TWELVE
ARSENY
This new recruit has misaligned his sights...
again. I don’t look up when the shot pulls left.
“Again,” I say, flat. The second shot is worse.
I walk over, take the rifle out of his hands without asking, adjust the idiot’s grip, and shove it back into his chest. “You’re not wrestling it.
You’re guiding it.” He nods, and I step back.
He fires again, better. Behind him, Niko is running close-quarters drills with the new intake. He’s moving through them himself — demonstrating instead of just correcting. He’s fast and clean, then he sweeps one of them to the floor with a movement so casual it looks lazy.
He offers the man a hand up; that’s not a new development, but he’s talking more now and not barking. One of them makes a joke — I don’t hear it — but I hear Niko laugh.
He looks… solid. Shoulders back, face relaxed, and eyes sharp in a way that isn’t defensive. When the drill ends, he wipes his hands down his trousers and looks straight at me.
He walks over, tugging his gloves off with his teeth before stuffing them into his coat pocket. There’s colour in his face I haven’t seen in months.
“You’ve been glaring at that poor kid for five minutes,” he says. “He’s going to start crying.”
“He deserves it,” I reply. “His stance is an insult to physics.” Niko laughs properly at that.
“You’re in a mood.”
I look at him properly now. “And you look different.”
“Different how?” he asks, rolling his shoulders.
“Like you slept for about a year.”
“I did,” he says it simply. “It’s strange. Highly recommend it.” Something about the way he says it — easy, unguarded — pulls at me.
“How’s Cassie?” I ask, and this time it isn’t automatic. He exhales through his nose, but it’s not out of frustration. More like relief he’s been waiting to let out.
“She’s good, Ari. Properly good. She’s been up before me most mornings. She even made breakfast yesterday. Real breakfast. The kitchen looked like a war zone, but still.” His mouth lifts slightly. “She’s even been arguing with me again.”
“That is your definition of improvement?”
“Yes,” he says, dead serious. “If she’s annoyed at me for leaving boots in the hallway, she’s not lost in her head somewhere.” I nod slowly. “She’s been taking Vladimir out more too,” he continues. “Park, shops, I came home last week, and she’d reorganised half the flat. You know what that means.”
I don’t, but I don’t push it. “I’m glad she’s feeling better.”
He watches me like he’s deciding whether that response is enough. “She asked about you,” he says after a moment.
“That’s concerning.”
“She said you’ve vanished.” A small smile tugs at his mouth. “Her words, not mine.”
“I’m working a lot.”
“You disappear a lot,” he repeats. “There’s a difference.” There’s something knowing in his tone that I don’t appreciate.
“I’m not discussing my schedule on the yard,” I say evenly.
He snorts. “Relax. I’m not trying to question you.” It almost sounds like a joke. “Come over tonight,” he says finally. “Dinner. Six-ish. Cassie’s cooking. She’ll pretend it’s casual, but she’s been planning it since yesterday.”
“Why?” I ask, frowning slightly.
“Because you’re my brother,” he says. “Because she hasn’t seen you in a while, and because at this rate, Vladimir will be asking why Uncle Ari lives at work.”
“I do not live at work.”
“You practically sleep in your office.”
“That is strategic.”
“Six,” he says, shaking his head in amusement. “Don’t overthink it,” he says quietly. “It’s just dinner.”
Just dinner. “Fine.”
“Good,” he replies, his shoulders easing a little. “Try not to terrify the neighbours when you arrive.”
“I make no promises.”
“That’s what worries me.” He claps my shoulder once and heads back toward the range, already slipping back into command, and I watch him go.
He really does look better.
Later, I knock on the door of Niko and Cassie’s flat.
Niko opens the door immediately — like he was already waiting — and I step inside.
The flat smells like garlic and something slow-cooked.
Cassie appears from the kitchen with a wooden spoon in hand.
Her dark hair is tied back properly and not falling out of some rushed knot.
There’s actually colour in her cheeks now.
“Arseny,” she says, smiling. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten us.” She steps forward and hugs me without hesitation. “You look tired,” she says, pulling back.
“I’m fine.” She hums like she doesn’t believe me, but lets it go. A small thump-thump-thump echoes from the living room carpet. Vladimir is on the floor, propped up on his hands, rocking slightly like he’s deciding whether crawling is worth the effort.
He spots me and freezes.
His entire face changes, and the recognition is immediate. “Aaah!” he declares, like he’s been personally vindicated. He launches forward in an unsteady crawl that is more ambition than coordination. Niko moves to intercept, but I lift a hand slightly.
“It’s fine.” Vladimir reaches me and slaps both hands against my shin, looking up, his eyes wide, and mouth open in a delighted, toothless grin. “You,” I say quietly, and he squeals in response.
Cassie laughs from the kitchen. “He remembers you.”
“It’s only been a few weeks,” I say, crouching down, and he immediately grabs at my coat zipper, then my collar, then my chin.
His grip is absurdly strong for someone this small.
“No,” I tell him calmly when he aims for my mouth, then he makes a pleased humming sound and presses his forehead against mine instead, drooling freely.
I don’t move away. He smells like soap, milk, and something sweet. “You’ve grown,” I say, like he can process that. He answers by slapping my cheek with open-handed enthusiasm.
Niko snorts. “That’s affection.”
“He’s a menace,” I tease. Vladimir leans forward again, this time tugging at my hair with determined focus. I let him hold it for a second before gently freeing myself. “You will not defeat me,” I growl playfully.
He laughs — that breathless baby sound that doesn’t need language.
I pick him up, and he settles against me easily, one hand fisting into the front of my jumper, the other hand patting my jaw as if confirming it’s still there.
“You’ve been avoiding us,” Cassie says lightly from the kitchen.
“I’ve been working,” I reply. Vladimir makes a low, thoughtful noise, and presses his face into my shoulder as if he disagrees. “Betrayal,” I murmur to him. He answers by trying to chew on my face.
Niko watches us for a second — something unreadable in his expression — then looks away like he doesn’t want to interrupt whatever this is.
When I lower Vladimir into his highchair, he protests loudly and reaches for me again. “I am not your primary attachment,” I inform him. He shrieks in disagreement, causing Cassie to smile as she straps him in.
Vladimir settles once food appears in front of him. He slaps both hands into the mashed vegetables like he’s testing the terrain, then looks at me as if expecting applause.
“Remarkable,” I tell him. He grins and smears orange across his tray with deliberate chaos. “He’s been like this all week.” Cassie laughs under her breath as she takes her seat.
“He’s nine months old,” I say. “Everything is an experiment.”
Niko pours wine into two glasses and hands one to me.
We eat, and Cassie talks easily. About the neighbour downstairs complaining about noise that doesn’t exist. About Vladimir fighting against naps, and about reorganising the cupboards because she “couldn’t stand looking at them like that anymore. ”
There’s real energy in her voice, and at one point, she reaches across the table and brushes something off Niko’s sleeve without thinking.
“So,” she says eventually, not looking at me yet. “Niko mentioned you’ve been spending time with one of the British soldiers.”
Niko exhales through his nose. “I did not mention it like that.”
“You didn’t need to.” There’s the faintest hint of amusement in her voice. “He talks about him,” she adds, nodding slightly toward Niko.
“I do not,” Niko says, glaring at his plate.
“You do,” she says calmly. “You pretend you’re not invested, but you are.
” Cassie wipes Vladimir’s chin and continues, softer now.
“I just meant... he sounds important.” Vladimir squeals and drops his spoon dramatically to the floor, and Niko retrieves it without complaint. “Is he good to you?” she asks then.
“Yes,” I say. The answer comes out quickly and easily. Niko’s eyes flick up at my reply.
Cassie nods once. “Good.” She doesn’t push further and doesn’t ask for any other details. “He makes you less...” she searches for the word, then smiles faintly, “...knife-like.”
“I am not knife-like.”
Niko snorts, and Cassie shakes her head at both of us. “I just mean you’ve seemed lighter lately.” That surprises me enough that I don’t answer immediately.
“I have not,” I say eventually.
“You have, the few times I’ve seen you anyway,” she replies gently. “It’s not a bad thing.” There’s something steady in her gaze, and for a moment — just one moment — I believe it. I believe she’s getting better.
Vladimir lets out a sharp cry that cuts through the room out of frustration — his spoon is gone again.
Cassie turns to him immediately, standing and scooping him up when his lower lip trembles. “I know,” she murmurs softly into his hair. “I know. That’s upsetting, isn’t it?” Her voice is warm, and she sways slightly without thinking while she comforts him.
Then her body goes rigid for a second, her eyes don’t track anything in the room, and her mouth moves ever so slightly on a whisper.
Niko doesn’t notice; he’s bent over the floor, retrieving the spoon again.
But I do.
She blinks, and the tension vanishes. She presses her cheek against Vladimir’s head and exhales as if nothing happened. “You’re dramatic,” she tells him softly. He giggles, she sits back down, and the conversation resumes.
Niko starts telling a story about one of the recruits nearly concussing himself on a doorframe. Cassie laughs in the right places, but I can’t stop watching her. She looks better, but that doesn’t mean she is.
Dinner stretches longer than I expected.
Vladimir eventually loses the fight with exhaustion.
His eyelids droop mid-protest with his mouth still slightly open like he’s outraged at the betrayal of sleep.
Cassie scoops him up and carries him to the bedroom, while Niko clears plates with exaggerated competence.
Cassie disappears into the kitchen afterwards, despite Niko telling her to leave the dishes, and tells him to “stop being a nagging wife” when he tries to follow her in.
I can still hear them bickering faintly while I move into the living room.
A few minutes later, Niko drops onto the sofa beside me with a tired groan, rubbing a hand over his face before stretching his legs out in front of him. I lean forward eventually, resting my forearms on my knees. “I need to take some leave,” I say.
“You?” he asks, his head turning slowly. “You don’t even take sick days.” There’s no mockery in his tone, only surprise.
“I’m fully aware.”
He studies me for a moment, then nods once. “Alright. For what?”
“I want to see Caiden.”
“We’ve talked about this Ari,” he says, calmly. “You can’t go to the UK. That’s not just paperwork. It’s a dozen people who’d notice you landing in Heathrow and start asking why.”
“I know, I’m not stupid, Niko.”
“I didn’t say you were.” He leans back slightly, thinking. “Where were you planning on going then?”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
That makes him blink. “You don’t know?”
“I know I need to leave here for a few days,” I say. “I don’t know where. Somewhere close to him. Do you have any ideas?”
He exhales slowly, rubbing his thumb across his lower lip while he thinks. “Western Europe is easier,” he says after a moment. “Neutral. Somewhere neither of you belongs. That way, nobody can frame it as coordination.”
“That makes sense.”
“France is awkward at the moment. Germany’s fine, but too official if someone looks closely.
” His eyes flick briefly toward the kitchen.
“Amsterdam,” he says finally. “It’s common,” he adds.
“No one cares who goes to Amsterdam. Flights are routine, and it’s close enough you can be back in under a day if you have to. ”
“Amsterdam then,” I agree.
“That works. Leave is hard right now,” he says, more serious. “We’re stretched thin.”
“I’m aware.”
“But,” he adds, watching me carefully, “you never ask. You cover shifts,” he continues. “You take extra rotations. You don’t disappear unless it’s operational. That matters. People notice.”
“I don’t do it for leverage.”
“No, but it still gives you leverage nonetheless.”
From the kitchen, something clinks too hard against porcelain.
I hear Cassie muttering to herself, then laughing softly, like she’s correcting her own clumsiness.
Niko glances that way instinctively, then back to me.
“I can probably get you four days next month,” he says.
“Maybe five if I move some things around.”
“I don’t want it to cause problems.”
“It won’t,” he says, firm. “You’ve earned it whether you think so or not.” He studies me again, more quietly now. “You’re serious about him then?”
“Yes.”
He nods slowly. “Alright,” he says. “I’ll speak to the CO tomorrow. I’ll frame it as overdue leave.”
Cassie steps into the doorway then, drying her hands on a towel. “You two look very conspiratorial,” she says lightly.
“He’s finally taking leave,” Niko replies.
Her eyebrows lift. “Really? Where are you going?”
“Amsterdam,” Niko answers before I can.
Her mouth curves slightly. “That’s nice.” She leans lightly against the doorframe. “You’ll like it,” she adds. “It’s open. It doesn’t feel... unsafe.”
Niko watches her carefully. “Are you okay?”
“Of course,” she says easily. Too easily. Her gaze drifts just slightly past us, toward nothing in particular. Her lips part, she blinks, refocuses, then smiles, bringing herself back to the conversation.
Amsterdam.
Five days in a month’s time. Which is good; Caiden will need notice. From what I know, leave is easier there, and he won’t have to justify crossing a border the way I would. That part will be simple.
Simple is good.
Tomorrow I’ll go into town and use the same terminal I always use. I don’t need to tell him tonight.
Back in my room, Cassie’s voice lingers in the back of my mind. I replay the moment in the doorway and the way her eyes shifted. It could have been nothing; it probably was nothing.
She laughed, ate, and held Vladimir steady. She looks better, but better is not fixed.
I spend too long turning it over anyway, trying to work out whether I actually noticed something or whether my brain is just refusing to let the subject go.
Eventually, I force myself to stop thinking about it and get ready for bed.