FIGHTING INSTINCTS

Alexia felt her chest constricting as her mind ceased to give her the ideas that usually came so fast, but still her instinct remained. Her hand reached upward, gently brushing the backs of her knuckles along her jaw. She watched as his eyes flickered closed, even as he tried to keep them open, to watch her every move as her fingers reached to coil into his hair. She pulled his head back gently, playing innocent as she repeated his actions, trailing her lips over his ear.

'Oh Michael,' she whispered, letting her breath send shivers down her spine, 'surely being burned taught you not to play with fire.'

She pulled his head back hard, twisting to slip beneath his arm. She pinned him against the wall, his arms wrapped around him as though a straightjacket was hugging him tight. She reached around her back, pulling a butterfly knife from beneath her bra. She flicked it open, holding the blade against the soft skin of his neck. He never once flinched though. He only showed a hint of surprise as he found his cheek pressed against the wall, the situation turned against him.

A little smirk came over his lips, the pale blue of his eyes only showing something of a playful note as he looked back at her as best as he could. 'That's a lesson I could never really grasp,' he admitted.

He pushed back, twisting free of her grip, feeling the burn of the blade as it nicked his skin. He ignored it, grasping both of her wrists once he'd knocked the blade from her hand, sending it sliding across the floor. He felt the bracelet that hid the vial pressing into his palm as he gripped tight, though not too tight in fear he might break it. He didn't know how the poison worked, whether it had to be swallowed, inhaled or even absorbed into the skin. He couldn't risk breaking it.

But his concern was his mistake, giving Alexia enough time to force his arms down so that she could grip his wrists in return before she dropped to slide between his legs, bending him over until she could run her arms along the floor to sweep against his ankles, unbalancing him. She sat up, pulling him through his fall so that he would not land on his head. She was fighting him, but not to cause pain, simply to make her point. He had to understand that she was stronger than he thought, that a concussion was nothing to some of the injuries that she'd endured and that she was not the damsel in distress that a sweet, chivalrous but quite frankly silly part of him believed she was.

She heard his breath expel in a rush as he landed hard on the floorboards, a cough rocking his body as she stood, free from his grip now. She landed a solid kick on his upper thigh. Though many might believe it would be wrong to kick a man when he's down, she'd always ignored that rule. There's no real way to test if they're faking unconsciousness or the inability to continue a fight, so even though she was evenly matched with Michael, she was going to make sure he wouldn't be getting up straight away.

Yet she still avoided his side and ribs, not wanting to break, only to bruise at the most. After all, bruises would easily fade and heal. A break would take time to mend and they were already running out of time.

She stepped back, giving him a moment to catch his breath. He sat up, straightening his shirt, one hand gripping his thigh were a bruise would now be forming as the other went to rub the back of his head and neck. He grimaced for a moment, eyes squeezed tight as he brought himself to his feet, stretching to crack his back. After his solid landing, he was probably very aware of his spine, a second grimace confirming it as he tested his movement, but it was all just the impact and the chance that he would bruise was minimal. He rolled his head on his shoulders, daring a step forward.

Alexia reached to her wrist, pulling the little vial out before he could even consider another advance, balancing it on the tip of her finger. 'You think – hell you know that I'm the Shadow Viper – yet you're still willing to approach me,' she said, flicking it into the air again and again, watching Michael's gaze dart from her to the vial as it sailed high. She knew that he believed she would drop it. It was, after all, probably the tiniest vial he had ever seen and she wasn't even looking at it. She knew she didn't look concerned either, despite how fragile it was, because she also knew that it was safe and could not be dropped. Like many, he was so focused on the vial and the poison that lay within that he could not see the thread that anchored it to her wrist, keeping it from getting away from her.

Besides, she had never dropped it before and never would.

She caught it, balancing it on the tip of her finger once again. 'Tell me what it's going to be Michael. You either give me my space and understand that you will not gain my trust easily or I show you just how much more dangerous this is going to get.'

'You wouldn't,' he said, pale blue narrowing, though still he glanced to the vial.

'And how do you know that?' she asked.

'Because I know that you don't want me dead. I know that you don't kill unless you have to.'

'You assume that Michael.'

'I see it, Alexia,' he said, voice softer than before. He was inching forward, though he dared not take a full step, not until he further tested the boundaries. 'I've been in this business long enough to be able to recognise when an operative is too far gone, and I know that you're not.'

'You also know that I can fake emotion, so who are you going to trust? You and your sight, or me, the one holding the vial, prepared to use it.'

'But why? I'm not going to hurt you, whether you believe me or not,' he said, stopping even his small progress forward to stare at her. 'We need to work together on this because we'll be faster as a team, especially with Fi and Sam behind us as well.'

'I don't know them.'

'Well you've met Sam, and I know you liked him,' he nearly snapped, 'and Fi, well you've got a lot to be grateful to her for, so don't you dare even try to make it seem as if she's one of the bad guys in this situation, because the only person that shouldn't be trusted is you.'

And the worst part?

He was right.

She dropped her hand, expertly tucking the tiny vial back into the bracelet beneath her sleeve, making sure it was covered as she felt the aching twist of an emotion she was getting very well acquainted with at every turn.

Guilt.

Michael watched her for a moment. He turned on his heel, grabbing his sunglasses to slide them back on, shielding his eyes from view. 'Go grab some overnight stuff,' he said, going to the door. 'We'll come back and get the rest tomorrow.'

It slammed behind him, leaving her to stand alone in the room, barely any sunlight managing to creep in through the windows, the surrounding buildings shrouding it in darkness. She stared at the wood for a moment, listening as he leant against the door on the other side before she headed back to the room. She stuffed some clothes into the bag with her netbook and papers, stopping as she stared at her leather coat. Despite the situation that had occurred, she couldn't help but smile at it, remembering the way Michael had brought it to her.

She was being a bitch and she knew it, knew that the words that had already been said could not be taken back, but they could be apologised for. She shrugged it on, feeling a little better as the leather hugged her body, heavy and comforting on her shoulders.

She picked up her things, heading for the door. She was about to pull it open, but this time decided to knock, warning Michael to move before she opened it. He still had his sunglasses on, the cognac lenses keeping her from seeing the real emotions in his eyes. She stood there in the doorway for a moment, taking a steadying breath, but before she could speak, he was walking.

'Wait,' she said, grabbing his wrist, touch light.

He paused, looking back, but from behind the lenses she had no idea if he were looking at her. 'Did you forget something?' he asked.

She shook her head. 'No, I just...' Again she shook her head, trying to clear it. 'I'm sorry Michael. I know you just want to help me, and I'm thankful for that, but my guard is always up and I don't remember the last time I forced it down, so please, be patient. Just for a little while until I can get my head around the fact that someone actually wants to help me and not kill me.'

He stared at her for a moment; at least, she thought he did. He reached up, taking his sunglasses off to perch them on top of his head, showing her the pale blue that she wanted to see.

'I'm not sure that I can be,' he admitted, stepping forward again. He reached up, fingers lightly tracing her cheek, her jaw, coming to rest on her chin to lift her gaze to his. 'But...'

'But what?' Alexia wondered if he were merely testing her, trying to get her used to the invasion of personal space, but there was something within the pale blue that made her second guess herself as he edged ever so slightly closer.

He smiled that charming smile and she withheld a shiver as he whispered, voice low, hot breath caressing her lips.

'I'll try.'

With just two words, her world was altered. This was not the Michael Westen she feared, the operative that even a burn notice could not defeat. This was Michael Westen, the man who had protected her, saved her. A man with emotions, needs.

Desires.

After his advances in the apartment, the ones she had believed were just a test, the logical voice in her head told her to back away and to do it quick, knowing that if she acted on her more feminine instincts, the ones telling her to snog the hell out of him, there could be some serious problems.

So why was she edging closer?

She felt his hand slide down her arm, the caress of the leather raising gooseflesh on her skin as he dipped his head, his cheek pressed to hers as his lips came to her ear again.

'Why are you doing this, Michael?' she asked, unable to recognise the wavering in her voice as his other hand came to her hip.

He was silent for a moment. 'I don't know,' he whispered, and she knew that he wasn't lying. 'It feels so wrong, like I know that the boundaries that I'm crossing shouldn't be crossed, but after–'

'Our fight,' she finished, daring to grip his shoulders as he pressed himself close, her bag forgotten on the ground. 'You don't mean...?'

'I think I do,' he said, afraid that at any second she would push him away, but she only pulled him closer, nails biting into his back. 'The way you fight is like a dance though admittedly a very violent, painful dance for me, but amazing none the less.'

'I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not,' she breathed.

'It is,' he said, pressing her back against the wall of the corridor, still stunned by his actions, the fact that it didn't even feel as if he were doing them, as if his body had bypassed his mind, acting without his consent.

Well, not that his body didn't have it...

'Michael,' she said, garnering his attention, distracting him from his thoughts, 'either back off or kiss me now.'

As if backing off was an option.

Next update: Saturday 19th of June