“That’s it?” Grandfather said with an eyebrow raised.
“That’s it.” Patrick said, although it was a lie, and he swallowed before he could think not to. Grandfather picked up on that.
“Patrick, let me tell you why I like you.” Grandfather sighed, before rubbing his face with fatigue and irritation, “I love you like a grandson, but I also like you as a person. The reason I like you is because you think the way I do. You never go into any situation without a backup plan, and you never offer your opponent anything that isn’t barbed, booby-trapped, or otherwise. You never give up a pawn unless you are prepared to take a bishop.
“The problem is, you aren’t as good as I am—not yet anyway. Now normally, I would sit back and let you make your own mistakes, but the stakes are simply too high this time. You can’t possibly imagine how you might have harmed us… or inadvertently benefited us. But either way, you have moved pieces around and I need to know where they are. You would never have gone to the enemy with an offer unless that offer had assurances that you yourself could control. And you would never have dangled a freebie in front of Matt unless that dangle was somehow poisoned with insurance. I know this because I know you, and I know that you know that the Americans don’t care in the slightest about you or your plans. Only Matt seems to care, and there’s absolutely no reason that I can think of as to why he should.
“It might be a girl perhaps; maybe some sort of blackmail you managed to harvest from his past; it might have even been money. Now, you might think that these are mere trifling things that only matter between you and him. You might think that it’s something that might appear unrelated to the game that I am playing. But I’m telling you right now, man to man, it’s all related and it all matters. Your telling me gives both of us the advantage; not telling me gives it to them. So, come clean, and tell me everything.”
Patrick considered these words, he really did, and as he considered them, he recounted another bit of sage wisdom that Grandfather had imparted years ago. “Don’t keep playing a game you know you are losing, just because you haven’t technically lost yet. Just save yourself the time, money and manpower and quit playing so that you can find a game you can win at.” Patrick resolved to ignore this completely.
“Grandfather… I did tell you everything.” Patrick said, swallowing again.
“Patrick, tell me!” Grandfather bellowed, losing all composure, “I can make anything work. When have you ever known me to not be able to make use of any situation you and your fellow morons throw at me?! Trust me, Patrick. For the first time since whenever you decided that you couldn’t, trust me to make this work out! Trust me to forgive you, and trust me to get you back on the right path!”
“I don’t want to!” Patrick finally exploded. It was the first time he had ever yelled at Grandfather. Hell, it was the first time anyone had probably ever done it—likely because anyone that had tried received the same response: a completely unimpressed stare.
“That’s… that’s right!” Patrick tried again, “I don’t want this to work out for the unit! I don’t want to help them, the HVA, you, the fucking GDR, or any of your plans! I don’t trust you, and I don’t want to! You took too long, old man! You let things go too long, and I had to make my own plans. I don’t want to do this anymore, don’t you understand?! I don’t want to do any of this! I just want out. I want to get as far away from it all as I can, and the Americans made me a deal!”
“But they didn’t make you a deal!” Grandfather seethed, “You went to them, Patrick! They didn’t come to you. So, you made Matt a deal! What was that deal?!”
“Stop it!” Patrick stood up and shouted at the man, “I don’t want to play this anymore! I’m done!”
“No you aren’t, Patrick! You are messing with forces you cannot possibly fathom!”
“I can fathom you, old man!” Patrick said, without thinking. “I can fathom what the end-game is, and I can fathom my part in it! I can fathom how long it’s going to take for that eventuality… and most of all, I can fathom how little you truly care about me!”
“Oh, you… now… now you just hold on one singular second.” Grandfather said slowly, barely containing his rage. “You think I’m talking about me… that I’m the force you can’t fathom. I’m most certainly not the force you need to understand. Patrick, you are caught in the middle of a hurricane right now. Things are happening around the entire world that millions of innocent and oblivious people are being affected by. Millions of lives, caught in the balance. And the only people keeping them alive are the select few like you who are privy to a small part of it, being led by men like me.
“I’m a man of near infinite patience, Patrick, but it’s not infinite. And the one thing—the one singular thing—that wears away at my patience is taking three steps forward, only to take two steps back because my own agents want to whine. I’ll take that whining from a common asset because they don’t know any better, but I refuse to take it from my own agents who stand to gain so much!”
“Fuck your plans, old man!” Patrick screamed, with flecks of saliva flying wildly out of his mouth, “Why should I care about your plans?! And why should I care about everyone else?!”
“Because it’s your job, you little ingrate!” Grandfather shouted. “It’s your job to safeguard those millions! That’s what you are handsomely payed to do, and that’s where you draw your immense privilege and autonomy from! You do not manifest destiny, Patrick, and you are not here to think of yourself! But if you are so shortsighted, and simply that selfish, at least have the courtesy to get out of my way, rather than risking the lives of millions. And don’t you dare presume to think that your suffering outweighs theirs. Because it just plain doesn’t.”
“What do you know of my suffering?” Patrick said, with tears beginning to well in his eyes, “You know nothing! You have no idea… the horror I’ve had… that I’ve had to suffer… right under your nose!”
“How have you suffered?” Grandfather pleaded, “Tell me these things! I don’t intend to not know such things, Patrick! When have I ever actively ignored you?! I’m not all-knowing! That’s why we have agents like you… to uncover the things I can’t! You know something I don’t, so tell me!”
“You don’t understand!” Patrick cried.
“Try me, Grandson! Try me!”
“She…” Patrick shivered, “…the Dragon Lady… she…”
Patrick wept onto the floor, as he recounted in graphic detail the many abuses he had suffered at her hand. He recounted the rapes, the beatings, the horrors, and all the glee she took in it. He wept about his unit, and about how they had simply stood by, taking pleasure in his ‘weakness’. He had never felt like he was part of a team. He felt like a whipping boy to be pushed and shoved around, only to find himself in bed with that thing.
He wept about the hospital visits… the ones where he could never explain why he had such injuries, and about how the doctors would scoff behind his back.
Then, he talked about approaching Matt so desperately needing to get out, but Matt had been quick to sniff out his weakness. Matt knew the only way he could control Patrick was to dominate and belittle him. And it had worked. It had worked so well, that Patrick was now practically working for free out of fear. So, he needed insurance and when he found out that his little Stasi spitzel, Vivika, had a few secrets about Matt herself… well, Patrick jumped at the chance to hold that little golden ticket above Matt’s stupid head.