Chapter Text
It was the exhaustion that hit you first.
Not long after that, the weariness within you began to take hold as you struggled to stay awake -- fearful of what would happen should you surrender yourself to sleep. The months of the stress of pursuing a wanted man always left the nights restless as you laid there completely and utterly too wound up to even attempt to close your eyes. So on nights like these, you would lie awake to keep count of each noise you heard within the safehouse, almost as if you were expecting the members of Perseus to walk through that door at any given moment. Tonight should've been like most nights, but these past few hours proved that the only easy day had been yesterday.
Following the extraction from Cuba, you made the tough decision to leave Lazar behind in favor of hooking Park to your cable. You should've been silently mourning the stern but gentle man, but this night had other plans for you. Hours had passed since MK Ultra had been revealed to you in a last ditch effort to get you to relive memories you never knew you had. All this time you believed a lie that had been constructed for you by the CIA only to find those memories you had didn't belong to you. You were a trespasser to them even though you sought refuge in what they offered. More times than you could count you often replayed them in your mind before sleep, making yourself miss the "good old days" of serving alongside the best men you ever knew. That had been a lie as those weren't your memories to keep. They were merely a construct to offer you a false sense of security and belonging in order to slowly but surely coax the truth from you.
You should have known, comrade. His voice echoed in your mind as you rapidly swung your legs to the side to move off the cot. Do not trust Adler. He is lying to you.
"Too late. I already know that." You muttered to no one in particular as you made your way out of the room you shared with Helen Park. You were eager to be alone -- truly alone-- and away from prying eyes and eager ears.
You sought sanctuary outside the safehouse, choosing to let the cold crisp air keep you awake. Germany wasn't foreign to you because prior to being stationed here with the CIA and their allies you had found yourself here many a time to gather what intel you could. That much you remembered outside of the false ones that had been living in your mind for the past few months. Slowly they were returning to you, but would all of them find their way back after being wiped clean? You exhaled then as you found it hard to even think of it so casually. How could you ever think to fall asleep after everything that happened? Being tied down to a gurney, having the needle of a syringe stuck directly into the back of your eye, and nearly dying apparently left you feeling more exhausted than you had ever been before. It should’ve been so easy to fall asleep after that.
But how could you when the wheels were turning? When everything that seemed like a loose end was suddenly being tied together, making sense when before it had no place in the puzzle. The memories didn’t feel real; the dull suspicion throughout your time with the team felt as though you were on the outside looking in, and somehow it was so easy to dismiss it all back then. Your background raised a few eyebrows when Adler brought you on the team, but naturally, you found a place among them. Months with them felt like a lifetime, and Adler didn’t even have to lift a finger to drive that home for you to believe.
It was always there -- lurking in the contours of your mind that forced your brain to believe those memories had been real; to force you to see what he always wanted you to see. It was a seamless plan, and you were all but a tool. A toy soldier who allowed herself to be wound up and pointed in the next direction without question.
The palm of your hand met your forehead in one good smack, hoping perhaps that this was all a dream and you would awaken to Adler telling you it’s time to leave.
We got a job to do.
The repetitive phrase was something you assumed to be his annoying catchphrase, but knowing the origin of it suddenly left you feeling violated. It was so easy to ignore the feeling of being lied to then. Perhaps it was because you’d always known there was something terribly wrong, and maybe you didn’t want to believe it. Not when it implicated him -- Russell Adler.
He made it seem so easy then; lying to you and not showing any indication that he was. He had a dangerous charisma that rivaled your former colleague with a hint of coolness in his tone that suggested you never bothered him with your curious inquiries. His signature aviators often hid his eyes from your view but you could always see past the amber lenses as you looked right into his eyes. Most of your skills carried over post the brainwashing, but your ability to read people apparently did not. Nothing in his demeanor or his actions suggested otherwise.
Maybe you just didn’t notice it then because you were so desperate to believe there was something there hidden just beneath his many layers. His defense of you to anyone who didn’t believe in your abilities suggested as much, but maybe you were being naive. Maybe you should’ve known.
“Can’t sleep either?”
You turned your head and saw that Russell had stepped outside to where you were as he pulled out a cigarette to place in between his lips. You didn’t say anything but instead averted your attention to look up at the night sky. You could hear him shift his weight from one foot to the other as he stuck his hand in his coat pocket to find his lighter. It was a familiar habit of his; one that you picked up on in many instances where he seemed to be thinking to himself. It was perhaps a tactic he learned from the CIA to make persons of interest less suspecting of his true intentions, or maybe it was one of the many things you'd come to learn about the man. You suddenly tore your gaze away to look up at the cameras instead, and you shook your head as you rolled your lips together, finding it hard to not be on edge. They've probably been on you the moment you left the safehouse because apparently, you weren’t to be trusted even though you had disclosed Perseus’s true whereabouts to them.
The flick of a lighter brought your attention back to the man standing beside you and you found that his calm demeanor began to upset you as he calmly smoked seemingly unaffected by what he had done earlier.
“We’re gonna have to talk eventually.” Russell turned to you as the smoke slipped past his lips to curl into streams in the night air. “Ignoring me is just going to make things difficult.”
“You really expect me to be the same after what you did?” You replied coolly, watching him tilt his head slightly at the tone in your voice. “Using me to further your agenda.”
His look remained hidden behind his glasses as he puffed on the cigarette again. “Don’t act so high and mighty. It’s not like you.”
You scoffed at him then. “You never really knew me.”
“On the contrary, I think I have a pretty good understanding of just who you are, Bell.” His lips curled once more around the end of the cigarette as his gaze lingered on you. They stayed on your form even as he pulled the cigarette away to blow out the smoke you had gotten so used to. “You got some of my memories -- mainly of Vietnam, but you also gave me a bit of yourself. All of your fears along with your likes and dislikes, well, they’re all in here now.” He tapped a finger to his temple to emphasize his point. “You think I like having to resort to what I did? I’ve added it to the list of shit I had to do for the greater good. Trust me, kid, I don’t take any pleasure in it.”
The irritation laying dormant in you suddenly began to rise at the use of the nicknames. ‘Bell’ and ‘Kid’ -- two terms of familiarity that went beyond acquaintance the entire time within his company. It brought you back to all the times he said those names, making you remember his tone whenever he did. It was often warm, but not overly so that it would make you feel uncomfortable. No, where it was meant to be used in friendly terms your feelings had warped them to have a deeper meaning than what it was. The false memories of Vietnam only intensified them as you thought back to fighting by his and Sims’s side. You remembered what it felt like the first time Russell had said it to you, and the way your heart skipped made the feelings spring forward. You felt silly now as another thought slithered back into your mind of the movies you would see without anyone else's knowledge; remembering how fond you were of the black and white American movies and the attractive couples on the screen.
Even prior to MK Ultra being revealed to you, you would often think back to them. It should've been strange to have it brought up now, but perhaps his presence invoked what you didn't want to remember.
That's when you should’ve realized it.
Not long ago, a memory that wasn’t part of the ones of the war played out almost like a dream one night. Of Adler passing you a glass of his favored drink and you happily downing it in one shot while he told you a tale you hadn’t heard before. It could’ve been made up for all you knew, but you enjoyed being in his company; enjoyed taking part in this familiar camaraderie that so many experienced.
But this time it was different.
Whereas Russell always had his aviators on he suddenly slipped them off and tucked them into his coat pocket before he looked over at you. It was brief, but back then you could’ve sworn you saw a flash of something behind his eyes. At the time you didn’t know it, but looking back on it now it was easy to recognize it as regret. The sudden sensation beginning to pool in your belly intensified when you thought back to when you handed him the glass and of how his fingers gently brushed against yours. It caused the heat to rise in your cheeks at the action, and you hoped he hadn’t seen it, but somehow you knew he must have. Why else would he have filled your glass only to hand it back to you once more with a small ghost of a smile? Even the way you both were seated in that memory left you second-guessing his feelings. Especially when you realized that one of his arms had been casually resting upon your shoulder as he finished his story none the wiser.
Whether the memory had been real or not left many questions unanswered.
“Is this how it’s gonna be, Bell?” His question broke through your reverie as you looked up at him again. “You staying silent when we finally go after Perseus?”
“My name is not Bell.” You quipped while rising pushing yourself off the side of the wall. “I’m sure you know what my real name is. If so, start getting familiar with it, Adler. I’m no longer your little pet project.”
One of Russell’s eyebrows lifted up in surprise while he took one last drag from his cigarette. He was doing it again. Staring at you as though he didn’t know quite what to make of you. You hadn’t done a complete 180, but this new personality surfacing wasn’t what he was used to. You weren’t always Bell -- the good little soldier who did as she was told without leaving much room to question orders. You had personality then sure, but this? Your sudden demeanor was very much new to him.
Finally, after a moment of scrutinizing you, Adler drops his cigarette to the ground and takes a sudden step forward. The move didn’t surprise you as you thought it would. “I let you stay on the team despite Hudson’s warnings. I could've easily handed you off to him and the CIA.”
“For what? Aiding and abetting the US Government in war crimes?”
“You were doing war crimes long before we saved your ass on that tarmac.”
His comment stung more than it should have, but regardless you made a move to brush past him only to be stopped by his hand reaching out to grab hold of your arm. The action caught you off guard as you looked at him -- eyes demanding an answer as his grip tightened. Russell was a man who didn’t mince words, choosing to express exactly what was on his mind regardless of who he offended in the process. From the time you spent with him, you knew he often picked his battles when he knew his words would carry some weight, but for the first time, he seemed at a loss to do exactly that. Why should he have his reservations? Everything was already out in the open and there was no going back. Perhaps though that’s what he regretted.
It was a fine line he was tip-toeing, you knew it as well as he did. His demeanor said it all at this moment. You could’ve pulled away at any given moment and yet you didn’t find the urge to. He should’ve been reprehensible in your eyes and for good reason, but you couldn’t bring yourself to lash out. Not now, not when he was treating you differently than he had before. You were no longer ‘Bell’-- his ‘Bell’-- this controversial toy soldier that would’ve raised eyebrows outside of the CIA. No, you were an entirely different woman who happened to wear the same face Russell had grown accustomed to.
Gently, his fingers relaxed their grip as he slowly released his hold on you. Fingertips that should’ve been calloused from years of hard and grueling work seemed softer to the touch. You repressed the shiver that threatened to expose your softer side as those digits traced their path down your arm. You blinked as though coming out from a trance as you stepped past him all the while feeling his gaze follow your movement.
It wasn’t fair; Russell shouldn’t have such a hold over you.
The stuffiness of the garage which operated as the safe house left a lot to be desired. Back then it hadn’t bothered you as much, but now you suddenly longed for the cold Russian winters you never knew you missed.
Hudson, who had for some reason decided to stay behind, lingered against the desk that sat in front of the office. His eyes, also hidden by aviators, followed your brisk walk as though he was looking for any excuse to shoot you dead on sight. You paid him no mind as you made your way towards the room you had called yours for so long.
“What happened?”
His question would've gotten your attention had it not been for Helen Park emerging from the hallway, and so you kept walking as you chose to ignore him. The look on your face made her brow furrow in sympathy and perhaps regret though it wasn’t odd by any means for you had gravitated towards the woman during the last few months. Her eyes went from you to look beyond your shoulder as you heard Hudson and Adler conversing among each other. No doubt the topic the two men discussing were about you.
"All is well I hope?" She said, frowning when you shook your head and chose to remain quiet. "Right, I figured as much." Her tone was sympathetic -- something she just started showing as she realized you had saved her life, sacrificing Lazar in the process to pull her out with you. Helen was the only one to offer an objection to Adler's plan of forcing the memories he implanted to emerge, but her warnings did little to deter him. How could she stand by and allow him to do that to the woman who saved her life? Even she had little authority over him, but you should've known that from the conversations you two shared.
"Bell-"
"That's not my name." You fixed her with a stern look while looking out of the corner of your eye to find Adler watching you from his. "You know it too I'm sure."
Helen's lips pulled into a tight smile as she looked away. "Of course I do. It's quite lovely I might add."
Normally you would've played along, but you were in no mood. Not now, not when so much was at stake. The only thing motivating you now was stopping Perseus from exacting out their plan. It's all you could do when you didn't have enough of a backbone to defect and avoid this whole situation before it got out of hand. Maybe you didn't want to for you had grown accustomed to your general's praise on jobs well done. It wasn't as if you were his only right hand, but you were perhaps the only one who was given much more when the rest were given minimal tasks. It was probably the reason why Arash had tried unsuccessfully to snuff you out. The damned fool -- even if you did at times question your general and Perseus as a whole prior to this identity crisis, you still would've never given that man an ounce of ammunition to use against you. Your long-standing rivalry with him was a tale for another time though.
Gathering your thoughts, you looked directly at Helen until she was forced to meet your gaze. An emotion you couldn't quite place was beginning to overcome her features, and because she was much like Adler in regards to keeping her true feelings in check it left you trying to guess what it was. From what little you could tell, it seemed she was beginning to feel somewhat guilty over having taken part in Adler's idea of using MK Ultra, but much like with him, the realization of being lied and manipulated forced you to remain on your guard. It didn't matter if Helen showed you simple kindness throughout your time together, she was still someone who couldn't be trusted. Maybe along the way, you could reach a place where you could forgive her for everything.
Today was not that day.
"I'll tell you the same thing I told Adler. Learn my name, I'm not Bell anymore."