Fyodor One Shots

To Protect: Yourself and Others

Requested on Tumblr by recuerdosdeuncallejonsinsalida. 

Sorry for not updating for a while. This semester's busier than the last so I've had less time and motivation to write. Life's tough. 

-

You had been content being alone. It had always been this way, and you had figured it always would be.

Eventually, he had become your assignment. Fyodor Dostoevsky, the mass murderer, a man with a terrible power. They had failed to call him a god. Here we do not tolerate blasphemy.

In any case, he was a perilous thing who could pick one apart with so much as a look. You were an entity with no discernible past, at this point you had not an inkling of your purpose. You supposed that perhaps you had none, and that nobody else did either. He wanted to convince you otherwise, or at least that he had a grand purpose.

You knew that their main concern was not the dwindling number of street children and drug addicts. Nor the trouble Dostoevsky had caused various criminal organizations in the past. It was the threat of his very existence.

And you had been convinced. It wasn't long before vague unease turned to admiration. You were infatuated, and it was painful to know that a relationship of this sort would never come to fruition.

You assumed that he probably knew. You had never been in love before, so you had no idea how to hide it.

Despite the complications, it was comforting to know that at least this feeling might add to your charade. It made things more believable, you thought.

Of course, you had been meant to hate him, that you could not deny. What normal person wouldn't hate a man who killed children without remorse? How cruel.

Doesn't that just fill you with hatred? No.

These children had been poor, living on the street, starving. Destined to lead terrible lives. The longer you were with him, the more you understood his logic, and the more you feared that your government was the true cause of their suffering and demise. Your previous loyalty cared not for the people, but for retaining power instead.

Previous? Now you've done it.

Once you had been drunk with him. He had teased you for staring. You had begged him for more vodka; it made you feel alive. 

You felt like crying.

You could hate him, but most of the time you loved him. So dearly, so truly, and you hated him for it. He seemed to have that power over people, and you had certainly not been immune.

You had seen his hands covered in fresh blood, his eyes dark with lust over something unknowable. It wasn't just god-given duty, it was a wretched human compulsion that drove him. In that way he wasn't so different.

One of their so-called gifted agents had told you that you would be shot in the head. You'd let it be Fyodor if it would please him, even if it would only make him happy for a moment.

-

It hadn't been him. It had been a stranger.

However, you had saved him, and for that, there was a moment of satisfaction. Would he ever forget you? Perhaps, but you hoped not. 

Then you were hit.

There was much that flashed before your eyes as you fell, pain was the least of your concerns. All of those thoughts were condensed into a second. In an instant, the electric signals that were you, they were gone.

Fyodor killed the stranger, but did not watch the man's body crumble as he often did. Instead he had stared down at your body for a few moments, trying to shake the feeling that this was somehow his fault.

You would have been in the way, he lies. This was God's plan all along.

Unfortunately, we all lie to ourselves. Often, this is for defensive purposes. You had failed to realize in life that your love was in fact reciprocated. This was perhaps to avoid some anticipated pain. Can one find fault in you for it?