"An Offering" - part two

[somedaybitch]

the next bit of backstory for the LFN/Spooks crossover, as i work out the linkage in the plot. will be set pre 301 for Spooks. spoilers for 407. could still contain some minor continuity errors in the Spooks universe, and of course, typos. gen. a bit shorter at 865 words, but Adam passed out. it's so not my fault.


part one.

x-posted to spooky_doings

We have someone inside.

Michael's words rang in Adam's head. The implications made him dizzy, or maybe the drugs were wearing off. He lifted his head from the pillow, looked again at the surveillance photos and tried to reach for his discipline; the separation, disconnection, compartmentalization that allowed him to function. God, he was so tired.

Amal.

He allowed a fingertip to brush her image as he slid the pictures back in the folder and closed it. "Who's we?" His fatigue had a bit of an edge to it now, Adam was pleased to hear. The spy was clawing his way to the surface. He glanced up in the ensuing silence and caught a look between Michael and Simone. She'd crossed the room, was coming back with what could be bandages. A lifted eyebrow. The barest nod in answer. And something else. He filed it away in the box marked "Later".

"Section One," Michael answered finally.

The spookiest spooks. Trans-national anti-terrorists so covert many intelligence agencies didn't even know of their existence; they worked through intermediaries, under aliases, often posing as other agencies. These guys made Sivitar and Mace look like sweet, spinster aunts. In the exceptionally small circle of those in the know, the Sections were the bogeyman. Adam had seen things working for Sivitar, heard stories; stories he never wanted confirmed, euphemisms that gave the euphemistic pause. These were not hands he wanted to be in. He thought about the safe house, the extent of his injuries.

"Where is this?" Adam referenced the room with his eyes and a small lift of the chin.

Michael answered after the smallest hesitation. "Near the eastern gate."

Old Damascus. They hadn't gone very far.

They hadn't gone very far.

Adam narrowed his eyes, his voice going flat. "You're on Farook."

Another pause. Another look.

"Indirectly."

Simone was now standing next to the bed, her bundle set aside on the small stand adjacent. She rested a hand lightly on his injured shoulder, the gesture slow and careful, and pitched her tone to match her movements, a woman staring down a very cornered, very dangerous animal. "I need to check your bandages."

Adam's gaze was locked on Michael for several long moments before he finally nodded once tightly, his eyes meeting hers briefly, an almost apology between them, and then she was cutting and there was nothing in his head but the pain. His vision was starting to narrow and he could feel his skin going clammy. Michael was at his right side then, a syringe in his hand. It was all Adam needed to focus. His good arm shot out and gripped Michael's wrist, twisting hard. The sudden jarring to his ribs nearly did him in. He was under no illusions that Michael couldn't easily break free but they both knew it wasn't about that. Adam vaguely registered Simone's sharp intake of breath as her hand stilled, scissors poised to cut the last of the wrap from his shoulder.

"It's just a painkiller," Michael said softly, making no movement whatsoever.

Adam would come to know the tone as the other man's default speaking voice.

"Your ribs are broken, your shoulder might be, and you have a concussion," Michael continued, still motionless under Adam's grasp. "You're going to pass out anyway."

He wasn't sure, but Adam thought he caught the tiniest smile, amused but understanding, both of the corner they had backed him into and of his need to try and maintain control. "You stopped it happening?" He didn't try to hide his surprise as he slid that piece into place.

Michael nodded, testing Adam's hold with the slightest shift.

Adam gripped tighter, his knuckles starting to go white, along with the rest of him. "Why?" His fear came back full force. "What's she to you?"

"Nothing," Michael answered mildly. "It served our purpose."

"Indirectly," Adam threw back with as much sarcasm as he could muster. He let go then, nothing left in him as the pain took over again. Dropping his head back on the pillow, he watched Michael find a vein and then give him the shot. Simone had finished his shoulder and was making her way through the bandages wrapping his ribs. "You gave him an asset, didn't you?"

"We moved up a timetable. Made it look like he was betrayed. It gave him something better to do."

Adam was sick at the thought, and by how grateful he was; his life had been traded for someone else's. Not just his, his increasingly fuzzy brain tossed back. Amal's as well. "Why?" He heard the confusion and the grief. The drug was taking over. He couldn't feel Simone's hands.

"It wasn't our concern until your file came back."

Adam blinked at that. They didn't care until they knew who he was. They had his file. They had a file, or they had his file? He could feel himself starting to go under. "When...did you..."

Michael's voice was getting softer, further away. "A team saw the lift. Sent the images back. It took awhile to analyze."

Analyze. Using him. "Amal...I'm not..." It was his last conscious thought.

Michael met Simone's eyes briefly across the bed before pressing a hand to Adam's good shoulder. "Sleep, Adam."

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