You can find the chapter on AO3 right here : https://archiveofourown.org/works/79750016/chapters/234521136
Chapter 4: Finding One’s Bearings
The sun was rising on the horizon, casting its golden light across the silent hills through the window.
Lyutsifer set his steaming cup of tea down on his desk, his eyes ringed with dark circles fixed on his computer screen. It had been a short night; his sleep haunted by nightmares of his past. Heracles. Madeleine’s blonde hair glinting in the sun as she looked at him with disgust. The missiles. The cold. The loneliness.
A movement drew his attention to the screen. The CCTV feed from the guest room, where Line had been moved the previous day following their ‘little discussion’. Lying on the huge futon taking pride of place in the centre of the room, she had woken up, observing the pile of clothes and the food left beside the bed.
It had been agreed that Line would be monitored but not restricted. It was the only way to truly understand what she wanted… to study her… His words still echoed in Lyutsifer’s mind.
It’s you…
Why did she think he’d invited her to join the Heracles project on the island?
The snow had started to fall again, and Line had dragged herself out of bed. She looked around before heading over to the window to watch the snowflakes dancing. Was she looking for a way out? Lyutsifer tensed, ready to intervene.
The young woman remained like that for several long minutes, motionless, watching the snow fall. Lyutsifer raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of tea. Why wasn’t she looking for a way out?
She moved again, picking up the tray of food and tea left for her, returning to face the window and settling into one of the armchairs beside the fountain. Line had leaned over to sniff a small bowl of rice and picked up the chopsticks provided. Her grip was clumsy, forcing her to try again several times before she could take a small bite, which she savoured. Her tray was emptying, but she hadn’t touched the teapot.
“Interesting…”, muttered Lyutsifer as he took out a notebook and began to scribble in it.
His notes were scrawled in a hurry, his gaze darting back and forth between the paper and the screen. She wasn’t trying to escape, yet she remained wary. Capable of spotting sedatives in a drink, did she know she was being watched?
He looked up at the screen and froze. She was staring straight into the camera. Then she stood up, walked over to the bed where she picked up the pile of clothes left for her, and stepped out of the frame to go into the bathroom. Lyutsifer had refused to install cameras in the bathroom, despite Mikhail’s protests; Mikhail was of the opinion that they should not let the young woman out of their sight.
The clock struck ten. Lyutsifer rose from his desk to go to the laboratory, as he did every morning to ensure his staff were working properly. On his desk, he left his notebook:
12 November:
Not looking for a way out
Didn’t drink any tea
Watching the snow
Did she look at the camera?
The hours ticked by, the snow fell. Lyutsifer had asked for all non-essential meetings to be cancelled so that he could continue observing Line.
13 November:
Still watching the snow
She hasn’t tried to get our attention
Regularly looks at the camera for several minutes
She likes the fountain
Seems prone to nightmares
At three o’clock in the morning, Lyutsifer switched off his alarm, slipped on a dressing gown and made his way to his desk. His notes were scattered amongst the files, screenshots of chats and emails… The screen was still on. He ran a hand over his face, sat down at his desk to skim through his notes, before fixing his gaze on the screen once more.
Line was lying on the bed, clearly restless. She tossed and turned, over and over, before waking with a start. She ran a hand through her hair and stayed like that for a long while. Then she got out of bed and stood up; the teapot was still there, cold since that morning. She hadn’t touched it all day, no doubt for fear of being sedated. She poured herself a cup, sat down in front of the fountain and drank.
14 November:
seems to be suffering from sleep problems
smiled when she found the lilacs after going to the bathroom
tidied the bedroom
moved the futon closer to the window
doesn’t like carrots
Why is she always looking at the snow?
“Boss.”
Mihkail’s voice snapped Lyutsifer out of his thoughts; he set down his pen, clearly taken aback.
“We can’t just sit back and do nothing. You’ve cancelled several important appointments; the staff are wondering why you’re not doing your rounds. You’re hardly sleeping at all,” stated the bodyguard in a monotone voice. “We need to do something about her.”
“I know. I know, Mikhail, but I need to understand. I need to understand how she knows about Heracles, how she got here… Every minute spent on anything else might be bringing
us closer to our downfall,” replied Lyutsifer, running a hand over his face. “I need to come up with an idea. Have you found any further information about her or what she told us?”
“Nothing so far. It’s as if she’d never existed.”
Lyutsifer rose from his seat, pointing at the screen, where Line was still standing at the window watching the snow.
“We need to understand what this woman wants. Get back to work; find me any information you can about her. Anything. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Mikhail opened his mouth, then closed it again, before nodding and leaving the room. Lyutsifer seemed… obsessed. All his requests, all his orders… He had only one word on his lips: Line.
The bedroom door opened silently. His footsteps echoed on the concrete floor. He stopped, his gaze fixed on Line’s silhouette as she stood with her back to him.
“Why aren’t you trying to escape?”
Line didn’t move, didn’t turn round. Her gaze remained fixed on the snow.
“To go where?”
Her answer was obvious, predictable. She couldn’t really escape from the fortress that was this island. She would be dead the moment she set foot on a ship, and even if she managed to escape, she would probably die at sea. So why did that answer bother him so much? Why had his heart clenched?
He began to watch the snow, moving closer to the window to stand beside Line. With his hands behind his back, he looked pensive.
“You’re a prisoner. I didn’t expect so little resistance from you.”
“You mentioned that recruitment for the project would be ruthless. My life was already a prison before; at least here I have a purpose.”
Silence fell once more. There was something peaceful about the snow; perhaps that was why she was looking at it.
Scavenger Hunt No.22: Pick five villains from the James Bond universe. What songs do they use for a dramatic entrance?
Look... I blame Mads and Daniel for being kinky bastards and inspiring the idea of Poker Face. It just spiralled from there. It was too fun picking Gaga songs for these baddies. Enjoy!
This month people have been tearing Flock cameras off their poles.
This month people have been tearing Flock cameras off their poles. Perched above public streets, they are birdlike things, weatherproof, and they photograph every passing car and file it in a searchable national database.
Somebody cut two of them in half at Washington Avenue and Westcott in Houston, spray-painted the wreckage, and left an American flag on one of them. Police were notified on the morning of the Fourth of July.
Somebody severed a camera in Rutherfordton, North Carolina. The police department posted the photograph itself and collected more than twenty thousand comments. “Not all heroes wear capes.” “Give them a medal.”
Here is what the cameras do when nobody cuts them down. Cops use them to hunt immigrants and to follow ICE targets across state lines and to find women who ended pregnancies in states where that is a crime and to watch exes and to watch women they want, without a warrant and without a judge. A cop types a reason in a box and the box does not check.
A man in Burleson, Texas, told deputies his girlfriend had taken abortion pills. He showed them the photographs, the FedEx envelope, the instructions. Deputies opened a death investigation into a non-viable fetus, and the district attorney told them the state could not charge her, and they searched anyway: 83,345 cameras across 6,809 networks, a month of everywhere she had been. The reason they typed was had an abortion, search for female. The search reached Illinois and Washington, where what she did was legal. They found her in Dallas.
She came into the sheriff’s office a week later, and they thought she had come to explain the fetus, and she had come to report that the man who called them had put a gun to her head.
A sheriff in Jerome County, Idaho ran his wife’s plate more than seven hundred times in three months. He typed the same reason every time. Test. The attorney general found nothing to charge him with. He retired in April.
The Institute for Justice counts at least twenty-two officers who used the system to track people they were romantically interested in, and calls that almost certainly an undercount.
And the cameras keep falling.
Drabbel, 481 words, Lyutsifer Safin/ Madeleine Swann, fluff, nttd au, teen and up audience
The lake looked like liquid gold.
The waterline moved with the gentle breeze, washing lightly along the pier.
Safin stood still to take the view in, cupping a mug with tea.
Chamomile, hot, with a drop of honey.
His eyes focusing on the water he blowed steam away and sipped careful on the beverage.
Soon he will go back into the house to prepare breakfast for his love, but for now he enjoyed the solitude of the moment.
The sunrise coloured the cloud hanging sky in warmth, while the surrounding became brighter.
For a second he saw himself on the lake, cracking ice under his boots. He blinked the memory away. This was another time, another man. He had grown since then. His love helped him with that.
He smiled to himself. This was one of the moment he felt happy. Him with his secret little family. A place to call home. The smell of the lake. Sunshine on his skin. The sweet anticipation for a morning kiss.
He turned around and went with soft step back to the house.
It had changed too.
Walking in he relished in the warm colours, candle white and maple wood.
He stopped in his steps to look hesitating into the round wall mirror that hung in the floor.
His face greeted him, familiar, but also changed. The morning light seemed to change his skin. His scars a fine net. The former hollow cheeks filled. His cheekbone not more this sharp. He already got some colour.
He went closer and leaned forward. Are there even freckles?
He smirked amused. He could not remember when he saw freckles on his nose. Seemed a lifetime.
He turned to the kitchen, an half open space, sharing the living area. Setting his mug aside. Taking another. Fingerpainting from a pre-schooler as decor. Filing it with coffee. No suger, but Creme. The Colour of almond.
As silent as possible he made his way to the bedroom, holding the coffee mug in both hands. On his way he throw a glance up the stairs. There was no sound coming. His little doll was still asleep.
He entered chateaus the bedroom, walking careful to the bed to softly place the mug on the bedside cabinet. Stepped back, while his eyes get drawn to the bed.
His love rested there. Deep asleep the bedsheets wrapped chaoticly around her limps. The light of the sun painted her skin colden. A sleeping goddess between white silk.
He observed. Waited. Until he saw her nostrils widen. The coffee worked. As alway. Every morning.
Safin smiled as he watched his love slowly waking up by the scent of her favourite morning drink.
She lifted her head, wild wheat morning hair and sleep sticky eyes. Smiling drowsily she greeted him.
“Lyutsifer” A croaked voice, alas still honey to his heart.
“Good morning, my love.”
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