Part 1
Modern Margo & Sergei
For All Mankind | 4x07 - Crossing the Line
Wrenn Schmidt as Margo Madison Ania Bukstein as Tatyana Volkova
For All Mankind | Sergei + looking at Margo
Piotr Adamczyk as Sergei Orestovich Nikulov Wrenn Schmidt as Margo Madison
The real OTP commits to all four. (insp)
I was searching for this, lolz. I remember reading it before I watched For All Mankind and I was absolutely intrigued. This and all the wonderful gif sets got me to watch. So, kudos to all you fic writers who expound on characters and create such delicious explorations of character. ❤️
Sergei absently exchanged the blue marker for another colored marker from the tray, began shading in the sine wave. Orange. In lines like strands of hair. Margo’s hair. The memory of it soft through his fingers, of the scent of her hair, her skin, clean and warm, the sweet, strong smell of the brandy on her lips.
He moved to the negative half cycle, the white of the board again alternating through a fall of orange hair. He wondered when her hair had turned white. Did it happen slowly over the last eight years? Had the long, cold, lonely winters she wasn’t used to, hadn’t, couldn’t have prepared for, slowly leached the color from her hair, from her life? She was not meant for a cage, no matter how gilded.
Automatically, he filled in the last positive half cycle, the orange strands thinning and fading as his mind continued to wander and his pressure against the board slackened. Or had her hair turned white all at once in a shock? Was it upon learning of the bombing? Worry for her colleagues? Aleida? Did she blame herself? Was it something that happened after? Something they’d done to her? He froze. Lefortovo…
“Uh, Mr. Bezukhov?”
Slowly, he blinked, the whiteboard and the classroom refocusing around him.
“Mr. Bezukhov?”
Sergei turned, taking in the students behind their desks, their faces, some smirking, most disinterested, a few studious. Right. He had a class to teach. A life she’d paid for with her own. He owed it to her to live it. This thought had sustained him through the years, kept him moving forward, moving on. It didn’t matter that she was alive. It shouldn’t. It couldn’t.
“So, as you can see, the current is not always constant.”
FOR ALL MANKIND | 3.03 ALL IN
... Well, I seem to have stayed up late writing this possibly rather devastating little thing. Um, sorry I guess?
Set during a version of 3x10 in which Margo never got the call letting her know that Sergei and his family made it out safely, and she had to make her decision to defect without knowing.
As he entered the elevator in the lobby of JSC, Sergei felt as though his heart was pounding out of his chest with anticipation. He hoped he was making the right decision, coming to see her unexpectedly like this, but as soon as he was on the ground in Houston, the pull towards Margo was irresistible. Once he was granted permission to make this visit to JSC, no other choice had been possible. He simply had to be here as quickly as he could.
He had wanted to let her know as soon as he and his family were safely out of the Soviet Union. He had hoped to be able to call her when they reached the base in Germany, to tell her the good news, tell her he couldn’t begin to thank her enough, tell her they would see each other again very soon. For some reason that was not explained to him, he had not been permitted to make such a call.
Sergei had hated the thought that Margo might worry for him a day or an hour longer than she needed to. And at the same time, the idea that she would be worried for him – that she cared for him – warmed his heart.
The memory of her at their last parting had scarcely left his mind. It had all happened so suddenly; a shock to both of them. Allowed a brief time to say his goodbye, then, he had gone to her office with some hope, but little expectation. He knew her well enough to know how unlikely she would be to let him close to her, the shock making it all the less likely.
He had longed for nothing more than to hold her tightly, even if only for a moment, and tell her how much he loved her. This he had longed to do for so many years. And as he expected, this Margo had not allowed, either part of it. And yet, while she made the impossible promise that they would see each other again, he had been able to read in her eyes that she knew what he felt for her. Even, he now almost dared to believe, that she felt the same. And as he’d walked away from her office then, he could almost swear that he had heard her let out a muffled sob.
And now, against all the odds, here he was again. He could not wait to tell her that she had been right, after all. Somehow, she had made the impossible happen, for him and his family. She had told him she would do whatever it took; he should never have doubted this. He was here, safe, in the United States to stay – they all were – and he was going to see Margo again in just a few moments.
Sergei exited the elevator and started down the hallway toward Margo’s office. And there she was, heading down the hallway towards him, a look on her face of determination that was familiar to him, tinged with something – was it resignation? – that was unfamiliar.
She saw him then. She stopped dead in her tracks, her face growing pale.
Sergei hurried toward her.
“Margo. I’m sorry to surprise you like this. I wanted to call to tell you as soon as we were out, but I was not allowed. It is done, Margo. My family and I, we are all out, we are safe. We landed here just a little while ago.”
Margo continued to simply stare at him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her so much at a loss for words.
Then, visibly collecting herself for a moment, Margo looked up and down the hallway, and moved to open a door near them. She gestured for Sergei to follow her into an empty conference room and shut the door behind them.
They stood very close to each other now. At last, she spoke.
“You’re here.”
“I am, Margo. I am here. And I can stay. Thank you so much for—”
Sergei cut off, utterly shocked, as Margo let out an anguished sob and half collapsed, half threw herself, into his arms. She clung to him. He had never seen her overwhelmed, overcome like this. Never even close.
He wrapped his arms around her tightly. He stroked her back, her hair, wanting nothing but to comfort her, however he could. His mind could scarcely process the fact that Margo Madison, the strongest, bravest woman he had ever known, was weeping in his arms. He made his voice soft, barely more than a murmur.
“Margo, I’m here. It’s all right. It’s over. I’m safe now.”
Perhaps it was the wrong moment to say it, perhaps it was a mistake. But he could not help himself.
“I love you, Margo. I love you so much.”
At that, she only sobbed harder.
Growing more and more concerned, Sergei continued trying to reassure her.
“I don’t know what’s wrong, Margo, but I’m here. I am here and I don’t have to leave. I don’t have to leave ever again.”
At last, she pulled back from him a little, looking up at him through her tears.
“You don’t, Sergei, but I do. I have to leave. I was on my way to meet my contact now, and – I don’t – I can’t –”
This didn’t make any sense. What contact? What did she mean? He asked her.
“They know. The FBI, they know about the engine design. It’s either this or prison and I can’t see any other choice I have.”
She rested her head on his shoulder again, tears still flowing, but quiet for a moment. Sergei still didn’t understand. What or prison? What was she planning to do? Not understanding, he nonetheless made her a promise, meaning every word. She had done whatever it took for him. He would do the same for her.
“We will find another way, Margo. We will solve it, whatever it takes. I’m here and I will help you. You don’t have to go anywhere. Not without me.”
He kissed the top of her head.
At that moment, the explosion tore through the building. The world went dark around them.
October 1971 | July 2003 Working the Problem
An excerpt from my little fic Sergei Serenades in Seclusion:
The mixed CD had “MUSICAL EDUCATION” written with no accompanying track list. Margo pressed play on her stereo and began skipping through the tracks. The music and lyrics emitted by the speakers jumped genres and moods representing an interesting variety of music.
Margo’s brow jumped and creased as she recognized each track. Not all were familiar, however.
She landed on a truly unfortunate country song where the cowboy crooner uttered the phrase:
If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me.
Margo’s brow creased incredulously and wondered at the ceiling, “Dear God.”
Read more here!
Sergei lounged comfortably in his living room. He was seated in a comfy armchair, the fabric of which he idly stroked with his hand.
The warm light from the floor to ceiling windows gave the room a welcoming glow. To bathe in sunlight after so long in the cold–it was a balm to his soul.
Beyond the windows, the backyard stretched out of sight, the lush grass and sprawling oaks swayed with a gentle breeze. Head tilted back, he listened to a lively piece played from a new album bought at a recent trip to Neptune's.
Wrapped in sunlight, music, and safety, Sergei felt at peace.
“Sergei!” He heard Margo call from the kitchen, “Did your mother call about dinner this evening?” She moved into the living room to stand before him.
He smiled, his eyes drifting open to soak in the sweetest light in his life. Margo wore a red dress that hugged her figure and set off the red of her hair. She was a vision.
“Yes, Margo, we are expected at seven,” he replied. He grasped her hand, squeezing her delicate fingers, before raising them to his mouth for a gentle kiss. Margo smiled softly at him and bent forward to replace her hand with her lips.
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