Until dawn came, or nearly, they danced. Slowly, intricately, turning in a calculated, unhurried waltz. She taught him in tiny sighs and movements she was thinking, feeling, dreaming. He taught her the most important thing she could ever learn to do when their lives revolved together-as she was told. Her body was a delicate force that only needed wielding, shaping, instructing. She followed him with ease and grace, as in everything she did. Only small touches, fractions of a pause were required to maneuver her where he pleased. The night was endless like this, silent except for footsteps, breathing, the whisper of lips against cheeks. He could have led her in circles forever.

Dawn brought broke the fever and brought back the chill, however. She stopped swaying, dropped her hands to his chest. Smiled, of course, brought forth her perfect, silver-spooned manners. Thanked him for an incandescent night, but if he would excuse her, she had to work this morning.

Drunk on her softness, her lovely pliancy, shy smile, and the itching burn of her blood still in his fingers, he had a lapse of judgement. He deduced that she was as high and floating as he was. They had danced on the same strange, shimmering plane, certainly, for most of the night, outside of the world, not quite within it. Her eyes were wide, shining, not sleepy in the least. He realized he was tired himself. He hadn't slept in-oh, a few days, he supposed, and her whispered words after such a long hush were jarring. He only nodded.

Accordingly she stepped back a little and dropped him a flowing curtsy the Queen herself would have envied, fifty years ago, when such things even mattered. Her wheaten-gold head and bare, white shoulders bowed quite prettily, though, he had to admit. He liked the sight of it. It made him want to sink his teeth into that pale, perfect skin. When she rose again he made a mocking sort of incline with his head and shoulders in return, and she gave him a small, silent smile and farewell, with her fingers to her lips, extending them out to him, not quite far enough to reach. He seized her wrist, all delicate bones and fissures, so breakable-and pressed her airy kiss to his lips, staring into her wide, luminous, almost ethereal eyes. Easy to see how a man could let lost in those. Doe eyes. Starlit eyes. Break-me-into-pieces-and-roast-me-alive eyes.

He let go reluctantly, a finger at a time, murmuring,

"Later."

An acknowledgement, a promise. He left her alone with the rising sun, just for that moment. A few hours, he told himself, and she would return to his arms where she belonged. It would only be a moment.

In the space of that long moment, however, she slipped between his senses, took flight in the wind, and was gone.

Mobile's dead, leaving it at the flat. Meet me there after work? x

Jim frowned at the screen, stretching his arm out over the edge of the bed to see the text better, squinting a little. Sent a few hours ago, presumably as she was about to leave. Not as if he would have had a chance to answer.

Still, he smirked a bit, admiring her subtlety. Framed as a request, sent as an order. He didn't take orders. But he was very open to suggestions. He let his head fall back into the coverlet, tapping out a reply. The least he could do was play along.

"Look alive, Tiger, time to go." Jim smacked the sniper lightly around the head, jostling his focus from his laptop.

Sebastian didn't scowl, but his glance was hard and calculating. He didn't move right away. Jim continued walking, picking up the car keys and throwing them up to catch them, bored. His days wanted for stimulation. Nothing was challenging-nothing was new.

From behind him, Seb muttered, matter-of-factly and very nearly just to himself, "Time to pick up the little princess from school?"

Jim halted, hands in his pockets. Turned, raising his eyebrows a little. Now this was new-and interesting.

"Problem?" he asked lightly.

Seb shut his laptop with a snap and stood, grabbing his jacket. "No."

"I'm sensing a little resentment. Or is it jealousy?"

"For that she'd need something I wanted, and she doesn't have. She's a spoiled Oxford brat, is all."

"Is it all?" Jim watched Seb race down the steps and smirked, taking his time. "It's not that she's got the good graces of her upper crust daddy? His fondness? Affection? Love?" He got to the car and lifted his jaw, eyeing him, tongue in cheek. The sniper was tense, but not rigid enough. He pushed harder. "Not even that she's got me?"

"She hasn't got you." Seb's fist shot out and gripped his tie, tightening the knot around his neck and almost lifting him onto his toes. "Nobody ever has you. You fiddle with them until you're bored, and you drop 'em like grenades and leave them to detonate themselves. That's it."

"You seem to have gotten it all figured, haven't you?" Jim said softly. "But then you were always so clever."

"She's a distraction. A phase. A liability."

"She's a diamond mine of possibility. Right now, you are two breaths away from being the liability." He let loose a grin. "Now, let go of the fucking suit before I snap off your fingers and shove them down your throat."

Seb dropped him, mildly disgusted-looking. Jim shrugged his shoulders lightly.

"Better get a grip on that pin, Tiger. Quit fumbling and get on with it."

His expression dark, Sebastian opened the car door with white knuckles and a sour look. "Get the fuck in the car, Jim. Don't play with my emotions."

Jim gave him a withering look. "Then don't leave them hanging out for everyone to see. Put your big boy pants on, for God's sake. I've not the time to put up with you, nor the patience."

Twenty-five minutes later, Seb dug his hands into his pockets and whistled, almost smug.

"Well," he said. "Looks like she's scrambling for somebody's attention. Bit desperate, if you ask me."

"Not my attention." Jim crossed his arms thoughtfully. "Too direct. She's much too coy for something like this."

"So she's toying with somebody else? Who?"

"Who else? The only thing keeping the little thing down." Jim ran a finger down the counter and frowned at it. "Daddy dearest. He must have moved in for the kill. Tried to make her come back home."

"I told you somebody would see you walking in and out. What are you going to do when they realize you're alive?"

"Something dramatically, no doubt, but let's get out of here before they've time to."

Huffing, Sebastian left the bathroom, muttering curses.

Jim stood still a moment longer, admiring the penmanship. Even, slanted, square letters in elegant cursive. No smudging, so tedious for the left-handed.On the mirror, in cheerful pink lipstain was written,

I went somewhere nice,

Some call it Paradise

Otherwise call it asylum.

I've been good

And done what you've said,

But when you find me

You'll see red.

Then, signed in blood red lipstick,

xx, E

God, she enthralled him to distraction.

She covered herself demurely in lies and lipstick, armor so safe and so subtle that she herself almost believed it, in the ordinary, good girl she so wanted to be. But what about last night? A flick of his knife, and something innermost, dark and macabre had been exposed, a hidden gem, a different woman's raw potential laid before him like instructions in a book. Unflinchingly she put her open wound to his and he suddenly found himself breathless, unbelievably drawn to this, to her. He could see her entire life fall directly into place, beside his, entwined with it.

He didn't believe in romantic bullshit, but fate was another story. Fate was longer than life, bigger than man. Fate wrote the histories of men, and all you could do about it was to keep turning page after bloody page, until your pages ran out. Fate never let anybody see their own epilogue. In short, she was a fickle bitch. But this was a new chapter that gave a sensual new promise to the potential of his life's novel. Hell, maybe she would pen his afterword.

To him, the message was a riddle. To Elliot Spencer, it was the most terrifying, most awful of threats, especially to a parent.

Jim smirked, swiped his thumb through the blood red E. He could use a sly one like her. She could be cunning, sly. She certainly wasn't afraid to hit her father where it hurt. He should definitely think about keeping this little bird around. She was clever enough already to know who to run to.

Going to find you, he thought cheerfully, flicking off the light with a tissue. And when I do, you're mine.

Notes:

Oh. My. God. I've become one of those fanfic writers. The kind that writes and writes and can't seem to shut up for weeks and then leaves you all to wonder for months if I've been somehow eaten alive or exiled to a land without WiFi.

Well, my dears, neither of those unfortunate things happened. In fact, I've been beating myself up over this story every day for the past-what is it, six months? (Eep!) Permission to drag me over hot coals, if only because this chapter doesn't give you so much to work with. BUT. A BIG FAT MATURE WARNING FOR THE NEXT ONE, KAY? I'm not ready for this. But here we are.

As always, reviews bring a sparkling beam of happy into my fangirlish heart, so-

All my love,
A