fredbassett

Title : Shades of Night
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Modesty Blaise books by Peter O’Donnell
Rating : 15
Characters : Sir Gerald Tarrant,/Jack Fraser, Modesty Blaise, Dinah Collier, Weng
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Tarrant has to face the aftermath of a compromised mission.
A/N : A sequel to A Bad Caper. This has taken so long to appear as although I wrote it at the same time as the previous fic, I misfiled it and forgot about it.

“Go to Jack,” Modesty murmured. “He’ll need you. It was a bad one.”

****

She’d been right.

Sir Gerald Tarrant looked down at Jack Fraser’s battered face and still form lying under the clean white sheet of a hospital bed. He’d been out of surgery an hour but hadn’t yet come around from the anaesthetic.

The deep lacerations on his wrists had been neatly dressed and his bandaged hands lay at his sides. His left lacked fingernails, his right had two broken fingers. X-rays had revealed several broken ribs, but fortunately not a punctured lung. There were other injuries too, ones that Tarrant really didn’t want to think about, but he owed it to Fraser not to shy away from the brutal reality of what the men and women who reported to him had to endure as field agents. Not that Jack Fraser was meant to be a field agent any more, but when someone had been needed to play the part of a minor civil servant with a drug habit, Fraser hadn’t hesitated.

The discovery of a mole in Tarrant’s department had blown the undercover operation, leaving Modesty Blaise and Jack Fraser to pay the price while Dinah Collier had tried desperately to use her unique talents to locate them. She’d succeeded, and the rescue operation had been successful.

Modesty’s injuries hadn’t required surgery and she had insisted on discharging herself, saying she preferred to return to her penthouse with Dinah, where Weng was now almost certainly unobtrusively ensuring she had all the comforts she needed whilst still respecting her need for privacy. Willie was in the middle of the Belize jungle, but no doubt the almost telepathic bond they shared would have alerted him to the fact that she was now safe. Tarrant didn’t know the full extent of what she’d gone through, but from what he’d seen both of both her and Fraser, the gang had been equal opportunities bastards.

“Stop thinking so much.” Fraser’s voice was weak, the words rasping in his bruised throat.

“Jack, thank God…”

Swollen, split lips cracked into a slight, painful smile. “Thank Dinah Collier, more like.”

Tarrant ran his fingertips over the dark stubble shadowing Fraser’s jaw, avoiding the butterfly strips that held various gashes together. “If it hadn’t been for Dinah…”

“I told you, stop bloody thinking. I’m alive, I presume Modesty’s alive. The rest we can deal with.” Fraser’s eyes were clear, despite the painkillers the doctors had pumped into him.

“Yes, Modesty’s alive. She told me to let her know as soon as you came round.”

“Then ring her, or she won’t be happy with you.”

Tarrant took out his phone and pressed Modesty’s number. She picked up immediately and he updated her on Fraser’s condition. She thanked him and said she would be in to see them in the morning.

“Dinah’s with her,” he said. “They raped her, didn’t they, Jack?”

Fraser nodded. “They made me watch,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “They fucking well made me watch. And she said if I told them anything, the first thing she’d do when we got away would be to feed my own balls to me. And she meant it, too.”

Tarrant gently held the least bandaged of Fraser’s hands. “I’m sure she did. What did you threaten her with when she had to watch them do the same to you?”

A rueful laugh turned quickly into a painful cough. “Didn’t have to. Modesty’s a realist. She knows it wouldn’t have been the first time. I was in the field too long for that.”

“Jack, we’re both getting too old for this game. I can’t watch you walk into danger like that again.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to, but no promises.”

Tarrant rolled his eyes. “You and Modesty as bad as each other. Isn’t an old man allowed any sensibilities?”

“No. And I’m sure you tried that line on her as well.” Fraser’s voice trailed off into a cough.

“For all the good it did me.”

“Enough talking,” a nurse ordered, dispensing the obligatory glare at visitors who had clearly outstayed their welcome – at least in the eyes of the medical professionals. “He needs rest. And so do you.”

“Do as you’re fucking well told, Gerald.”

Tarrant smiled at both the use of the obscenity and his first name. If they’d been playing their usual office games that would have signalled an end to them. Without a care for what anyone thought, he bent over and kissed Fraser lightly on the lips. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Sleep well.”

Fraser’s eyes were already closing. Tarrant waited until his breathing had fallen into a steady rhythm before turning to leave.

As he left the High Dependency Unit, Tarrant wondered vaguely how he was going to get back to his flat in Whitehall at that time of night, but before the thought had even finished forming in his mind, he saw Weng, as smartly suited as ever, waiting for him in the corridor.

“Miss Blaise says one of the guest rooms is at your disposal, Sir Gerald. I took the liberty of picking up a spare set of clothes for you from your flat on my way here.”

“You don’t have a set of keys,” Tarrant said.

“Miss Blaise asked me to conduct a full security review. You need a better lock, Sir Gerald.”

“How long did it take you to pick it, Weng?” Tarrant asked.

“Four seconds.”

Tarrant winced. “It’s fortunate you haven’t turned to crime.”

“Mr Garvin has said the same thing,” Weng said, holding the car door open and letting Tarrant sink gratefully into the back seat.

The drive to Modesty’s penthouse overlooking Hyde Park was conducted in companionable silence. Like Modesty and Willie, Weng never filled a silence with empty words. It was a quality Tarrant admired in all of them.

The lift took them from the underground carpark to the penthouse and, as he stepped through the door, he felt the stress of the past week start to loosen its iron grip.

Modesty, dressed in an ankle length jade silk dressing gown and a pair of slippers that had seen better days, smiled at him. “Thank you for coming. I did wonder if you would prefer to be alone, but Dinah and I didn’t think that would be good for you.”

Tarrant hoped his smile told her all she needed to know.

Weng carried a bag that contained rather more than just a single change of clothes into one of the guest bedrooms and told him that a light supper would be ready by the time he’d showered and changed into something comfortable.

Half an hour later, he joined Modesty and Dinah in the spacious living room with its panoramic views over the park. Modesty, her hair tied up in two bunches and her legs curled up under her in one of the comfortable armchairs, looked little older than a schoolgirl and Tarrant wondered, not for the first time, how he was ever able to watch her walk into danger and still live with his conscience.

“There is nothing more ruthless than an English gentleman in pursuit of what he believes is right,” Modesty said softly. “I believe we’ve had this discussion before. You serve the best interests of your country. So does Jack. And I choose to give something back to that country.” She smiled and it was like sunshine after a storm. “And no, I can’t read minds.”

“You can’t win, Sir Gerald,” Dinah said. “You know what she’s like.”

Tarrant laughed ruefully. “I do indeed. But I fear the price was too high for you both this time.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve been raped. It’s not earned a special place in my memories and with time it will fade.”

Her bluntness was unexpected, but Tarrant knew her too well to be shocked. He saw Dinah lean over to take Modesty’s hand in hers and give it a gentle squeeze. Modesty smiled and returned the touch.

“It’s the same for Jack,” she said quietly. “We were alone briefly after it happened. We talked a little. I know he will have said the same to you. The worst part for me was seeing it happen to him. You’ve seen his reports, you can read between the lines. Don’t see him any differently now.”

Tarrant sighed and accepted the large glass of excellent cognac that Weng handed to him. “I don’t see either of you differently. I hope you both know that.”

Modesty answering grin was as gamine as anything he’d ever seen on her face and the cold, hard lump in his stomach finally gave way to a feeling of warmth.

“He doesn’t blame you,” she said quietly.

“I know. It’s more than I deserve, but I know when to put up and shut up, as the inestimable Mr Garvin would say.”

“Willie will be pleased you take notice of him. By the way, he’s left your people with Maude and he’s on a 10am flight out of Belize tomorrow morning. He says you can knock a week off his consultancy fees.”

“I think HM Government can afford payment in full.”

Weng appeared silently at his elbow and set down a plate of sandwiches on the coffee table. “Smoked salmon and cream cheese, Sir Gerald.”

“Are you sure I can’t tempt you away from this den of iniquity, Weng?”

“I’ll consider it, Sir Gerald,” Weng said, wearing his best inscrutable expression.

Tarrant took another mouthful of the cognac, savouring the taste of warmth and friendship.

Modesty was right. This would not define Jack Fraser or change their relationship.

He had to believe that.

He did believe that.

And that belief was enough.