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Sergei awoke mid dream. It was beautiful. Sunlight bathed him, but the source of light warming his body was his hand intertwined with Margo's. He caressed her fingers, soft skin over delicate bones. The smooth skin and strong fingers of a mathematician.

Sergei rubbed his fingers together, trying to conjure the feeling of her hands and fingers caressing his. Chagrined at his indulgence, he smiled nevertheless. She was the thought behind his smiles these days.

He checked his watch for the time, he had forty minutes. Standing from his desk he stretched his back and then shrugged into his coat. Nodding to remnant staff and security, Sergei made a smooth exit.

He easily managed a solemn facade as he made his way to his appointment, but inside he was beaming. When he began walking to the phone booth, his battle to keep a straight face was lost.

He noted little of his cold surroundings, instead focused on his destination. A smile quirked at the corners of his mouth and his pace quickened. Sergei checked his watch again and adjusted his pace, slowing down.

His mind was buzzing with idle questions: how was she doing, what would she think of his latest record selection, what new detail of her life would he learn about. Other thoughts, pernicious though they were, he shoved aside. He was a practiced and careful party man; he could hold two opposing ideas in his head easily. Yes, the KGB needed him to work Margo for information, but he also wanted to do right by her as a friend.

When he got to the phone booth, he checked his watch again. Stepping inside, he closed the door and waited. The phone startled him from his musing.

He eagerly picked up the phone, “Hello?”

“Sergei! How are ya?” Came a smooth southern drawl.

“Margo! I'm cold, but well. You?” Sergei couldn't keep the smile out of his voice. Pleased to hear from her as ever.

“What record should I expect today,” came an eager reply.

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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Mwahaha... My hack fraud-ery continues!

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!

i get so happy when people that are new to fanfic writing, or just writing in general, post their work on ao3. despite their doubts, despite their fear of something so personal and vulnerable being perceived, they still press that button, and i turn into the equivalent to a proud mom cheering on the sidelines. like yes! you did that! your work is worth seeing! you deserve to share your passion for and be part of a community! i’m so proud of you!

It's on now

Pulled this off my bookshelf (image from Amazon). It is impossible for me to try something new and not deep dive into the subject before dropping it completely and then moving on...

You should see the hobbies left behind me.

I had at one time five discarded upright pianos. I tore apart three, learned to play on another (like cat's screwing!), rebuilt one and turned another into a garden planter.

I have several terrible half finished quilts.

I have lots of woodworking tools.

Master of none, dabbler with passable works in some.

So, I will try to be nice to the English language and anyone who reads my dabbles. I don't expect perfection, but I would like to be kind to the written word.

And to those of you experienced, I'd love feedback or advice for a novice. Feel free to message me.

I'll give this new obsession a month. 🤣

“You cannot go back there, Margo.”

Margo shifted on her feet. The life raft she had built to survive eight long years in the Soviet Union was quickly revealing itself to be not quite seaworthy.

Each revelation surged a wave that threatened to overwhelm her raft–the disdain of the people at NASA, the reveal of Irina’s mechanizations throughout both their lives, Sergei’s presence in Houston, and damn him, the care he offered her in his steadfast gaze.

This raft she built of necessity was based only on the work–her love of space and engineering. Now in Houston with Sergei standing in front of her it was laughable to think she could survive based only upon it. But then, back in the Soviet Union, that’s all she had. For eight years she subsisted on dreams of space alone, and finally, things began to change and she got to realize her dream only for it to all crash– Margo began to waver on her feet as she made new calculations about her life.

“Margo,” Sergei exhaled as he started forward, his hands outstretched to grasp her arms and steady her. Disheartened, she let him comfort her. She felt distinct and utterly unsalvageable ruptures form in her raft.

Margo wanted to break eye contact with him, to look anywhere else but she was as starved for him as she was for the rest of it. She tried to steady her breathing and recenter herself to work her newest and thorniest of problems.

She was as yet torn between wanting to cry, puke or laugh at what she had misunderstood yet again. Breaking through her racing thoughts were Sergei’s warm hands rubbing reassuringly on her forearms. She sighed and he released some breath of his own. She nodded and his hands drifted down to hold her hands. His eyes darkened from concern to a deeper longing.

“Please, Margo, come sit with me.” Sergei gestured with a jut of his head toward his car.

She nodded quickly and briefly tightened her own hold on him as he ushered her to the passenger seat. When he shut the car door to round the car and slide into the driver’s seat, Margo let her head drop into her hands.

“What now, Sergei?” Margo asked despondently.

“Now we find our way out,” Sergei responded firmly.

He looked her over closely; observed her gray hair, her wrist bandage, and her firmly buttoned-up presentation. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and never let her go again. God, he had missed her. He had mourned her and now here she was in his car inches away, as beautiful as ever.

Margo released another sigh and straightened, offering an exhausted default,“Sure, let’s work the problem.”

She turned slightly towards him to take a closer look at the man she had desperately tried to save. The last eight years had agreed with him and he looked as handsome as ever. Her scrutiny did not go unnoticed and he smiled warmly at her. Margo extended a hand to brush his cheek and touch his smile.

"I missed that smile,” she whispered as he turned in her grasp and kissed her palm.

Her heart thudded in her chest as he brought her hand down to intertwine with his over the console between them.

“And I missed you. Margo…” Sergei broke off, and what further he wanted to say died in his throat as they simply stared at each other.

Margo broke eye contact and pulled her hands away, trying to reign in her emotions and run-away thoughts. Without her raft, she was in danger of saying and doing things she knew she couldn't afford to embrace.

“I'm here to help capture an asteroid and usher in a new age for life on Earth,” she said with growing determination. “We will succeed. Nothing can jeopardize that.”

Sergei turned in his seat to face her straight on. Nonplussed, he replied, “And when you have achieved this, what do you think will happen then?”

Margo opened her mouth to argue that Irina had promised her the outer solar system–hell, the deeper cosmos–but nothing came out.

“Your usefulness is only ever an illusion, Margo, as brilliant as you are,” Sergei continued more gently. “A trick, and a brutal one.”

Margo closed her eyes, squeezing them shut lest a tear escape. “Take me back to the hotel, please,” she asked softly.

Sergei broached contact once more, reaching forward to caress and gently turn her face to his. Margo relented and opened her eyes to be met with a face full of concern for her.

“We can navigate this, Margo, it will be treacherous but we will find a way. For both of us.” Sergei squeezed her hand before turning on his car.

Soft jazz filled the car as he pulled out of Franks and headed towards her hotel. Sensing how overwhelmed she was, he kept silent as he drove across Houston. It wasn't to be a long trip, so he took her hand with his and held it until he parked a discrete distance away from her hotel.

Silence returned to the car when he shut it off. The air was heavy, like the rains were shortly returning. A handy cover for her to sneak into the hotel, but a heavier portent for the future.

Margo couldn't as yet see any way forward other than work the asteroid. Her track record on manoeuvring escapes was dreadful and left only wreckage behind.

“I will be here for you, Margo, and I have a plan to get us out,” Sergei began, interrupting her thoughts.

Margo cut him off with a sharp look and a quick exhale.

“Thank you, Sergei, for… coming to see me. It is good to see you,” the words painfully exited her chest, “we can work together on the asteroid; I know I will need your help, but…” Margo wasn't quite sure how to tell him that there was no possible future for them, that his optimism and hope were a brutal illusion of their own.

Sergei interrupted her ramble and cradled her head with both hands. Pulling her gently towards him, he rested his head against hers. “You appeared. Out of nowhere. A dream so impossible. Let me-let us-dream the impossible. My grief for you left me with an empty heart, and yet it disappears with the reality of you. I am no longer numb or in wonder at my desolation. I have outlasted the storm and so have you.”

Margo exhaled slowly and closed the last distance between them. Pressing her lips to his, she kissed him softly. Breaking the kiss she rested her head gently against his.

“They called me Margaret Reynolds,” she whispered with a strained mirth.

“Sergei Bezuko,” he whispered back encouragingly.

At that shared absurdity the car was briefly filled with giggles. Sobriety returned along with the rain as it splattered the car. They both moved to embrace the other tightly.

“We can do both, Margo,” Sergei tried to reassure her.

“We will talk more about that,” Margo said, forestalling further talk of the future beyond the asteroid capture, “But, I need to get back. I'll message you through Aleida.”

Margo loosened her hold on Sergei, and he resisted the end of their embrace only briefly. He held her hands as he gazed at her, trying to memorize her in this moment.

“I will be here for you,” he said and pressed a kiss to her hands.

Margo nodded and with one last squeeze of his hands, she opened her car door and disappeared into the rain.

--

Notes! Mwhaha. I just want them to touch more. 😉 Also, I bastardized Pushkin there at the end there.

Can you tell me that you could pass up on this gorgeous man reclined on a sofa? Pshaw!

As @historysquib calls them, a Palate Cleanser fic:

Margo entered her office and shut the door softly behind her. Turning, she slumped against the door briefly and released a sigh. It had been the most tiresome of evenings. Three hours building support for a new proposal by the recently defected Sergei had been needlessly tedious. Margo was well practiced at moving political levers, but new Russian defectors had a break-in period for trust building in the wider political sphere that could not be abridged.

She turned to her drinks cabinet and turned on the lamp above it. She considered how many fingers of brandy that loss of time was worth, before finally settling on a light pour–any more would turn her out like a light as tired as she was. Margo pondered what she would ideally need to relax: a stiff drink or… Her thoughts trailed away and found their home on her sofa.

On her sofa Sergei reclined with a hand thrown back behind his head. The other hand was draped across his chest and trapped a creased report that threatened to slide to the floor. His relaxed countenance flooded her heart with warmth as she crossed the room towards him. She flicked on the lamp at the side table behind his head and observed his slumber. He looked markedly improved from his Lefortovo stay. His hair had grown back in, disheveled from his repose on what she knew wasn’t the most comfortable of couches. He seemed to be managing his traumatic stint in jail by leaving his frail self behind with wild hair, wilder beard and a filling out of his frame. It was an improvement of his physical health and image that she made no secret of liking.

Taking a seat near him on the coffee table, she set aside her brandy and removed the report from his grasp. Briefly scanning the report, she replaced it with her hand, she called to him softly, “Sergei.”

Sergei mumbled some indiscernible Russian in response and shifted slightly. Margo shook his hand lightly and called to him again. He blinked awake and smiled at her.

“Did you need your Soviet expert?” Sergei groggily asked.

Margo leant forward, “Something like that,” she drawled before placing a soft kiss on his smirking lips. Sergei responded slowly, kissing her softly in return. His hand came up to caress her face before sliding into her hair. Margo pressed a light kiss to his lips before she eased back to her seat beside him. She glanced at the time on her wrist and looked at him shrewdly.

“Were you waiting for me or for the resolution on your proposal?”

He grinned at her and levered himself up, leaning towards her to plant a kiss on her cheek before whispering into her ear, “Both, naturally.”

He drifted more kisses down her neck before she halted him, both hands clasping his head and redirecting him up to face her.

“Sergei,” she chided, eyes semi-serious. She was tired and needed to go to bed. The sooner she could maneuver him out of her office the better. She would get no rest otherwise. “I need to go to bed and you need to go home.”

“Ah, but home is where you are, Margo,” he replied quickly. “I cannot sleep without you.” He made to continue his onslaught of her neck, but was forestalled by Margo’s halfhearted evasion.

She snorted and shook her head, “And just now?” She gestured to the sofa.

"A convenient rest of the eyes,” Sergei rejoined. Margo raised her eyebrows. “It may have gotten away from me,” he amended with a shrug. He pursed his lips before smiling that absolutely obnoxious, and in no-way devastating, grin at her.

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded in response. “I'm off to bed.” She took off her shoes and bent to retrieve them. Sighing gratefully at their removal.

"Do you need help finding your way there? Perhaps an expert on navigation could help?” Sergei murmured with no small amount of cheek. “Perhaps another Soviet first?”

Sergei stood up and took her shoes in one hand and her hand in the other, pulling her to her feet.

“A Soviet first?” Margo questioned, exasperated.

“Exploring the bedroom of the NASA director, a first for all man-”

Margo interrupted him with a slap to the back of the head.

“Ah, woman!” Sergei cried in mock pain.

Margo walked briskly forward, leaving Sergei behind. She hesitated at the office door while Sergei stood rubbing the back of his head. The smile on his face sent shivers up her spine. She couldn't and wouldn't send him away no matter what she threatened and he knew it.

“Perhaps you are right. A Soviet first,” she said with some emphasis. At that she turned the lock on her office door and briefly stopped at the threshold of her bedroom, “You coming?” She called behind her.

Sergei followed diligently, carrying her shoes.

Good news, he ran away from the KGB, he's fine now

I recently rewatched THE scene from "Brazil" and was struck by how sad and resigned they both were. This "palate cleanser" of a fic under the cut is an interpretation of that scene. I've tried to lift their soul crushing sorrow a little (or made it worse?). My media literacy has grown so much reading fiction and analysis, but I'm just dabbling here. I got the urge to play a bit as I am not a creative writer (especially of the quality within FAM fandom-y'all rule).

(And a warning; Google translated Russian contained below!)

Sergei observed that there was a brief moment when Margo's gaze turned inwards to consider his gambit to escape Irina and the KGB that his spirit lifted. She was letting the idea take center focus. He didn't know if his heart would fare better with the limbo of her pause, or the finality of her answer. When her eyes fell to her hands and then back up to meet his gaze, his spirit fell back to Earth. He met eyes filled with regret.

Sergei knew then that they would never have more than what they’d had in the past. They were in the past. Unable to keep the disappointment off his face, his features soon matched hers. Resignation banished any further thought of Brazil.

They would never get the dream of blueprints over a shared kitchen table. Of kisses freely shared over clasped hands. Of working together on their shared passion. It was all beyond their capacity to realize.

He watched as her eyes wetted with unshared tears. Wanting to spare her the pain of explaining what he knew she felt she needed to do, he reached forward to cover her hand with his. She had learned too well in Moscow how tenuous matters were. He let the dream fade and focused on the present moment. They only shared the comfort of moments over their long association, and if this was to be the last, he was going to make it count.

When her hand rested on his and she returned his smile with her own half smothered version he stood up and tugged on her hand to do the same.

With only a brief hesitation she climbed to her feet. Margo wouldn’t meet his eyes at first, so he gently nudged her chin up with his hand. His heart ached in his chest but it would not fail, encouraged by the softness of her skin and her gaze as she met his eye. They always did seem to be on the same page.

He brushed along the curl of her hair, enjoying the feeling of her closeness. Taking a beat he nodded and pulled her into an embrace. She folded into his arms with a soft exhale. Having her in his arms again was almost too much after so long, but he couldn't help but feel lighter and a bit more whole. They both reacquainted each other with the warmth of their embrace. With a tightening of his hold on her, Sergei dared to push a little more.

“я бы хотел, чтобы ты меня поцеловал,” he said quietly into her ear.

Margo flushed brilliantly and closed her eyes. She eased back from him and shook her head at his incorrigible nature. A small smile flitted across her face. Sergei’s own smile quivered as he watched her face transform.

Opening her eyes, she brought one hand to his chest and the other to stroke his cheek. He leant into her cool hand. He felt his spirit soar higher and with Margo’s soft sigh, he knew she was lifted too.

Margo leant forward and pressed her lips to his. If this was their last moment, it would be a good one.

What began as a soft press of their lips deepened as they wrapped their arms around each other. Echoing so many earlier moments, it was over before they were able to get started.

Margo pulled away with a final caress of his cheek, and she turned back to the work on the table. Not ready to move from this moment just yet, Sergei's hand drifted up to rest on the nape of her neck, his thumb caressing her skin. Margo exhaled softly and reached up to rest her own hand upon his, gently squeezing his fingers. Sergei quirked a smile before stepping closer, gently pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

They both heard Aleida bustling through the house, coming back to the kitchen. With a final caress of her neck, Sergei sat heavily back at the table and gazed up at Margo as she busied herself collecting her papers. Margo was always the strong one.

His eyes took their fill of her, as his hands lay uselessly on the table, longing to hold her.

Aleida entered the kitchen ending their time together, “Are we done here?”

“Enough… for tonight,” Margo replied. Sergei dropped his gaze to his hands just as Margo reached over and nudged him. “We’ll speak again soon, yes?” Her eyes searched his.

“Yes… of course, Margo. Yes.” Was his hoarse reply.

One thing I think a lot about is how, as precious as the handhold was, we weren't shown Sergei and Margo's actual goodbye moment when she left Aleida's house in S4E9. I continue to hold out some hope that we may see this as a flashback in the next season (although if we do I'm sure it will kill me dead). But if we never see this scene, then we can continue believing it included whatever we want, yes? I desperately want at least one, if not both, of them to have said "I love you." I go back and forth about whether or not that would be in character. However, I've decided that the most emotionally devastating possibility is Sergei saying to Margo, "I would like you to kiss me." In Russian. And then it would break my heart if she didn't and break my heart even more if she did.