atomicblnd:
‘ paris. ’ she repeats without missing a beat, the hint of a smile still playing on her lips. truth be told after the debriefing she was about ready for all of it to be over. five-fucking-years, more than that, if you count the two years they had her set up and establish the identity that now was so second nature to her. this was her chance to finish all of it, to cut all loose ends she might still have, to burn them completely before she vanishes to never return. ‘ bremovich. ’ she offers then, enough information for him to count one and one together yet again, to understand that those who had caused her to lose spyglass, that those who gave her hell, would have to pay.
was this a farewell? not necessarily, it didn’t have to be. ‘ no, not a farewell. not if you come with me. ’
“bremovich,” he repeats, shoulders hunching up and then dropping with a long sigh, the kind that had him rolling back his neck and staring at the ceiling. bremovich, of course. so it was personal. he knew most of the big players in the game, and that was, as one might say, a big fish. the kind of fish you don’t reel in without the kind of ‘in’ she had. the kind of fish that never traveled alone, the kind of fish that had at least three other fish guarding his six. bremovich would not be an easy target to work around. “i’ve got good people in paris,” he said, straightening up. his comment was a signal that he was on board. big fish often have big enemies. he would also benefit from the man being out of commission.
“come with you?” he questioned, smiling, careful veneer dropping. come with her where, exactly? out? out of berlin, out of germany? the thought felt impossible, the kind of impossible that had him laughing just a bit. “that’s a funny joke, i see your sense of humor survived the wall.”
