Too late.
The words echoed around in her mind for the third time that month and the continuous failure was really beginning to get on her nerves. She lifted her spyglass to examine the blazing inferno for any possible signs of life. The home owners had been out at a complimentary meal in one of the city's finest restaurants – V.F.D had made sure of that – therefore nobody should have been present when the fire broke out. There was no doubt in her mind that the files she had been sent to retrieve had already turned to ash, but the fact that no innocent people had been harmed was a small victory in her mind.
The Man with a Beard but No Hair and the Woman with Hair but No Beard were becoming more brazen in recent months; instead of hiding in the shadows and striking when they were sure of little retribution the pair had been on the offensive. Of course, they were rarely alone in their acts, but they were the masters that pulled the strings.
Kit lowered her spyglass as sirens reached her ears. Members of the Official Fire Department were on their way, no doubt bringing with them the police force and ambulance service, but their response times and abilities had been seriously diminished in recent years. She tried hard not to think upon the reason for the shift. It would be best to beat a hasty retreat lest she be caught at an arson scene. Again.
She turned on her heel and was about to disappear back into the night when she heard a cough from somewhere behind her. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed a dark figure silhouetted sharply against the fire. The person staggered several steps in her direction and for a moment she was concerned that her Intel had been wrong; that another poor soul had been caught up in their war. That was, until the person came close enough that she was finally able to make out the man's face. She audibly gasped – giving away her position amongst the bushes.
"Who goes there?" The man's voice was little more than a rasping hiss, muffled behind a hand as he spluttered another cough into a grubby sleeve.
He didn't deserve her sympathy but the bastard immediately had it. He looked absolutely dreadful. His slim frame was wrapped in a filthy suit which was freshly stained with soot in several places. His once wild hair was now even more so; standing up at all angles and heavily streaked with grey. Several wrinkles marked his skin beneath black smudges. All in all, he looked beyond the years she knew him to be, all except for his eyes. How many times had she lost herself in those soft blue orbs?
"Olaf."
She hadn't even realised she had spoken out loud until his gaze locked on her form and his eyebrow rose in disbelief. What else could possibly go wrong tonight?
"Kit..?" His voice was impossibly soft and for just a moment she was reminded of the man she had known once upon a time. It really was a lifetime ago. She didn't reply straight away so, true to form, he took it upon himself to fill the silence. Some things never changed.
"I didn't do it." He turned to look back at the home and shook his head.
"Olaf, I-"
"I might be a brilliant actor and a terrible person but for once in my life I am telling the truth – I did not set that fire." The insistence in his voice gave her pause. Perhaps he was being honest with her. After all, not many on the wrong side of the schism risked getting caught in their own fires.
"Hey! Who's over there?! You – stop!"
The pair had been so caught up in their surprise reunion that neither had noticed the sirens getting ever closer to the point where the police were already making their sweep for possible suspects. Unfortunately, they had stumbled into two with very little sleuthing involved. Kit glanced at Olaf and he met her gaze. In an instant, they bolted.
"Wha- Hey! Wait!"
The cold night air stung her cheeks as she ran through the streets – a stark contrast to the warmth of the burning building somewhere long behind her. Olaf was a constant presence at her side, panting noisily in their haste but somehow managing to keep up with the pace she had set. Whilst his legs and stride were longer he had never been the fittest of men. It was no surprise to her that they turned in sync with one another, darting down street after street, following a mental map they had both learned so many years ago.
The thundering footfalls at their heel fell further and further out of earshot until the only sounds were their own shoes pounding on the pavement and their heavy breathing. Neither was willing to stop until they reached true safety.
Kit reached the man hole cover first and reached down to haul it free, revealing the tunnel beneath. Ever the gentleman, Olaf actually paused to allow her to descend first. There was no time for confusion but still she shot him a glance before scrambling down the ladder into the darkness of the hidden routes beneath the city.
There was very little light beyond that cast through the open man hole, but it was enough for Kit to be able to safely step away from the ladder and watch her temporary companion's remarkably graceful descent. Olaf took several steps down the rungs and paused to pull back the cover, before seamlessly dropping the rest of the way into a brief crouch. Was nothing safe from the man's dramatic flair?
Only when he straightened did she realise just how close they stood in the near darkness. She could feel his open suit jacked brushing against her with each heaving breath he took, and he positively radiated heat. Were he not so tall, they would almost be nose to nose. So close.
When looking back upon this moment, Kit would explain away her actions by blaming the adrenaline coursing through her veins and vivid memories of similar chases in simpler times. But, she would be lying. The truth was far more complicated and harder to admit, even to oneself.
Neither knew who closed the distance first, though both would likely blame the other for the moment of weakness, but before she knew it Olaf's arms were around her back and his lips upon hers. The kiss was like coming home. So many years had passed since the last time they had embraced; so many acts of villainy and vicious words. Every last one melted away as she sank into his hold.
He tasted of smoke and she briefly wondered just how long he had been inside the building as it burned. As it turned out, it was incredibly difficult to maintain a train of thought when his hands slipped into her hair as he towered over her. She slipped one hand inside the open flap of his jacket to keep his body pressed to hers.
When they broke apart to breathe she noticed the slightest smile tilt his lips. She barely had a moment to think of the meaning behind that smile before his lips were upon her again, this time against her neck. He brushed her hair out of his way with the softest of touches whilst his kisses were hot and needy.
In this tunnel, in each other's arms, both were able to forget for a time.
She murmured his name, slipping her hand up under his shirt to feel the warm skin of his back. No matter how much she knew they should not do this, every part of her body screamed a blinding need for him. And if the hard length she felt pressed against her was any indication, he felt the same damn way. The next time they parted she saw a question in his eyes. No matter what had happened between them and how far he had fallen, the good man she knew to be within him was not completely lost.
"Don't think.." She whispered softly. "Just do."
Four short words were more than enough permission for Olaf. Strong hands spun her around until her back hit the metal rungs of the ladder. Not the most comfortable of positions, but they had certainly enjoyed each other in worse places. She very nearly laughed when he lifted her off her feet and forced her to sit on one of the metal bars. How romantic.
Kit took the lead and wrapped her legs around his slim waist, pulling him in by his lapels as well. She crushed her lips against his and relished in the feeling of him pressed so tight against her. It had been far too long without him, the need was beginning to make her skin itch in desperation. How she longed to have him in a bed with all the time in the world, instead of just a sordid quickie in a dark tunnel. Though she couldn't deny the slight thrill that came with the knowledge they could be caught at any moment.
For several minutes they were all hands, lips and tongues, driving each other mad with the desire and need for more. One of his hands worked its way beneath her bra and she arched into the warm touch. Her own brushed down his abdomen to tease the coarse hairs beneath his waistband. The growl he made was positively animalistic and he thrust his hips against her.
"Olaf." She shoved his shoulder gently when he didn't respond at first; too busy was he with assaulting her neck again. She rocked her hips against him and he uttered another moan. "Olaf, if you don't back up, this cannot continue."
It took a solid three seconds for the message to break through the lust fogging his mind but ultimately he let go so that they could undress.
It wasn't sexy and it wasn't smooth. Kit busied herself in undoing her jeans and stripping herself whilst Olaf quite simply shoved his pants and underwear down to his ankles. It was never wise to laugh at a man when his pride was on show, but Kit couldn't keep in her amusement. He was definitely willing and ready.
Her own underwear remained on but was made short work of the moment her legs wrapped around his waist once more. Clever fingers pulled the fabric aside so that he could press himself against her hot core. He held her gaze as he pushed within her, filling her at such an agonizingly slow pace that her eyes closed of their own accord. He gripped the ladder for an anchor and thrust in long, steady thrusts, drawing forth numerous moans from her lips. Her fingers tugged on his hair, pulling harder the faster he thrust.
Together they set a more punishing pace, moving against each other and exchanging searing kisses that were more teeth than tongue. Each was trying to push the other over that glorious edge into the abyss whilst simultaneously wishing it could last forever.
Gradually her breathy moans became his name, her body beginning to tremble. Then, all around him, she tensed—pulling his hair hard, the nails of her other hand biting into the flesh of his back beneath his shirt —and he held pressed her still and tight against the ladder, trying to stifle his own moans of release in the crook of her neck.
They stayed in that position for long time, allowing their breathing to settle and their bodies to relax once again. Without a word they parted and took a moment to fix their clothing. Without the heat of passion things had become almost painfully awkward. So much so that he would not even meet her gaze, instead focusing intently on fastening his pants. She tried not to feel.. anything.
His mouth opened as though he were to speak, and then snapped shut again without uttering a sound. Olaf was never lost for words.
She didn't dare interrupt in the hopes he may continue his thought.
"I'm sorry." He hesitated, lifting his gaze to hers at last. He looked far more like a lost school boy than the man who had just given her one of the best orgasms of her life.
"I wouldn't worry about apologies. I believe you – that you didn't set that fire."
"That's not- not what I am apologising for."
She hadn't seen him this way in years. The memories caused her heart to ache and her eyes stung with unshed tears. It was only when she reached out to tenderly brush some soot from his cheek that she realised they were wet with tears.
"Oh, darl-"
"Please, don't." He sniffled and took a step back. "I can't."
Can't what? Talk? Feel? Stay? Go? So many thoughts ran through her head that they all became a dizzying blur.
"They knew I was in that house when they set the fire." Olaf had continued to talk without her interruption.
"They?"
But he continued, unfazed. "And yet they didn't think to give me a chance to complete my task. Just burn it all down, who cares if Olaf gets killed."
She cared, she realised suddenly. She still cared whether Olaf got killed or not. God damn it, she still loved him.
"You're ranting." She caught both of his hands and forced him to meet her gaze. "Just breathe. Take a moment, relax, then perhaps we can talk?"
There had been many times over the past decade where Kit had been sure she could convince him to return to the light. Despite his fascination with fire and causing destruction, in a stable environment there was no telling whether he would thrive or not. He deserved at least a chance – if only he would take it.
"There is little point." Olaf smiled sadly and pulled something from his pocket. Three folded sheets of paper, the edges of which were blackened and singed. He gently placed them in her hands and then raised his hand to her cheek.
She didn't need to look to know that the pages he had gifted her were from the file both sides of the schism had been after that night. He had nearly died to retrieve this information yet so readily gave it to her. She opened her mouth to reply but he shook his head.
"I love you, Kit.. 'til I die."
Olaf's hand disappeared from her cheek and his form from her view. She didn't try to go after him; didn't call his name or even look to see which turn he had taken. Everything hurt too much to even move.
Alone in the dark tunnels, the feeling of his hands and lips still fresh against her skin, Kit Snicket allowed herself to cry once again over the loss of the love of her life.