Chapter Text
.o.
Unwritten Spy Rule No 1: Never go unarmed.
.o.
Instead of wondering who would dare to bother him in the middle of the night as a normal person would Black just took his gun and released it. It was either one of his fellow spies or an enemy, although it was very unlikely for any one of them to actually knock, but he had been part of this for too long already to let down his guard because of such mundane details. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder how they had found him here. This was his private apartment, for crying out loud, and when he said `private´ he meant that not even his own embassy knew it even existed. Not that he was aware of at least.
Anyway. It seemed after tonight he would have to find a new sanctuary, which was a pity considering that he actually liked it here. Friendly neighbours, beautiful location in a calm residential district, far away from everything that could be interesting to any spy but still near enough to get to work without much problems. Only death promised a more peaceful atmosphere and he wasn’t ready to retire yet.
Well, whoever dared to destroy his little piece of heaven was going to suffer indescribable before he would even consider asking why they came after him in the first place. Had they any idea what a pain in the ass the real estate market was even for people who weren’t paranoid for justified reasons?
Black – that wasn’t his name, not even his code-name. The insult battles with his archenemy had at one point simply gotten so far that he hadn’t come up with anything smarter that call the other `White´ simply for always dressing in white and got called `Black´ in return for the same reason and now they were both stuck with it – sneaked to his front door, kneeled down and looked through the door crack. Some would call it silly, but, really, the times that alone had saved him from being blown to pieces proved him right.
He only saw a hand, probably still connected to the body it belonged to, but he hadn’t become one of the top spies – if not the top spy – because he could be easily distracted. He also searched for a trigger through the keyhole, but couldn’t find even the smallest hint so the only thing he actually could do, was to open the door and brace for everything, from missiles to one of his neighbours, although the last part was very unlikely considering the hour.
*Well, there’s only one way to find out.*
Black pulled the door open ... and nothing happened. In fact, the corridor looked exactly the way it should, except for a lone, unmoving figure next to his door, dressed completely in white.
The dark spy quickly secured the corridor, before he checked on the person and only when he was sure that it was not a doll – he would not be fooled twice by the same trick – and that this was indeed his favourite archenemy, he allowed himself to be surprised.
What in the name of all that was holy was White doing in front of his private apartment in the middle of the night? And would someone be so kind and explain to him why he was unconsciousness? Well, no, the later was no doubt due to his altogether horrible condition and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen the other spy beaten up before, but never when he wasn’t the reason for it, which he definitely hadn’t been this time. It gave him a feeling of wrongness, but he ignored it in favour of considering his options carefully.
He could always follow his orders and just kill the man, get rid of the corpse, maybe take a few pictures to prove it and catapult himself at the very top of the payroll as well as the white nation’s most wanted list. Not that he hadn’t archived both already, but in the end curiosity got the better of him.
Why would White come to him of all people? And no one could tell him it was a coincidence that the other had dragged himself into the fifth of eleven floors of the middle one of three identical buildings and to a door not less than six apartments from the stairway as well as the elevator – when he clearly should be at a hospital or at least the sick bay of his embassy.
Maybe he should just go back in and pretend he hadn’t seen anything, but in a few hours his neighbours would wake up. Black somehow doubted he would be able to talk himself out of having a half dead man in front of his door, not to mention that he didn’t want to traumatise the pair next door nor their two kids. Of course he wouldn’t admit, even under the worst torture, that he might have a soft spot for them, but the point was: the less attention everyone paid to him and his apartment, the better.
And then there was this emotion, one he hadn’t felt in years, at least not since the early days of his training. He didn’t like it at all, especially because of the reason it came back now. In fact, he didn’t even want to name it, but nonetheless did he feel compassion rise inside him. Not very much, but enough to put his gun away and pick the other man up.
“I’m so going to regret this” he told himself before he made sure absolutely no one else was around and carried White into his domicile.
.o.
Unwritten Spy Rule No 2: Never expect mercy.
.o.
Two hours later Black let himself slip into his favourite armchair, brandy on ice in one hand, his gun in the other, eyes resting on his still unconsciousness counterpart (who resembled more a mummy now than a spy) on his couch. He had had to correct his first assumption. White had not just been beaten up; by the look of it has it been damn near the line of being tortured, but by whom? If his own embassy would have gotten hold of White, he would have heard about it and Lady Grey was didn’t work like this.
She was dangerous and ruthless and Black had learned the hard way not to underestimate her. However, her methods were usually more subtle. This simply wasn’t her style and since Black hadn’t run into White for a while it only left one possible option: A forth party had entered the playfield. That would also explain to a certain degree why White had come to him – the enemy of my enemy and all that jazz – but it was not very likely that a new organization could be good enough to trap the man even he had his fair share of problems with without kicking up some dust beforehand.
On second thought would that actually fit into the story quite nicely, but his guts were telling him that wasn’t the case here and he trusted his instincts for good reasons.
At least he had someone to answer his questions and this someone was just waking up.
Black expected the other spy to reach for his gun – which laid in Black’s safe – jump up and at least try to escape. He was prepared for that, already moving to take aim at the other, but again he was surprised.
Acting against every single instinct the other must have developed during his own training, White only lifted his head, looked around in alarm and laid back with a relieved if disappointed sigh as soon as he spotted Black. That he was unarmed in his enemy’s apartment and aimed at by said enemy didn’t seem to worry him at all.
“Mind to tell me what you were doing at my door?”
No reaction. Had that crazy bastard fainted on him? It would be the first thing this night not surprising him.
“I’m not known for my patience, as you should know best.”
“If you’d have any intention to kill me, you would have already done so. You want information, I’ve got them and since I’m not in the shape to survive any further torture, I would like to go back to sleep if you don’t mind.”
That bastard! He seemed to be in a better shape than Black would have given him credit for, already getting cocky again, but obviously in a bad enough shape to accidentally let valuable information slip through.
“So you have been tortured. Interesting.”
White actually winced, which must have hurt, but the other cared little about it.
“Just leave me alone.”
“Unlikely, considering this is my apartment.“
The wounded didn’t answer, just continued to stare Black right in the eyes until the dark dressed man sighed and rose.
“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this” he grumped and went to the kitchen. Although White wasn’t in the condition to fight, probably not even able to stand, and Black had the only weapon in the room, he never let the other spy out of his sight while he made them a few sandwiches. One could never be too careful after all.
He put the plate down on the white spy’s stomach, took one for himself and went searching for a blanket since the other would likely stay for at least a few hours. He didn’t care if White was comfortable, but he definitely hadn’t gone through the work of patching him back together to let him freeze to death without getting more information out of him.
“You’re either growing old or sentimental. Or both” White teased emotionless, but accepted the cover without hesitation.
“You’re one to talk. I’m just trying something new and while you’re here you’ll never know what is going to happen next. Your food could be poisoned, I could stab you while you sleep ... You’re completely at my mercy right now” Black said giving the other spy his mark trade evil-bastard-grin before heading for his bedroom.
“You wouldn’t dare ...!”
“Why not? You’re overestimating you’re value to me. I actually don’t need any information from you and, as you know, I can be quite a sadist if I want to. Rest well. Oh, and the little one next door is teething, but you should be used to screaming, shouldn’t you?”
Black closed the door, satisfied with the outcome of their little chat. White had looked quite worried and that certainly not because of the teething baby. He was probably not going to get much sleep, while Black himself booby trapped his door just in case and got as comfortable as he could with his archenemy in his home. The next day promised to be entertaining.
.o.
Unwritten Spy Rule No 3: Never show mercy.
.o.
The following day turned out to be ... actually no fun at all.
Since Black hated to waste food – he was by no means a nice person or any such thing, but he had gotten to know true hunger – he had to tell White just that in order to make him eat the damn sandwich and he couldn’t quite bring himself to torment the other with more than just a bit rough handling and threats. It just wasn’t any fun to kick someone already down. Not always at least.
In addition to that did the question who’d done that to the other spy concern him more and more, because that same person/organisation could also be a real threat to him, so after a late breakfast he seated himself again in his armchair and repeated his question.
“Who did this to you?”
“You ask pretty much for one who has no need for information.”
Fantastic. He should have expected his own words to be turned against him. Well, he had, but that made it no less frustrating.
“Call it curiosity.”
“Curiosity kills the cat.”
“You should know best, laying half dead in front of my door, which reminds me to mention that I know that you knew exactly whose door you knocked on.”
“Now you’re overestimating your value. I was at my limit and it was a door to an illuminated room, which usually means someone’s still awake. Now kill me, let me go or start asking some real questions before I die out of boredom!”
They could go on like this for hours just for the fun of mocking the other, but a knock interrupted them. A sharp glare promised White some `real´ questions if he tried anything, while Black went to open the door, wondering who it would be this time.
He half expected Lady Grey stopping by, with tea and biscuits, but to his relieve it was only his neighbour with her little daughter.
“Morning, Mrs M.”
“Morning? It’s almost noon” the young woman laughed. She always seemed to be happy and he wondered if it was only because her husband wasn’t – she had told him once he absolutely hated his job, but did it anyway for his family – and Black really tried to dislike her for it. It was a losing battle, to say the least.
“I’m sorry if I interrupted something. I heard voices.”
Black followed her look over his shoulder, mainly to make sure the other spy didn’t do anything. White had turned around and vanished under the blanket just in time so that the woman would not get suspicious by seeing a wounded man in her neighbour’s apartment. The police was something they both could do without.
“Yes, er ... he’s just an acquaintance. Got kicked out by his wife, so I let him crash here for the night.”
“I see” she replied, believing him without hesitation. To her he was just a handsome middle aged man who wasn’t very often at home – he had implied his none-descript government job had him travelling often. Sometimes sticking close to the truth was actually the best cover – left aside that he was `such a lovely dear´ when he actually was at home.
Maybe he would have considered calling her a friend, had he chosen any other profession.
“So ... You couldn’t take Nathalie for a while, could you? I’ve been putting off going to the grocery’s for too long already.”
The little one whined and hid her face in her mother’s neck. Black shared the sentiment. Children were just so ... ugh. He didn’t mind them next door, but the thought of being alone with one, independent of his arch-enemy on the couch, was maybe the scariest thing he had ever faced and that meant a lot.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mrs M, but I need to get a few things myself, so if you’d just hand me your list, I could bring your stuff, too.”
“Oh, thank you very much, dear. You’re a real life saviour.”
Oh, damn it. On day he would start thinking before he actually said something like this, but now it was too late.
“I’m sorry we’re such a nuisance. Sometimes it’s as if there is a black hole in my fridge.”
“It’s not a bother, Mrs M. Has Nathalie all her teeth yet? I didn’t hear her cry last night.”
“Oh, I really hope she has. And it’s Boney, dear, I told you to call me Boney. Everyone does.”
“Alright, Boney. I’ll come over and pick up the list in a few minutes, okay?”
“No need to hurry. Forgot to write one anyway. I’m terribly sorry.”
“It’s alright. Just go and write it while I get my coat.”
“Okay. Thank you so much.”
Black waved her goodbye and finally closed the door, sighing with relieve. Sometimes he thought the only way to make her shut up was to actually strangle her and sometimes he wasn’t too far from it either.
“Just to make it clear: yes, I like them, no, it’s not a weakness to enjoy the company of normal people once in a while, and no, I don’t like them enough to get blackmailed” he said while walking in his bedroom and picking up some random clothes out of his closet, throwing them at White.
“I want you gone before I return. Use the second key and close the door behind you. I’ll at least change lockers anyway, not to mention move away. And, for God’s sake, don’t make too much of a mess when you search the apartment. The only valuable thing I have here are a few weapons – including yours – which are all in my jacket anyway.”
“You’re kicking me out?”
“No. If you would live here or I’d care about your presence in any way, I would kick you out, but since this is my home and you’re just an unwanted invader I give you the chance to remove yourself before I make you. I’ll be back in an hour.”
.o.
Unwritten Spy Rule No 4: Never stay in debt of anyone.
.o.
When Black came back from the grocery with four large bags of which only the smallest was for himself – by all means, did they expect guest (please, no) or had this family truly a black hole or two to feed? – he was greeted by a every cheerful Boney with his second key and a monolog about how lovely this friend of his’ was.
“Oh, yeah, he is ... nice” he said taking the keys.
*I’m gonna kill him. Why the fuck didn’t he just left the damn thing in the mailbox.*
“Sorry, but it was a rather short night and I still have some cleaning up to do.”
“Of course. Do you need any help, dear?”
“No, no, thanks. It’s not that bad, just bothersome.”
It wasn’t even a lie, not really at least. When he had left, his apartment been relative clean considering he liked to be lazy when in private; just some random cups and old newspapers laying around, and that was exactly the state he found his home in when he opened the door. The only thing different seemed to be the absence of the other spy.
*Okay, how much could he possible done without leaving a trace while I was gone?*
Black decided the answer lay somewhere around `a whole fucking lot´ and started to search, but to his surprise even after four hours of intensively turning his own, familiar apartment up site down he could find nothing out of place: no traps aside from those he set up himself, no cameras, no microphones, neither seemed anything missing beside the clothes he had given White and the blanket.
*Don’t tell me that fucker just up and left and only took the stupid blanket! What the hell is going on here?*
For a brief moment Black considered to say it out loud, just to prove it really sounded as ridiculous in his ears as it did in his head, instead he poured himself some whiskey, but didn’t drink. After all it could be poisoned.
*Honestly, with what? He had nothing with him and the cleaning agents are all coloured* he thought, but skipped the liquor into the sink anyway. Better safe than sorry, because sorry agents were dead ones and he had thought ahead and brought a new bottle anyway.
.o.
Three days later the delivery service of a laundry nearby brought him a package, already paid, with the clothes he had `lend´ White in it. It was likely the closest thing to a thank you note he would ever receive; the blanket, however, never returned.