Minor mishap, really. But he had ended up here, which was sort of the point, even if he had no idea who he was supposed to be meeting. Usually it was either someone very plain, or someone who stood out spectacularly, and right now the soldier leaning over him fit both those descriptions.
As the nurse rushed off to fetch a suture set, Steve reached for the soldier's wrist, holding it firmly but not too tightly. Yes, he was sure now. It was a woman.
Not that it mattered, either way. It had never mattered to him.
"Are you here to meet me?"
The hallway was momentarily empty, it was the only chance he'd get to be so straightforward.
Oh, this one was brassy. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have objected so much, but she so hated it when men grabbed her wrist like that. Only a few inches up on her skin, carefully hidden by her sleeve, was a raw and painful burn that would never properly heal. A brand. The man who's given it to had grabbed her hand just so too.
Fortunately, he was no Jonathan Rogers. For one thing, he was much, much prettier. For another, she knew he was on the side of the angels. So there was that.
Mina's eyes narrowed for a moment, as she twisted her arm free.
At the very least, they could get to the heart of the matter. "Barrett," she said. "Doctor Barrett. I've been sent to give you new orders regarding your assignment with Doctor Maru." And he wasn't going to like them. Not one iota.
She reached into the pocket of her trousers and produced a sickly, pink handkerchief, embroidered with cabbage roses. "Ms. Candy said I should present this to you, to prove I am who I say I am. Or, at the very least, friendly."
He didn't linger much on the way she twisted herself from his hold. It wasn't his intention to hold her in place, simply to catch her attention, and he'd done so well enough.
As soon as she introduced herself and stated her purpose, he was moving, sitting upright on his gurney and completely ignoring whether he needed new stitches or not. The pain was easy enough to ignore too, there were far more important matters at hand.
He took the handkerchief, looking it over and nodded. "Alright," he said, looking up and down the hallway. It wasn't crowded but it was still fairly busy. "We should talk elsewhere."
She put a hand on his chest, pushing him to lie back down. "We'll talk right here," she replied. "After the nurse has delivered the suture set and been summarily dismissed. It would look rather suspicious if I ordered her to bring me supplies and then disappeared with the patient."
Mina could have dominated him, used her powers to make him lie back down. But instead, she settled for an extremely British look. It was a bit early in their relationship to use mind control. And if they were going to work together, they were going to have to figure out just how.
Anyway, she didn't want to show her hand. Not here. Not yet.
"There's precious little to discuss, at any rate," she added, as she started to take off her rings, tucking them into her pocket. "The long and short of it is that I've been assigned to go with you."
Steve let out a soft huff, a stubborn little sound before he gave in and did as told. He knew that further argument would only draw more attention to them, which was the opposite of what they wanted. Instead he laid down, shifting slightly and removing the bandages going around his waist, baring the minor injury on his stomach, just below his ribs.
Before he could explain the injury (not that she'd asked), she spoke about the mission, and his eyes widened, flicking up to meet hers. "You are."
Well, that was unusual. Steve was rarely ever told to team up with anyone. He had contacts, sure, but on missions he almost always went in and came out, did everything all on his own, preferably without anyone even knowing he'd been there to begin with. He couldn't remember the last time he was told to partner up with anyone on a mission.
The nurse returned with the suture set. Mina took the whole thing from her, all but telling her to bugger off. Fortunately, the nurse wasn't exactly her biggest fan and seemed only too happy to attend to duties elsewhere. Far, far away.
"I am," she said, once they were alone again. Or alone as anyone could be in a slaughterhouse like this.
Mina's hands were nimble and quick. She threaded the needle while only barely looking at it. She was used to working under pressure. She'd patched up soldiers while shots were fire behind her ear. Compared to that, this was nothing. A walk in the bloody, bloody park.
"The situation has changed and your mission is going to require my skills in order to even have a chance to succeed."
And Steve was just as used to being patched up in worse conditions, even more used to patching himself up. Sometimes all he had was his own dirty hands, a shoddy first aid kit and a small flask of alcohol, which in itself was a miracle and incredibly precious when it came to cleaning wounds.
"Mm," he murmured, lying very still while she got to work. If it hurt, he didn't show it, except for the occasional hitch in his breathing or twitch of his muscles.
He waited until she was halfway through it and he was more used to the pain to speak up again. "I was going to leave during the night," he said. "Do we stick with that plan?"
He got due credit for taking the pain like a man. And Mina made a point of being as swift and precise as possible, so as not to prolong the matter.
Do no harm, and all of that.
She nodded slightly at his question. "Yes, assuming you're up and walking without too much trouble. We will have to restrict our travel completely to nights. But given the intelligence my people have gathered, that shouldn't be a problem. It would seem that the good doctor," she rolled her eyes, "has been operating on a primarily nocturnal schedule as of late."
Which brought Mina back to the reason for her involvement. Doctor Maru had been Embraced, not five weeks ago. The woman was a bleeding vampire and the VA, in its infinite wisdom, had decided that they would have to send a member along with the spy investigating her. For the security of the Masquerade. And the spy.
Goddess only knew why they'd decided it had to be her.
"I'm alright. Once this is patched up," he paused, holding in a breath as she tugged slightly on the skin. It hurt less once most stitches were in place, but the flesh was still sore. "I've walked off worse than this. I promise you, I can keep up."
It wasn't ego or bravado that had him saying that. Steve knew his own limits, and he knew he could handle a wound like this just fine, and he wasn't so stupid as to risk the success of a mission just because he didn't want to show weakness to a stranger. Pride would only hinder him, especially in a war.
"Alright. We'll leave in the night, then," he nodded, glancing down to the wound and humming, admittedly impressed. "Neat stitching."
She smiled slightly. Unlike Steve, perhaps, she had ego and bravado to spare. "I'm a very, very good doctor," she replied. And she tied off the stitches neater than any ring of needlepoint she'd ever been forced to endure.
That done, she looked up to give Trevor a deeper assessment.
Pretty, yes. But he also had a lean and hungry look that implied he was a proper soldier.
And with that American...eagerness.
Yes, he would do nicely in a pinch, although Mina still wasn't too keen about taking on a partner, least of all a mortal one. But orders were orders and she was a proper soldier too.
"We're going to have to adjust your cover, slightly," she said, setting aside her tools.
Steve wasn't any more eager to have a partner than she was, and he wasn't used to it, either. He wasn't quite sure how to go about it, even less so when it seemed like she knew more than she let on about their mission, and she didn't seem too keen on sharing all the information she had.
He'd have to pry her about it later. For now he just wanted to wash up and get dressed again, and lay low until they could slip out later, while no one was looking.
"My clothes got all shredded anyway," he said, glancing down the hallway and nodding. "There's a closet down there, plenty of clothes of uniforms. Unless you brought me something to change into, but I'm guessing not."
"I'm afraid they didn't give me much beyond orders," she said dryly, taking her rings out and putting them back on her fingers, one by one:
A pewter pair of owls with mother-of-pearl inlay. An amethyst set in intricate silver. An owl head with topaz eyes in Spanish gold. Pink coral. Silver and turquoise.
And that was only one hand.
"I imagine, schatzi," she continued, "that they'll expect us to go in as a married couple. How is your German? I'll admit, mine's abominable, but then again, wives are expected to do much talking."
That was a whole lot of rings for any operative to be wearing during a war. It didn't fit her cover right now, either. So he figured they must have some other kind of value to her.
It didn't matter right now, even if it did register as strange to him. He nodded at the question instead, while he fixed new, clean bandages around his midsection, then moved to sit up again.
"It's good enough to get me by," he assured her. "I'll get us through it. We can find something appropriate to wear on our way there."
Provided the destination was still the same, they had a couple days' travel ahead of them, so it was smarter to wear something more comfortable until they actually got there. They could worry about proper attire once there.
"Then it'll do me little good to call you 'Trevor,'" she said, finishing up with the other hand. The show piece of her right hand was a pewter shaped like a peacock, studded with emeralds and blue topazes. Which made every other ring look rather small by comparison.
She stood up, rolling her shoulders back. "Come up with a name, while you're having a good layout." The corners of her eyes crinkled slightly. She was only teasing him. "I'll collect your personals and something clean for you to wear as we make our daring escape from this..." She gestured around them. "...abysmal den of human fluid and decay."
Mina liked to use big words, whenever possible. She felt it made her sound more intelligent. And it kept her from slipping back into her native cockney accent.
"And do come up with something more clever than Shultz. Every bloody German is named Shultz."
Steve actually smiled a little at that, nodding and letting her leave to find him some clean clothes and his things. Personal belongings was one way of calling them, though there was nothing truly personal in his backpack, and whatever identification he had was safely hidden somewhere on his things. With time she probably would be able to find it but at first glance it was as though he was no one at all.
"Niels Euler," he murmured once she came back, and he was sure there was no one nearby to hear them. He glanced at her as he took the shirt and started putting it on. "And I've always liked Helga."
Maybe she'd already picked a name. But he made the suggestion regardless.
She returned in short order, tossing him a bundle of fresh clothing. And if she aimed directly for his head, well, she would never say. "Absolutely not," she said, cheerful in spite of the rejection. "Helga is far too ordinary. And while I realize that it is the first duty of a spy to be completely ordinary, I'm afraid that ship is going to sail very quickly."
Mina had many talents. Invisibility--quite literally--was not one of them.
"Perhaps 'Elena?' It's Swiss, which will forgive my tragic German. And it's a derivative from 'Helen.' As in, of Troy."
She rather liked the irony of that. After all, they were a bloody Trojan Horse.
Steve was about to point out that ordinary might just work in their favor, but it seemed that she was well aware of that, and didn't seem to care much at all. Fortunately, Elena wasn't so unusual either, so it would do nicely.
He huffed slightly at the comparison, shaking his head as he put on the rest of his clothes. "Alright, then. We can-- hash out some details during the trip, but we've got the names down, at least."
At which point, she'd exhausted the majority of her conversational German. Fortunately, she knew the words for 'attack' and 'retreat' and all the other necessary military lingo. Which she prayed to the Goddess she wouldn't hear.
Hope for the best, expect the worst. That's how most missions with the VA tended to go.
"Well," she said, folding her arms and decidedly not turning around, "get dressed, then. We haven't much time to lose."
Those weren't words she should be yelling at a gala, so yes, being a quiet, obedient wife was probably the safest role for her to go with. Better not to take any risks.
"I am getting dressed," he said with a low hiss. He wasn't lingering for her sake, nor did he think she'd leave to give him privacy. He'd forgone privacy a long time ago, and it was a pointless pretense in a place like this. Besides, he'd already been dressed down to his briefs by the time she'd approached him.
But as superficial as the wound was, he was still sore and some movements were more difficult to manage, especially since he didn't want to upset the stitches. Still, he managed to wiggle into his shirt, then grab the trousers and put them on, one leg hole at a time, then getting to his feet so he could pull them up the rest of the way. The remaining clothes followed suit, tucked and buttoned here and there, until he was covered in snug, comfortable layers, yet still easy enough to move in.
She watched him for a moment. Mostly because she knew that these first moments of their working relationship would set the tone. And she wanted to make it clear to him that she was no shrinking violet. But once she was sure he was going to be fine, she turned away to afford him some moderate privacy, glancing at a few bottles to decide what would be best to take along for the ride.
Painkillers went without saying.
And she pocketed a few others that might make for decent sales on the black market. It never hurt to have more money. Especially with the bribing they might need to do.
"All right," she said, "so where did we meet, then, darling?"
He doubted she'd have made it this far in their line of work if she were that shy, and he had worked with a few women in the past, particularly during the war. People tended to be a lot less intolerant when the need for skilled officers, pilots and spies was greater.
Steve didn't care either way. She had two arms, two legs and a brain. So long as she could do the job, and so far he had a good feeling about it, he couldn't care less whether she was man or woman. Above all else, she was a spy.
"Somewhere... different," he gave it some thought. "Maybe Switzerland. Or Italy. You were there on vacation with your family, and I had a meeting with clients. I run an import and export business. Especially useful in the war."
And he often had plenty of German officers coming to him while he was undercover to study business opportunities. Steve had gotten his hands on plenty of valuable information that way.
"Of course, I come from money," she said. "Sole heiress, after my brother died in an unfortunate ice-skating accident when we were children." Not far off from the truth, in some respects. She had lost a brother young. And had been unexpectedly forced to step into his role, for lack of a better term. "Old money, I think. The kind that comes with an equally old and rather trivial connection to royalty."
Oh, yes. She really liked that.
And it didn't hurt that these days, the royalty of Europe was such a tangled mess that almost no one ever bothered to try untangling it. Everyone was connected to Queen Victoria in some way. That was the long and short of it.
"My parents couldn't stand you. But you eventually won them over." He had a certain roguish charm about him.
James let out a soft little huff, glancing at Barrett."Course they couldn't. I'm a cocky asshole who decided I had to marry you the moment I met you."
Seemed to fit his role, that possessive attitude. It would probably suit it even better if she was playing the role of a quiet, demure wife, too. Not that he expected them to get into any personal chatter during the mission, but was always good to have the details down.
"Very cocky," she replied, unable to hide a bit of delight in her sea-storm blue eyes. "Unlike any other man I'd ever met before."
But really, like almost every other man she'd met before.
Still. There was something different about Steve. She couldn't put her finger on what it was. Maybe it was just the nagging feeling that he was actually a good man. There was a rather dire shortage of those in Mina's line of work.
It had been a while.
"A whirlwind courtship of a whole...let's say month. And that was far too long for either of us. A runaway marriage after that."
He liked to think he was good. Well, in most aspects anyway. He tried, at least. He failed at times, but that was just part of being human, he supposed.
"Ah, a very long courtship, then," he joked mildly, putting on his boots and tying them tightly. He winced at the mild strain it put to his injury.
"Bet your parents didn't let you have a dime after that stunt, but I'm sure I do well enough with my business. Especially right now," he pointed out.
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As the nurse rushed off to fetch a suture set, Steve reached for the soldier's wrist, holding it firmly but not too tightly. Yes, he was sure now. It was a woman.
Not that it mattered, either way. It had never mattered to him.
"Are you here to meet me?"
The hallway was momentarily empty, it was the only chance he'd get to be so straightforward.
"Trevor. And you?"
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Fortunately, he was no Jonathan Rogers. For one thing, he was much, much prettier. For another, she knew he was on the side of the angels. So there was that.
Mina's eyes narrowed for a moment, as she twisted her arm free.
At the very least, they could get to the heart of the matter. "Barrett," she said. "Doctor Barrett. I've been sent to give you new orders regarding your assignment with Doctor Maru." And he wasn't going to like them. Not one iota.
She reached into the pocket of her trousers and produced a sickly, pink handkerchief, embroidered with cabbage roses. "Ms. Candy said I should present this to you, to prove I am who I say I am. Or, at the very least, friendly."
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As soon as she introduced herself and stated her purpose, he was moving, sitting upright on his gurney and completely ignoring whether he needed new stitches or not. The pain was easy enough to ignore too, there were far more important matters at hand.
He took the handkerchief, looking it over and nodded. "Alright," he said, looking up and down the hallway. It wasn't crowded but it was still fairly busy. "We should talk elsewhere."
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Mina could have dominated him, used her powers to make him lie back down. But instead, she settled for an extremely British look. It was a bit early in their relationship to use mind control. And if they were going to work together, they were going to have to figure out just how.
Anyway, she didn't want to show her hand. Not here. Not yet.
"There's precious little to discuss, at any rate," she added, as she started to take off her rings, tucking them into her pocket. "The long and short of it is that I've been assigned to go with you."
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Before he could explain the injury (not that she'd asked), she spoke about the mission, and his eyes widened, flicking up to meet hers. "You are."
Well, that was unusual. Steve was rarely ever told to team up with anyone. He had contacts, sure, but on missions he almost always went in and came out, did everything all on his own, preferably without anyone even knowing he'd been there to begin with. He couldn't remember the last time he was told to partner up with anyone on a mission.
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"I am," she said, once they were alone again. Or alone as anyone could be in a slaughterhouse like this.
Mina's hands were nimble and quick. She threaded the needle while only barely looking at it. She was used to working under pressure. She'd patched up soldiers while shots were fire behind her ear. Compared to that, this was nothing. A walk in the bloody, bloody park.
"The situation has changed and your mission is going to require my skills in order to even have a chance to succeed."
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"Mm," he murmured, lying very still while she got to work. If it hurt, he didn't show it, except for the occasional hitch in his breathing or twitch of his muscles.
He waited until she was halfway through it and he was more used to the pain to speak up again. "I was going to leave during the night," he said. "Do we stick with that plan?"
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Do no harm, and all of that.
She nodded slightly at his question. "Yes, assuming you're up and walking without too much trouble. We will have to restrict our travel completely to nights. But given the intelligence my people have gathered, that shouldn't be a problem. It would seem that the good doctor," she rolled her eyes, "has been operating on a primarily nocturnal schedule as of late."
Which brought Mina back to the reason for her involvement. Doctor Maru had been Embraced, not five weeks ago. The woman was a bleeding vampire and the VA, in its infinite wisdom, had decided that they would have to send a member along with the spy investigating her. For the security of the Masquerade. And the spy.
Goddess only knew why they'd decided it had to be her.
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It wasn't ego or bravado that had him saying that. Steve knew his own limits, and he knew he could handle a wound like this just fine, and he wasn't so stupid as to risk the success of a mission just because he didn't want to show weakness to a stranger. Pride would only hinder him, especially in a war.
"Alright. We'll leave in the night, then," he nodded, glancing down to the wound and humming, admittedly impressed. "Neat stitching."
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That done, she looked up to give Trevor a deeper assessment.
Pretty, yes. But he also had a lean and hungry look that implied he was a proper soldier.
And with that American...eagerness.
Yes, he would do nicely in a pinch, although Mina still wasn't too keen about taking on a partner, least of all a mortal one. But orders were orders and she was a proper soldier too.
"We're going to have to adjust your cover, slightly," she said, setting aside her tools.
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He'd have to pry her about it later. For now he just wanted to wash up and get dressed again, and lay low until they could slip out later, while no one was looking.
"My clothes got all shredded anyway," he said, glancing down the hallway and nodding. "There's a closet down there, plenty of clothes of uniforms. Unless you brought me something to change into, but I'm guessing not."
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A pewter pair of owls with mother-of-pearl inlay. An amethyst set in intricate silver. An owl head with topaz eyes in Spanish gold. Pink coral. Silver and turquoise.
And that was only one hand.
"I imagine, schatzi," she continued, "that they'll expect us to go in as a married couple. How is your German? I'll admit, mine's abominable, but then again, wives are expected to do much talking."
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It didn't matter right now, even if it did register as strange to him. He nodded at the question instead, while he fixed new, clean bandages around his midsection, then moved to sit up again.
"It's good enough to get me by," he assured her. "I'll get us through it. We can find something appropriate to wear on our way there."
Provided the destination was still the same, they had a couple days' travel ahead of them, so it was smarter to wear something more comfortable until they actually got there. They could worry about proper attire once there.
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She stood up, rolling her shoulders back. "Come up with a name, while you're having a good layout." The corners of her eyes crinkled slightly. She was only teasing him. "I'll collect your personals and something clean for you to wear as we make our daring escape from this..." She gestured around them. "...abysmal den of human fluid and decay."
Mina liked to use big words, whenever possible. She felt it made her sound more intelligent. And it kept her from slipping back into her native cockney accent.
"And do come up with something more clever than Shultz. Every bloody German is named Shultz."
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"Niels Euler," he murmured once she came back, and he was sure there was no one nearby to hear them. He glanced at her as he took the shirt and started putting it on. "And I've always liked Helga."
Maybe she'd already picked a name. But he made the suggestion regardless.
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Mina had many talents. Invisibility--quite literally--was not one of them.
"Perhaps 'Elena?' It's Swiss, which will forgive my tragic German. And it's a derivative from 'Helen.' As in, of Troy."
She rather liked the irony of that. After all, they were a bloody Trojan Horse.
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He huffed slightly at the comparison, shaking his head as he put on the rest of his clothes. "Alright, then. We can-- hash out some details during the trip, but we've got the names down, at least."
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At which point, she'd exhausted the majority of her conversational German. Fortunately, she knew the words for 'attack' and 'retreat' and all the other necessary military lingo. Which she prayed to the Goddess she wouldn't hear.
Hope for the best, expect the worst. That's how most missions with the VA tended to go.
"Well," she said, folding her arms and decidedly not turning around, "get dressed, then. We haven't much time to lose."
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"I am getting dressed," he said with a low hiss. He wasn't lingering for her sake, nor did he think she'd leave to give him privacy. He'd forgone privacy a long time ago, and it was a pointless pretense in a place like this. Besides, he'd already been dressed down to his briefs by the time she'd approached him.
But as superficial as the wound was, he was still sore and some movements were more difficult to manage, especially since he didn't want to upset the stitches. Still, he managed to wiggle into his shirt, then grab the trousers and put them on, one leg hole at a time, then getting to his feet so he could pull them up the rest of the way. The remaining clothes followed suit, tucked and buttoned here and there, until he was covered in snug, comfortable layers, yet still easy enough to move in.
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Painkillers went without saying.
And she pocketed a few others that might make for decent sales on the black market. It never hurt to have more money. Especially with the bribing they might need to do.
"All right," she said, "so where did we meet, then, darling?"
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Steve didn't care either way. She had two arms, two legs and a brain. So long as she could do the job, and so far he had a good feeling about it, he couldn't care less whether she was man or woman. Above all else, she was a spy.
"Somewhere... different," he gave it some thought. "Maybe Switzerland. Or Italy. You were there on vacation with your family, and I had a meeting with clients. I run an import and export business. Especially useful in the war."
And he often had plenty of German officers coming to him while he was undercover to study business opportunities. Steve had gotten his hands on plenty of valuable information that way.
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Oh, yes. She really liked that.
And it didn't hurt that these days, the royalty of Europe was such a tangled mess that almost no one ever bothered to try untangling it. Everyone was connected to Queen Victoria in some way. That was the long and short of it.
"My parents couldn't stand you. But you eventually won them over." He had a certain roguish charm about him.
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Seemed to fit his role, that possessive attitude. It would probably suit it even better if she was playing the role of a quiet, demure wife, too. Not that he expected them to get into any personal chatter during the mission, but was always good to have the details down.
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But really, like almost every other man she'd met before.
Still. There was something different about Steve. She couldn't put her finger on what it was. Maybe it was just the nagging feeling that he was actually a good man. There was a rather dire shortage of those in Mina's line of work.
It had been a while.
"A whirlwind courtship of a whole...let's say month. And that was far too long for either of us. A runaway marriage after that."
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"Ah, a very long courtship, then," he joked mildly, putting on his boots and tying them tightly. He winced at the mild strain it put to his injury.
"Bet your parents didn't let you have a dime after that stunt, but I'm sure I do well enough with my business. Especially right now," he pointed out.
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