Last Train Out of Philadelphia (5)
Author: @deadbranch Pairing: Frank Woods x fem!OC Anya Stilwell Warnings: 18+ MDNI, uncertainty, implied abduction or foul play, impolite language, Woods being Woods. Summary: Woods & Stilwell decompress over some breakfast. Word Count: 1k A/N: Not a lot happens in this chapter, but there are moments. Tiny moments that mean something.
SERIES MASTERLIST
LAST TRAIN OUT OF PHILADELPHIA (5)
The drive to breakfast was relatively short, but the silence elongated the journey in ways Anya couldn’t have predicted.
The presence of a listening device in Meier’s office in unconfirmed, but for the sake of caution, Woods advised that they act accordingly.
The irony of West Berlin’s premier listening post being bugged is not lost on her. She always assumes someone is listening, but it's an easy thing to take for granted, especially with the cold malaise that settles in before winter, as though the enemy has gone into hibernation early.
Without the perceived freedom to talk shop, there seems to be very little to discuss with Woods.
Vaguely, she wonders if he has a hobby. As the thought passes through her head, the remembered sound of his sarcasm promptly chases that thought right back out again, like a broom pushing a cat from the porch.
The traffic signal changes and she’s back to thinking of the lyrics to that song she heard this morning. She hopes that Meier is alive.
Shit.
Woods gazes out the window, if one could call it gazing. He never quite seems relaxed, and the word 'gaze' seems too casual to describe what he does. He’s ready, but for what? She’d hate to imagine
Mason had mentioned Woods in more than passing, the last time they met for lunch in D.C. He takes some getting used to, but there’s not a more loyal person to have your back, in the world. Ever.
Looking back on her first day at 620 Kilo, she didn’t recognize the infamous Frank Woods. She thought he was still away, doing Uncle Sam knows what in the cold remote reaches of the less-than-free world.
“Thanks, Woods.”
He angles his head away from the window at the sound of her voice.
“For what?”
She thought she knew what to say, but the words are stuck.
“Don’t know. I’m just…thankful.”
He grunts softly as his blue eyes return to the icy streets of West Berlin.
“All in a day’s work, I guess.”
In her peripheral vision, he gives her a sidelong careful look.
“Am I as bad as you expected?” she asks, more for his benefit than her own.
“Don’t know what you mean.”
Anya can’t decide if his reply was too quick, or just one more answer in a sea of responses to which he pays little concern. He doesn’t seem like the type to overthink much of anything, especially people.
As they get out of the vehicle, the gray slush is pleasantly absent around her boots. Woods stands still on his side of the vehicle after he shuts his door.
“Hey.”
She faces him, already two paces closer to the walkway that surrounds the restaurant. She shades her eyes against the mid-morning sunlight, waiting for some platitude or the usual war-weary wisdom.
“You’re alright. Despite what you think, I like working with you.”
Anya tilts her head in the opposite direction, shifting her hand to shelter her gaze against the glare.
“Thank you. You’re alright, too.”
“Nah,” he replies, but his tone and hand gesture imply that he’s dismissing the conversation rather than disagreeing with her. “Come on. Let’s eat.”
Woods offers the pepper shaker to Stilwell but is met with a polite silent declining shake of her head as she chews.
He has no idea how any civilized human being consumes eggs without both salt and black pepper.
After setting down her cutlery, she adjusts her posture before speaking. He smiles to himself at the officer’s school behavior. He wonders idly if she attended West Point.
“What do you think happened to Meier?” she asks with measured care.
He glances upward at her as he bends for another bite of egg, chews quickly, then swallows.
“No way to know yet. MPs are there now. They’ll likely pull in CID before end of day.”
“Is that why we we’re here? To stay out of the way?”
He reaches for his coffee, sucking something out from between his back teeth before taking a sip.
“That…and it’s nice to talk without Ivan listening in.”
She lets out a dry, silent huff of laughter preceding her next bite of pastry. Woods watches her for a moment, hoping she doesn’t misconstrue his gaze for something offensive or demeaning. She’s unusual. Pays close attention to detail but isn’t ruffled by the bigger picture. She’ll go far.
He has no frame of reference for wherever she’s at in her head. He has no idea what it’s like to see nothing but good things while gazing down the long hallway of a life not yet lived.
For him, it’s always been more like staring down the length of a gun barrel, praying his next move is in the opposite direction of where they expect him to be next.
“You’re not wrong,” she finally replies after swallowing the bite.
It’s his turn to crack a smile and look anywhere but into her eyes.
“I’m used to it.”
“Used to what?”
“Not being wrong,” he says, his eyes glancing at her for a moment. Maybe half a moment. Nothing too obvious.
“And how’s that working out for you? Being neither wrong nor right?”
She’s clever. She knows it, too.
He traces the pattern on the napkin beneath his other hand before picking up a piece of sausage with his fork.
“Lonely. When you operate in the gray, nothing’s ever clear one way or the other. Just the moments. The ones that count. What’s the point of being right if you’re dead?”
It’s then that he decides he should take Stilwell to breakfast again, or at least invite her out. If she says no, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s been turned down by someone with a better offer.
When they arrive back at the listening post, the MPs are still there. A few unfamiliar civilian vehicles are parked out front in addition to the MPs' Jeeps.
Anya takes a deep breath just as Woods moves in front of her, blocking her view of the building.
“Hey. Just act natural. They’ve got a job to do, same as us. Same bullshit, just different paygrade.”
His platitudes aren’t as annoying to her this morning. Maybe he’s growing on her.
Maybe.
Next Chapter
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