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[personal profile] leshovik
Viktor turned the corner, heading down the connecting hall to the visitors' wing. The cold grey walls were becoming familiar. It reminded him of something Aryol had said to him, once.

Home is where you hang your rifle.

Aryol had said it with sagacity that went beyond his twenty years. He had never reminded Leshovik of Kasya more than that moment - the murmured words, the hint of a smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth, the quiet authority behind his words.

Leshovik supposed it was true enough, for people like Aryol, the ones that had been uprooted so often they had learned a certain resiliency.

People like Viktor simply never learned some things.

Viktor's right shoulder ached vaguely, felt a little stiff. Made he'd slept on it wrong. He tugged on the strap of his rifle, adjusting the lay.

It was middle morning, late for a sniper. He'd slept in after Alexei had gotten up. They'd had another good night together, reconnecting. Viktor had been edgy, restless with unspent frustration. Alexei had fucked him hard and hot, and then soft and slow. Now, Viktor felt mellower, some of his edge shaved off.

He still wore yesterday's clothes, not that anyone would notice. Just about all he owned were urban camo fatigues.

Leshovik walked through the empty corridor until he got to his room, second from the end. He avoided looking across the hall at the last door.

A shower, he thought, then a change of clothes.

Viktor patted down his pockets, searching for his key.

A noise from across the hall made him look up.

The latch clicked open, then the door opened, and Major Liadov stepped out of his room.

The major was a study in contrasts. His uniform was crisp and neatly pressed, immaculately fitted, but under his MVD cap, his eyes were sleepy and his hair long and defiantly tousled, as if Liadov was a man who played by the rules and broke them, as well.

They stood in front of their respective doors, staring at each other for a moment.

Viktor noticed that there was a faint shadow under Liadov's left eye.

"Hey," he said, hesitantly.

Viktor wasn't sure what he wanted to say.

The last time he had seen Liadov, Viktor had greeted him with a punch.

"About the other night..."
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November 2009


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