Michelle's eyes tracked the third arrival of the day. He was a stout man – a man who wore perfectly creased slacks – and he marched through the doors with unmistakable purpose. He shook hands with both Tony and Hammond, and subsequently disappeared into the situation room without a backward glance.

Before him there had been a middle aged woman in a charcoal business suit, and before her had been a younger man who chose to show every possible sign of nervousness. They were interviewees. That much was very clear, and Michelle couldn't help but watch them traipse in and out, feeling puzzled. Which position were they going for?

She returned to her screen, setting her confusion aside. Things had been difficult since Tony had invited her up to his office with the intention of breaking it off with her a week ago. It had been hard to concentrate and harder still to work at the standard she normally did. She couldn't really afford to be distracted by a string of interviewees on top of everything else.

It seemed that things between herself and Tony had regressed back to the tense mutual animosity of their pre-situation room days. It had been all too easy to slip back into avoiding him, to taking his orders with a small measure of contempt, to answering him with one word sentences. And he had done precisely the same thing. He'd returned to his cold, quiet ways, returned to giving her orders and assignments with brusque indifference, returned to watching her when he thought she wasn't aware.

Only now, no attempt was being made by either of them to bridge the awkward gap with small talk or forced courtesies. They both went about their days as though the other wasn't there, though this was far more difficult for Michelle than Tony, who often had to follow the humiliating protocol of running enquiries and procedures past the Director before she could execute them.

Hammond was still loitering around the place, though she'd had no idea why until today, when the interviewees had strolled in. Hammond wasn't one to leave matters like staffing to mere Directors, obviously having elbowed his way in on the process for whatever supercilious reason he'd dredged up. She smirked slightly. That would've destroyed Tony's day.

Half an hour later she watched the stout man show himself out, and, as her eyes returned to her screen, she caught sight of the Chief of Staff station. It was vacant, of course. She felt herself frown deeply. They hadn't yet filled the position. More to the point, they hadn't yet asked her to fill the position. Her eyes shot back to the stout man, still visible as he passed through security, and she felt understanding dawn upon her.

It was late in the day when she finally seized her chance and climbed the stairs to Tony's office. Hammond had returned to Division, and the bullpen was winding down for the afternoon. She knocked once, entered and closed the door firmly behind her. Tony looked up at her, his face impassive, and she stood before him. His eyes roamed her freely for a moment, and she straightened her spine, feeling acutely aware of the fact that his eyes had once roamed her freely in her bedroom, only then she'd been entirely naked.

'Yes?'

'You were interviewing for a position today,' she said. 'Which position was it?'

He examined her closely, and closed the file on his desk.

'Does it matter?'

'It does if the position in question was Chief of Staff. Was it?'

He exhaled slowly and nodded.

'It was,' he said, moving to reopen the file. 'Anything else?'

'Yes,' Michelle said, her voice controlled. 'Is there a reason I wasn't selected for an interview?'

'Have you expressed interest?'

She stared at him for a moment.

'Consider this an expression of interest,' she said, feeling furious and managing to hide it well. 'When may I interview?'

He clawed at his cheek, looking uninterested.

'We've comprised a shortlist,' he said. 'You aren't among the candidates.'

'Excuse me?'

'You aren't among the candidates.'

'And why is that?'

He frowned at her.

'You're not at liberty to ask,' he said. 'And I'm not at liberty to say.'

She crossed her arms, feeling tremendously stung.

'So what now?' she asked, her voice losing its professional edge. 'I just stay at IP level for the rest of my career simply because you found our romp at my place unsatisfactory?'

'Michelle…'

'Tell me that isn't why I'm being denied a chance to interview for a job I've been doing competently for the last seven weeks. Tell me that's not the reason.'

'You aren't among the candidates,' he explained to her, his voice biting. 'And it has nothing to do with that night whatsoever. This was a professional decision, made between myself and Hammond and –'

'A professional decision? I find that hard to believe.'

'And,' he continued as though he hadn't heard her, 'you're expected to accept the decisions made by your superiors, just like everyone else in this office.'

Like everyone else? Michelle knew what that translated to. Don't start thinking you can speak out of turn just because you made the immense error of sleeping with the boss.

'This is ridiculous. That position is mine,' she said, gazing at him, feeling detestation expand within her. 'You know it is.'

He watched her, his eyes dark.

'You aren't among the candidates, Michelle,' he said, looking unfazed. 'That's the truth.'

She gazed at him for a little while longer, feeling hurt and frustrated and furious. Seven weeks ago they'd been kicking her sheets out of the way and giggling in the dark, warm in each other's arms. They'd been weak from their climaxes, damp with sweat and delirious from exhaustion, but quite unable to sever contact. Now, he wanted nothing further to do with her, and was barring her from a rightful promotion.

She treated herself to a quiet breath and pulled the door open, leaving him with an incensed look and nothing more.

reviews are opium x