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Whumptober Day 2: You got away with the crime ... (Biggles)
No. 2: TRUST ISSUES
Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife’s in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)
700 words, Biggles in the Blue tag, EvS character introspection and all-emotional-hurt-no-comfort
"You are an utter fool, Stalhein. The great spy from the war, reduced to a patsy of the British. I cannot believe you let this Bigglesworth fellow play you so thoroughly. A fool!"
Erich knotted his jaw and turned a look of disdain on Zorotov. "If I am a fool, then so are you," he bit out tightly. "I don't recall you coming off better against Bigglesworth, after all."
He was somehow unexpected for the man's clumsy swing. Perhaps it was the drink, toasting their failures, that had slowed his reaction. Perhaps it was only that, even after all these years, he was braced for blows from the other side but not his own.
In any case, though his reflexes should have been an easy match for Zorotov's clumsy thuggishness, he was only able to partly sidestep the man's fist. He took the edge on his jaw, snapping his head around.
Erich clenched his fist as he wiped the blood away. Almost reflexively, he thought of a dozen ways he could kill Zorotov with simple items in the room, ways to conceal it, hide the body, slip off into the night ... He did nothing, of course.
"You are stupid and weak," Zorotov ranted at him. "You were supposed to be one of the best, or that's what I heard. I suppose your skills have degraded badly since the war."
Taking out his own failures on the nearest easy target, Erich knew. The words of a man like Zorotov were less than nothing, yet somehow, they landed -- without the bleeding barbs of Bigglesworth's quiet condemnation, but but edged nonetheless.
"--Or was it always nothing but the lies of the capitalists and the nobility protecting their own? Soft, weak men, unqualified, raised to positions they were never meant for and lavished with praise for the smallest success. Yes, that's it. I see it in your eyes."
Erich swallowed an angry retort that would have done nothing except make the flight back more uncomfortable. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked out onto the balcony of their Kingston hotel.
Although the night was humid, the sense of peace at leaving behind his unwanted roommate brought a small measure of relief. The harbor lights were lovely from above. He leaned on the railing, felt his jaw, and let his other hand drop forward over the rail.
Behind him, he heard Zorotov stomping about, the splash and gurgle of pouring alcohol. It would not be a pleasant evening. Erich thought about going out for a while. He didn't have to go anywhere in particular, just walk about the town at night. He had enjoyed doing that kind of thing, once. Maybe Zorotov would be asleep when he came back.
He raised his eyes to the stars. Beautiful, even now, and tantalizingly almost-familiar in their stranger equatorial configurations. A sparkle of brighter light glimmered against them, flashing rhythmically -- an aeroplane, taking off from the airport below.
Flying away into the night sky.
It must feel fine to be able to do that.
He could not even feel angry about it, merely tired. Bigglesworth was right, he had created his own circumstances and he had no one but himself to blame. It was indeed shameful, and it was no wonder that Bigglesworth had nothing but contempt for him.
Erich rubbed his split lip, winced as it left a smear of blood on his thumb. He could just walk away into the night, he knew.
But a man had to eat. And he had honor, whatever degraded shadow of it remained to him. He had a structure to put his back against. He had people to report to. He had someone to notice if he lived or died, if only to mark it down on a report.
Dreams of running away were a child's fancies. Whatever his failings, whatever his flaws, he could do this, at least. He would do his job, go back and make his report, take whatever punishment landed on him for his failures, and receive his new orders.
When he went back inside at last, Zorotov was in the bathroom. Erich poured himself a drink, sat on the edge of his bed, and drank the bitter taste of the only kind of victory that was still left for him: the knowledge that he would not, at least, let down the people who depended on him by abandoning his duties.
Amusement Park | Role Reversal | “You got away with the crime while the knife’s in my back.” (Charlotte Sands, Rollercoaster)
700 words, Biggles in the Blue tag, EvS character introspection and all-emotional-hurt-no-comfort
"You are an utter fool, Stalhein. The great spy from the war, reduced to a patsy of the British. I cannot believe you let this Bigglesworth fellow play you so thoroughly. A fool!"
Erich knotted his jaw and turned a look of disdain on Zorotov. "If I am a fool, then so are you," he bit out tightly. "I don't recall you coming off better against Bigglesworth, after all."
He was somehow unexpected for the man's clumsy swing. Perhaps it was the drink, toasting their failures, that had slowed his reaction. Perhaps it was only that, even after all these years, he was braced for blows from the other side but not his own.
In any case, though his reflexes should have been an easy match for Zorotov's clumsy thuggishness, he was only able to partly sidestep the man's fist. He took the edge on his jaw, snapping his head around.
Erich clenched his fist as he wiped the blood away. Almost reflexively, he thought of a dozen ways he could kill Zorotov with simple items in the room, ways to conceal it, hide the body, slip off into the night ... He did nothing, of course.
"You are stupid and weak," Zorotov ranted at him. "You were supposed to be one of the best, or that's what I heard. I suppose your skills have degraded badly since the war."
Taking out his own failures on the nearest easy target, Erich knew. The words of a man like Zorotov were less than nothing, yet somehow, they landed -- without the bleeding barbs of Bigglesworth's quiet condemnation, but but edged nonetheless.
"--Or was it always nothing but the lies of the capitalists and the nobility protecting their own? Soft, weak men, unqualified, raised to positions they were never meant for and lavished with praise for the smallest success. Yes, that's it. I see it in your eyes."
Erich swallowed an angry retort that would have done nothing except make the flight back more uncomfortable. Instead, he turned on his heel and walked out onto the balcony of their Kingston hotel.
Although the night was humid, the sense of peace at leaving behind his unwanted roommate brought a small measure of relief. The harbor lights were lovely from above. He leaned on the railing, felt his jaw, and let his other hand drop forward over the rail.
Behind him, he heard Zorotov stomping about, the splash and gurgle of pouring alcohol. It would not be a pleasant evening. Erich thought about going out for a while. He didn't have to go anywhere in particular, just walk about the town at night. He had enjoyed doing that kind of thing, once. Maybe Zorotov would be asleep when he came back.
He raised his eyes to the stars. Beautiful, even now, and tantalizingly almost-familiar in their stranger equatorial configurations. A sparkle of brighter light glimmered against them, flashing rhythmically -- an aeroplane, taking off from the airport below.
Flying away into the night sky.
It must feel fine to be able to do that.
He could not even feel angry about it, merely tired. Bigglesworth was right, he had created his own circumstances and he had no one but himself to blame. It was indeed shameful, and it was no wonder that Bigglesworth had nothing but contempt for him.
Erich rubbed his split lip, winced as it left a smear of blood on his thumb. He could just walk away into the night, he knew.
But a man had to eat. And he had honor, whatever degraded shadow of it remained to him. He had a structure to put his back against. He had people to report to. He had someone to notice if he lived or died, if only to mark it down on a report.
Dreams of running away were a child's fancies. Whatever his failings, whatever his flaws, he could do this, at least. He would do his job, go back and make his report, take whatever punishment landed on him for his failures, and receive his new orders.
When he went back inside at last, Zorotov was in the bathroom. Erich poured himself a drink, sat on the edge of his bed, and drank the bitter taste of the only kind of victory that was still left for him: the knowledge that he would not, at least, let down the people who depended on him by abandoning his duties.
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*cries in Erich von Stalhein*
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He had a structure to put his back against. He had people to report to.
and
Whatever his failings, whatever his flaws, he could do this, at least. He would do his job, go back and make his report, take whatever punishment landed on him for his failures, and receive his new orders.
Because that's Erich all over, isn't it. Trudging stubbornly along the path of his duty as he sees it, convincing himself over and over again that he doesn't have a choice, that this is who he is. D:
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He’s so deeply unhappy and trapped and many of the things that made him admirable and talented are also what trap him :( I think he would have taken Zorotov’s anger and blows without complaint because what more could he do? It’s not his physical abilty that stops him bing free, it’s his own mind. And I like how the prompt lyric could work equally well for Erich + Zorotov or Erich + Biggles :(
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The prompt does work just as well for both of them, and I tried it on both ways in this kind of scenario for them and decided to go with Erich - but Biggles also has his own version of this, of course, even more directly in some ways.
I definitely need to write some hugs to make up for this!
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Erich + Zorotov because Zorotov was no more successful than Erich, but he’s the one throwing his weight around and making sure Erich is blamed for the failure :(
And Erich + Biggles, because Biggles was successful as usual and he has grand words and lofty ideals but in the end he swans off with his victory and Erich is left to deal with the fallout of Biggles winning :(
And yes, all the hugs, always! <333
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♥
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(Anonymous) 2024-10-16 10:11 am (UTC)(link)Now I’m imagining Biggles watching Zorotov hit him from the balcony next to theirs haha.
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(Anonymous) 2024-10-25 04:29 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
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(Anonymous) 2024-10-26 06:36 am (UTC)(link)I can imagine Biggles sneaking into the hotel room after Zorotov had gone out and applying some iodine or whatever they used whilst pouring out a lecture about Erichs Life Choices. And then staying to make sure Erich got some sleep…
Because this fic ACHES for some comfort. Erich needs 8k of Biggles cuddles to sort this.
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(Anonymous) 2024-10-16 10:16 am (UTC)(link)no subject
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