Liability

Epilogue

Tuesday
October 30, 2018

Dmitri wakes to the feeling of being watched. His instincts kick in instantly, his senses hyperaware of his surroundings even with his eyes closed. Whoever is in the room with him has a slight raspy lilt to their breathing, and they are shifting in the chair they are sitting on every fifteen to twenty seconds. It grates on Dmitri's already frayed nerves and it takes all his self-control not to reach for a gun that's not under his pillow because he is in the medical bay, recovering from a month of Marlene's and Zoya's tender care.

If this is one last test after all the torture he was put through under the guise of training and education, he will strangle the moron they sent after him with his bare hands if necessary then he is out. He feels like he was run over by a tank, his head is threatening to split in two while his muscles are screaming bloody murder but he has had enough.

It's the middle of the night, which means that he couldn't have slept more than three hours after going without sleep for 48 hours, being forced to take on the same team he had led through a drug bust bare-handed against fifteen armed agents to first blood. He won, of course. They might have had knives and three of them even had a gun but they were no match for his skills, no matter how determined they were or how hard they had trained since he last saw them. Especially not after the month he has been through. But Dmitri was careless and the last one managed to nick his upper arm as he disarmed her.

As a result, his punishment was to spend the last two hours of his punishment back in his solitary cell on a handstand. He did not give Marlene or Zoya the satisfaction of giving up even as his arms nearly gave out under him. He pushed through the agony, the helpless rage, the despair with the sheer knowledge that they couldn't break him no matter how hard they tried.

At one point he even wondered if maybe his mother had decided to say fuck it all because she had seen through the hypocrisy of her own mother. He wished he could ask his mom if she had felt as lost as he did at that point but it was impossible.

It is impossible because his mother is dead, and so is his father.

And Dmitri is left behind in this funhouse full of engorged ego shaped mirrors and sadistic games fueled by greed. Well, fuck that. His grandmother might have been in the right to punish him for his disobedience and breaking the rules of the Group, and Dmitri took that punishment willingly, but he refused to believe he was in the wrong for not leaving Rhys and Thommy in the hands of those disgusting Viskanya dogs.

Rhys and Thommy.

The only piece of information Thad shared with him as he put Dmitri on IV was that both boys were back on their feet and in school. Dmitri did not ask after Anastas. His rage might have simmered into disappointment laced resentment but for that very reason, he does not want to hear Anastas' ruthless, perfectly logical explanation.

To Anastas, he was just another convenient tool to use when completing a mission. They were not a team, nor were they confidants.

Dmitri got the message loud and clear.

He does not want to think about it.

So he focuses on the mysterious stranger in his room. There is the drag of some linen material against the leather upholstery of the chair. Dmitri counts to sixteen and there it is again. Whoever was sent is a rookie.

Kudos for patience though.

Unfortunately, Dmitri refuses to play yet another stupid game, so he breathes in through his nose, then opens his mouth to ask, "You are breathing too loudly and fidgeting too much."

"I'll tell my singed lungs to turn the volume down," comes the snarky answer, and Dmitri's head snaps to the side, eyes wide open to take in the figure sitting a couple of feet away.

"Rhys..."

"You look like shit," the brat says, his voice raspier than it was before. He has his arms crossed across his chest, and Dmitri takes the time to take him in, ignoring his comment.

He lost weight. His usually warm mocha skin looks ashen and there are bags under his eyes. He looks exhausted.

"How are you?" he asks, slowly allowing his body to turn onto his side, the move pathetically slow. At this rate, it will take him forever to recover.

Rhys stares at him, his green eyes boring into Dmitri's gaze, silently searching for something. Dmitri wonders if he is about to be forced to listen to another rant about what a horrible piece of scum he is. He is not sure he would be able to take it without actually punching the boy even if it was the last thing he did.

"I'm..." Rhys starts then cuts himself off. He drops his gaze to his lap for a moment, his fingers digging into the flesh of his biceps through his light gray Henley. "It's ten to midnight."

Dmitri feels his brows draw together in confusion.

Rhys rolls his eyes.

"I'm turning seventeen in ten minutes."

"Oh," is all Dmitri can say. "Shouldn't you be with Thommy? Celebrating?"

Rhys bites down on his lower lip before he pins Dmitri with a hard look. "I want to spend it with you. I... I..." He scowls, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "Fuck... This shouldn't be so hard... Hell, I asked Aikawa to sneak me in without her ripping my balls off, this should be a piece of cake," he mutters, barely loud enough for Dmitri to catch it.

He is not going to touch that comment with a ten foot pole. Not yet anyway. Instead, he watches as Rhys takes a deep breath that hitches halfway and makes him cough, causing Dmitri to start pushing himself up, his burning muscles forgotten. Rhys lifts a hand, clearing his throat.

"I'm fine... or whatever. This is not why I'm here. I just wanted to say... I'm sorry. For you know." He clears his throat again, his eyes almost pleading as he silently asks Dmitri to get it.

Dmitri is lost for words. He did not expect an apology but looking at the boy in front of him as he puts on a brave face, waiting for Dmitri's reply, he knows there is only one thing he can say. "The past should stay in the past. We both made mistakes and said things we shouldn't have. Things we regret. But I'll never regret promising to be always there for you."

Rhys swallows heavily, that familiar spark lighting up his gaze even if it is somewhat muted still. "Thank you for coming for us, for... not giving up on us despite everything."

Dmitri smiles. "I never break my promises."

Something flashes across Rhys' face, but a chiming sound brushes it away before Dmitri can identify it, then Rhys is reaching into his pocket and pulling his phone free, turning off the alarm.

Dmitri snorts. "Happy birthday," he says, lips twitching. They have so much air to clear between the two of them. Just like there is much to be discussed with Thommy. But they will have time for that, now there is only one thing left to say. "Any wishes?"

A smirk stretches Rhys' lips wide as he pushes himself out of his seat and steps right next to Dmitri. He leans down, his nose almost brushing Dmitri's, and Dmitri knows he needs to pull back but he feels almost hypnotized by the way Rhys' eyes darken as he seems to gaze into Dmitri's soul.

"If I tell you, it won't come true," Rhys whispers, the newly gained smokiness in his voice turning his words into a purr. "When the time comes, you will know."

He stares at Dmitri for another endless second before he straightens up, that maddening smirk still in place. Dmitri glares at him, but he knows it's half-hearted at best.

"You're a menace," he grumbles.

"No need to be rude, Miten'ka. Just concentrate on getting out of here as fast as possible."

Dmitri watches as the other's back disappears behind the closing door, a foreboding feeling hitting him alongside a sense of bone-deep exhaustion.

Just what did he get himself into?