[abby]: and i won't worry my life away

I thought you said we weren't going to do this anymore after what happened last time.

So I lied, okay? It does happen.

You seem to do that a lot, for somebody who claims to be truthful with the both of us.

Well, screw you! I can't always keep my own promises, no matter how hard I try.

Not even 'On my word as Vorlaikal, I will not get sexually involved with another man again, or so help me God and this bullet with my name on it.' That's pretty heady stuff, Adrian, to brush off that lightly. With consequences with more than just your pitiful little soul hanging in the balance, and you know that. Sleeping below your rank, tsk.

That's something I'm letting you worry about. I'm just a soldier. I don't matter. It's just the position--just you. Not me. Let me alone.

You know I can't do that. I exist to question you, and you happen to do the same favor for me. Are you going to begrudge me my job? What next, tearing down the facade and facing down the world with your single-minded tactless brilliance?

Not like you've got a helluva lot, either.

But just enough to get by. If I'd let you handle that thing with Kalinka, Pavel would already be drinking your blood out of your skull for killing his daughter. Likewise with everything else I let you do.

I tell them the truth. You pride yourself on that, too.

Yes, but I'm willing to tell it slant when need be. Ever so slightly slant...I'm supposed to corrupt the words given to me, after all. It's a diplomat's thing--don't worry your pretty little head about what I need to do to do my job, kid.

Sounds like you're getting corrupted, too. That's something he'd say.

Well, of course. I like him just as much as you like Andruw, in your quiet little way. And, hell, you like him, too, if only because he's such an odd bird that you can't help it. But you don't trust 'im.

Neither do you.

I don't even trust Melissa, my dear boy, and she's not even accountable for herself quite yet. Anyone and everything's a threat, and we need to keep our eyes open for them. We've survived thus far only because we have been--because we've been ready to stab them in the back before they get us, because we've never cared enough to let that funny little thing called love stop us. You know if we have to that I'll take a gun to Pavel's head and make sure he's no longer a threat to us, and that even Melissa will die, trusting us the whole way to the noose. And Feste-Andruw, and Mikhail, and Bridgit, and Ayla--because once they've outlived their usefulness and start becoming a threat, that's when I'm supposed to take over. Yes, it's funny, isn't it? Abernathy, the diplomat. Abernathy, the vegetarian. Abernathy, the cold-hearted killer. YOU can't kill them, Adrian. You care just a little too much about the people close to you. My job is caring too much about strangers.

God damn you, why do you do this to me?

Because I'm your conscience, the twisted little voice in the back of your head that keeps you in check, Adrian. And I'm telling you now you're about to screw up again, chasing after something you want that'll only get you killed in the end. By your hand, by his hand, or by somebody else's when he sells you out. You know he's not tame. You know he's stringing you along, because that's exactly what his kind ALWAYS do. I'll bet you that Andruw's frightened out of his skull by the thought of kissing another man. I'll bet you he didn't enjoy that little stunt you pulled in London half as much as you did, you selfish little bastard. Why is it you always fall for the straight guys, anyway?

I don't know; you tell me. You're supposed to know. I don't think about this as much as you do.

Well, I've got my guesses, but you're the one falling for them. You didn't like my last choice--

Because he was cheap sex. And what the hell's this about sleeping outside my rank? He was our officer!

Yeah, but he's not going to tell, is he? And I thought that's what you wanted, anyway. Get your mind off of Pavel and pretty little Fairbanks for a little while, clear your head. How was I to know you'd flip out and go suicidal on me, what with your little principles and all that?

Just--shut up about it. It was a mistake on both our parts. We shouldn't've done it.

You're telling me. Like screwing a rock...

Stop it.

Fine, fine. That doesn't erase the fact you're stumbling into trouble once more, my brave little Adrian. Feste-Andruw will be the death of you, if you don't watch out. He's going to break your heart and laugh while you're bleeding. He's said as much.

He's implied differently.

That's what YOU get for listening to implications. His words and his behavior don't tally, which means one of them must be lying. And you know enough about method-acting to know how easy it is to fake a little kiss here and there, because our bodies are deceived so much easier than our ears in high-stress situations like that...He's lying to you with his body, Adrian. Don't believe him. Don't get close to him, because he's going to betray you.

And how do you know so much, hm?

Be fair. It's my job to know this kind of thing. You might be a cynic, but I'm the real pessimist here. You don't live with the wolves for as long as I have and not learn this kind of thing. Despite what he says, or perhaps because of it, he's in this for the money, maybe even the cheap thrill of seducing the Director of Interpol. I wouldn't lay my bets on that one, though, but you can never quite tell what some people get their rocks off from...

Oh, lord. Why do you always have to get this disgusting with me?

Because. Because that's what you made me to be. I like all the sick little perverted things that make you blush, Adrian. You know my vices, I know yours, and believe me, little boy, you're awfully tame. And don't think I haven't noticed how quiet you really keep me when we're around him. You're afraid I'm going to scare him off, but you don't really know that. "Oh no," Adrian says to himself, "good little English majors like HIM don't like getting tied to a bed for foreplay. Stop thinking about rope, Abernathy." And then I tied him to a CHAIR, so the joke's on you. Good little English majors aren't supposed to be queer, either. Which brings us back to, 'why the hell do you fall for the straight ones, Adrian, you stupid fag?'

I told you to answer that one yourself.

Because they're prim and proper, little boy! Because they're everything you want to be, because good little Eastern Orthodox boys aren't queer, either! You're supposed to like GIRLS, not the refreshing taste of cock! So you go trailing after all the good little straight boys like a pathetic gay puppy. And then they tell you to go away. Ouch. Burned again. And what's funny is you're not usually thinking about sex when you wander after them. You're just heart-hungry. Skin-hungry. You want somebody to touch you without hitting you or turning you away. You want somebody who just likes you, who can be your friend without--oops--betraying you or getting scared off. Unfortunately, you came up with me, and I happen to be a really good watchdog who likes scaring the hell out of anybody who gets close. 'Hey, listen to all the gruesome stories I can tell!' Which all boils down to the point I'm trying to pound into your thick head, little boy: Feste. Is. Lying. To. You. He's USING you. Run away, get away, stop pretending he actually cares about us beyond morbid fascination.

I can't. I can't, I have to believe he cares, I have to--I need somebody, and he's the closest anyone has come.

Because we LET him come that close. Because we LIKE him. Because he's a fine piece of tail, because he's pretty and amusing and succesful and unique and GOOD in his own way. Because he doesn't sit around talking to himself like this at one in the morning, afraid of what he's becoming and who he's trusting. Because he seems whole, and we're a parasite despite ourselves. Give it up. We can be stronger than that.

I can't, I really can't. I want him.

Then take him. But I warned you--if you pursue this course, the guilt's only going to come and hamstring us again. It's already nipping at our heels. And that's not saying anything about the rest of what you're getting us--and HIM--into. You're endangering all of us, Adrian. You will die, and he will, too, because of this. If I don't get us killed by chasing after Pavel's mad ambitions, that is.

It's a risk I'm willing to take. I can't stay this lonely forever--not anymore. Twenty three years is enough.

You always were suicidal, weren't you?