missingthekeep | Homeplot: Day 1

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Homeplot: Day 1

The first time they come for Sean, they don't speak. They barge into the room, jolting him awake with a start, and haul him to his feet before he's got the chance to do it himself. There are no pretenses here as the first blow glances off his cheek and sends him right back down to the floor. This isn't an interrogation, and they aren't trying to get anything out of him. They're just softening him up for later. Fighting back proves to be fruitless, there are two of them with a visibly armed third standing in the doorway, and all he can really do is know how to take a hit and try to make certain they don't do him any real damage.

It goes on so long that Sean wonders if they're just going to try to beat him to death and be done with it, but they do eventually back off, leaving him battered and spitting out blood in the dingy, white-tiled room as they leave. The solid oak door closes with a bang, and then he's alone in the dark to figure out what's happening to him, the only light in the room coming from a small, barred window in the door.

He preferred it when his major concern was the beating.

The man in the doorway had been a cop, Polish from the look of the uniform. The two working him over, though, had been wearing suits. KGB then, most likely. While he can work out a few alternate scenarios for that, he can't afford to waste his time dancing around the most obvious one, no matter how much it hurts.

"Home sweet home, boyo."

The last thing he remembers before turning up on the island is beating on a Russian girl who'd just been in a car accident in broad daylight, it only makes sense that he'd land himself in prison for it, and with the way he'd been tailed ever since Berlin, the KGB would have ensured he didn't waste his time in regular lockup. The table, chairs, and cheaply soundproofed walls mark his surroundings as an interrogation room, and he knows his captors will be back in fairly short order.

If there's one perk to having apparently left the island behind (for now or for good, he can't say), it's that he should have his powers back. Assuming his injuries have healed enough to not affect them too severely, he's not going to be staying locked up for much longer. Having that ace tucked in his back pocket goes a long way toward solving some of his more immediate problems, namely being not far from getting executed and tossed in an unmarked grave hundreds of miles past the Iron Curtain.

Fortunately, he's saved from having to shift his focus to the less pressing but no less important issue of leaving the island and everything that entails by the shadow that falls across the room a moment later. Apparently his new friends hadn't gone far. For a moment, he considers just nailing them through the door, but as much as he'd like to get to freedom as quickly as possible, and as much as he doesn't like waiting when he's still not positive if his scream will be up to the task after nearly three years and a still-healing throat, knowledge is power, and he needs all he can get. If they weren't going to try questioning him eventually, he'd already have a bullet in his head. Adopting a defensive stance, he takes up position in a far corner of the room and readies himself for round two.

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Instructions, orders, something to do — it's simpler now, uneasy though she still is, for Meredith to clear her mind and do as told. It's a matter of needing direction. Everything else has to stay outside. She throws open the doors, staring out for a second, too brief to see much of anything at all, before she darts to the side, looking around the room at the state it's in. Back to the wall, she draws in a deep breath and waits, listening to the rush of footsteps outside.

Sean moves back as well, keeping just in front and to the side of her as he waits. The KGB isn't stupid, and they won't just wander unprepared inside when Sean's practically given them an engraved invitation, so he has to be ready.

It happens quickly, all of it over in a matter of seconds. One moment, the coast looks clear. The next, the agent with the AK rounds the corner and it's only sheer dumb luck that finds him aiming first in the wrong direction as he looks for them. It's an advantage of a fraction of a second, but Sean uses it well, opening fire just as the man turns, knocking the rifle out of his hands and doing some pretty severe damage to his hands in the process. He almost wants to tell Meredith not to look, but there's no time as the other two come storming in and Sean does the only thing he can think of to take them down quickly without resorting to further burning out his voice: he brings them down at the knees.

There is a vast difference, it turns out, between treating a gunshot wound and seeing one inflicted. If Meredith can hold herself together long enough to get out of here without being sick from the stress, she'll count herself lucky. "Go," she says, "move," but it's not like she's really sure this is the time, just that she wants out now. It's all too close for anything even vaguely resembling comfort. She watches him closely, though, waiting for his lead, not wanting to do anything stupid.

Sean's not about to start taking orders from her in a situation like this, but after a moment to ensure that they're all down for the count, he gives a grunt of assent, beckoning for her to go out first once they're at the doors. He doesn't like the idea of sending her out ahead when he still doesn't have visual confirmation that the way is clear, but he'll be close and he's still not willing to move himself from between her and all the armed men that he already knows about.

Meredith hesitates, struck by the sense it's the same thing all over again, always him trying to protect her, although it's not like she can do the same. That's the worst part, maybe — not that he can do these things, not even that she isn't actually surprised by it, but that it's in some way connected to her, about her. She draws a deep breath and skirts around him, heading outside and away from the doors before she realizes they're still not alone. There are others headed toward them, but as they get closer, they don't strike her as being part of the prison — and one of them, at least, is familiar. She glances back. "Sean?"

"Meredith, stay with me," Sean orders as he stops in his tracks halfway down the steps leading away from the station, as if he thinks she has any intention of wandering off right now. He should have expected something like this, but it's still about the last thing he needs right now. There are four of them, all wearing matching black bodysuits underneath peasant clothes; a tall, dark-skinned woman; a solidly-built Eastern-European man; a regular blond mountain of a man; and, of course, Wolverine, though not the one Meredith knows. No, this one belongs here.

"Looks like somebody beat us to your rescue operation, Logan," the woman says coolly, clearly displeased with any manner of complication. The day has been full of them, as Sean recalls.

Somehow being in possession of a gun right now just makes Meredith feel more vulnerable, not less, and she heads toward him, though her shoulders go back and her chin lifts. There's no sense that Wolverine recognizes her, which is jarring but, she tells herself, to be expected — a different time, a different place, this isn't the guy she knows, though with the way the island plays, that wouldn't have been out of the question. "Who are they?" she asks, keeping her voice low. Still feeling like she might be sick, she's just going to have to stay focused and calm a little longer, at least until they get out of this. If she can fake it long enough, it might just stick.

Cassidy starts to reply, but Sabretooth cuts him off, halving the distance between them in one stride and bearing down on the woman. "'Fraid you ain't in any position to be asking questions, girlie," he snarls, a glance back toward Wolverine serving as the only sign that he's stopped addressing her. "When you said we were comin' to pick up your girlfriend, you didn't mention that he'd have one of his own."

Wolverine doesn't get the chance for a rebuttal, because they're suddenly interrupted by a few brave officers edging toward the door, gun barrels trained on the crowd below. Maverick spots them first and grabs a pair of concussion grenades from beneath his peasant rags, tossing them up the stairs, through the front doors, and sending the police scattering for cover as twin explosions rock the building.

"The alley!" Wolverine shouts over the din, beckoning toward a break between buildings across the street. "Get out of the open!"

"I'll ask questions if I want to," Meredith says, glowering, in spite of the certainty that's another bad idea. She wants to refuse, just because she doesn't take well to being told what to do or being talked to like that and she doesn't trust what's happening here. But they know Sean and, whether she likes it or not, Wolverine's making sense and she's not so stubborn that logic doesn't win out fast enough. Staying in the open is just a way to get hurt or killed, and with a quick glance at Sean, she follows quickly. "I have some right to know what I've been dragged into here."

Sean very nearly tells Meredith to shut up, since he's known Creed to kill over a lot less than that and the way he's smirking is really not inspiring a lot of confidence, but he doubts it would help matters either way. Hopefully being armed hasn't gone to her head. While they've got a bit of cover now, the station across the street looking perfectly normal once Silver Fox forces the doors shut and joins them in the alley, he can't help but feel that they've jumped out of the frying pan and straight into the fire.

"Nobody's being dragged into anything," says Maverick, his voice clipped and stern. "We came here to help liberate the good inspector, and now that's done. Letting additional stragglers in on the mission wasn't part of the plan. Who are you?" he asks, addressing the last part towards Meredith.

Wolverine seems to be trying to beckon Sean over for some kind of tête-à-tête, but he doesn't budge, unwilling to leave Meredith's side.

Meredith's getting tired of being asked that. All she really wants is to go home now, her and Sean both, and have all this be over, or, barring that, just to put down her weapon and hold onto him instead. Neither's happening now and she won't let herself hide behind him like she wants to. She can't hold her own here, but that doesn't mean she's going to turn meek either. "I'm Meredith," she says, though it's just her name, not a real answer. She looks over at Sean, hoping for some guidance as to what she's supposed to do in a situation that's far more his territory than hers, unsure if the truth might be a liability and unable to come up with a lie. "Doctor Meredith Grey. And I'm his girlfriend. I'm sorry to get in the way; it wasn't my plan either." That much, at least, she means completely. She'd really rather not interfere with whatever it is they're doing, but she doesn't seem to have much of a choice.

Sabretooth is leering at her again, loving all of this no matter how much it screws up their plans. "Could have gotten at least one of those on my own," he grins. "Can smell the Mick all over you."

Cassidy looks about ready to hit him for that, but seems to think better of it at the last second, glaring daggers as he grits out a reply. "She's wi' me, an' she's no threat t'you lot or yer precious mission. That's all ye need."

Wolverine's willing to accept that, and while the others remain skeptical, Sabretooth is the only one who'll push and he knows better than to do it just yet. "With the mad-on you've got for the Widow, we were figuring you'd be coming with, but babysitting a civilian isn't an option."

Meredith tenses, flushed with anger, but holds her ground. There's nothing she can do, no retort she can make, and she's not going anywhere without Sean, even if she thought she could manage this time and place on her own. "I don't need babysitting," she says, though it's entirely possible she does. She doesn't have the first clue what she's wandered into here or what that will mean, and she hasn't proven all that effective at keeping herself out of trouble, but she doesn't want help from them. Even so, she realizes, she probably needs it. "I'll keep out of the way."

Silver Fox scoffs audibly, and for a quick moment, Sean is kind of absurdly proud of Meredith, no matter how excruciatingly in over her head she is right now. He doesn't show it, though, finally addressing Wolverine properly, having already established him as the leader of this little operation. All he wants to do is get the hell out of here and work out the implications of this somewhere quiet, get a firmer grasp on the situation at hand, but the more he thinks about it, the less feasible it sounds.

"Look, normally I'd jus' be wantin' ta bugger off an' let ye all go on yer merry way, but in case ye havenae noticed, we're a mite stuck. If'n ye can get us out o' here, ye'll have me full cooperation."

Logan looks to be mulling it over for a second, before he gives a grunt and nods, much to the surprise of his teammates. "You can't be serious," Maverick starts, but Wolverine cuts him off.

"They'll be fine. Since I didn't get the chance here, this can be your payback for saving my skin back in Berlin, Irish. The job comes first, though, and the second either o' you -- any o' you, for that matter -- starts holding us back, they're getting cut loose, no questions asked."

Sean nods, glancing quickly at Meredith in the hopes that she'll do that same. "I'll take care o' her."

He's still grinning, but the amusement's gone out of Creed's voice when he speaks again, replaced with pure malice. "An' if you don't, I'm sure she bleeds real nice. It's win-win."

Meredith clenches her jaw, fighting back any other reaction, though she won't even look at him and doesn't have anything to say (telling him not to touch her sounds too much like a challenge, and she doubts this is a man accustomed to backing down from those. She's past her days of being suicidal, let alone actively so, and these aren't idle threats). Asking just what the mission is seems like something that falls under the category of holding them back — something to ask Sean if she can get him alone for half a minute, then, which she wants desperately. If this is their way out, then all she can do is follow along, nodding quickly.

Wolverine doesn't bother waiting for confirmation from anyone else. He's the field leader. At the end of the day, it's no one's decision but his own.

"Then hand off your weapons, and let's go," he says, growing impatient with Cassidy's obvious hesitation. "Nothing personal, we can just hide 'em better and you two are way too conspicuous as it is. We've got a truck parked a block away, and a-" He pauses, eyes suddenly locked across the street where another man in a suit is making his way toward the police station, unarmed but carrying a briefcase. Likely the interrogator, just in time for a missed appointment with Cassidy. Quick change of plan, then.

"Creed, grab him. And don't kill him. We'll need him if we want to find out where the Widow's going to be crossing the border. Let's get out of here."

Meredith hands her gun over readily, stepping back to Sean's side quick as she can. It's not like she knows how to use it, really, and any damage these people do to her, they don't need another gun for. There's no real reason to be relieved right now, but just having it off her hands helps a little. As much as she wants to reach for Sean's hand, she just crosses her arms instead, picking up speed to follow and staying close. "Do I get to know what's going on here?" she asks, question aimed at him, although she makes no attempt to conceal it. Ignorance is likely to lead to her doing something wrong, she knows that, but she's honestly not sure if this is the kind of thing she's allowed to know.

"We're goin' ta Russia," Sean says curtly, unable to shake the feeling that giving up anything other than silence is just going to come across as a show of weakness and unprofessionalism. What they need is half a minute to themselves, but it won't be easy to find. Ignoring the looks of warning he gets from the members of Team X, though, he relents a moment later, partly because he can't even begin to imagine what this must be like for her, and partly because he gets looks of warning about it in the first place. "I'll explain on the way."

Leaning in close as they get to the truck, a small, run-down old thing, he drops his voice to a whisper, knowing full well that it won't stop anyone from hearing if they really want to.

"We'll get through this."

Meredith nods, sucking in a sharp breath. If she lets herself stop and think about this, any of it, it's too much, but she believes that. She has to try to, anyway. They've made it through a hell of a lot, but nothing like this. She isn't cut out for this, doesn't doubt she's in danger, because whatever she said about staying out of the way, she's not sure she's fast enough or knows enough to do that, and if failing in that doesn't get her, something else might. So far out of her depth, trusting him is all she's got. "I know," she murmurs back, though she doesn't, not at all. She touches his hand briefly as she climbs into the truck, trying to hold onto the idea: they'll get through this. If he says that means going to Russia with this group, then that's what they have to do.

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Homeplot: Day 1

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