The pencil was dropping evenly on the knee of her crossed legs. Her lips formed a tight line, and he could effortlessly read the annoyance steaming from her brown eyes. She tilted her head as he gazed at her from across his desk waiting her answer. But she was going to take longer than usual in an effort to make him squirm. He listened to that even thump of the eraser on her sheer stockinged knee, adjusted himself in his chair and cleared his throat, waiting.
"Let me get this straight." She spoke. "My mother has just died, and I literally left her funeral less than twenty-four hours ago, and you already want to poach her company for a job?" He rolled his eyes, and she snorted in disgust. "What the hell Bash?"
Sebastian DePoiters stared across his desk at his number one female operative. A woman he had known for years, trained with, worked with, and now supervised.
"Mary – "He started, and she held her hand up.
"This is unbelievable." Her face turned away, the pencil stopped, and he could see it clenched in her fist.
"Listen," He leaned forward. "I know this is bad timing. However, your mother's company provides a perfect front. France called in for help, and I think together we can take these guys down." There was an eye roll from her side of the desk.
"So not only do you want me to use my power in my mother's company-"
"Not her company, your company." Mary shook her head. "It is yours Mary."
"Right. So my newly acquired company, which is already vulnerable, and then you want me to work with some French spy who I've never met?" Bash took a deep breath.
"No, you've met him." Mary's eyes widened as Bash slid the file across the desk. She leaned, opened it, and shut it quickly.
"No. Absolutely not Bash." She was firm, as she leaned back in her chair crossing her arms.
"Mary, please. You know he's the best, and he's been working with these guys for at least a year under cover. It was his idea." There was the look again.
"Did he already offer my company up on a platter?" Bash shrugged. "He probably did! And you just go along with it because of the glory you'll receive! I can't believe you're making me do this." He gave her a grateful smile, knowing she was caving in her slight agreement. He slid another file across the table, but she looked perturbed.
"Here's your identity information." She searched through the file, noticed her name was changing, but back to her original, the name of her father. "Say goodbye to the CIA Mary de Guise."
"Is this wise?"
"Everyone at that company knows you as Mary Stuart. We are the only people who know you as Mary de Guise. Your own mother doesn't know you run secret operations; you've barely even spoken with her. I never was sure why you gave up Stuart anyways." She threw him a look. "Never mind, I remember." He held out a hotel key and credit card which she took. "You're meeting with him tonight. Get some new things to match the persona; you know how it goes."
"Do I at least get my own room?" She asked sharply.
"No. According to him, he's already played you up as a girlfriend. So you'll have a suite which should give you some space." She was looking through the file and her nose scrunched up.
"Playing me up as his girlfriend? How long have you known about this Bash and how long as he been playing me up?" Mary spit out.
"Well when you're mother died, I think he felt it would be a good opportunity."
"And you both just knew I'd do it, right? Pull me out of South America, from where I am actually making some headway, and slam me next to him using my company."
"It's perfect, Mary. You've been off the grid for a while, so it works." She knew he was right. For the last few years, Mary had been doing undercover work in South America. Bash changed that work to some sort of Peace Corps member. Mary had been away from her family for a few years, so she knew he was right. It was the perfect setup.
"My poor mother is probably already rolling in her grave. If she only knew." Mary could barely look at Bash, and only focused on the story written out in front of her. Her identity, her likes and dislikes, her need and wants.
"You better get going. And remember, they're probably already starting to watch the two of you." Mary nodded. "Mary," She paused, turning to look at him. "I am sorry for making you take this on so early since – well you know what I mean." She nodded. "I owe you a lot of vacation time when it's done."
"You'll owe me more than that Bash." She held the file up. "And so will someone else."
He was drumming his fingers lightly on the red leather couch in the lobby of the historic Algonquin Hotel. A scotch rested neatly on a coaster next to him, and the New York Times was laid out in his lap. He waited for her, but inside a small parcel of nerves was stirring. When was the last time he waited like this for her? Perhaps that night, the one in which he waited in the lobby of a hotel like now. She had come from the open elevator, a vision in her evening gown. She had looked distracted, he thought, not even seeming to pay attention to where he may be. She was fiddling with a ring or was it her earring, he couldn't remember. He only remembered the way he felt when she was suddenly in his view: like he could love her forever.
It was her voice that stirred his quick trip to the past. There she stood with her back to him at the hotel desk. The man pointed her in his direction, and she turned catching his eye in her line of sight. He nodded to her, sent a wave, and she thanked the man at the desk. He studied her as she approached. Her long dark chestnut hair pulled back, something he never really appreciated. She wore a tight black turtle neck dress, high-heeled boots, and a beautiful pale pink wool coat rested on her shoulders. He stood to greet her and sweetly kissed her cheek. They said their hellos, smiled at each other, and played the game.
In their room, the aura changed. She wasn't so happy to see him after he helped her out of her coat. Mary watched him pour her a drink, her own scotch to accompany his. He handed it to her and found a seat across from her in their small living room.
"It is good to see you again." He was genuine, she noted. He chuckled when she didn't respond, but instead sipped her scotch. "So this will be business as usual then."
"What else would it be, Francis?" She asked staring into his blue eyes. The ones she used to get lost in when he made love to her. The same eyes that told her he loved her before his mouth ever uttered it. He nodded at her, raised his glass in agreement and took a sip.
"You're angry."
"Of course I am. You're offering my company as a sacrifice."
"I am not." He was calm as always and that infuriated her. "This is a chance for both of our countries to –"
She stopped him. "Don't even start." The scotch was downed and the glass set hard on the coffee table. "This is clearly business, business which you imposed on Bash, who then forced it onto me. You're using me."
"Mary, don't be so sensitive. When you hear what these men are doing, you'll want to be a part of this. I just thought this was the perfect opportunity –"
"Save it." She shot back. He watched her stand up and square her shoulders off looking down at him. She walked off to the bedroom, undoing her hair as she went. The door shut to the bathroom and he heard the water start.
"I guess it is just business." He said with a smirk. It wouldn't be so enjoyable for him if he hadn't known her better. He knew her better than anyone, sometimes he wondered if even better than himself. The same went for her when it came to him, which is why she was quickly able to figure out his plan.
In the shower, Mary closed her eyes and rested her hand against the wall, leaning into it. He looked the same, if not better. He wasn't young, but matured; his face had worn with time, but he was still handsome. She desperately wanted to resist any of those residual feelings she could feel creeping back. It took her years to lock them away and now just the mere sight of him, set them free. The hot water pounded her body, and she honestly wondered how she would make it through this operation. She just prayed it would be completed quickly.
First, the word sillage, which is french, literally refers to the scent that lingers from perfume. However, it can also refer to the lingering of anything basically; whatever impression someone or something has made after they have gone. Secondly, this story feels like a big risk for me because it's totally out there even in terms of AU. I have tried to keep Mary and Francis's personalities and make their issue one that is somewhat relate-able. I don't expect everyone to like it, but if you do, thank you ahead of time. There are more chapters, but I need to work out some kinks. Kind/gentle reviews are always welcome. :)