Thank you for your patience! As requested, CIAFemAmericacKGBRussia!

Please, please understand I am not trying to offend anyone. At all.

Rated M. I own nothing.

OoOoOo

He pulled a deep breath into his lungs. The cold air stung in a familiar way as the first signs of life stirred on the streets of Moscow. The sun had not even truly risen as he drew a case from his coat pocket. Ivan withdrew a cigarette and lighter. His eyes scanned the surrounding areas as he watched the drunks stumble home to waste the day in a haze or the blissful emptiness of dreams.

Many had suffered due to the war, and Ivan had turned out no different. It was not easy to forget the shouts and blood curdling screams of the dying on the battle field. He could not close his eyes without seeing the faces of his comrades suspended in the throes of death.

He lit the cigarette and brought it to his lips with a steady hand. It had been years now, but such memories never truly faded. His homeland was something worth protecting, and he felt that his people had responded appropriately to the unprovoked invasion. He took a long drag and allowed the sensation to wash over him.

As the smoke curled out into the chilled air, he watched it dispassionately. The call to protect was still ever present. He had come home damaged, as many had been. So damaged, in fact, that his home had felt stifling and the people he had loved so closely were like strangers to him.

The Komitet Gosudarstvennoi Bezopanosti, or KGB as it was shortened to, had been like breath of new life to his stale world. He was twisted for fighting and defending now. There was no peace to be found in the nights at home, as he had dreamed about in the trenches. There was only bitter disappointment and shifting world that proclaimed for peace even as they blithely swept the dead under the rug.

Millions dead, and now it was nothing more than what was taught to school children out of history books. How quickly the people wanted to forget that enemies were lurking in the shadows and they only ones they could rely upon were themselves.

Like the America pig-dogs that were attempting to infiltrate the higher levels of Soviet intelligence with their ... Central Intelligence Agency. Ivan spat in distaste, watching at the spittle landed with a wet 'plop' on the ground. The cigarette was not responsible for the bad taste that lingered in his mouth. How quickly the Americans, the supposed 'Ally' to the Soviets during the war, had turned like a viper to bite them all in the ass.

He had been instructed by his superiors to watch for any unusual activity in this corner of the city. An agent had sent word that the 'CIA', Americans, were attempting to discover the real numbers of the Soviet bomber forces. The war had only motivated his people to never be caught unaware again. His orders were clear. Find the threat.

Neutralize the threat.

He took another deep pull on the cigarette, watching with half-hooded eyes, at the few people that still wandered the streets. The public would never know he was here. They would never even know there was a threat because Ivan would never allow it. Hundreds of thousands of other operatives had taken the same oath he had.

Their diligence and perseverance would keep the capitalist pig-dogs at bay.

A man in a brown suit came strolling down the way. He looked a touch nervous about being out on the streets. Ivan's eyes narrowed on him instantly. Ivan had not started out with a predator mentality, but it had been drilled into him by war and training. Now it was as second nature as speech. He knew with a glance that the man in the brown suit was tender-natured man.

Weak.

He huffed a dismissive breath. Yet, something tickled at the back of his mind as the man stopped in front of the sign that read 'Bakery'. The bakery had not been there a year ago. In fact, he could not recall the man's face at all for the people in his sector. Ivan made it a point to know the business men, as often times those that would seek to harm Russia came in through innocent looking channels.

It was likely nothing. His paranoia perhaps. He had been accused of that often enough in his time in the war. However, it had kept him alive while others had died not so pretty deaths. Some of them more slow and painful than others. Like the comrade that had died from blood poisoning from a bullet wound they had been able to close, but not clean.

Medical attention had been miles away, and they had been pinned down. Ivan had thought he would die that day, but he had been spared. As had others.

The man in the brown suit reached in his pocket. Ivan narrowed his gaze, watching from the shadows as the man pulled out his keys. The melodious jingle irked Ivan for some reason he could not name. He would need to find a way to look into the Bakery's dealing without arising suspicions.

No one need know, what it was that caught his attention. However, he was fairly confident that the weak looking man had nothing Ivan need be concerned about. Yet, he was dedicated to his work, and would leave no stone unturned to keep the American's out of Russian business.

A drunk stumbled from around the corner, clearly inebriated because Ivan could smell him from here. The man was singing a well known drinking song at the top of his lungs, and very off key. Ivan scowled at the drunkard as he tried to stumble at the man in the brown suit.

"Glorious morning!" The drunk hollered in a slurred tone.

The weak man looked as if he were about to have a heart attack. Ivan crept closer, his footsteps made nary a sound as he flicked his cigarette to the ground. He spared a quick glance to ensure that it had landed on stone and not something flammable.

"O-o-oh yes," the man in the brown suit replied. Ivan's ears pricked up to the accent which was assuredly not Russian. He briefly closed his eyes and tried to place the speech pattern. The man was speaking Russian, however, so he obviously had studied it. However, he had not grown up here.

Perhaps his first inklings had some weight of truth to them? Ivan grinned wickedly, before schooling his features.

"C-come fri-friend!" The slurred words were nearly impossible to make out. "Drink?!"

The man had green eyes, Ivan could see that now.

"I.. I can't. I have to work-"

"Bah! Work," the drunk waved a hand dismissively. "Not time for work! Drink!"

"I think you should move along comrade," Ivan interrupted with a voice as smooth as velvet, but the underlying promise of possible pain was clear. Even to the inebriated man's clouded mind. He staggered back a bit, muttering apologies before returning to his song about dinking and lost love.

Ivan scowled internally.

"Thank you," the man in the brown suit said quietly.

"Oh, you are most welcome. Mr...?" Ivan's eyes bored into the man with his customary smile in place.

"Tolys," the man half-stuttered.

Ivan had that effect on people. It was nothing new to him and he filed the name away for later use.

"I am always happy to help someone in need, Mr. Tolys," Ivan informed him with a tone that could have only been described as overly sweet.

Tolys swallowed quickly and his green eyes darted to the side.

"Ah, that is... admirable."

"Yes, I suppose it is."

"Well, I appreciate what you did." Tolys tried again, his nervous twitching slightly amused Ivan, who thought the man was oddly perturbed by his presence. It could be that he was intimidated. Or that he was hiding something.

Ah, now he remembered where he had heard such an accent before. If he was not mistaken, it was Lithuanian.

How interesting.

"We must all look out for each other," Ivan rumbled lowly, "or else the world would devolve into chaos."

The humor was slightly malicious at best. Thought Ivan would not harm any many without fair warning first. He gave every man a chance, then he beat the hell out of them if duty called for it.

There was the faint clacking of shoes that broke through the tense moment.

"Dear!" A woman called, and Ivan turned. His focus was momentarily broken by the sight of a beautiful woman hurrying from around the corner. Her blonde hair glinted in the early morning sun, and her eyes were the closest shade to sky blue that Ivan had ever seen.

The man, Tolys he had said he was called, turned toward her and Ivan noted that his features visibly relaxed.

Hm.

"I am so sorry," the woman rambled on. Her accent was the same as this man's. Tolys. Ivan peered at her as he listened closely. Was she a sister?

Part of him hoped it was so.

There was a stirring in his chest, and he found himself staring at the woman with far more intensity than he intended to.

"No, no. It is quite alright." Tolys replied, and held a hand out for her. "Mr. Ivan, this is my wife-"

Ivan bit back a curse. Of course this lovely creature had a husband. He clamped down on the twinge of disappointment.

"Mrs. Rolinitis. Mrs. Audra Rolinitis," she interrupted with a gentle manner and bright smile.

Ivan felt as if someone had hauled back and punched him in the gut, like back in his days in the bars and brawls. She turned from Ivan and back toward her husband.

"I am sorry, I was caught up talking to the neighbor. She wanted three loaves of bread tonight, and could we bring them to her?"

Ivan watched the pair as Tolys nodded quickly to his wife's request. He could not wrap his mind around the fact that such a bright woman was with such a... plain man. Her golden hair was in the current and most feminine style. If framed her heart-shaped face perfectly. Her blue eyes landed on him once more, and they seemed to dance with a secret merriment that Ivan was not privy to.

He swallowed quickly, his exterior showed none of his inner musings. He put a kind smile on his face as his eyes flickered from Mrs. Rolinitis, to Mr. Rolinitis.

"You are from Lithuania, correct?" He asked, by way of casual conversation.

"Yes," Tolys said, with his surprise evident. "You have been to Lithuania?"

Ivan did not reply, he merely nodded and looked at the Bakery once more.

"Perhaps I shall come and try some bread."

"Oh please do!" The wife said excitedly, and Ivan was nearly tempted to smile. "We do make very good bread."

"Do you make the bread?" He asked neutrally, as his eyes lingered upon the husband once more. Lest he stare over long at another man's wife.

No good came from tempting fate.

"I do," she confirmed with a large smile that showed white teeth.

"Then it would be my pleasure to try it," Ivan informed her, nearly coldly. Her smile never dimmed and something twitched in the back of his thoughts.

He pushed it aside to analyze later. As he pondered the sheer strangeness of the universe and why a Lithuanian man would move with his attractive wife to Moscow. It was possible that it was as cut and dry as if appeared. However, he was not the type to leave anything to chance.

"Please, come in." Tolys offered politely.

"Another time. I have... work to do." Ivan said with a wide smile, as he nodded briefly to the wife and departed.

He did not ignore the feeling of being watched as he left.

OoOoOo

The man in the brown suit and his wife entered their little bakery. A bit of space that was modest in rent, and clean despite the slightly dusty appearance of the outside. A set of green and blue eyes looked out the window in the same direction the taller man had disappeared down.

Toris turned to his partner, and watched as she glanced out the window once more. Though it was very discreet on her part.

"Do you think he suspects something?" He asked quietly, once Amelia had relaxed a bit.

There was a hardness to her eyes, and her mouth was pressed into a firm frown.

"I think he was staring at you far longer than I would like." She answered with an arched brow. "And he seemed a bit too interested."

"Perhaps," Toris muttered as he rubbed his chin. He flicked the back lights on and walked into the preparation area of the bakery.

Amelia followed him, the hardness in her gaze never left. Only when she played his dutiful wife did that change. Otherwise she was Agent Jones through and through. One of the top agents for the CIA and his partner of two years.

They were determined to keep the 'Cold' war from going 'Hot'. Any lives they could save with the information they could provide would be worth any sacrifice.

"The better question," she interrupted thoughtfully, "would be, is he just an old soldier?"

Toris glanced at her. His green eyes were darkened in thought as he shrewdly weighed the possibilities.

"He has definitely seen action," he commented while confirming the windows were all still closed. "You saw how he carried himself."

"Yes," Amelia replied thoughtfully, "and how he could so quickly placed your accent. Also, the way he looked at you. As if he were evaluating your threat level."

She smiled grimly at that one. Toris could already tell what she was thinking. That whoever that 'Ivan' was, he was going to be a problem.

"But," Toris said aloud what they were both wondering. "Is he-?"

"KGB?" She finished for him, her normal American accent was nowhere to be found as she slipped back into a thick Lithuanian one.

They started at one another, silently carrying on a conversation of their thoughts. They would have to be far more careful if even one agent was sniffing about their heels. Amelia had been very discreet, as had Toris.

He smiled, a calming sort of gesture that never failed to put her at ease.

"I don't know," He answered honestly.

"If he comes back," she hinted grimly, "we will find out then. Dear." She added, as an afterthought.

Toris gave her an amused look as he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. She took a quick stock of what was on the counter.

"What?" Amelia shot back as she went to fetch more flour. "We're married. I hope you know this means that I do expect presents."

He shook his head and watched as a few strand of brown hair fell down near his eyes.

"For the mission," he murmured to himself as he held back from laughing.