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November/December 1992, The Balkans

As long as Vadim was around, Dan spent the morning exactly as he would have normally, then went to phone Maurice in Belgrade centre. He was lucky, his mate was off duty early that day, and they met in a café near the French embassy, where Maurice downed his obligatory wine, or two, or three, and Dan, for once, stuck to strong coffee, black and brutal. He liked it the Serbian way.

He told Maurice all he needed to know, asking the man to collect the Russian, and after a few questions, as remarkably dry as the whole man, Maurice shrugged, lit another cigarette with the glowing butt of the one before, and nodded. He'd pick up 'the parcel' and make sure Dima would be taken good care of, while they were trying to figure out the paperwork.

It was getting towards the end of Vadim's dayshift time, when Dan headed back, hurrying to get to the camp before the other returned. Checking the vehicle park, he booked one of the Landrovers for later, and wished he had a legitimate reason to sign out a weapon, but the bastards had no duties for him that warranted the extra security, and he counted as a civilian - officially. Not that that stopped any of the goddamned natives on either side to pick up an AK and go slaughtering, just as Dima had mentioned. He'd simply have to be careful.

Dan packed his bergan with a few necessities, including - as always - his basic survival kit and his favourite knife, adding a stash of sandwiches and a couple of water bottles. A life on the line had taught him to be always prepared and never assume anything. He left the bergan in the vehicle and avoided Vadim in the room, pretending to head out with his team, only to sneak back in under the cover of darkness. Exchanging a few quiet words with the guards and making sure he didn't cross Vadim's path, he hid in the Lannie, with clear view of most of the camp.

He waited. Watching the dorms for signs of Vadim, while staying hidden in the shadows. Wrapped up in his heaviest winter gear, he had to be patient once more.

Vadim's face was closed like a steel door, frowning darkly, hiding agitation as he headed out, carrying only a light pack. Away, towards where he'd hid Dima. He rushed, travelling as fast as possibly, worry and anger and most of all the feeling of time ticking away.

Dan followed, the lights of his vehicle off, picking his way in the darkness with nothing but the moonlight. Counting on Vadim's state of mind to lessen the man's alertness. He parked a distance away while Vadim went through the shelled building again, searching every little place where somebody could hide, eventually picked up two AKs and a bag of ammo, checked both rifles, but they were in working order. Checking for footprints, for anything that would allow him to track Dima, but there was nothing, the ground was too frozen for boot prints, and not enough snow to help him.

Vadim still couldn't let it go, checked again, but eventually, he sat down, looking defeated, tired, and immensely worried. Dan had left his vehicle, moved closer to the building, and was watching while staying hidden. Breath misting in the freezing cold, he had to be careful, but seeing Vadim's face, the way he looked worried, not angry, he was glad he had taken the risk. Perhaps Vadim wasn't a completely unhinged madman. Not yet.

Vadim picked up the rifle again and headed up the hills, into the valley behind. Towards the 'farm', and Dan followed once more, had legged it back to the Lannie when Vadim started the engine, and was picking a neckbreaking path through the darkness.

Eventually, Vadim's Landrover pulled up in front of a secluded farm building. Frost had silvered the grass, and the dead guard dog with its entrails spilled out. Vadim pulled his gloves up and took the AK off his shoulder to enter the main building.

Dan, following in a distance, left his vehicle far enough away that his engine could not be heard. Making his way quietly towards the building. He'd seen Vadim enter, and he'd also noticed the weapons, while he couldn't make out the make in the darkness, he had no doubt it wasn't British issue, and no way in hell had Vadim signed a chit for any of them.

He carefully pushed the door open, but no sound from inside, Vadim was either waiting for him, or he had already moved through, but he counted on his instinct. That instinct told him the other man had no idea he was being followed.

Inside, carnage. The kitchen held two dead men, only winter and the fact that the building hadn't been heated had slowed down decomposition, but the stench of blood was everywhere. These men had died a messy death, one after the other, the method of killing was knife, deep, horrible wounds in vital organs, precise, cold-blooded stab wounds that betrayed the savage strength of somebody bent to wreak the most destruction. The jobs had been finished by cutting their throats to let them bleed out like pigs, to make sure nobody could save them.

It was the same image everywhere, carnage all over the building, when Dan crept through the rooms, never catching sight of Vadim. Up in the bedrooms, some had been murdered in their sleep. All of them dressed like chetniks, AKs and ammo all over the place, the bodies looked like from the set of a horror film, only it was far too real.

If Dan hadn't seen and done what he did, he'd be sick, but as it was, his stomach churned, but more from the shock that this was the work of his … lover. A madman had done this. Someone unhinged and completely out of control, and that was Vadim? So much for his earlier hope.

He pressed himself against the wall, right on top of the stairs at the landing, when he heard a sound downstairs.

"Dima?" Vadim called, in Russian. "Are you here?" He was standing in the kitchen, hoping that Dima had made his way back, even if - and he admitted that - it didn't make much sense. But if he'd been Dima, and needed assistance, food, water, maybe a phone, he'd come back here, probably lay low for a day or two, and then head out again. But no answer.

Dan was debating with himself, was it safe enough - without a weapon - to make it downstairs? Deciding against it. He strained to hear any movement from below, but all he could make out was one faint sound beneath a boot. Vadim was still as good as he had been in Afghanistan, but so was he, and he braced himself with a deep breath in the icy cold.

"Did that make you feel any better, Vadim?" He called out, into the darkness.

Dima? No. Dan. Of course Dan. Vadim moved towards the door, didn't want to confront Dan, bad enough that Dan had managed to follow him here, and doubtlessly seen what he'd done. Dan didn't have the stomach for this kind of thing, didn't, for once, do what had to be done to make even a small difference in this fucked-up country. Better? Worse. Didn't matter. Dima wasn't here, but he needed to find him. Maybe the other place. Maybe they'd brought Dima there. If the chetniks were still around, that would mean killing. He left the house, made sure he couldn't be seen from any of the windows, then sprinted towards the Landrover. He'd have to shake Dan off. He didn't have time for this.

"Shit!" Dan ran down the stairs, almost tripping over, and only managed to catch himself in the last moment. Legging it back to his vehicle, he could see Vadim racing off in the distance, and forced himself to do what the fuck he needed them to do. He reached the Lannie in record time, revving the engine, light on this time, he sped after Vadim. Driving as much like a madman as the other. He was not going to let him get away, no way. Not this time. He should have done something earlier. Damned pride, and thrice damned hurt, but perhaps he could have prevented this pointless carnage in a place full of murder, rape and pain. It made Vadim no better than any of the others - because he had no orders to kill.

Vadim drove fast, shaken on his seat when the car bucked across the frozen ground. What the fuck did Dan want from him? Why here? Why now? He steadily climbed the next mountain, next valley, he knew there was another place where a bunch of chetniks ran their operations from, this one near a pass and just too conveniently placed close to a road. He couldn't just drive in if he wanted to get them all. Remembering for a moment how he'd almost shot Dima when he'd found that other farm. Dan. Fuck. He didn't want to talk, not now, not about that shit, he wanted to focus on what he could change and could deal with. Bastard!

But Dan wouldn't let up, he was following Vadim into territory he only knew from the maps. Racing through the night, he frowned when Vadim took the path towards the valley, but he had to catch Vadim, get some sense into him and stop this goddamned madness.

Vadim drove the car into a protected bit, not too far off the road, but deep enough to not be spotted, and jumped out, grabbing his weapons, ammo, and pack, while Dan arrived not too much later. Keeping his vehicle further away, on the other side and beneath a crop of trees. Vadim headed up, on foot, trying to reach the mountain top above the cluster of buildings. He'd need to scout the place, but the plan was to kill them before first light. All of them. Unless they had Dima.

But Dan had other plans, and he jumped out of the car, leaving the bergan behind, as he ran after Vadim. Groaning with each step up the mountain, each jarring of his knees, but he wasn't far behind.

Vadim turned while running, saw Dan fight up the mountain, and lengthened his stride, speeding up, lungs painfully filled with every breath due to the cold. It felt like needles in his chest, but he went on, making it to the top and the much steeper descent on the other side.

Dan was breathless, and his knees hurt like absolute fuck, but he got to the top with all the determination he'd ever possessed. "You stupid fuck!" He forced out, nearly nauseous with the exertion. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Vadim suddenly turned, breath misting around him, near the highest point of the mountain. A shocking mistake in Afghanistan, but here, the trees around him hid his silhouette, and he snarled. "What does it look like?"

Dan grimaced, hands clenched into fists in the thick gloves, "like a fucking madman on a killing rampage. Without orders!" Crossing the last few steps, he was shaking with anger, "like a murderer! Because you're no fucking better than them!"

"Fuck orders!" shouted Vadim. "Fuck your bloody fucking orders! Ordering me to fucking take this lying down what's happening here? No fucking way!"

"You're a fucking disgrace to any soldier!" Dan was shaking his fist, livid with rage by now. It all came out, everything that had built up in the last weeks. "You take this personal then, arsehole? Didn't stop you committing the same shit in Afghanistan, did it? Didn't seem to take it personal then."

Vadim felt that impact, right to the core. Disgrace. He'd heard that so often, and he'd disbelieved it, until one day he'd accepted it because he couldn't fight it off any longer. It was easier to give in, he'd been worn out, and every effort to deny this - that he had given in - only pushed the bullet deeper. Dan snarling into his face, the accusations - that they had done the same thing, but no, this war was uglier, out of proportion, a seething, festering, self-destructive hatred that had nothing to do with the boneheadedness of the Pashtuns. He closed the distance to push Dan away, hands impacting against Dan's broad chest. "Fuck you."

Face distorted with anger, Dan fought the hands off, merely half-stumbling before he found his balance again. "No, fuck you, Russkie. Who the fuck suddenly turned you into the Avenger?" Pushing his own hands against Vadim's chest, bodyweight behind it. "Or is it because you wanted to kill me but didn't quite have the guts for it?"

"It's the only fucking thing I can do to change anything", hissed Vadim, voice sounding strangled with anger and other emotions, and he moved half a step further up. "Anything at-fucking-all. Do you think I want to sit on my hands and just wait it out? Like everybody else?"

"Do you think I want to, arsehole?" Dan pushed again, a violent shove, all his anger, frustration and hurt behind the movement. "You think you're something special, and you think that none of the other guys isn't going fucking insane with this? Who the fuck do you think you are? Wielder of life and fucking death?" He suddenly meant something very different, and Dan's hand clenched into a fist. "Do you?" Yelling at Vadim, "do you decide on life and death?" The fist flew towards Vadim's jaw.

Vadim evaded the blow with a sideways motion, hadn't expected that it would come in so hard, had been a while since Dan had seriously tried to fuck him up. He grabbed Dan's parka while he fell, pulling him with him, hitting the ground, and an elbow-punch found its way into Dan's chest. Holding onto him was like fighting a bucking horse, powerful kicks and punches while they rolled and slid down the stony, frosty slope, punching and kicking and cursing.

One particularly violent kick from Dan, after Vadim's fist had caught his jaw and his teeth rattled in his skull, and they tilted forward, sliding, bodies entwined, as they lost balance completely, toppling, rolling, one over the other, down a steep slope, slippery with loose stones that accelerated around them, noisily crashing downwards. They scrabbled with arms and legs, trying to stop the fall, until they hit a plateau, coming down hard, when their bodies crashed onto the rock, Dan on top of Vadim.

Rattled, disoriented for a moment, hurting in every place, Dan managed to look around before Vadim got his bearings, neither of them moving. They hung over a steep drop, below a deep valley, and … "Oh fuck!" Dan got out, spitting blood, as he stared down.

Vadim coughed, several stones had impacted on his ribs on the way down, and he was just glad it had stopped, even though Dan still had the front of his parka clutched in his fists. Appetite for the fight dulled by the pain, and Dan's sudden incredulous expression. "What?" Twisting his head to be able to peer down to what Dan was staring at.

"Don't move." They were so close to the drop, a wrong movement could throw them over the edge, and the loose stones were still rolling down the rock face and towards the valley. "Look!" Dan pointed to what had to be a camp. And a prisoner camp at that. A goddamned fucking camp where there shouldn't be one. Rows of metal shacks, hardly more than cages, search lights, guards, and what seemed like corrals. "Where the fuck are we?" Dan's voice was breathless, as he held onto Vadim and the ground.

Vadim twisted his neck and then reached into his pocket, freeing the folded-up map, checking the area, squinting to make out the words. "Just north of here", he murmured, indicating a spot. "The pass is here, that's the road, that's the car."

Dan carefully rolled off Vadim, trying to keep his balance. "This is not supposed to be here." Holding his jaw, the bastard had got him at least a couple of times, and the pain blossomed. "They are emptying out Manjaca, and in Omarska …" Dan never finished the sentence, when a search light suddenly moved up the side of the hill, blinding him, as it hit them full force.

"Run", said Vadim, and Dan was already getting to his feet. Somebody was probably already on the way, and possibly a bunch of snipers to boot. They weren't all incompetents, and Vadim moved away from the brink, feeling his body protest after the punches, his own fingers hurting, face, chest, fuck, he wasn't twenty anymore when he'd have hardly felt this.

First priority was to evade the light. Second was to get the fuck back into the 'safe zone', which meant back to camp. Nothing was truly safe in this fucking country. Vadim moved, ducked, climbed up to the peak, the rifle unwieldy across his back, then broke into a run, but he glanced to his shoulder before he did, checking on Dan, who was not far behind him. Comrade, above all, right now. "To the car."

Dan grunted an affirmative, knew it was all about being as fast as they could be. Detected. Detected while having detected what shouldn't be there. He had a fair idea how much their lives were worth right now, and he forced his body to comply. Once more, always another time, beaten-up body or not. Racing down the hill, stumbling a couple of times, when roots were in the way and the moon didn't get through the trees, but every time, despite the jarring pain, he went on, tried to run even faster, Vadim in front of him.

They were almost at the foot of the hill when a telltale sound cut through the air and an almighty explosion threw them both onto their backs. Vadim closer, the impact even harder, when the RPG hammered into Vadim's vehicle, leaving them scrabbling in the frozen forest dirt. The trees and leaves the only thing that had sheltered them from the worst of the blast. "Shit!" Dan yelled, deaf from the explosion, crawling on all fours towards Vadim, who just raised his head, looking angry more than shocked. Dan was yelling at him, but Vadim couldn't hear a thing.

"Key!" Dan shouted, fishing his own car key out of his pocket, pushing it into Vadim's gloved hand as he gestured down the road, towards his Landrover. "You're faster!" And he was already up again, his body complying to a mind that would never give up. Never.

Vadim glanced at the key in his hand, then jumped to his feet, hearing only the blood rush in his ears and the odd ring that told him his eardrums had filed a complaint. No way to hear shots now, or pursuers. He ran towards Dan's vehicle, briefly wondered how he'd explain that he'd 'lost' a car 'out there', jumped into the Landrover and started the machine, while Dan was close behind, running as fast as he could.

Vadim pushed the AK over towards Dan when he tore the passenger door open and threw himself inside. "Go! Go!" Dan yelled, and he took the automatic, turned on his seat to allow for maximum coverage of any pursuers.

Gas pedal met bottom. Vadim tore the car around, the wheels finding purchase on the frozen ground, loose stones flying everywhere when the Lannie jumped forward and broke through some undergrowth onto the frozen road. A wild turn, tyres gripping asphalt, Vadim saw, just in time, a convoy of two jeeps move towards them. Pursuers? He couldn't risk it. The car screeched into a bootlegger turn, away from the quickest way back to the camp, and into the opposite direction.

The next moment bullets hit the Landrover, and Dan ducked, cursing under his breath, at the same time yanking the window down. He hung far out of it, aiming at their pursuers, firing at the windshields, then at the lights. He hit one of them, and the vehicle veered to the side but kept going, while the second one gained ground.

Vadim leaned over to risk a glance down the mountain, where the road snaked up, but he didn't believe in that kind of stunt. They'd tumble down the mountain and then nothing. Too steep. He'd just have to drive really well. Accelerating like a madman with a death wish - the irony didn't escape him - he threw the car into the next turn, throwing Dan almost out of the seat and making aiming impossible. He raced up the mountain, deeper into enemy country, chasing around the narrow turns, hoping Dan would get a clear shot before they'd be too far gone, then, suddenly, the road forked, and Vadim took the one that didn't go straight into the enemy's stronghold - towards the next valley. He kept his head down while driving, glanced at Dan to see how he was faring.

Dan had managed to crawl between the seats and into the back, bracing himself against the side wall. His hearing was coming back and he yelled over the noise of the vehicle, "you know where the fuck you're going?" But then, the sharp next turn, and it almost doubled them up with their pursuers. Aiming in the car that jumped like crazy over the road was near impossible, but he fired a round of shots and shouted in triumph when the second car veered off and vanished with screeching tyres and howling brakes down the steep side of the mountain, while the other one gained ground again.

Vadim heard Dan shout, but couldn't make out the words, assumed it was some form of encouragement because he really didn't want to hear any bad news, especially as the other driver was determined and not half bad at driving himself. They could only stay on the road for the moment, covering ground as fast as possible, and Vadim could imagine that the others felt they were winning - they had them in their territory and knew where the road was going. He'd only had a brief look at the map, but his best bet was that if they followed it, they would eventually meet another road that would take them towards the camp. "We have to go straight through", Vadim shouted, still mostly deaf.

Dan had smashed the side window in the rear of the hard-top with his rifle butt, pieces of security glass flying everywhere. He didn't hear Vadim's answer, hanging half out of the window. His only chance to get those bastards, who kept criss-crossing behind them. The bullets were flying, but every time Vadim went around a bend in the hell-raising speed, he had a few seconds of clear firing from the side. Smashing a bullet round into the vehicle, he pulled back in, shouting while digging more ammo out of Vadim's pack, "Whatever you're doing, I need a damn sharp bend to the right!"

Vadim nodded, narrowing his eyes to try and see the road before he went past it, and, indeed, a sharp right turn came up that made the tail of the car almost spin off the road. Vadim released the handbrake in the exact right moment and again kicked the pedal down. "At least we're back in the right direction", he shouted.

Dan didn't hear, was hanging out of the window with half of his body, legs hooked in the metal bars of the opposite seat. Firing a long broadside at the vehicle, he yelled in triumph when the damned bastards suddenly spun with screeching tyres, then raced forward, directionless, and into the rock face. Even Vadim saw the fireball when it exploded. "Fuck them!" Dan crawled back into the car, then pulled himself forward, until he was between the front seats. "How far to the camp?"

"Thirty miles is a guess." A huge distance in this territory. Vadim didn't slow down, instead used the time of grace that they had to increase their head start. He drove on in silence for a few minutes, while Dan busied himself with the weapons and kit. The car went up another mountain, and he stopped it, then stepped out to look around, while Dan finished sorting his bergan and Vadim's pack, having taken stock of their combined kit.

Vadim narrowing his eyes. "Shit."

"What?" Dan climbed out of the vehicle into the freezing cold. There was movement down there, quite clearly on the road below, cars driving with no headlights, Vadim could hear it now. "Roadblock."

"Fuck. Where's the map?" But Dan was already climbing back into the car, reaching for the torch in the glove compartment, studying the roads on the map. "Congratulations. There are no other roads back down."

"Nope. We either continue on foot, or ..." Vadim's eyes narrowed in thought. "We take them head on."

"And play decoy?" Dan's eyes narrowed as well, as he shielded the light of the torch away from the road.

"The road winds downhill, but towards them, it's pretty much straight. We could use it to distract them. Try and capture one of their cars, and just continue."

Dan nodded, "we got the AK, a pistol, and a couple knives. Seemed you carried enough ammo for an ambush. I got water, some food, and survival kit. I'm loading everything into the bergan and your shoulder pack, ready if we have to go on foot. You rig the car?" Unspoken, which one of them had more experience in what.

"No problem." Vadim sat down again, cutting some rope to fix the car's steering wheel and gas pedal and prepared everything, then nodded to Dan. "Okay. Let's drive this to where they can see us, crash it into the roadblock, and then flank them in the confusion. Maybe we can get one of their cars, otherwise we just leg it."

"Aye." Dan was already strapped up. Every bit that was useful stripped out of the car, including the blanket that was kept in each of the camp's Landrovers, and the shovel that he'd fixed across the bergan. Rifle left for Vadim, he had pocketed the pistol and some of the ammo, and they had a knife each. He'd never part with his favourite one anyway. "Ready." Handing Vadim's pack, ammo and the AK over. Unspoken understanding once more, and no time nor space for the anger that had brought them there. He got into the car and braced himself, glancing at Vadim. "Jumping out of the car ten yards before impact?"

Vadim gave him a long glance. "Yes. Don't break anything."

"Fuck you, too." Dan huffed with no malice.

"I mean it." Vadim started the engine and checked that he'd stowed away his kit properly on his body, then started to roll, headlights on, now, to attract their attention - and hopefully blinding the bastards when he was heading straight at them. "Leg it towards that hill, unless we can get one of their cars. It's fifty clicks, that's not much."

"Aye." Dan looked straight on. "If I'm too slow, you got a second map in your kit."

Vadim shuddered, jaw muscles tightening. "Say that again and I break something in your body."

"You're contradicting yourself. You just told me not to break anything."

"I know."

Dan stared ahead, one hand on the dashboard, the other on the door handle, bracing himself. "Whatever the fuck happens, if I don't make it, I want you to get out and tell them about the shit here. You got it?" Dan finally glanced at the side, they had no more than a few mere seconds, the movement in front of them was getting frantic. "We'll make it. If not, the other one carries on. Deal?"

Vadim nodded, didn't trust his voice to speak, instead started the car, first down the winding roads, then straight onto the road towards the next mountain, and towards the roadblock. He fixed the rope to the steering wheel, placed the heavy stone on the pedal, then began the countdown. The headlights tore the silhouettes of chetniks out of the dark, and he could see them aim and fire, as he switched the headlights to highest intensity, hopefully blinding them, and opened the door to hit the ground. It fucking hurt, the frozen ground was unforgiving, and his kit bruised him in several places, but he had no other chance but to get to his feet as soon as he could, moving on while the Landrover crashed into the cars that served as roadblock, and the men behind fired while forced to jump out of the way. Vadim ran, two hundred yards to cover, running as fast as he could, then dove in between the trees where the forest began to thicken, AK out and ready to shoot if anybody followed them. Waiting for Dan.

But Dan didn't arrive, not for a long time. Instead there were shouts, bullets being fired, a round or two of automatic fire, and voices yelling something Vadim could not understand. Then a scream, and cursing, while the firing started up again, and voices yelling with no logic nor order.

Silence, the firing stopped, then the sound of engines revving up and racing off.

Vadim waited, he couldn't make out anything, so he forced himself to stay down and wait. Dan's words stayed with him. One carries on. He blinked, realising his vision was blurred, not that he could see much, but his body felt locked, every joint frozen with worry and fear, stomach churning. He'd give everything to get up and check the area, but he listened and waited, but there were no sounds, no more shots. Slowly, he got to his feet, and walked back. He couldn't just leave Dan.

He had reached the area half-way, when a voice called out to him. Hushed, breathless, but audible in the silence of the freezing night. "You bastard. I knew you wouldn't do what I told you."

Vadim turned towards the voice, just staring in the direction. "You'd have done the same."

"You think so, eh?" It was obvious from the disembodied voice that Dan was jogging towards Vadim, whose silhouette was dimly visible in the moonlight, reflected by patches of frozen snow. Dan was getting closer in the typical slow-jog of anyone who was used to tabbing for endless miles with prohibiting weights on their back, just that by now, when he was getting close enough to be seen, his gait distinctly favoured one leg. "I didn't get out too well." Closer, still, until his face was near, one side smeared with something dark, could be dirt, could be blood, but he didn't seem to be in pain. "Had to take one of their vehicles to get them off my track, didn't fancy turning into a sieve." He suddenly flashed a grin, looking as feral as Vadim ever had, after the killing. "Fucking cunts made me run half of the way back, but they should be busy for a little while."

Vadim fell in stride with Dan, heading for the hill. At least nothing was broken. "We're in the right direction. Just up that mountain, and there's some kind of settlement behind there, where we should be able to find cover, and I'll look at your head. Don't like head wounds."

"It's just a damned scratch. Looks worse than it is." Dan was huffing with each step, in through the nose, out through the mouth. He was fit, could run forever, if only his goddamned knees weren't playing up. Still, he kept up, because he simply had to. Mind over matter. "Didn't land on my head, after all."

"Doesn't matter, I'll still have a look."

"You get on my nerves, Russkie." Dan grumped, then shut up, preserving his breath.

Vadim fell into an easy trot that he'd be able to maintain even up the mountain, staying on a dirt track, because he had no idea whether the area had been mined, but he chose to not tell Dan of his worries, because, truth be told, they'd be fucked if it was and it didn't matter if it wasn't. Up the mountain, always right at Dan's shoulder, making sure Dan could keep up. No question. He'd never leave him behind, just like any comrade.

They got to the highest point and Vadim frowned. "Bad news. There's not a single light on down there."

"Guess that means I should take over orientation." Dan shrugged, no accusation. "Unless you're right and there used to be a village." Getting the map out, Dan shielded the light of the torch from view, as he studied the area. "Shit."

"Shit - there was or Shit - we're lost?"

"Shit, there was." Dan looked up, "you'll never be lost with me around." Completely serious. "I made it across the mountains in the middle of the Afghan winter to get a hand job from you. I'll find my fucking way across Yugoslavia."

Vadim grinned. "True. Finding all those caves was damn good training ..."

Dan looked up for a moment, deadly intense, before he studied the map once more, shaking his head. "Can only mean one thing: it's been 'cleansed'. Suggest we get down there, hoping there'll be some ruins left to hide in, and no mass graves without burying." The frown between his brows proof to the gravity of his words. "They might not expect us down there, and they might not bother searching a place that's been destroyed." He shrugged, "worked in Afghanistan, and there's no way we can make it through the forest and across the next set of mountains in the darkness. At least not without having checked them first."

"Yes. We'd get out of the freezing wind for a few hours, too." Vadim looked around. "Check directions?"

Fishing with his gloved hand in his belt kit, Dan produced a compass, studying map and tool for a moment, before he nodded. "Straight down, preferably without ankle breaking."

"Or stepping onto a mine." Vadim shrugged, then straightened. "Fuck. Let's get moving."

"There's that, best you walk in front of me, aye?" Dan produced a fierce grin, before turning and starting to walk. The terrain was uneven, rocky, whenever they had to get through patches of forest it became softer, but equally treacherous. Now and then checking the compass, its face lighting up in the darkness, and he slightly adjusted the route. It was steep, though, and Dan's face set into a stoic mask after an hour of walking down, yet he never let up in speed.

Vadim did walk in front, letting Dan walk in his steps, fair was fair, even though Dan protested that he had just been taking the piss. Vadim forced himself not to think about it. Nor of the copious amounts of 'mine jokes' that Dima had been able to tell. Dima. Just where the fuck was the man? He moved on, adjusting his pace to Dan's, and covering a fair bit of distance in good time.

Eventually, Dan stopped again, listening into the silence, slowly turning his head as the sound of an owl hooting in the distance was heard. He finally shook his head, adjusted the woollen hat after another check of compass and map and pointed forward, slightly to the right. Just in case anyone was still in the village and just in case they were wrong about it being destroyed, they couldn't afford any noise, least of all voices.

They walked on, more carefully now, hardly a sound, and the minutes stretched out in the darkness. Vadim moved forward, setting his feet carefully as they moved in a circle, protected. What the little light showed, however, made the situation awfully clear: several buildings had collapsed, some dark shadows were actually charred remains of roofs or beams, or smoke that had darkened the area above the windows. Vadim knelt down, watching. No light, no movement. Just dead silence.

Dan remained standing, leaning against a tree, his shadow merging with the trunk in the darkness. Nothing, and yet they couldn't be careful enough. He got Vadim's attention by making a small sound when he moved his foot, then nodded to him and made a gesture, indicating he was going to walk around the edge of the opening to get to the other side. Sliding the pistol into his hand, the sound of the safety taken off the only thing audible in the night, as he made his way along.

Vadim nodded and watched for any kind of movement that wasn't Dan, for any pair of eyes, the glint of a sight, anything. He assumed the place was literally dead, but he wouldn't bet his life on it.

About ten minutes later, Dan's voice was heard. Quiet, no names, indicating the coast was clear. He appeared from between a house and a burnt-down ruin, standing in the faint moonlight. A shadow amongst shadows.

"Nothing." Quietly, when Vadim came closer. "We can both take a guess what happened to the inhabitants." The frown was back, and with it the stoic expression in his face, which had turned into a mask that didn't show any feelings, not even anger. "Best find a place to hole up for the night, aye?"

Vadim nodded, didn't want to think that he might have been able to stop the men who'd done this and who would very likely go unpunished. "Ideally somewhere under a roof", he murmured. "Maybe there's food left. No idea how long we'll be on our feet, but I didn't bring any MREs."

"I got sandwiches and water. Some chocolate bars." Moving to the side, Dan went to check out the building to his right that seemed stable enough. It overlooked most of the open space and had windows to all sides. No dead corners, no blind traps. The windows were all broken, more or less, but at least he building gave some shelter from the icy wind. "Wouldn't touch any food, though, we have no idea how long it's been lying around."

"And they might have added some rat poison, just in case." Vadim shook his head and looked resigned. Because the other option was to get murderously angry. They moved carefully, watching, listening, pausing.

No need for the precautions, though, once they shone the torch around, it became clear the building had been ransacked. The furniture was smashed into pieces, duvets scattered and torn, scraps of fabric, torn books, papers, everywhere. "Damn unlucky." Dan murmured, "could do with a fire for warmth, but no fucking chance."

"No fire."

Dan made a huffing sound. "You think I'm a fucking novice, or what?"

"I just agreed."

"Ok."

Vadim looked around. It wasn't quite as bad as outside, but the houses that weren't burned were likely all in this state. "You get cosy upstairs, I check out the other buildings."

"No way, safer downstairs. I'll see if I can set up a shelter." Dan was taking the bergan off his back, began pulling out material that could be used for some kind of makeshift shelter, which would help them conserve as much body heat as possible. "I'll take the first guard, by the way." He stated, as Vadim was about to leave.

Vadim turned. "I won't argue", he answered, then vanished into the carcass of a settlement, checking houses and moving carefully. However, nobody seemed to have set up booby-traps, likely because they didn't assume anybody would come back, and that, in turn, was testament to the fate of the inhabitants. It was still eerie that there was no blood, no sign of violence apart from the smashed up houses, like there'd been a short, nasty rampage, and then they had moved on. Maybe the inhabitants were in that camp, or lying in a ditch somewhere.

He didn't find much - the whole settlement was thoroughly looted, and he didn't enter the burnt-out houses, which made this a short tour of maybe half an hour. When he came back, he was sure that they were the only living souls in that place and also that they couldn't stay here for very long. Just enough until light, gather strength, maybe sleep a little, and then move on.

Dan looked up at the noise, pistol at the ready, but he lowered it immediately when he realised it was Vadim. He had built a shelter in one corner from pieces of broken furniture, using torn-up bed linen to insulate from the cold. The blanket was out as well, lying at the ready, with the shredded pieces of duvets on the floor, having found strips of curtains to lay over them. All in all a 'cosy' place, which would help conserve as much warmth as possible. The food had been parcelled out into portions, and the water bottle was waiting as well. At least water wasn't a rare commodity.

Dan waited until Vadim had stepped inside before holding his hand out for the AK. If he was going to be on duty for the first couple of hours, he needed to be ready. "Have some food, water, rest."

Vadim handed the AK it over. "There's nothing left. No bodies, either." He sat down, hunched to preserve body heat. "Strange. I keep thinking, this country must have been beautiful", he murmured. "Before it decided to tear out its own guts." He took a deep draught of the water, had part of his ration, then lay down, watching Dan, who said nothing.

Dan popped something into his mouth which he'd had in his bare hand, then washed the pills down with water. They'd take a while to kick in, there wouldn't be any point in trying to sleep now. "Fucking dying for a fag." He muttered, had checked his stash, less than a packet.

Vadim inhaled deeply, tried half a smile, still somewhat amused at the pun of words. A running gag. He checked his watch. "Wake me in three."

"Greedy bastard. Meant to give you two, but I'm feeling generous tonight." Dan lifted the blanket from his bergan, which he'd settled into the corner, and sat down himself, leaning against his pack. Lifting the blanket, he indicated the space right next to him. "Don't be an idiot and lose body heat. It's fucking cold, I could do with some, too."

Vadim moved over to lie down right next to Dan, no questions asked. Remembered the icy, crisp air up in the mountains, the utter clarity. His body creating warmth on Dan's side, Dan warming his side. The closest they'd been for what felt like months. He began to relax, much easier to cling to that warmth and know he'd be secure. Whatever Dan had done. Whatever bitterness and anger still lurked. It was about surviving, soldiering, and he hoped not just that.

Tucking the blanket in around them, Dan watched Vadim fall asleep. Hadn't seen him that close for several weeks, and it fucking hurt, because he wanted to touch that face, feel the stubble beneath his fingers, how the jaw line went slack, and how the face turned from concentrated frown to something almost relaxed, but never quite. Not now, not here. Not since … best not go there. He tore his eyes away, allowed himself a cigarette instead, and held onto the rifle in his gloved hands. Memories of the Gulf, of sharing a tiny cave with wounded soldiers, of heat and dust, and of seeing Vadim, knowing that very moment that whatever happened, there was no way he could ever get the other out of his body and mind.

And so he sat, waited in the silent night, occasionally checking his watch to stay awake, and letting his mind wander once more. Across the decades, across the countries and across the wars. His family, his friends, the sex he'd shared and the love he'd known. Lust and laughter, anger and jealousy, and a thousand other things, and he smiled in the end. If they got him this time, at least he had lived and he regretted nothing.

After a little more than three hours, dawn still far away, he woke Vadim with a gentle touch to his shoulder. "Hey, Russkie, time for me to turn into Sleeping Beauty."

Vadim stretched, tensed and stretched to wake up fully, and with regret shifted position, losing some of the warmth. He took the rifle and watched Dan settle in, suppressing a yawn. "Feel much better now", he murmured.

"Aye, hope the same goes for me." No sooner, though, had Dan burrowed into the vacated space, still warm from Vadim's body, that he began to drift off. He hadn't realised how tired he'd been, and kept underestimating the effect of those pain killers. He was asleep a couple of minutes later, but not before shifting closer, not realising what he was doing, and wrapping one arm around Vadim. Just like he would have done if ….

Vadim shifted the AK a little, freed his hand from the weapon, took the glove off for a moment and placed his hand on Dan's wild hair, careful to keep the touch light and not disturb him unnecessarily. What did it matter what had happened? They were out in this war, alone, and whatever had happened had stayed behind. They'd still be caught by it, once they were back in camp, but not here, not right now. And how fucking insane that it mattered at all.

Dan slept, undisturbed, until dawn was breaking, almost four hours later. Never stirring, not making a sound. Vadim moved his hand under the blanket to touch Dan's shoulder, and leaned in. "Good morning. We should break camp."

"Hm?" Dan sounded and looked bleary, disoriented, but no longer than perhaps a second, and he forced himself awake, realising the situation.
"Shit." Mumbled. "What time is it?"

"Almost half past seven. Figured we could use the sleep with what's ahead."

"Yeah, fuck. Exactly what I wanted to do in my old age." Dan rolled his eyes and stretched quickly, sitting up the next moment. He reached for his bergan to get to the water. His stomach made a loud noise and he grimaced, eating half a chocolate bar before washing it all down and holding the bottle out to Vadim.

Vadim took a couple of sips, then waved it off. "I'll pack. You wake up properly."

"Aye, need a dump." Dan got up, left Vadim who was already packing up the blanket, and stepped out of the building, taking a few pieces of scrap fabric with him. The ice cold air that hit him almost took his breath, but he moved on and across, towards one of the burnt-down ruins. He took barely a step inside, just enough to get out of the wind and the worst of the icy dampness, and swiftly went about his business. No2 first, then onto No1 once he'd cleaned up, and while he was pissing into a corner, he suddenly heard the sound of a vehicle in the distance. He froze, cursed his bladder, prostrate and whatever else that kept him from just stopping the flow, and couldn't help it, had to run out of the building, still pissing, but at least it stopped before he reached the other building. Tucking himself in, in record time. "Vadim!" Called out quietly. "Fuck, visitors!"

Vadim appeared in the doorway, bergan shouldered, AK ready, indicating with a gesture he'd understood. Trying to locate from where the sound came, and how to get away best. It was fairly likely that the chetniks had decided to check out possible places for them to hide once the first light had broken, and here they were. Question was, hide or fight?

Dan slipped into the building, saw Vadim had taken over the bergan this time, and he nodded, getting the shoulder pack instead. Indicating to the windows, the broken glass enabled them to hear the vehicle. Crouching down beside one of them, Dan had the pistol ready, whispering to Vadim. "Chances to hide? Fuck all. And we need weapons."

Vadim nodded and moved towards another window, then caught a glimpse of the car. He raised his hand, hid the thumb. Four men. All armed, all likely carrying some food and water, for a snack during the hunt. The car was even more interesting. He returned to Dan, crouched. "We should set a trap", he murmured close to Dan's ear. "Any ideas? I'm tempted to just shoot them once they get close enough."

"You sure who and what they are, though?" Eyes peeled on the vehicle outside, which had stopped, its doors opening. "Check for badges with a cross and the four 'C's' or a Serbian eagle." No more than a toneless murmur into Vadim's ear.

Vadim nodded. Not that Bosniaks didn't kill by accident. This fucking country had no uniforms, no rights and no wrongs. He moved again, closer, to get a good look at the men. Seemed like they were taking an interest in the mostly unscathed buildings, too. Just their luck.

The men were outside, talking, and while Dan strained to listen, he couldn't make out any of the words. Not that he spoke the language, but he'd picked up enough expressions to get by, the language similar enough to Russian. It didn't take more than a couple of minutes of talking and gesturing, before the fourth man went back into the 4x4 and the other three split up. When one of them walked past the window, the badge was visible, and Dan nodded to Vadim. Using sign language to indicate he was going to follow the one to the left. He only had a pistol and a knife, but if he used the firearms, he'd give the game away. The other two moved into roughly the same direction. Pointing to his pistol Dan shook his head, then let the knife slip into his hand and nodded. Another swift glance, then crawling along the wall and towards the door.

Vadim nodded, too, indicated he'd head out to the back, making sure nobody outside could see any motion. It would be a matter of time - and only short - until somebody checked out 'their' hiding hole, so he had to be quick. He dove out through a window, kept in cover, then, peering around a corner, saw one of the men enter a building. He ran after him, saw the man check out the building, and Vadim waited outside for him to return. When he did, a punch to the throat shut him up, and Vadim grabbed his head and broke his neck while dragging him inside. He stood there, breathing heavily. He remembered it had been easier, once. Or maybe his technique was fucked.

Dan had followed the second man's movements, until he came close to the door. He watched the guy, his rag-tag mix of kit, mostly military, and the badge, told him what he needed to know. Simple. This time. Good and bad and black and white and what did it all matter. He had to take a life, like he'd done far too many times before. Had to do it to survive. Again. Afghan, Russian, Serb. Nothing was more important than his own life. That simple. Dan moved silently forward, grabbed the man from behind, and cut his throat. The body in his arms twitched and gurgled, while drowning in his own blood, but no other sounds. Like another man, a long time ago. Just that this time the blood was staining his clothes, before he could put the body down, pulling the man just inside the door.

Vadim moved to the next building, carefully stalking the third guy, who was checking out one of the ruins, and threw a stone through one of the broken windows. And, sure enough, the amateur soldier peered through the window. Vadim reached for the man's rifle and pushed it violently back and up, making him stumble back and release the rifle. Turning it in his hands, Vadim fired three successive shots, allowing the weapon to buck in his hands and the bullets to travel upwards, the final one tearing a good chunk out of the man's forehead.

Dan was outside, cleaning his hands on a patch of frozen grass not far away, when the rounds tore through the silence. Looking up, then hurried across to where the sounds came from, trusting Vadim had dealt with the men.

Vadim checked the body and stuffed what he could use into his own pockets, feeling the occasional shudder pass through the body that was still dying, then left the building, moving back towards Dan and the jeep, meeting Dan half-way.

"Sorted?" Dan asked, eyes quickly skimming over Vadim, checking for injuries.

Vadim gave a wordless 'all clear' hand signal, glancing around while thinking about the next steps. "We need to get moving", he murmured under his breath. "You okay?"

"Aye." Answering with a nod. "Got to hide them and strip what's useful." Dan glanced to where Vadim had come from. "Start with yours?" His hands were sticky, but he'd have to make do until they got to some water. "Damned bastard was more inconvenient …." while moving towards the corpses. Never finishing the sentence.

"Stripped the last one, they travelled light", Vadim murmured, thinking, for a moment, what was damn inconvenient, but then swallowed it and pushed the banter away. They were still running for their lives and should keep focused. Jokes helped deal with the pressure, but he'd hate being taken out by a sniper because he'd preferred to crack a joke than look for the sun glinting off the scope.

Dan reached a corpse and bent down to take hold underneath the shoulders. "Seems as good a place to hide them as any." Gesturing with his chin to a building that still stood but was full of debris inside. "What's the rifle like? Any extra ammo?"

"AKs seem in good working order, enough ammo, unless you blast away like the Americans." Vadim gave a grin, helping to carry the corpse into the building.

"Good." Dan flashed a fierce grin of his own. "Mine had a shitty piece, as far as I could see, but haven't stripped him yet. Bastard is soaked and got me as well." He dumped the corpse and stretched. "Where's number two?"

"The other one's in the building over there. Should be not exactly obvious. Where's your guy?"

"Back at the building. I pulled him inside."

"Okay. That should be enough 'doing the honours'." Vadim straightened, prodded the dead man's shoulder with the tip of his boot. "Bastards should be missed within the day. And I assume there'll be plenty guys looking for them. Let's cover some ground. Pick up the AK on the way, too."

"Aye, and the guy who dropped them here could be back any minute." Dan made his way to the other building, where the corpse was partly hidden in the rubble. The rifle was on the ground, close to the door, and so was the ammo. Slinging the weapon across his back, Dan stashed the ammo in his stained jacket, and some in his belt kit. "The pack's back in the first building, let's grab it and see what mine carried."

"Yes." Vadim went through his pockets, but everything was in order, just that near-compulsive last check when he was about to leave a location and move towards the next. "You take the lead, I cover."

Moving swiftly out of the building without another word, Dan hurried across the open space, but no sound disturbed the silence, nothing shattered the false peace. Only death and destruction seemed to bring such stillness, where no humans dwelled. He was soon back in the original building, while Vadim covered the door, and fleeced the corpse, whose coat was soaked with blood, but had kept the clothing beneath from getting stained. Dan grinned when he found some old fashioned webbing beneath the coat, and gestured to Vadim to help him strip the garment off so he could get to it. Pockets yielded nothing except for a map, but the webbing was a treasure trove. Whistling tonelessly when he found a stick of C4 and a handful of detonators, Dan slung the webbing across his back, then the AK once more, stashing the ammo in the more convenient pouches. "I take the shoulder bag and you the bergan?"

Vadim nodded and glanced at the body. "The things people carry." Frowning, he took the bergan and adjusted the straps to distribute the weight properly.

"Yeah, like me right now. I look like a fucking donkey." Dan flashed a grin, which made him dangerous and tinged with a hint of insanity. Dark skin, stubbled face, wild hair, together with the blood stains on his jacket.

"The most feral donkey in history." Vadim grinned back. "Let's leg it."

Putting the gloves back on, Dan pulled the chetnik's map out, as well as his own, comparing both of them, until he was confident that they did not differ. Using the compass, he pointed to the east. "There's a main road, but with a dirt track beside it. It leads roughly into the right direction. I suggest we take it, stay as much out of view as we can, while making time."

Vadim took the map and checked it, too. "I'd kill for a car", he murmured. "Should be able to cover the exposed area before noon, there's still some trees so we can do this. Once we're back in the hills, we should be safe enough."

"Aye. At least we got some sleep and are kitted out better than before." Dan walked fast, but he didn't fall into a sustainable trot before they hit the more stable terrain of the dirt track. They should be able to hear any incoming vehicle early enough to throw themselves into the ditch.

* * * * * * *

That same day, in the late evening, a vehicle was making its way along the fortifications of the camp. Driving slowly, like someone who had nothing to hide and all the time in the world. It didn't stop at the gates, though, instead moved on, until it came to a halt not too far away. Right next to the overgrown bunker.

The man who jumped out of the large 4x4 was short, wiry, wrapped in heavy winter gear with a woollen hat hiding his ears and nearly half of his face. A glowing cigarette hung from between thin lips in a face that sported more of a stubble than a man should who was dressed in such expensive kit.

Dima heard the car approach and looked up, fixing his gaze firmly on the door. He pushed the blanket apart that he'd wrapped around himself, and stood, unwilling to be 'found' sitting on the ground in a corner. The door was open, but he'd only left the bunker to shit and piss, and nothing else, spending the time reading, thinking, sleeping, and simply waiting.

"Merde!" The man muttered, loud enough to be heard inside, when he stumbled over a few loose bricks amongst the dead brambles. Puffing smoke, he was looking around, spotted the entrance, and instead of walking straight through, he moved to the side. "Dan sent me." He called out, his English heavily accented with French. "You in there?" Making his way towards the door and pushing it cautiously open, he never allowed himself to be a target.

Dima moved towards the door and pulled it fully open, staying mostly shielded by the door. "Come on in. My home is your home." He paused and grinned. "Metaphorically speaking."

Moving through after a careful glance, the man stepped inside. Casting a swift look around, then nodding at Dima. "Maurice." Inhaling deeply, he threw the butt to the floor while smoke curled out of his nostrils. "Dima?" Pulling the hat from his shaved head. Dark hair, dark eyes, a complexion as dark as Dan's, but entirely different. Aquiline nose and sharp cheekbones in a haggard face. So 'French' he made any proverb ring true.

"Nice meeting you. You're my date, then." Dima gave a nod as Maurice raised one brow, then lit another cigarette as Dima walked back to the kit Dan had brought him. "You're here to get me out, yes?" He began collecting what he could use, trained to leave no traces, stowing everything away. "Because I'm dying for something hot to drink."

"Oui. Dan asked me to." Maurice watched him and put his hat back on, the cigarette hanging between his lips. "Strange request." He shrugged, then stepped half-way through the door. "You're a medic, he said. And that you're good."

Dima packed the kit together, checked again that he hadn't left anything behind, nothing, not the foil pack of the condom, nor a food wrapper, and glanced up. "Special Forces medic", he said. "And you?"

"Spetsnaz. Oui. That's what he said." Maurice stepped aside and let Dima through, walking behind him. "I'm the doctor for the French security detail at the embassy in Belgrade." Leading Dima outside and to the vehicle.

"Nice job", commented Dima. "I assume that means proper pay and heating?"

Maurice huffed with dry amusement. The smoke, as always, curling in front of his face, "how well do you know Belgrade? The embassy is a massive art deco building. You would think we have heating."

"Sounds like heaven." Dima walked beside the Frenchman, studying him closely as if he was preparing to recognize the man for the rest of his life - one of those strange little habits that, in total, made it hard to move in polite society. "And access to proper resources?"

"What do you mean?" Holding the door open, Maurice waited for Dima to get inside the vehicle.

Dima got in, leaning over and opened the door on the other side. "What I mean is - embassy duty means you have all the medical equipment you need. Colour me envious. Most of my career, I had to improvise."

"So did I." Maurice shrugged, climbed in and threw the cigarette butt to the ground, starting the car at the same time. "It's cosy to have all the kit these days, but being out of the field can get boring." Glancing to the side, "you look as if you were still in it."

"I am. That means, I was." Dima turned to face Maurice. "What's going to happen now? Any idea?"

"Not sure." Maurice shrugged, driving towards the dirt track that would take them onto the road to Belgrade. "I take you to the embassy, sign you in as a long-lost ami of mine, feed you proper French coffee, croissants, and wine, and then you'll show me how good you actually are. After that we see if there's anything that can be done for a Russian in Serbia with medical skills."

Dima laughed. "First the wine, then the work? Okay." But he grew more serious, suddenly. "Where's Dan? Is he back in that camp of his? Any way to get in touch with him?" Get in touch was a euphemism if he'd ever heard one. Damn him, he'd liked too much what Dan had done to his body, and apart from that very obvious thing, he liked the man and wouldn't mind having that wine and coffee together with him.

"Hm?" Maurice had paid less attention than before, navigating a particularly tricky and icy part of the road. "Haven't seen Dan since yesterday, I guess you can contact him tomorrow, he should be in camp." The weather was turning worse and the clouds hung low and heavy, promising more snow. "You've known him for long?"

"We were both in Afghanistan", Dima said, leaning back in his seat. "He was fucking my superior officer. That's the only connection. The world is a small, strange place. And he found me and freed me from the place I was held a few days ago."

"He was … what?" Maurice turned his head so sharply, the vehicle slipped for a second, before he had it back under control.

"That means you're not one of his friends in that sense."Dima winked.

"What sense?" Concentrating on the road this time, Maurice was taking them through the night. Mostly silent, except for the sound of shelling in the distance.

"Somehow, Dan scored himself a Spetsnaz captain, later major, good-looking bastard, if you go for tall, blond, and aloof. And I'd thought I was perceptive."

"Dan's gay?"

Dima felt a moment of hesitation, outing Dan to his friend was not a nice thing to do, but he'd thought Maurice knew, and it was too late to back-pedal. "Thank god I'm not bound by any confidentiality", he murmured. "Because I just fucked that one up."

"So, he is." Maurice flashed a nicotine stained grin, before reaching for his packet of Gauloises. In an afterthought, holding it out to Dima, who took a cigarette and the lighter, too, lighting his own and then Maurice's before returning the zippo. "Didn't tell me, but I never asked. Not the usual conversation when getting drunk in a bar." Maurice sped up when the road was getting better. "Anyway, why in the devil's name are you in the situation you're in?"

"I can only give you the official story ... I was sent here to help the Serbs and got kidnapped by somebody, then tied up and hidden away, where Dan found and freed me. It's embarrassing to end up as somebody's prisoner in my line of work. I wasn't even an active combatant ..."

"You better not be, or I won't be able to help you." The lights of Belgrade were coming into view in the distance. "If you've been involved in any of the shit, you're out. So you were better not involved in it, and just happen to be a victim caught up in it." Emphasising each word.

"I was." Dima lied without hesitation, holding onto the story as promised.

"And since you are obviously a victim, there might be some interest of the Serbian brotherhood in their Russian brothers to form a nice cosy brotherhood of brothers."

"Yeah, I found Yugoslavia incredibly cosy so far." Dima laughed and inhaled the smoke deeply. "Fucked up war, fucked-up country. What's your story? How did the French get involved in this? You are not a mercenary."

"No. Used to be in the legion." Moving down the road towards the town, Maurice elegantly avoided the first part of the question. "Just doing my job for France." He shrugged and fell silent.

"Right. The men without past. I understand." Dima fell silent as well, gazing out of the window. Still oddly thankful for the company and the fact he'd be able to drink something hot, the cold had crawled under his skin. If he was lucky, there was even a hot bath on the radar. Pure luxury.

And luxury it was, when they reached the embassy. Its splendour above and beyond anything else in that city, surpassing most others. Maurice told Dima to stay in the vehicle, while he filled in some forms and then asked Dima to come out, who's photo was taken for a guest file. They were finally done and the vehicle rolled through the gates and towards a car park, next to the building.

"I'm afraid you'll have to sleep in my apartment." Maurice parked the posh 4x4 and got out, waiting for Dima to catch up. "The sofa's not too bad, though, have fallen asleep on it quite a few times."

"No, I'll be fine. Don't worry. I've slept in some really bad places, and this ... this doesn't look like one of them." Gazing up, taking in the complete shift - an altogether different world. "Nice one. The French do it with style."

"You can call us a lot of things, but you can't accuse us of not having style." Maurice grinned, lighting yet another cigarette. Hardly five minutes between each. He led Dima through a side door that went up a staircase and towards a separate apartment. Spacious by all means, with a fire place in the main room, and a small kitchenette, with two doors leading off to bedroom and bathroom.

"You want to freshen up?" Maurice threw his hat over a stand in the miniature hallway, then peeled his gloves off. "You look like you need it. I brew us a coffee in the meantime." Glancing at Dima while shrugging out of his thick jacket. "Or hot coffee first and bath afterwards?" Out of the winter boots as well, the man was as wiry out of the kit as he had looked at first glance. Dressed in black outdoor trousers and dark flannel shirt, the open collar revealed a glimpse of a smooth chest, while the stubble in his face was either artful or perpetual; Dima felt a stab of desire looking at him, might have been the isolation that had him focussed on sex, but the Frenchman was certainly interesting. Only how? Or even, whether?

"Now that's a difficult question", Dima said, setting down the bergan and taking off the jacket. "Can't smell too good. That way's the bathroom?" Pointing at one of the doors. "I could use a shave, too." He ran a hand over his cheeks and chin.

"Not for my benefit, you don't need to." Maurice nodded towards the bathroom. "Kit's in there. Disposable razors, the lot. Towel is fresh." He was in the kitchenette, fiddling with a coffee grinder while the obligatory cigarette hang from between his lips.

"Thanks. I'll have a soak first." Dima headed into the bathroom, stripping the boots, vest, belt, trousers, underwear, every thread and every single piece of equipment off, even though it wasn't much compared to active duty. He found a bathrobe that he assumed was Maurice's and put that on, while the water ran hot and clear into the tub, steaming up the mirrors. A quick check unearthed razors and a well-stocked medicine cabinet that revealed that Maurice knew his painkillers and was a perfectionist in terms of kit to have around. Not a single 'use by' date run past, they were all good and ready to work their magic. The bathtub was filling up nicely, but he probably had some time for the coffee first. Padding outside, Dima headed for the kitchen.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee was overwhelming, even above the cigarette smell. Maurice was perched on a bar stool in the kitchenette, reading a paper at the breakfast bar, then looking up. "You're not my size." He commented laconically, before pointing to the pot of strong coffee. "Sugar? Milk?"

"Yes, both." Dima sat down, prepared the coffee with a good shot of milk and two spoons of sugar when Maurice pushed over the condiments. "Yeah, the robe is a bit tight in the shoulders." He grinned. "What's in the news?" Taking a deep sip and closing his eyes with pleasure. The Frenchman made a perfect coffee, very strong, the kind of coffee that had been invented for nightshifts.

"Same old." Maurice pushed the front-page towards Dima, before picking up his filter-less Gauloise and lighting another one. "Nothing a bottle of good Bordeaux won't make more interesting." With his mug empty, he stood up to reach for a bottle of wine out of a stash under the cupboards. "You didn't tell me how Dan came across you?" he prompted while working on the cork.

"The guys who kidnapped me held me in a shelled school, and he happened to pick through the ruins and found me. I guess he might have seen them leave the building or found traces." Another deep sip, and a disgusted look at the news. "Yeah, same old. It's pointless to even try and understand this mess." Dima listened, and the running bathtub sounded pretty full. "I better get into the tub ... you may bring the wine."

"Oh, really? Guess I should be flattered." Maurice rolled his eyes, but poured a couple of glasses anyway.

Taking the coffee with him, Dima went back into the bathroom, hung the robe over the heater, turned off the water, checked it with a foot and deemed it fucking damn hot, but just right to exorcise that chill from his bones. He slowly eased himself in, only pausing when the hot water had reached his balls, but then eased himself in fully and leaned back with a grateful sigh. He'd just submerged when there was a knock on the door that he'd left ajar.

"Come." Dima didn't move, just floated in the hot water, feeling his heart pulse with the dilution of the capillaries under the skin. He'd be red as a lobster when he got out, but the chill was leaving him, which was the whole point. Didn't cover himself, that was pointless too, if this guy had been a legionnaire he'd seen cocks and balls and everything more than often enough. Especially as a medic.

"Your wine, Sir." Maurice made an exaggerated bow and handed the glass of wine to Dima. "Is there anything else your lordship requires?" Flashing a grin as he sipped his own wine.

"Thank you", murmured Dima. "Start to feel human again." He took another sip, enjoying a different kind of warmth from a different angle, the relaxation and heat made him feel positively cosy. Even his fingers didn't act up. "I don't want to