"Hell, this is exhausting...", you mumbled, one eye forced open to see what Adler was doing.

He was still sitting in his chair, just talking into a microphone. He was doing this for hours now.

Even you didn't have enough strength to stay awake throughout the entire thing. You had fallen asleep on the cough in the room at least two times.

As he noticed you being awake again, he stopped the recording and turned around.

He was smoking again, or still. The halfway smoked cigarette was dangling between his fingers as if he was thinking about dropping it on the floor any moment.

A low breath escaped you. The sight made something inside you stir.

Somehow, this felt wrong.

"Russell.", you sat up, the blanket fell from your shoulders. "Come here."

Tilting his head, he raised an eyebrow and looked at you, demanding a reason.

You just sighed and gifted him a look that made him move without further words.

Slowly, he kneeled in front of the couch, so that he was sitting between your legs. He looked up.

"You're terrible, you know that?", you asked with a soft smile and took his face into your hands. "Did you sleep?"

"No.", he said, eyes locked with yours.

"Did you take a break?"

"I don't have time for this."

His hands found your legs and gently rested on them.

"We have time for a nap."

"I need to finish this, angel.", he wanted to get up.

But you placed your hands on his.

He froze.

"Russell.", you said in such a soft way that he sat back down. "You need to take better care of yourself."

His lips curled. Behind the glasses, the shadows of his eyes moved.

With a soft sigh, you grabbed the shades, but hesitated.

He leaned back, making the glasses slide off his nose by his own free will.

A pair of bright blue eyes appeared.

Russell had always had hard eyes, with only a hidden, very subtle hint of emotions shimmering inside of them. But that didn't change the fact that he had powerful eyes, ones that were unforgettable. He always wore those terrible shades, you had met him with them and he had even married in them, so seeing his eyes was actually something special.

At the sides, he had a lot of wrinkles and marks, indicating that he had used to smile and laugh a lot. Now they just made him look a tad older than he actually was.

As his bright blue locked with your shimmering (E/C), you couldn't help but smile at him as if he was a long lost friend.

Your thumb started gently stroking over the scarred side of his face.

Russell let out a deep breath. His eyes flickered and he leaned into the touch.

"They must wake terrible memories for you.", he hummed, starting to drown in the feeling of comfort.

You shook your head.

"I never disliked them. Actually, I think they add to your handsomeness. They're just... you. Part of Russell."

A slim smile found its way to his lips.

Those lips.

Those cursed, plump lips that made you want to kiss him so bad again.

All of a sudden you wondered if the end of the war had taken some of his taste.

Did he taste less like blood and more like freedom now?

Was the bitter hint gone that had filled your mouth when kissing him for the first time?

"She never touched them.", he said in a low voice and placed his hands on top of yours to make sure you wouldn't slip away. "Sometimes she wasn't even able to look at that side of my face."

"Aren't you exaggerating?"

"No. She really never touched them. Not like you. You seem to love them. Like my hair."

You chuckled tiredly.

"I do."

"And that's the difference. She sometimes caressed my face when I asked her to do it.", he slightly shook his head. "But it wasn't the same. There was no comfort in her touch."

All of a sudden, your heart felt heavier.

"We wouldn't have found happiness, Russell.", you said with a bitter smile. "Not in this life. Trust me."

His eyes closed and for a moment he allowed himself to be defenceless. In that very moment Russell Adler was nothing but an unarmed man with a deeper kind of pain, weakness.

He was tired. His body was tried. His mind was tired.

And he allowed himself to be tired in that moment. Because he believed you would never take advantage of this tiredness that held him hostage for a decade now.

What a poor fool he was, you thought and had to swallow hard.

"We would have been able to find a comprise.", he pulled away, leaving a strange kind of warmth yet a feeling of emptiness behind. "If this is a success, will you come back?"

Your eyes looked right through him.

"I don't know if there will be anything after this...", you said and smiled bitterly, knowing that this hide and seek had to come to an end one day. "I... Fuck... I think I need coffee..."

He got up.

"I'll get us some."

He reached out for his shades.

But you snatched them before his fingers could reach.

For a moment, you eyed the dark glasses. The hint of your own reflection greeted you.

What a terrible sight.

"Time to put that mask on again.", you mumbled and pushed the shades up his nose again with two fingers. "Showtime..."

"The MI6?", you asked with a sceptical expression as Adler retuned from getting coffee.

A woman was by his side, pretty, with a confident look on her small face and a buzz cut. Her hair was as black as the feathers of a raven but the way she carried herself looked like a glow.

With a friendly smile, she offered you a hand.

"Helen Park.", she introduced herself.

You shook her hand.

"Adler.", you looked at him.

He handed you some of the coffee.

"We're almost finished.", he took a sip from his cup. "Just a few more changes and the mission can start."