missingthekeep | Homeplot: Border Crossing

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Homeplot: Border Crossing

It's a long damn time before they manage to get a moment to themselves. The ride to the border had been miserable, dealing with awkward explanations in between jibes and taunts from a man who seemed more enamoured with the idea of killing the two of them than the target of his mission, so much so that by the time they came across Romanova's car abandoned by the side of the road about twenty miles out, Sean had been ready to put a bullet between Creed's eyes and try his luck on his own with Meredith. Still, the prospect of wandering stranded through Soviet territory with no reason for being there, legal or otherwise, struck him as marginally more insane than playing along with all of this, so he reined in the impulse.

They almost snagged a minute alone at the guard station, but Wolverine had vetoed his request to stay with her in the back of the truck at the last second, leading to an argument that had ended with his taking her along as they ventured out. It had ended both far better and far worse than it could have; the guards had all been dead, which made things pretty easy for them, but the perpetrator had insisted on tagging along with them the rest of the way, and if there was one person he trusted less in all of this than Creed, it was Mystique. Any chance they'd have had to break away from the group to talk after that had been lost when their hostage and driver, Ivan, had made a break for it and needed to be chased down.

All in all, the idea of ditching the lot of them and getting as far as his scream will go is starting to look more and more appealing. Eventually, though, they get their chance.

They're stopped at a small village for supplies to get them the rest of the way to Minsk, where Ivan's informed them the Black Widow is heading. For an interrogator, he sure doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut. Stashing the truck behind a two-storey box of a building (the biggest one in the entire town), a discussion ensues about how to split everyone up to get everything they need. While splitting up at all strikes Sean as a truly terrible idea, given all the unknown factors in the group, it's exactly what he's been wishing for for hours, so he's not about to complain. It's another matter entirely to get them to agree to let he and Meredith go off on their own, but he's nothing if not persistent, and eventually, they strike off under the pretense of securing breakfast for everyone with a plan to meet back at the truck in half an hour.

Finally.

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Right, because it's not as if he has anything else on his mind at the moment. That doesn't change how right she is, though, and Sean knows it. "What does it e'en matter?" he asks, eyes darting to the side as he hedges. "None o' this is real, anyway."

Maybe.

"It matters," Meredith says, brow raising a little, "and we don't know that it's not. We don't know how going home works. This could be it." She's not sure at all that it is, that he isn't right and this is just another stupid dream, but right now, the idea that, if anything goes wrong, she'll just wake up is too tempting to put much faith in.

Sean opens his mouth to reply to that more than once before anything actually comes out, and he nods slowly as he replies. "No, that's... ye're right. O' course ye're right." He pauses again, still searching for an answer that he just doesn't have yet. "I'll do what I need ta do."

"What you need to do." Meredith nods slowly, licking her lips. "Okay," she says. She's not sure what that means or if she likes the sound of it, and she wishes she were wrong, that he could say so and mean it, because this isn't where she wants to be the rest of her life. "It's probably just like before, you're right. I just... don't think we should take any chances yet."

"No, course nae," Sean agrees again, perhaps a little too quickly. While it's all too easy to see this as real as it pertains to her safety, his mind tries its damnedest to latch on to any out it sees with regards to himself, as counter-intuitive as that is. Suddenly, it's not the real-world consequences he's worried about anymore, though.

"Ye remember last year, when ye said ye'd still love me e'en if I-" he starts, cutting himself off in a hurry as lights splash through the front windows of the market. They pass quickly, but Sean's on his feet a second later to catch a glimpse of the passing vehicle.

"Military," he explains quickly, tossing her a sack so they can get what they came here for and get out. "We should be fine in here, but where'er they stop's liable ta be crawlin' with 'em right quick, we need ta get back to the truck. Grab whate'er ye can carry an' let's go."

It wasn't a blanket permission, Meredith's ready to say, though that doesn't change that she meant it, thinks she still does. He changes topic, though, and all she can do is get to her feet and hurry to fill up her bag with whatever's to hand, trying to hurry without letting her rush turn to panic. Staying calm is the best thing she can do with the situation they're in, no matter how difficult that is at times. He might have meant something else anyway, bringing that up. "Which way were they headed?" she asks, hoping it's in the opposite direction from them, though luck hasn't exactly been on their side thus far.

"To the center o' town, looked like, but we cannae take anythin' f'r granted," Sean says, quickly filling a bag of his own with bread and vegetables and cured meats, all laid out for daybreak, his eyes glued on the street outside. He feels rotten about it, stealing from people who obviously need whatever they can produce, but that's really the least of his concerns right now. "'Less there are more 'round the corner, we should have a straight shot back so long as we stay behind the buildings. Hopefully the others didnae dawdle like we did."

"And whose idea was it to dawdle?" Meredith asks lightly, heading for the door and waiting for him to join her. She's grateful for it, though, the few minutes they stole for themselves. It doesn't make all this better, but just having had a moment to breathe, to be with him, she feels more at ease, girded for whatever's ahead. "We'll be quick, we'll be fine, and I think the others can hold their own."

"At the end o' the day, they are professionals, whether ye agree wi' their methods or nae," Sean says, slinging the bag over his shoulder as he meets her at the back. Whether the same can be said of himself anymore, he's starting to wonder. "A'right, now nae a word 'til we're back at the truck. Follow me lead, stay low, an' stick to the shadows," he goes on, falling silent as he cracks open the door, makes sure the coast is clear, and ushers her out.

Meredith is distinctly aware what side of that argument she falls on, although she can't say they don't know what they're doing, if only because she doesn't know enough herself to have a leg to stand on. Arms wrapped around the sack, she slips out ahead of him, struck by how much she doesn't want to do this. It's easy in there to say they'll be fine, but as she makes her way down the path, keeping as much in the shadows as she can, she's also aware that, if anything happens, no one's going to care if she's a professional or not. The return to the truck, she can manage just fine, but she keeps glancing at him for confirmation even so.

It's all of two blocks to get back, but with occupied streets and the threat of imminent daybreak on them, it feels more like two miles. It's a quiet jaunt, though, interrupted only by the passage of a civilian out early, right up until the truck is in sight and the sound of automatic gunfire breaks the silence. Cursing under his breath, Sean pauses for a fraction of a second to let Meredith get ahead of him. "Run!" he hisses, glancing quickly back the way they came. It's still clear, and the shots came from far enough away that the truck should still be safe, but if they've been compromised, there's no more time to waste.

Stifling a gasp at the sound, Meredith ducks ahead of him, moving as fast as she can make herself go. It's been such a long day already and she's tired, afraid her footsteps are too loud or she'll drop her sack, that the soldiers will be on them next, that any of a dozen things she can't even imagine will go wrong. The sight of the truck comes as more of a relief than she would have imagined after the day they've had, but she looks back over her shoulder to make sure there hasn't been a change of plans. "What do we do?"

Sean can't answer that until he knows how the others are faring, so he keeps his mouth shut. They get to the truck just as Wolverine and Mystique do, the former looking none too pleased with the current turn of events. "What's going on out there?"

"Sabretooth and Fox went back for more fuel. Apparently they ran into resistance," Maverick replies, not moving from where he stands with a pistol trained on their pet from the KGB. Sean takes the opportunity to tell the others about the army rolling into town just as the sound of gunfire nearby seems to multiply, and Logan practically snarls in frustration.

"Cassidy, leave the skirt and get down there. We're not gettin' outta here without a scuffle, but I need you to try and make sure he doesn't kill anybody if he hasn't already." Not only does it strike Sean as wishful thinking, but it also poses a pretty severe problem.

"I'm nae leavin' her," he says, glancing over toward Meredith as if she'll actually be able to provide some sort of out.

What he expects her to say or do, Meredith doesn't know. They're unlikely to listen to her and she doesn't want to push it when she knows she's on thin ice with this crowd just by virtue of being here. "I'm okay," she says, focusing on Sean. She doesn't want him to leave her here — doesn't want him to go fight either, for that matter, not when she's not sure how much his throat can take now — but she's not sure what the alternative is. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me." Something else occurs to her then, though. "What do I do if someone comes over here?" She doesn't have a good reason to be here. Wherever she goes, she's just facing more trouble.

"Nothin', 'cause I'm nae leavin' ye here," Sean snaps, but it's an idle statement since he doesn't know what else to do. If he can't so much as help out when he's needed, they will have officially outlived their usefulness, and while he trusts Wolverine to not just try killing them outright, they'd almost certainly lose their ride out of here, which would have pretty much the same result in the long run.

"Look, I was willing to help you out, but you're not getting in the way of this op," Wolverine grits out, already leaving to do whatever it is he plans on doing about this, nothing but professional. The way that Sean should be thinking. "Take care o' things down there for a minute and your girl'll be fine, I got no time to stand around jawing. Raven, come on."

Sean just swears some more.

"He's right," Meredith says, quiet, though she wants him to stay anyway. It isn't feasible, not if she wants to get out of this place. She's terrified even so, doing her best to keep it out of her expression, drawn though it is. "I will be fine. We'll be in less trouble if you're fast and you're careful than if you stay here, you know that. It's that or I come with you." She'll chance it if she has to, but not knowing what to expect out there, she can only assume she'll be even more in the way where the fighting is, another thing for him to worry about.

"Nae an option," Sean says, shaking his head. Not when, for all he knows, Creed's out starting World War III just down the street. "God dammit."

Making potentially awful snap decisions is so much easier when he only has himself to worry about. Or people he's not in love with, terrible as that sounds.

"Stay in the truck," he finally says, gesturing roughly for her to move. It's been barely a minute since the gunfire broke out, but that's still far too much time already wasted. Pulling the gun out again, he hands it to her insistently. "An' take this. Keep the safety on. Lord knows it'll nae do much in case anyone makes it o'er here, but I'll nae let that happen an' it'll make me feel better, at any rate."

Meredith makes a noise of protest, but takes it anyway, if only for his sake, once she's in the truck. "I wouldn't know how to take the safety off anyway," she points out, smiling just a little. It fades a moment later as she leans toward him. "I'll stay put, I'll be fine. I'll be here when you get back." He will come back. He always has. That doesn't mean there won't be an exception one day, that they won't run out of time, but she won't think about that now. Not yet, at least. There are other things she wants to say, but they're in a rush and she doesn't want to hold him back. "Be safe."

"Ye jus' pull back that bit there," Sean points out, unsure why he's bothering to do so when he just told her not to do it. Just in case, he supposes. "Finger well away from the trigger 'less ye plan on pullin' it."

Exhaling sharply, he casts one last look around, as if some alternative to leaving her is going to suddenly manifest at the last second. For his part, Maverick just watches them, impassive as ever, and Sean knows better than to bother asking him to watch out for her, though he does wonder bitterly why he isn't the one about to risk his neck for a madman.

"Ye as well," he finally adds, casting a brief, pained look at Meredith before he takes off, not bothering with any manner of goodbye.

It's just as well. Meredith has no intention of saying goodbye or that she loves him or anything that might seem final; he'll come back. She shifts further back into truck, drawn in on herself, and reminds herself of that again and again. Whatever is happening out there, he'll be okay. In spite of what she said, though, she starts to wish she'd insisted on following, though she knows that would only have made things worse. It's not knowing what's going on that's hard, only being able to listen to what sounds make it down here and trying to piece them together, looking out the window to be sure no one's coming, not bothering to try and make conversation. Staying still doesn't suit her, but she's not equipped to plan ahead either, just to wait and keep watching, for trouble or for him.

It's bad. Sean wasn't expecting a walk in the park, naturally, but as he cautiously peers out past the edge of the last building in the row that he can use for cover, it still manages to strike him just how bad it is. About a dozen or so soldiers are firing on their own truck, behind which he can only assume Sabretooth and Silver Fox are pinned down. If that were it, it would be manageable, but before Sean has the chance to get over and loudly defuse the situation, a group of four start stupidly advancing on the truck, and Creed's not about to sit on his laurels while he waits for them.

So much for not killing anybody, Sean thinks, wincing to himself as he enters the fray too late to keep Creed from appearing and tearing out the throat of the nearest Russian soldier with that ridiculous manicure of his. A blow to the head plainly snaps the neck of a second, even as the other two punch a whole lot of holes in his hide with their rifles. There's nothing to do but leave them to his wrath, though, since Sean's garnering attention of his own, now, by the group still assembled loosely by the refueling station that Team X had evidently been going for.

He screams, blowing a pair of them back off their feet, though only one of them stays down. Then he's on the defensive, focused on deflecting the truly absurd amount of bullets coming his way. He contemplates going airborne, the better to stay out of harm's way, but with the way his control over his voice is still shaky, it seems like more risk than it's worth.

He doesn't start when a few bullets slip through his defenses and pass disconcertingly close to his head, but his voice picks that moment to hitch in his throat as if on cue, his scream cutting out abruptly and forcing him to dive to keep from getting torn to pieces while he readies another. When another bark of rifle fire breaks out off to his right, though, it sends the soldiers scattering for cover and Sean jumps back to his feet to see Silver Fox wielding one of the dead soldier's Kalishnikovs to lay down suppressive fire.

Just in time for two trucks' worth of reinforcements to come rumbling down the street. Of course.

Though Meredith can't see anything from where she is, she stays close to the window anyway, peering intently out as if she might catch a glimpse of the battle. She watches and she listens, trying to track their progress by the sound of gunfire, straining for some hint of the scream that has to be Sean. It's a chilling sound and one she's desperate to hear, proof he's still in good enough shape to keep fighting back. The fight itself beyond that isn't anything she wants to consider. The group she's fallen in with won't hesitate to kill and once she considers the injuries that could be piling up, she wants to be there, too, to help with that, the only thing of worth she can do in a situation like this. Sitting here leaves her restless, palms pressed hard into her knees as she tells herself she has to stay here, she can't just go running right into the middle of that.

Creed's finished mauling the four over by the truck and has picked up a rifle of his own, but instead of mirroring Silver Fox's deliberate cover fire, he starts strafing the refueling station without abandon, forcing Sean to get the hell out of the way in order to avoid getting hit.

"Friendly fire, my arse," he mutters under his breath before turning to take care of the few soldiers who dare to come out of hiding to try taking advantage of his retreat. At first, it seems downright suicidal, but given the way Sabretooth is going at the fuel reserves in addition to whoever he can see, they're probably better off without the cover. It doesn't make a difference either way, their motivations not changing the effect that Sean's scream has on them. He has to force it this time, though, the toll it takes on his throat making itself known as he hits them hard and fast, throwing them back against the wall of the station. If they survive it, he'll have saved their lives, but that's cold comfort with the body count that's already been racked up, that continues to rise as Creed starts picking off the remaining soldiers when Sean finally joins them behind the bullet-ridden truck.

None of it's going to count for anything either way now that reinforcements are starting to pile out behind them, and all Sean can think is that he's going to die trying to look out for these lunatics. He's going to get Meredith killed because of them. He's... going to get let off the hook entirely, apparently, because a commanding Russian voice cuts through the din, shouting something about a training exercise and causing the soldiers to immediately stand down. Sean whirls around to see a man in a Major's uniform barking orders, but it isn't until he spots Wolverine lurking off to the side does it click that this was the plan all along. He still won't trust her for an instant, but at least Mystique's managed to prove her worth somehow. Without even waiting for the area to start clearing out, Sean takes advantage of the momentary confusion to extricate himself and quietly start making his way back down the street to their makeshift base camp.

It's only in the sudden quiet that Meredith tears her gaze away from the window, looking the other way and back out again before she opens the car door and climbs out. Something's happening — something's not happening — and somehow that's much worse than the screams and shouts and gunfire. She should stay where she is like she said she would, but she can't bring herself to sit still when she doesn't know what's happening. When there was distinct and definite fighting, at least she had a reason to stay out of the way. Even now, she's so far out of her element that she sticks close to the car, mostly pacing, trying to make up her mind or at least make herself wait a little longer. When she catches sight of him in the distance, that's enough. She sets the gun back in the car and takes off toward him.

He shouldn't change his demeanor any, Sean knows, should just keep walking, meet up with her, and then chew her out some for leaving the truck. But, while he may not have been looking right into her eyes this time as he parsed the moments where he'd been quite possibly about to die, the way she looks right now makes him feel like he might as well have been. So he says to hell with how it looks to anyone else, picking up a bit of speed to close the gap between them as quickly as he can, his arms around her as soon as she's within reach.

"It's okay," he says, his voice rough-edged and low. If he tells himself that it's all for her sake, to keep her steady and solid in the midst of all this madness, he can justify it.

Homeplot: Border Crossing

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