Hotel Six: A Call of Duty Fanfiction

Chapter 36: No Russian

The house had been quiet since the miscarriage. Some days, no words were spoken, only silent embraces and exchanged glances. When Kiev, Yuri, Kirill, or the newest team member Alexy came over to meet, Vladimir made sure that only spoke in hushed tones so as not to disturb Sasha.

Then came the day that he woke up early in the morning. Sasha could feel something off about his behaviour, like he was distant and almost avoidant of her. "Where are you off to so early?" she murmured groggily.

"I have an appointment out of town," he replied in English. "I'll be back late tonight or tomorrow before noon."

"You never leave so early..."

"It's at 10:30, and if I don't leave soon, I'll be late."

"Where out of town?" She asked.

"What does it matter, Sasha?" he growled.

She furrowed her brows. "Because I'm worried, we haven't talked lately, and I don't know what's going on anymore except that you've had more staff meetings than usual." She sat up and covered her chest with the covers. "I understand if you're using work to distract yourself from the baby, but please, at least tell me where you are so I don't worry about you."

Vladimir stared at her for a long moment, as if contemplating. "... alright," he conceded. "I'll be in Moscow near the Kremlin."

"Thank you," she said. Noticing his lack of eye contact, she crawled to the end of the bed and reached out for him, pulling him close and kissing him. He put his face against her neck and breathed deep. His hug felt cold.

He let her go and sighed. "The staff is at your disposal; let them know if you need anything until I get back." She didn't get a chance to reply before he hurried out the door.

Jessica was pacing the house, cleaning up here and there to keep her thoughts at bay. Why was Makarov pulling back? Was he on to her? No, he had no reason to believe she wasn't "Sasha Belinova," and it wasn't like she pressed hard for intel to raise his suspicions. Maybe he had a plan that day. Perhaps there was something going on in Moscow and that was why he was having so many meetings before. If so, it was a shame she hadn't find any intel on it before.

She abruptly stopped walking when she noticed a door had been left slightly ajar. She hadn't noticed it before and carefully pushed it open to see it was an office. He had a computer open, and around his desk were massive stacks of blue prints. The one on top was of a large building labeled "Zakhaev National Airport," arrows drawn all over it. What it meant, she couldn't quite decipher, but she pulled out her phone and snapped a quick picture.

On the laptop was a picture of Alexy Borodin and another of Yuri. In the lower corner of the screen was an expired conversation with someone called "Alexthered." Strange. She looked around the room, but despite all of the blueprints and charts, not much made sense aside from old newspaper clippings and plans that had long since passed. However, she found it fascinating just how many things in which Makarov had had his hand.

Her blood froze at the sight of a file labeled "high priority targets." She opened it and the first image on top was Bravo Team. There was an X over Price's face, and names written over a handful of other team members, though surprisingly she, Griffin, Wolcroft and Roach did not have their names written down. They must have still been unknowns. She turned to the next picture and stifled a gasp.

"Borodin is Shepherd's guy?" She whispered to herself. On the picture of Alexy Borodin was the word "AMERICAN" and his real name, Joseph Allen, with his unit number and Shepherd's name attached to it.

God, that wasn't good... how did Makarov know he was an American?

... Did he know she was an American?

The next page was Yuri's profile. Clipped to it was a note that said "Betrayer," in bright red sharpie. She'd noticed a discord between them; perhaps Yuri had crossed Makarov in a bad way. Jessica shook her head and began snapping pictures of all the pages in the folder, nearly having them all when she heard the drier in the other room chirping. Suddenly wary of her surroundings, she put everything back as it was and left the room.

"Alright," she thought. "Relax, just turn on some television and get the laundry done. We finally got some really good intel, we can send it to MacTavish later." After she turned on the TV she stopped to think. "Maybe I could just get MacTavish to bail me out now, so I don't have to make an excuse to Makarov..." She grimaced. "No, I'm finally getting good intel, if I ditch him now, I may lose his contact..."

"Zakhaev National Airport faced a brutal attack this morning when four men entered the building wielding fully automatic weapons, killing 150, and injuring 8. One of the gunmen was killed, his identity has been released as CIA operative Joseph Allen. Russian authorities..."

Jessica ogled the news cast with a terrified expression. She sat down on the sofa and pulled out her phone, shaking so much that she nearly dropped it. "Coming Home!" Send.

MacTavish typed back quickly. "Where @?"

"Samara."

"On the way, ETA 19:00 your time."

The front door opened and Vladimir was greeted by a far less than pleased Sasha. "Hi, honey," he said warily. "The house looks nice..?"

"Did you do this?" she asked, arms crossed as she stood in front of the TV, the news cast of the airport massacre playing behind her.

He stared at it and then shifted his gaze to her with a nervous chuckle that was barely more than a breath. "What?"

"DO NOT LIE TO ME," she growled. "DID YOU DO THIS?"

"What makes you think I did that?"

"I know Borodin's face, Vladimir, I'm not stupid!"

He closed his eyes and turned his head away. "I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner."

"Told me what?? That you're a fucking terrorist??" she cried.

"You don't understand, this is far bigger than you or me."

Sasha snarled. "Yeah, it is. You just started a war with America and its allies, and you put us in the middle of it!"

"You aren't in any danger, Sasha, and besides, they think it was an American terrorist."

"... Did you kill him?" When he didn't reply, she looked like she was about to be sick. "You bought him like a sheep for slaughter..."

Vladimir shook his head. "He just happened to work in my favor; I wasn't looking to recruit an American."

She covered her eyes, as if shielding tears. "... oh my God... I can't do this right now... I can't- this is too much."

"You can't leave..."

Jessica widened her eyes at his grave tone, and looked up at him. "... Why?" she asked in a low voice. "Are you going to kill me, too?"

Vladimir looked tacken aback, as if she had slapped him across the face. "Wha- no! I'd never hurt you!"

"How do I know that? You just killed a hundred-and-fifty people, what difference am I to you?"

"Because I love you!" he cried, eyes welling with tears. "Please, you can't leave me..."

She shook her head, turning away as he came closer; her heart was pounding as he put a gloved hand to her chin, fearing he my suddenly grab her face and wrench her neck with an ugly, wet snap. "I don't even know who you are anymore..."

He brushed her hair behind her ear and stooped so his face was level with hers. "It's still me, I haven't changed. I'm sorry I wasn't forthright with who I really am- what I do for work- but I never lied when it came to how I feel about you. Please, just stay with me..." When he realized she was having none of it, he sighed and straightened. "... If you're going to leave, I won't stop you."

"Won't you?"

"No." He was taking slow, steady breaths, yet he seemed unsteady. "You can leave. But you'll always have a place in my home. Just... come back."

Sasha turned away, shedding a tear, and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind her and leaving Vladimir alone out in the living room.