Kassian held the woman's gaze for several moments, then finally nodded, solemn.
He did not take the knife from her, but glanced at it briefly.
He'd been both wrong and right about his estimation, he saw: no, she was no broken doll, and yes, she was easy to underestimate.
Kassian had wondered if she was a desperate survivor living under the reich of killers and madmen orchestrated by the Fury, but now he saw that this woman was not their victim, but their shepherd-in-waiting.
Her eyes shone clear when she spoke of the mission. He could tell she believed in it. That, he did not doubt.
But she was young. Perhaps not as callow as he had thought, but still largely untried.
He wondered was if time and experience would temper her convictions, or merely strengthen them.
Kassian thought about the night of the greenhouse, the night they'd discovered the first murder, when he and Ocelot had stood on top of the East wing rooftop, and Kassian had spoken to the Fury. Questioned him. Asked him why.
Why the truce of that night, the armistice between Ocelot Unit and Flame Patrol had to be revoked with sunrise. Why the Fury had said that on the next day, they would resume their hostilities as if there had never been an accord.
Kassian had asked why, and the Fury had replied, why not.
He supposed he could write it off as merely reticence, distrust, the man's driving need to provoke.
But something told Kassian that the Fury had been speaking the truth. Even if the cosmonaut had a mission to cleanse the world of evil at one time, he'd lost his way.
"No matter what," he told the woman, somberly, still holding her clear-eyed gaze, "make sure you always have a good reason."
He didn't know if she would understand. Maybe not now. But if she continued along the Fury's path, perhaps she would, with time.
Kassian shifted his regard. "This might be a bad time for an interview," he told her, then stepped up to the inner door. "They found a second body."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-06-13 03:58 pm (UTC)He did not take the knife from her, but glanced at it briefly.
He'd been both wrong and right about his estimation, he saw: no, she was no broken doll, and yes, she was easy to underestimate.
Kassian had wondered if she was a desperate survivor living under the reich of killers and madmen orchestrated by the Fury, but now he saw that this woman was not their victim, but their shepherd-in-waiting.
Her eyes shone clear when she spoke of the mission. He could tell she believed in it. That, he did not doubt.
But she was young. Perhaps not as callow as he had thought, but still largely untried.
He wondered was if time and experience would temper her convictions, or merely strengthen them.
Kassian thought about the night of the greenhouse, the night they'd discovered the first murder, when he and Ocelot had stood on top of the East wing rooftop, and Kassian had spoken to the Fury. Questioned him. Asked him why.
Why the truce of that night, the armistice between Ocelot Unit and Flame Patrol had to be revoked with sunrise. Why the Fury had said that on the next day, they would resume their hostilities as if there had never been an accord.
Kassian had asked why, and the Fury had replied, why not.
He supposed he could write it off as merely reticence, distrust, the man's driving need to provoke.
But something told Kassian that the Fury had been speaking the truth. Even if the cosmonaut had a mission to cleanse the world of evil at one time, he'd lost his way.
"No matter what," he told the woman, somberly, still holding her clear-eyed gaze, "make sure you always have a good reason."
He didn't know if she would understand. Maybe not now. But if she continued along the Fury's path, perhaps she would, with time.
Kassian shifted his regard. "This might be a bad time for an interview," he told her, then stepped up to the inner door. "They found a second body."
[Continued in Second Victim, Part II]