo!” Gimle called after him, but to no avail. He turned to fix Mat with a look. Mat sighed and nodded, gesturing for the two to follow.
“We’ll stay here and protect the wire. You find him. He cannot have gotten that far.”
Meanwhile, Jo shouldered his way through a wooden barricade, falling to the ground and rolling through it with a low, pained grunt. A couple of feet away, draped in Soviet olive, was Zeytzev, his lips pulled back to reveal a crooked teeth grin. Jo curled his hands into fists, pressing them against the remains of wood to lift himself upward, blue eyes flashing with untempered rage. “How the hell did you find me?”
Zeytzev chuckled, the low rumble of a sound causing Jo’s stomach to pitch with distaste. “Do you truly believe that we are not watching the lot of you, boy?” We . So, the group that had infiltrated the basement were, in fact, working together. Specifically to torture the small band of eclectic partisans. “I’ve had my eye on you since you stepped foot in Poland. Such a pathetic excuse for a Nazi, an embarrassment to the fuhrer .”
“Good thing I don’t want to be associated with that piece of shit pissant,” Jo spit out, reeling backward as Zeytzev kicked him directly in the cheek. Blood oozed from Jo’s mouth, gathering in his lip and dripping downward, staining his blouse. Jo spit again, rubbing at his cheek with one of his fists. It hurt like a motherfucker, but he wasn’t going to give Zeytzev the satisfaction. “You are just as German as I am. Why do you so keenly swallow his boot down your throat? I don’t get what’s in this for you, aside from the award of obedience itself.”
“What’s in it for me?” Zeytzev mocked the question, his fingers curling in Jo’s hair and tugging sharply to draw his head back, the stinging sensation causing tears to burn in Jo’s eyes. “I get to do whatever I want, that is what is in it for me. I get to pillage what I want, fuck who I want, kill who I want. Nothing else matters but the ability of complete free will. I answer to no one.”
“No one except your precious fuhrer , of course,” Jo mocked in return, groaning as Zeytzev tore a clump of his hair straight from the scalp. Stars dotted Jo’s vision, but he stayed the course, disobedient until the end. “Why are you obsessed with us, anyway? We’re just like the rest of the partisans.”
“No, you are not. You are the one who got away,” Zeytzev growled, leaning down over Jo, his presence commanding with Jo so vulnerable, shadowed and stark as blood dripped into his eyeballs and obscured his sight. “All of you are. That little medic went AWOL, the pathetic Pole was supposed to be Volkov’s pet, and I was in charge of you. I am not a failure like you , Egan. I finish what I start.” Zeytzev crouched beside Jo’s prone form, darkening his vision almost completely. “Which includes that Norwegian. I was on that transport, you know. So were you. I threw him off of the train, thinking that he was going to die just like his weak-blooded mother. I suppose he had life in him yet, but I will kill him all the same. Make sure he doesn’t spread his seed, as those rats tend to.”
“You won’t lay a finger on him!” Jo bared his blood-stained teeth, writhing on the ground as he attempted to stand once more, blocked by Zeytzev and his lack of clear eyesight. Zeytzev kicked him hard in the face, his boot shattering something in Jo’s nose. Crimson gushed down Jo’s throat, down his chin, choking him. Jo rolled over onto his side, gagging and heaving in a futile attempt to breathe.
“Don’t tell me you have caught feelings for that scrawny little Jew?” Zeytzev cooed, shoving his boot into Jo’s shoulders, forcing him face down into the dirt. Jo couldn’t breathe, his vision spotting, weak gasps sputtering in the base of his throat. “I knew there was something extraordinarily disgusting about you, Egan. I thought perhaps it was just your American capitalistic ways, but I see now what you are. Pederast. Bourgeois degenerate.” Zeytzev spit on the back of Jo’s neck, the glob of saliva warm and sticky as it dribbled lower and joined the puddle of blood underneath him. “Tell me one good reason why I should not kill you right now.”
Jo could not offer one, even if he did manage to speak through the copious amount of blood that rushed from his broken nose. The jagged point of a knife pressed into the base of Jo’s throat, at the beginning of his spinal column. Jo blinked a few times, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones before closing, accepting that these would be his final moments. He couldn’t see anyway. Between one breath and the next, the firing of gunshots echoed in the space and the knife disappeared from his skin, leaving a thin red point in its wake.
“Fuck, he’s losing a lot of blood,” A voice, Roza’s probably, murmured as warm hands rolled Jo onto his back. Jo fought to open his eyes, but no longer had the strength to. “Do you think I got that asshole, at least?”
“Nicked him, I think. His shoulder.” Another voice, most assuredly Gimle’s, replied, closer to Jo’s head. “It’s okay, Jo. We’re here. Roza is going to help you, this is what he was trained for.” Jo opened his mouth to speak, though he could only gag violently, frothy blood pouring from his mouth and down his chest. “Don’t try and talk, it’s okay.”
“It’s just his nose. That guy must have broken it, all the blood is pouring down his throat. We need to get him back to Piotr if we want him to have a chance. He could aspirate soon, and I don’t know if even Piotr has a fix for that.” Roza’s fingers probed Jo’s nose, his warm breath ghosting across Jo’s mangled features. “You can carry him, right?”
“As long as you take most of the weight. He’s the biggest of all of us.” Gimle replied, his voice moving as he shifted to a more desirable position to carry Jo. “Alright, on three. One, two, three.” Gimle’s voice tore as Jo was lifted in the air, no doubt from the effort to hoist him. “What are they feeding you, Jo, huh? You must be sneaking extra rations, right?” Gim joked weakly. He was in front of Jo, carrying his legs, hands wrapped around Jo’s knees.
“We’ve just gotta make sure not to jostle him, he needs to keep his head face down so that the blood runs out of the cavity or his mouth and not to his throat.” Roza instructed, grunting as he bore most of Jo’s weight, his arms looped underneath Jo’s armpits. Jo jostled between them, his back swaying like a sack of potatoes, completely out of control and useless. “Hey! We found him.”
“Christ, he looks like he’s been mauled,” Eva gasped.
“Some Soviet asshole was beating the hell out of him and broke his nose.” Gimle explained, neither he nor Roza stopped as they moved past where Jo had heard Eva’s voice emit from. “We’re going back to Piotr. He could aspirate. You keep going without us.”
“Like hell!” Mat’s bootsteps were heavy against the stone underneath as he approached, “We’re not just going to sit like ducklings and let that bastard come and kill the rest of us. Andrzej can send other folks out, ones that don’t have crosshairs trained on them.” Mat’s palm smoothed across Jo’s upper lip, wiping some of the blood off. “We’ve got you, Jo. Piotr will fix you up.”
“What do you want me to do with the spool of wire?” Bernie asked.
“Leave it where we were, but cover it with whatever the hell is there. I’ll tell Andrezej where we stopped so another group can pick up where we left off.” Mat hummed thoughtfully, rustling following the throaty noise. Jo felt soft fabric against his face, a gentle caress dabbing at the horrific hole where his nose must have been in a truly sorry state. “You’ll be okay, Jo. We’re all here with you.” With a soft, sputtering, wet exhale, Jo drifted off, heartened by the tender care of his friends.