section7mfu | Collateral - Picfic Challenge

Collateral

It was noon by the time Napoleon finally made it back to the small farm, The sun was uncomfortably warm, but Maria was still out at the woodwork table in the yard, sawing two planks. He limped slowly towards her, and she looked up as he approached, gladly laying her saw aside. But of course she was looking past him. And there was no one there.

"Where is Andreas?" she asked anxiously. "He went after you, to guide you to the old mine. He was worried that you wouldn't be able to find it on your own. Did you see him?"

He swallowed hard, remembering the ambush on the bridge, remembered Andreas shooting at him, laughing like it was a game. "He found me," he agreed. "Maria, I'm sorry. There's something I need to tell you. Maybe you should sit down."

Her face was pale. "No!" she said sharply. "You tell me now. Where is my husband?"

The awful thing was, he really didn't think she had any idea what her husband had been up to. She'd been the one to make him welcome here, already suspicious of the THRUSH incomers, and when he'd warned them both that THRUSH might have paid off some of the town to keep watch for them and do their dirty work, she'd been loudly incredulous that anyone would do that. He tried to remember what Andreas had said in that moment, how his face had looked, but he'd been turned away. If there had been a clue he had missed it and now it was far too late. Some spy he was. This was why the CEA kept saying he needed a partner. To see the things he overlooked, to watch his back. For once, the idea almost seemed attractive.

"I'm sorry," he said again steadily, his hand pressed against the bullet wound in his leg. "Andreas is dead. When THRUSH retreated, they flooded the tunnels. Andreas went after them - I tried to reach him in time, but Marcos killed him."

There was nothing there that was a lie. She didn't need to know what her husband had done, or that he'd been trying to make his escape with his THRUSH paymasters. That would help no one, and it would only hurt her.

She made a harsh choking sound, and her hands flew to her mouth. "No!" she said. "No. He can't be dead. I won't believe it."

"I'm sorry," he said for a third time, as though the words would somehow matter this time. "I saw it with my own eyes. If it helps at all, Marcos is dead as well. I killed him myself."

"Why would that help?" she demanded, eyeing him with scorn. "I don't want revenge, I want my husband back. This is your fault!"

"Maria..." He reached a hand out towards her, intent on offering comfort, but she pushed it aside and turned away, shoving the bundle of wood off the table with a cry of loss and anger.

"Oh!" Immediately she was crouched over, picking it up, and he stooped to help her, biting his tongue to stifle the cry of pain as he bent his leg. "This was to be a crib," she said blankly, her hand hovering lost over her belly.

He froze. Oh, God. "You're expecting a child?"

"I am due in autumn," she said, grinding the heels of her hands against her eyes. "Andreas was so excited. He's always wanted to be a father. He says he wants to give our child everything. I told him we don't have the money, but we will make do, just like our parents and our grandparents always did."

But Andreas hadn't been content with that, Napoleon realised dully. He'd gone to THRUSH. And in the end, that choice - wanting to be able to provide a better life for his child - had killed him.

"How can I raise our child alone?" she asked despairingly. "He was supposed to be here. We were going to be a family. Are you sure it was him? Perhaps you are mistaken, perhaps it was another - "

" - no," he said, catching hold of her hand and squeezing it lightly. "I'm sorry. There was no mistake."

She held his hand and cried for a while, and he rubbed her shoulder and said nothing, thinking furiously.

As her tears dried, for the moment at least, he drew his hand back, standing up slowly. "Listen, Maria," he said intently. "I'm going to be honest with you. Do you remember that I told you that THRUSH might pay local people to help them? Well, they approached Andreas, and he agreed, at my request. He infiltrated the base - he was my eyes and ears on the inside. He told me that he wanted to help make the world safer for his family. I thought he meant for you, but now I see he was thinking of the baby. He died trying to make a better world for you and your child."

There was no one left alive who could call him a liar.

For a long moment she just stared at him, and then the expected fury crossed her face. "You! This is all your fault," she screamed, standing up and advancing towards him. "We welcomed you into your home - we shared our food, we answered your questions. And this is how you repay us? By getting my Andreas mixed up in your silly spy games, by stealing away my husband, my child's father? You...you're a coward! And a monster!"

He stood his ground, holding his hands up, not hoping to appease her so much as just give her pause. "I know. I know all that. But listen to me. He was doing this for you. And I promised my organisation would take care of you if anything happened to him. There'll be money - think of it as a pension of sorts. I'll make sure it gets to you."

"Money." She snorted contemptuously. "That's all you Americans ever think about. Tell me, Mr Solo. Do you really think money is a replacement for a father?"

"No," he said truthfully. "Of course not. But take it anyway. Use it to give your child everything that Andreas wanted him to have. Build a good life, for both of you. And tell your son that his father was a good man, a brave man who wanted to give him the world."

Every child deserved to believe his father was a hero. He buried thoughts of his own father with an effort.

"I will," she said. "And I will teach him to spit when he says your name." She spat then, narrowly missing Napoleon's shoe. "Now, get out of here and don't come back. Oh, I'll take your organisation's money, but not from you. If I see you around here again - " She snatched up the saw and brandished it at him threateningly. " - I'll cut you in two, like the worm you are."

He didn't doubt she meant every word. He couldn't blame her either. And still he didn't move. "Is there someone I can contact for you?" he asked. "You said you had a sister in town, do you want me to bring her here?"

"Go!" she commanded, narrowly missing jabbing him in the chest with the saw. "I don't need your guilt or your pity. Go before I kill you."

He turned and walked away, gritting his teeth with each painful step. The sister should be easy enough to track down. Someone should know; she shouldn't be left alone.

Peterson - the CEA - was going to call him soft for this, he knew. Wanting to provide for the family of the man who shot him? Even Napoleon would admit that was unusual. But there were too many people caught up in...in these spy games, their lives ruined by these massive conflicts they had no real part of. There was a generous fund set up to take care of innocents hurt by their fight with THRUSH, Napoleon knew. Peterson would laugh, but he wouldn't take much persuading. That was part of what made UNCLE an organisation Napoleon could believe in.

He just wished there was more he could do.