Hatchetfield.

All Curses Break

In the millisecond between Curt pulling the trigger and the bullet entering Owen's skull, time slows to a halt.

A flash of yellow. A horrible cackle. And Curt, frozen in time, watches as the bullet shatters into a million tiny pieces.

Then he and Owen are falling. Curt gasps, but there isn't any air. Somehow his hand finds Owen's, amidst the colors and lights and terrible awful noise, and Owen grasps his hand tight.

Curt thinks he's screaming. Tatiana is falling with them, he realizes, but for some reason it really isn't a surprise. She grabs his arm, and pulls him and Owen close, and they cling onto each other for dear life.

"Owen," Curt chokes out, "Tati–"

And then it's over. No impact, even. One moment they're falling, and the next lying on sand, Owen in his arms and Tatiana's arms wrapped around both their torsos.

Owen takes a desperate gasp of breath, hands fisted in Curt's leather jacket. "What in the bloody hell was that?"

Tatiana presses a hand to her mouth, face pale, eyes flicking around their surroundings. Analyzing.

Curt can't answer. All he can do is stare dumbly up at the cloudy night sky. "Where are we?" he manages, voice shaky.

"Island?" Tatiana says under her breath, like it's the loudest she can manage.

"How the fuck did we get here?" Owen mumbles, unable or unwilling to move his head from Curt's chest. "You–"

"I shot you," Curt says, staring at the sky. Staring anywhere but at Owen. "Why aren't you dead? The bullet–"

"It shattered." Owen grips Curt's jacket tighter. "Time stopped and the bullet shattered."

Tatiana slowly sits up, staring blankly out at the expanse of water before them. "What the hell is going on?"

Curt swallows. "I... I don't know."

"We're spies. Aren't we?" Owen says, running a hand through his hair. "So we'll do our jobs. We'll just have to figure it out."

Curt sits up. He doesn't let go of Owen. He tries not to think too hard about that. "Yeah. Just... act like it's a mission."

"What about Chimera?" Tatiana's gaze flicks to Owen. Unspoken – what about Owen?

And, well, what about Owen? Curt shot him. He shot his partner, the man who had once been his everything, but he isn't dead.

Spies never die.

Owen looks Curt straight in the eye. His eyes are a shade of golden brown that haunts Curt's dreams, but they are dark and fathomless in the cold night air. "Well, Curt?"

Curt looks straight back at him. "Something that I don't understand has brought us here, to unfamiliar territory. Until we get back, and until we know what's happened..." He glances at Tatiana. "We're allies."

Owen nods slowly, and says softly, "I can work with that."

Tatiana closes her eyes. "So can I."

Paul's dreams are full of music, and the color blue, and death.

He sees (or maybe remembers) Charlotte's guts spilling from her stomach, the gore and blood all stained that unnatural blue. Alice Woodward shooting her father in the head. Mr. Davidson singing a tune that Paul can't stop from slipping from his memory. And Emma, Emma Perkins,

Emma, I'm sorry–

You lost–

It was inevitable for us–