Kosovo Syndrome

"I'll take that chance," she replied plainly. "I'm not leaving you. Especially not now."

Marija looked her up and down before letting out an exasperated sigh.

"Fucking hell, Heather!" she yelled, visibly losing her cool for the first time that Heather had seen. "Why won't you listen to me? You've got a target on your back and everyone out there is going to take a shot at it."

"I don't care. I'm staying."

Unable to restrain herself any longer, Marija grabbed Heather by the shoulders and raised her to her full height.

"Just go. Please. I can't lose you."

Heather smiled and kissed the back of her palm.

"You won't lose me. Not a chance."

Saying this, Heather wrapped her arms around Marija and buried her face in her lover's shoulder. She grasped her tightly and gently kissed her cheek.

"All day, you have been trying to calm your sister. Trying to calm your soldiers. Trying to protect me from their wrath. Trying to talk your supporters out of killing innocent people as revenge. Has anybody asked you how you are feeling? You were close to the General too. He practically raised you and your sister. Anja got to break down and rage, but not you. You were too busy looking out for me."

Marija was breathing heavily now. Heather held her tighter.

"Let me be the first one to tell you this today - I am so sorry you had to see him die. I know how much he meant to you."

Heather felt a drop of wetness on her shoulder. Marija was not built to sob audibly, but this would do. These tears were long overdue.

She had been far too strong for one day.

* *

DAY 240

"Thanks."

"For what?" asked Heather, caressing her cheek.

"Thanks for letting me cry the day the General died. I needed it."

"You don't need to thank me for that."

"I wouldn't have been able to break down in front of anyone else," Marija admitted. "They can't see me being weak. You can."

"What are prisoners for if you can't be yourself with them?"

Marija laughed and propped herself up on her elbow to admire Heather. They had spread a blanket on the terrace of the mansion and lay under a cloudless, moonlit night. She ran her fingers through her captive's reddish brown hair and twirled a couple of strands between her fingers before tucking them behind her ear.

"How's Anja doing?"

"She was furious at first, as you remember. She and the more hot-headed among the soldiers threatened to go on an all-out rampage. It took a few days and a lot of talking to calm them down, to tell them that was exactly the reaction that Salinger wanted to provoke out of us. He wanted us to surrender our position."

Heather lay on her back and took a deep breath of the cool night air. Spring had given way to summer. Normally, Heather was not a summer person, but the climate was cooler given the height of the plateau.

"Do you think Anja still blames me for his death?"

"Probably. Keep your distance until I've figured out a way for her to co-exist with you."

Marija sighed deeply and continued absently playing with Heather's hair.

"She shouldn't even be here. She has always been brash and impulsive and maybe even a bit reckless, but this war turned her into a killer. She didn't ask for any of this. Do you know what she wanted?"

"What?"

"She wanted to open an expensive French restaurant in London and treat Uncle Savic, Dad and me to a four course meal. Before the war, she wanted Michelin stars. Now, she wants violence and death."

"Given what she's been through, I understand," said Heather. "I don't like that she frequently wants to take it out on me, but I understand."

"I wish you knew all of us before the conflict."

"Preferably not at gunpoint," Heather added.

"Maybe I would have introduced you to my family over dinner at my sister's three-Michelin starred restaurant. Maybe I would have proposed to you at the end of the meal. Down on one knee with a diamond ring. Like a cheesy Hollywood romance."

"You lose points for creativity. One knee and ring over dinner? I'd expect something less basic from one of Interpol's Most Wanted."

"Oh it's on!" exclaimed Marija. "How about on top of the Burj Khalifa?"

"I have a fear of heights, so unless you want to clean up after me... no."

"There goes my next two choices then. Give me a few minutes to think."

Heather looked up at the myriad stars embedded into the night sky. Little pins of light in an infinite darkness. Far from any major city, she could see a riot of stars, a swirling cloud in the cosmos spread out for her.

"I have a suggestion," Heather said softly.

"I'm listening."

"How about on a summer night, under a starry sky, in a rebel base in the middle of a fight for your country?"

Marija's eyes went wide and she looked at Heather. Her heart was beating so hard that it might just break out of her ribcage. She tried to say something, but her words got caught in her throat.

"Are you serious?" she finally squeezed out.

"We don't need an actual ceremony or let anybody else know. Just for you and me. Just for us."

As she said this, Heather took Marija's hand in hers and interlaced their fingers. She turned on her side until her face was almost touching Marija, their eyes inches apart. So close that she could see the moonlight shining on her crystal clear blue irises. So close she could see the glistening teardrop at the corner of her eye. So close that she could see Marija's trembling lips part to let out one solitary syllable.

"Yes."

* *

DAY 275

"All right. How bad is it?"

"We're losing more men every day," confirmed Wren. "The combined NATO forces and my grandfather's mercenaries now have all the territory up to the foothills. There are more skirmishes now than there were, but it's a losing battle for us. They have more soldiers and more firepower and they can always get even more. They've choked our main supply lines."

"Can we hold the base?"

Anja did not like the question. She pondered over it for a few long moments before she shook her head.

"Okay," sighed Marija. "We've known this day was going to come for a while now and we've planned for it. Anja, you rally the troops and delay their advance as much as possible. Wren, you organize the movement out through the cave system. Make sure everyone has all their belongings packed and ready to move on a moment's notice."

"We're talking thousands of families here. They've already lost their homes once."

"I know," said Marija. "Our home is wherever we go. In a few months time when your grandfather's troops come in and start firing, I don't want any civilians around. We move to the forests and we keep moving. That's how we survive."

* *

DAY 300

Something was wrong. Heather could sense it as Marija paced a hole in the floor. She had already tried to ask twice and been rebuffed.

"She should have been back by now," she finally said.

"Anja?"

"Yes. She went on a supply run with a group of soldiers to get weapons and ammunition from the Serbian army base. That was two days ago."

Heather wanted to offer reassurance, but realised she was out of her depth. She placed her hand over Marija's palm and pressed down comfortingly. It did little to calm her.

"If something happened to her, I-I..." Marija started before her voice trailed off. "I can't lose her, Heather. I can't. She has to be alright."

Heather simply nodded, unsure of what she could say to comfort her. Back in Manhattan, she had the might of the most powerful law firm in the city to impose her will. Thousands of miles away, she was utterly powerless.

Marija checked her walkie once more. Heather's Serbian had improved greatly in her ten month captivity and she understood when the voice on the other end confirmed that there had still been no sign of Anja.

Seconds turned into minutes and minutes into hours. Marija checked in at regular intervals, but got nothing. She wanted to go to the base, but didn't want her soldiers to see her like this. As long as Anja was not back, there was no reason to assume the worst. Maybe the infiltration took longer than expected, maybe she found additional supplies to transport back. It wasn't the first time she was delayed.

Even as Marija voiced her rationalisations, they did not soothe her. An imperceptible dread permeated her being and could not stop the spectre of her sister's fate hanging over her. She couldn't explain how, but she knew that something bad had happened.

Providentially, when she checked in again, there was a response. Heather watched from the bed as her jaw tightened and the colour left her face as she heard more. She sank to her knees and pummelled the floor.

And now Heather also knew.

* *

There was a crowd of soldiers gathered when Marija stopped the jeep. Many looked shell-shocked, some horrified. All eyes turned to the two women who got out. Heather knew none of the soldiers looked kindly upon her, but in the moment, she didn't care.

The throng parted to allow them in. Marija seemed to be on auto-pilot, at once wanting to know what awaited her and dreading it. The closer she got, the more effort it took.

She was at the centre of the crowd when she saw it. The vehicle Anja had taken. There were no supplies. In the front seat lay the bullet riddled corpses of two of the soldiers. The back was covered by a tarpaulin. Not Undertaker was standing near the truck tried to block Marija from lifting it.

"Please. I have to see."

Pursing his lips, he moved aside and helped Marija lift the tarpaulin. He clenched his eyes trying to block out the sight.

Anja's naked corpse lay prone. The old scars on her face paled in comparison to the fresh ones on her back. They went deep and extended all across the length and breadth of her body. There were bruise marks around her wrists and ankles where she had been presumably tied down. Each laceration was surrounded by circles of burnt skin. The ones who did this had taken their time and clearly enjoyed it.

No soldier would ever have done this. Not even the worst kind. They were definitely Salinger's men and the Serbian government had chosen to turn a blind eye.

Trembling, Marija rolled her onto her back. The sight of her torso looked straight out of a Korean horror movie. Bloody and eviscerated.

Marija sank to her knees and screamed. She screamed over and over again at the sky before finally she exhausted herself and wept like a child.

Heather's gaze was transfixed on a patch of skin on Anja's left thigh. A short message had been carved into her skin.

Regards -- CS

* *

Wren and Heather stood several feet back while Marija readied to make her big speech. It was not to be the rousing speech of a commander leading troops into battle.

"How long do we have until the base can't be held any longer?" Heather asked.

"A few weeks at best. Maybe a couple of months. As we speak, rebel forces are holding my grandfather's soldiers back on the narrow forest path. We have the advantage of the higher ground, but that doesn't change the fact that we are hopelessly outgunned."

"Is everybody ready to move?"

"Not even close," said Wren. "But we don't have a choice."

"We? Don't tell me you're going with them."

"Even if there is no fighting, there will always be sick people and pregnant women. I don't get to abandon them now."

They leaned against a wooden pole when Marija started in Serbian to the gathered crowd.

"I wish I could give you better news than I have to," she said to all assembled. "I wish I could tell you that we are turning the tide in this war, but I can't. The enemy is just weeks away from entering the camp. These aren't soldiers that are coming. They are trained killers who have no qualms about who they hurt and how."

Only Heather and a few of the soldiers had seen first hand what they had done to Anja.

"We cannot defend the camp any longer. All of you, pack whatever belongings you can and prepare to leave. The doctor and the volunteers can help you and the remaining soldiers will show you where to go. It is a long path ahead of you."

She stopped to form the next part in her mind.

"I will be making a last stand here along with all those who will stand with me. Anybody who dies by my side will have died my brother. Anybody who leaves with the families, you are doing a great service too. No women, no children and no man who has a family will stay."

This caused a sudden murmur within the crowd. A group of men tried to protest in vain.

"No," said Marija firmly. "This war has taken my family from me. It has taken my father and my sister. I will not let it tear any more families apart. Be with your wives, be with your children. They will need you in the times ahead. They will need you much more than I will when we face certain defeat."

Wren looked away, trying not to think of what was going on inside Marija's head. Heather placed a palm on her shoulder.

"She's doing the right thing, Wren. She doesn't get to be Mel Gibson from Braveheart just because they want her to. She's making the hard decision to give up her fight and save her people rather than take everyone down in a blaze of glory."

"I know," the doctor admitted. "But it doesn't mean I like it."

"It's her struggle. We don't get to like it."

"I have to go and oversee the preparations for evacuation," said Wren. "Be there for her. She will need you more than ever now."

Wren wrapped Heather in a hug.

"She has to be strong for everyone else, but she's broken inside. The cracks started when the General died and now with her sister... This is her swansong, her last few days of freedom. Please, be there for her."

* *

DAY 305

The storm lashed the building. A relentless gunfire of raindrops struck the window. Marija sat at the edge of the bed with a thousand yard stare. She remained motionless as Heather approached her tentatively.

"You haven't eaten anything for three days now."

It was impossible to know if Marija heard it.

"Don't punish yourself, babe."

There was still no response. Heather tried to reach out and touch her cheek softly.

"Do you think she suffered?" asked Marija. "Was she in pain when they were doing those things to her?"

It was a stupid question and they both knew it. Anja would have been in unimaginable pain and Salinger's men intended it so. Heather looked down to avoid answering.

"Then don't fucking tell me to stop punishing myself," Marija screamed. "That was my sister. My flesh and blood. The last bit of family I had."

Heather sat beside her and tried to place a comforting arm. Marija pushed it away and went on.

"She had no business being here. It was my fight."

"You're her big sister. She looked up to you" Heather said. "She wanted to help you avenge what happened to your father."

"And look where that got her."

Marija clenched her eyes shut and pounded her fist on the bed.

"It's my fault. It was an impossible fight. You told me that, Wren told me that, but I didn't listen. I clung onto the fantasy that we could prevail in the face of insurmountable odds. I led my soldiers and my sister into a battle that could not be won."

Heather stood in front of her and grabbed her shoulders.

"Listen to me," she said firmly. "Every single soldier who died, died fighting for their country. They sacrificed their lives for what your father and you believed in. You don't get to belittle that sacrifice by calling it a fantasy."

Unconvinced, Marija kept her gaze fixed outside her window.

"No," Heather said firmly. "You don't get to give up. Let me talk to Wren. We can still smuggle you out of here."

"I don't want to go."

"They'll kill you," said Heather sombrely. "They'll have a very public show trial where they will parade you and your crimes on stage and then they'll have you executed. They did it to Saddam, they almost did it to Gaddafi, they did it to General Savic and they will do it to you."

"It will be no more than I deserve."

"You don't deserve this. You don't deserve any of it."

"I do," she said evenly. "Whatever happens to me now, I will take it. It will be nothing compared to what my sister went through."

"You can't change what happened to Anja."

"No, but I can do this for myself. I need to do this."

Lightning flashed outside the window, painting her face white for a moment.

"It's what I want to do," Marija said firmly. "I want to sit here and burn."

Heather grasped her from behind and kissed her neck.

"Remember the vows we made on the terrace? I'll not leave you. If you burn, I'll be right here, holding you close, burning with you."

Marija held her arm and wiped a teardrop away.

"Hold me."

The storm swirled outside. Miles away, deep in the forests, the last of the rebel soldiers fought the rising tide of their enemy. There was nothing left for them now. Nothing but each other.

"Please don't let go."

They were scared and alone and they held each other tightly for courage.

* *

DAY 365

It had rained all week before the day in question. The wet soil had a unique fragrance that reminded Heather of home. The full moon shone through the clouds. It was a beautiful night. Far too beautiful to be the last night of Marija's freedom.

Heather and Marija sat on the grassy knoll overlooking the rebel base. A base that was deserted now, except for the scant group of soldiers trying desperately to hold back the allied offensive.

"Is it time?" Heather asked. Marija simply nodded.

"What happens now?"

"I honestly don't know," Marija admitted. "The men who will come for me might just decide to shoot me in the head and end it all right here."

"And deny Crispin the opportunity of making a public spectacle of your trial? No chance."

Heather took a drag of her cigarette and spoke again.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this."

"Don't be. You couldn't have prevented it."

"I could have shown him the middle finger when his men hired me to be part of this farce. I could have stayed in New York."

"They would just have sent someone else," smiled Marija. "And they wouldn't have been as pretty."

Heather smiled. It was not often that she was complimented, much less so by a terrorist.

"Let me represent you at your trial."

Marija chuckled and caressed her hair.

"Just imagine the tabloids. Lawyer represents her own captor," she said. "You don't need that baggage in your life."

Heather tried to come up with a compelling reason why she should do it anyway when Marija spoke up again.

"Promise me something," Marija said. "Promise me you will give life a chance. Right from the first time I saw you, I could see pain in your eyes. Pain and the jaded resignation of someone waiting to die. You're better than that, Heather."

Heather held her hand and smiled.

"I don't know. The longest relationship of my life has been this one."

"Seriously?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I have officially been in love with a rebel leader for longer than I have been with anyone else."

"Wow, that is some next level Stockholm Syndrome," remarked Marija.

Both laughed and leaned on each other.

"It could also be Lima Syndrome," replied Heather. "When a Peruvian militia group took over the Japanese Embassy in Lima in 1996, it was actually the captors who sympathised with the hostages and not the other way around."

"I don't think they have one for when the captor and hostage fall in love. Not just sympathy, not just acquiescence, but love."

Heather pondered over it thoughtfully before she opened her mouth.

"Let's call it Kosovo Syndrome."

"My father would have been disappointed you're not calling it Serbia Syndrome," said Marija. "But fine, we can call it that."