Alyx
It was about an hour before dawn when I climbed out of his bed, his warmth, his arms. I dressed
quietly and then I watched him sleep for several long minutes, trying to memorize every last detail
of his sleeping form. I realized that I could never complete that task, and eventually turned away.
Writing on the back of an envelope, I asked him to take care of a few things for me. Specifically,
my car and my apartment. It seemed a bit presumptuous on my part to ask, but who else was there?
Besides, if I didn't return he could always keep them, and that wasn't so bad. On the counter next
to the note I left my keys, cell phone, and pager. I wouldn't be needing them for a while. I knew
when he found this in the morning he'd be angry and confused, or at least I hoped so. That sounds
so awful, but even though I knew he had enjoyed himself last night, that didn't mean he'd have ever
wanted to again.
At some point tomorrow he'd find out the truth and know I was gone, probably for good. I knew he'd
really get angry at me, think I had just used him for that 'cheap thrill' I kept saying I didn't
want any part of. I could only hope he would understand someday. I walked over to the bed, leaned
over, and kissed him lightly, not wanting to disturb his sleep. After everything that had happened,
and everything that had yet to, I knew I would never regret this night.
I left him then and, after grabbing my bags from the Jag, called a taxi for a ride to the airport.
I functioned on auto-pilot all day. I noticed, but failed to
appreciate, that the Agency had sprung for first class. People kept asking if I was all right. I
either ignored them or answered something that seemed to satisfy them so they would go away.
Although I'd had little sleep, I didn't really feel tired. I felt a bit melancholy, but also free
in some weird way. Like I had finally done something right for a change. I reviewed the night
before -- not analyzing, just remembering. Gods, I was going to miss him.
It wasn't until we were landing in D.C. that I began to pay attention to the world around me again.
As I disembarked the plane and exited into the terminal, some suit with a badge approached and asked
me if I was me. Deciding to turn on the charm, I answered, "Last time I checked. Why, do you want me
to be someone else?"
This immediately flustered the suit, much to my amusement, and he started to babble. "Who told
you.... They weren't..." Then he saw the look on my face and stopped. "You were joking, of
course." He calmed himself and said, "Sorry. I'm Agent Dylan James. Your contact." He held out
his hand for me to shake. I ignored it. I had no need to risk a head full of this stranger. Let him
feel insulted if he wanted, I didn't much care.
"Can we get my bags and get out of here?" I said, making sure he knew I was not the least bit happy
about this situation. "I'd like to get this day over with."
"This way," Agent James said, attempting to place a hand on my arm while directing me with his
other. "Another agent is getting your bags, he'll meet us at the car."
I side-stepped his hand, but followed him. "First thing," I said. He half turned to me as we
walked. "Don't touch me." He gave me this offended look. "I was told you have full disclosure of
what I can do?" He nodded. "Then lets just say touching me is potentially dangerous, and not to
myself. Understand?"
"Honestly, no," he answered. He opened the door to the outside where he led me to a ubiquitous
black car and motioned for me to enter. Within moments, another agent appeared carrying my duffel
and backpack, which he placed in the trunk. He then climbed into the driver's seat and started the
car. As we pulled out into the joyous world of D.C. traffic I sighed. Agent James turned to me.
"Was it a good flight?"
"Look," I said, "how much longer is today going to go? I haven't really slept in over twenty-four
hours. If you want me to be of any use, I need to get some sleep."
"Tell you what," he replied. "It's a bit of a drive to your temporary residence; why don't you
catch a nap. If you can give me a couple hours when we get there, I'll feed you."
"Good enough," I said, shifting till I was reasonably comfortable. I stared out the window for a
few minutes and drifted off into sleep.
I awoke with a jerk at the blare of a car horn. Agent James moved to touch me, in reassurance I
guess, then remembered what I had said. "Traffic," he said apologetically.
I nodded, relaxing back into my seat. "How long was I out?" I asked, running my fingers through my
hair.
"Couple of hours. There was an accident on the beltway and traffic was backed up forever." He
looked at me. "We're nearly there."
I just looked back out the window, watching the darkened city flash past. The sun had set while I
was sleeping, not that it mattered. I had no idea where I was and, in all honesty, I didn't really
care. At least he hadn't lied; within minutes we pulled into a driveway and parked before what
looked like someone's house. I was too tired to argue.
Inside, Agent James escorted me upstairs to a suite of rooms. The house had apparently been broken
up into executive apartments. The dining area was piled high with boxes -- I was afraid to ask what
they contained. After tossing my bags in one of the two bedrooms, I freshened up and joined him in
the living room. I said one word. "Food."
"On its way," he confirmed. "Hope you like Chinese."
"Don't know, I've never had one," I said. I had decided to try and make the best of this
arrangement, however unwilling I was to be there.
He gave me the strangest look, as if he thought I was serious.
"It was a joke," I said. "Look, just tell me what I need to do. Being here is bad enough without
having you stiff-necked suits staring at me." They were going to learn real fast that I was not a
'by the book' agent and never would be.
Agent James gave me the five sentence synopsis of what they wanted me to do. I just stood there,
stunned. Then I sat down heavily in a chair. "You've got to be kidding," was all I could manage.
Thankfully, the food arrived, delivered by the agent who had driven us earlier. I spent a few
minutes eating, not because I was hungry -- my appetite had vanished for some reason -- but because
I knew I needed to. I sipped at my drink. "You want me to protect and spy upon this guy, this king,
so you all can have a foothold in what used to be the Soviet Union."
"And marry," he repeated.
I swallowed. "And marry. You have no idea what you're asking me to do." This was crazy. They were
taking away what little life I had managed to find and wanted me to become someone else just to
make sure their little game went the way they wanted. This was not something I had ever anticipated
doing in my lifetime.
"We were told you had all the skills necessary to complete the job, plus you're a dead-on match for
his betrothed, who was recently kidnapped and killed," he said.
"So I take her place while he consolidates his power, make sure he doesn't get offed, and feed
intel back to you guys," I said. This job just felt wrong to me. I was supposed to be the good guy,
right?
"That pretty much sums it up. You're as good as they said," he answered, smiling.
"You guys are idiots," I snarled. "I'm just about the worst person for this job." Six months I'd
been doing this, six stinking months, and these guys thought I could just drop everything at their
command. I'd rather deal with the Official and my cage, complete with exercise wheel.
"I don't understand," he began, somewhat taken aback by my viciousness. "We were told you could
learn the language and already had the martial skills to protect the King. They said three weeks
would be plenty of time for you to learn the necessary protocol and routines you needed."
I just looked at him in astonishment. "You really don't know what you're asking me to do, do you?"
I began to pace the room. "I thought you said you had full disclosure regarding my abilities?"
"I do. Your ability to learn languages and your fighting skills were foremost. Anything beyond that
didn't seem to matter," he said.
I burst out laughing. "I think you had better read the rest of my file before we go any further."
I sat back down, still chuckling. This guy had no idea what he had in front of him, and I wasn't
sure if he was lying or just plain stupid. I also wasn't sure which would be worse.
I watched as he dug out my file from a box and began to really read it. At one point he looked at
me sharply and turned pale.
After a few minutes, he excused himself, and I could hear him talking to someone on the phone in
another room. At one point he began to yell at whoever was on the other end, but quieted quickly.
I was yawning and rubbing my eyes when he finally came back into the room. He had a look of
irritation on his face, but he tried to smile at me. "It has been requested of me to apologize to
you for an incident that took place in New England a few months ago, as well as a more recent one
involving an Agent Stephen Morris. If I had realized that it was you..." He stopped. "You're
obviously tired. Get some sleep and we'll deal with this in the morning." He turned and headed to
the front entrance of the suite. I heard the door open and shut, leaving me alone.
I was up early the next morning, wanting to go for a run. The suit standing outside my door was
rather surprised to see me at oh five hundred, and blustered about it not being authorized. I told
him what he could do with his authorization, in detailed and clinical wording, and took off on my
run. After about ten minutes, a black car started pacing me. It was annoying but I put up with it,
for a while anyway. Warmed up, I upped my pace, hitting my distance running stride. The car
followed the rest of the run, staying a short distance behind me. I felt like I was in some stupid
movie. I returned to the house just after oh six hundred, to find Agent James waiting for me in my
suite.
"Miss Silver, you really shouldn't have done that," he said.
"Yes, I should have. And I will every morning I am here," I said, walking past him towards my room.
I might be stuck here, but I was not going to be pushed around. If they wanted this to work, they
would need my cooperation. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get dressed."
That pretty much set the tone for the rest of my stay in D.C.
Darien
I actually wasn't surprised to find myself alone when I woke up. I mean, she sleeps less than I do.
I know, obvious statement, but you know what I mean. She just doesn't sleep some days. Thanks to
what they did to her, her sleep cycle is completely out of whack. I guess I should be pleased she
fell asleep at all last night. Of course, I had done my best to tire her out. That caused a chuckle
and several images to flash through my mind. Right now I was wishing she was here to join me in the
shower. I sighed. Well, maybe not. We'd probably never make it in to work.
As I staggered through my morning routine, I didn't notice anything unusual. Maybe I just didn't
want to. It wasn't until I went outside to get my car that I noticed her Jag still sitting out
front.
Backtracking, I finally noticed her stuff sitting on my counter, and her note. What the devil was
going on?
Pocketing her keys, I decided to make a stop on the way in to the office. I mean, she did ask me to
keep an eye on the place for her. As soon as I opened the door to her apartment, I knew she was
gone. I didn't understand. If she was leaving, then what the hell was last night all about? You
don't -- and these are her words, not mine -- spend all this time fighting the temptation thrown at
you daily just to blow it all for a cheap thrill. Yet it seemed to be exactly what she had done.
I know she wouldn't have left for no reason. The last time she'd taken off, it was because of her
kids. I seriously didn't think the Official would be dumb enough to use that ploy again. She would
hurt him. But I supposed it was possible.
From there I went to work. I was late, as usual, but I didn't give them a chance to complain about
it. As I stormed into the Official's office I demanded, "Where is she?"
The abrupt question must have confused the Official, because he actually gave me an answer. "She's
gone."
"I figured out that much for myself. Where?" I asked, using the tone of voice I would for a small,
less-than-intelligent child.
"Reassigned. CIA," Eberts said.
"How long?" This was not good. The CIA had been after the both of us for one reason or another for
a while now. They'd wanted me since about the time the Chinese grabbed me, long before Alyx had
arrived, and they'd been after her almost from the moment she'd come to the Agency.
"Indefinitely," Eberts answered.
"How about letting the one I'm asking answer?" I said to Eberts, getting irritated. At a guess, he
was parroting what the Fat Man had told him to say. I wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth, so
to speak.
"Fawkes, Miss Silver is gone. Deal with it," the Official said. He didn't even bother to look up at
me.
"Deal with it? Deal with it?" I said, my voice rising with each word. "Dealing with her when she
arrived was hard enough, and we finally got that worked out. Now you dump her to another agency.
I'd really like to know why." I was now doing my best to loom over the Official, but he doesn't
scare that easy.
"I have my reasons," he said.
Now where have I heard that before? "Fine," I said, irritated. "But this isn't over."
"It is if you want counteragent," he snapped at me.
That was a threat I was getting really tired of hearing.
"If you want me scoring brownie points for this agency, you have no choice but to supply the
counteragent," I shot back. Then I left the office, slamming the door behind me. I really didn't
want to have to challenge him again. The last time I'd gone without counteragent for a long period,
things had turned out rather badly. There were some experiences I just did not want to repeat.
Oh, this day was going just fine. And it had started so well. Now, if I could just rewind it about
eight hours and replay the tape a few dozen times, I'd be a contented cat-burglar.
I decided to ask Claire what, if anything, she knew about Alyx being sent away. I knew she'd spent
yesterday morning running assorted tests on Alyx. That wasn't really unusual, even though Alyx no
longer needed a Keeper per se. Claire had become Alyx's doctor and was curious about her abilities;
she could occasionally persuade Alyx to let her run some more tests. But the fact that Alyx was now
gone made me a bit suspicious.
"Good morning, Darien," she said as I entered her lab. "And how are we today?"
I told her the truth. "Pissed off. What do you know about Alyx's new assignment?"
"What, no 'Good morning Claire? Could you please give me restricted information about another
agent?'" she said, turning towards me.
I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at her. I was not in the mood for the usual batch of
crap that came with asking a simple question today. "Just tell me."
"I gave her a physical. I believe she's leaving the country, but I don't know where to," Claire
answered. "My understanding is that she won't be back."
"Aw, crap," I said, killing my pose and sitting on a chair. I tipped my head back and stared at the
ceiling.
"Is there a problem?" she asked.
I shook my head, not really sure. "I just didn't get to say goodbye, is all." No point in trying
to explain; Claire wouldn't be all that sympathetic. She still hadn't let me forget the Allianora
incident.
"That doesn't sound like her," Claire mused. "You didn't see her before she left?"
"Yeah, I did. She just didn't say goodbye."
When my phone rang, it never once crossed my mind that it would be Alyx. She'd been gone for over a
week, and I figured she must be in deep, wherever and whatever she was doing. I probably sounded
irritated as I repeated my hello into the dead air on the phone. I was guessing it was Hobbes,
checking up on me. When I heard Alyx say my name I couldn't believe it. I said the first thing that
came to mind. "Alyx, where the hell are you?"
Her voice sounded shaky, sad. "I can't say. I..."
"What, Alyx?" I asked, hoping she'd answer. Hoping she'd say anything. I'd been angry at first that
she hadn't told me what was going on, but it only took a couple of days to realize that she could
have left without seeing me at all. At least I'd had one hell of a good-bye from her, even if I
hadn't known it was good-bye at the time.
"I'm sorry. I..." she began, and I heard a voice yelling in the background for her to hang up. I
heard Alyx growl, anger evident in her voice, "Don't you dare." Then she focused back on me. I
could almost feel her presence through the phone line. "I'm sorry Darien. I'm causing trouble as
usual," she paused. "I have to go."
I tried to keep her from hanging up. "Alyx, wait..." I shouted into the phone only to hear a click
and dead air. I tried *69, but got a recording saying that the number was unavailable. I flung the
phone across the room.
No one would tell me what was going on. Well, Alyx had taught me a few things during the time we'd
worked together; maybe I'd put them to some use.
But things didn't go as I had planned. I showed up for work the next morning, not in the best frame
of mind -- I was still trying to understand why she had called me last night only to not actually
talk to me -- when the Official went at me like I had done something seriously wrong.
"Fawkes, if Miss Silver contacts you again, you are to disconnect immediately," he practically
roared.
"Hey, she called me!" I snapped back at him.
"Fawkes, you do not want to talk back to me today," the Official said in a low voice, and I got the
message. Something was up. Something he wasn't happy about. "Do you understand? There is to be no
unauthorized contact with Miss Silver."
"I understand," I lied. If she called me again, I wasn't about to hang up on her...and what was
with the 'unauthorized' comment? I didn't get the chance to find out, as Bobby came in just then.
"You wanted to see me boss?" he asked as he slid into a chair.
"Yes. We have been asked to assist another agency on a case," Eberts answered. "Their
representative should be here momentarily."
There was a knock on the office door and we turned to see who entered.
"Jones," Hobbes snarled. Can you tell how fond Hobbes is of the man?
"Tell me about it," Agent Jones from the FBI muttered. He was carrying several files and handed
them to Eberts making a point to keep his distance from Hobbes. "This was not my idea, Hobbes. I'm
under orders to work with you, since you guys apparently have some knowledge about this case."
"As well as the access you need to make an attempt," the Official commented.
"True," Jones agreed unhappily.
I had been flipping through the file Eberts had handed to me, and a name rang a bell. "Isn't this
one of the buyers from that slave ship?" The girl, Amber, who had been on the ship for a year, had
provided lots of interesting information. In some ways more than the crew, who had been rather
unwilling to talk to us. The only other real source of information had been from Briggs, the
undercover agent we had rescued along with the girls they'd been transporting, but he hadn't known
nearly enough.
"Yes," Eberts agreed. "He is visiting Catalina in his yacht, and we believe a girl he purchased
about eight months ago is on board. She was reported missing by her parents when she disappeared on
their vacation to New Orleans."
"So she wasn't a runaway like most of them?" Hobbes asked.
The Official shook his head. "No, and her parents are rather powerful attorneys in their home
state."
"That explains the FBI's involvement," I said, continuing to go through the file. "But why do you
need us?"
"Department of Fish and Game handles the fishing permits for
foreigners," Eberts explained. "If they decide there is a problem..."
"Which there will be," the Official added.
"Then we can get in and look for the girl," Bobby finished and I looked at him in surprise. Usually
he didn't finish their sentences.
"And since you guys are essentially the covert ops unit of the F and G, you get to help," Jones
said with an unthrilled look on his face.
"I expect you boys to play nice," the Official said with a chuckle.
"Let me shoot him and we'll get along just fine," Hobbes said with a nasty look.
I laughed while Hobbes was admonished by the Official. Hate to say this but I liked Jones just
about as much as Hobbes did -- which is to say, not at all -- and Jones knew it. This was going to
be so very much fun. Right.
Alyx
This week was getting very long. Language review, protocol, history, clothing fittings. You name
it, I swear I did it. Mid-afternoon of day eight, I got irritated because the protocol and personal
information I would need was being given to me bit by little bit. Finally I said, "Enough. Just give
me the damn hard copy and give me an hour."
Agent James cleared the room and handed me several files. "One hour," he said, and left.
The files finally explained a few things that had been bothering me about this 'king' and his
still-new country of Kanvia. Even though it bordered China, just south of Krygyzstan, the racial
makeup of the people was heavily Caucasian and Slavic, and the language they spoke was far closer
to Russian or Lithuanian than to those of their neighbors. Apparently a large group of refugees had
fled from the Russian Empire several generations ago following some nameless uprising or invasion,
and had settled in this remote part of central Asia. That explained the language's similarities to
Russian, although changes had occurred over the years due to the influence of the pre-existing
local peoples. The breakdown of the dialect described in the file included comparisons with the
other languages in the area -- two of which I spoke -- making it easy enough for me to learn. Some
of the variances I would absorb later as I delved deeper into the language, but most of them were
fairly simple to figure out. A letter change or change of inflection. I'd catch on quick enough.
When the Soviet Union broke up, the people in the region, like many others, decided they wanted to
rule themselves. A dual war ended up being fought, one for territory with the neighboring
countries, and one internally to determine who would ultimately gain control. Piotr Vallenchevski's
father had won out in the end, but had been killed shortly after taking power, leaving Piotr to hold
the shaky situation together. This marriage with Ariana Goranov had been arranged to solidify his
power through alliance. She was the daughter of one of the ruling families in a neighboring
country, so marrying her would have guaranteed that at least one border would remain secure.
Unfortunately, she'd been killed a few months earlier. That was when the US contingent, led by
Agent James, had volunteered to help. Ariana's death was kept secret, and James was instructed to
find a double, a warm body to fill the role and keep a war from breaking out again.
The US was getting concessions for this assistance in the form of a small military presence and the
opportunity to use the border with China to spy on the Chinese government. Apparently this Piotr
found it a worthwhile trade. I wasn't too sure I agreed with that, but you do what you have to, as
I well knew by this point in my life.
The whole lot of them came back in exactly one hour. I'd been sitting, mentally compiling the data,
for a good ten minutes by then. I greeted them all in Ariana Goranov's native tongue, using
proper protocol in greeting those below my rank. I gave an account of my 'family and life' in this
obscure little country. Everyone except Agent James sat there stunned. I'd even managed to speak in
the slightly lilting tone of voice she was supposed to have affected. Then I switched to the
language spoken in Kanvia, where I was going to be living once this farce of a marriage took place.
This one was a variant of Russian, which I already knew, but I fudged the words and made errors, as
Ariana would have, since she had still been learning the language when she'd been killed. I gave a
quick recitation about the history of the country and how Piotr had come into power. When I
finished, I slouched back down into my chair and yawned.
"So they were telling the truth about you," Agent James said.
I shrugged. "I was told full disclosure, so I assume that's what you got. If you failed to believe
it, that's your problem."
He watched me, with eyes gone dangerous, then sent everyone home for the day. Usually they stayed
till nine or ten at night, drilling me. He continued to watch me as they cleared out of the suite.
I just sat in the chair sideways, legs over one side and head hanging backwards over the other,
staring at the ceiling. Yup, just like a bored teenager. I was feeling pissy, and had decided to go
with my apparent age and hormones.
"So, what exactly can you do?" he asked after a few minutes.
Without changing my position I flicked the lights on and off, lifted the table off the floor and
turned invisible. *Good enough?* I asked in his mind.
His reaction was comical. He jumped out of his chair and looked around wildly. I lowered the table
and stopped playing with the lights. Allowing the quicksilver to fall from my body, I laughed.
"I wish I had a camera," I said when I finally regained control. This had been the most amusing
thing to happen to me in ages. These people took stuff way too seriously.
"They were serious about all of it," he said in astonishment.
I just swung my legs and stared at the ceiling some more. Then he managed to surprise me. "You want
to get out of here?"
I sat up. Except for my morning runs, this suite had been my
existence. "What did you have in mind?" I asked, curious. I really did need the break, especially
with my life about to be turned inside out yet again.
"Dinner, maybe a club. The usual," he said.
"The usual. You don't know my usual, Agent James," I responded. That was putting it mildly. My
usual was rarely more exciting than some music and a workout. A good night involved a new book to
read.
"I'll pick you up at six. Wear something nice," he said.
"What, sweats and a tank top won't do?" I commented gesturing at my current ensemble. With all the
clothing fittings, it turned out to be the easiest outfit to work with.
Much to my surprise he walked right up to me. "It would be just fine with me, Miss Silver. Just
fine."
I felt my eyebrows rise at his tone of voice. "Oh. Perhaps I can scrounge something up from all the
crap you guys have been delivering."
"Good," he said. "Six sharp."
I just waved him away. After the door had shut, I leaned back again, letting my head fall till the
world was inverted. Gods, I wanted out of this. I wanted to be back in my apartment, fighting with
Hobbes over some piece of idiocy, arguing with the Official over some job, playing poker with
Claire. Just seeing Darien. I looked over at the phone and for the thousandth time I considered
calling. I even went so far as to pick it up and dial, but I hung up before it connected. I cursed
myself, the Agency, the Feds, the gods. It didn't help.
I showered, pretended to do something with my hair, and went hunting for a dress. I couldn't
believe the stuff they had in here. Not one piece of leather. No fun, no fun at all.
I settled on a sleeveless, black, backless number -- and by backless I mean that any lower and they
would know the color of my g-string, if I was wearing one. The skirt came down to about my knees but
was loose enough that I could do a side kick without tearing it. I then found a pair of black heels
and slipped them on. I would have preferred flats, but figured I could take them off if the
situation called for it. Besides, heels were good for breaking toes. A matching black handbag was
with them. I transferred my essential things to it -- cash, credit, and ID.
When I looked in the mirror, I didn't recognize myself. I didn't like that at all.
I was staring out the living room window when Agent James arrived, thinking about the things I
would much rather be doing right at this moment. He cleared his throat when I didn't respond to my
name. I looked over my shoulder at him and then back out the window. I watched his reflection
approach and then stop behind me.
"You look lovely," he said quietly.
"Thank you," I replied, my voice flat. His opinion didn't count for a whole lot at the moment.
"Hmm...I'm feeling under-appreciated right about now," he commented, smiling.
"That's nice," I said distractedly. Then I returned my focus to the present. "We ready to go?"
After giving me a somewhat confused look, he answered. "Sure. Let's go."
About halfway through the dinner, which I barely remembered ordering and had barely eaten, I
asked, "So who's this guy I'm betrothed to? I'm betting mid-fifties, balding, and a paunch he
tries to hide."
"Try twenty-two, blonde, blue eyed." He reached into a pocket and handed me a photo. Even taking
into account that it was a publicity shot, the guy was gorgeous -- not my type, but gorgeous. Agent
James then handed me a second photo and I stared at my own face, with dark blue eyes and dark brown
hair. The resemblance was uncanny.
"Piotr Vallenchevski and Ariana Goranov." He gestured at the photos. "I've been wondering when
you'd ask."
I shrugged and handed back the photos. "Didn't really seem important. It's not as if I could say
no."
"True. But most people would be at least a little curious."
"Could we just say I'm not most people and leave it at that?" Suddenly I was suspicious. I'd made
a point of keeping my shields tight around these people; the gods only knew what secrets they hid.
"What's going on?"
At first it looked like he was going to try to avoid answering, but one look at me seemed to
convince him it was better to spill. "The time table has been moved up. Final adjustments to your
looks tomorrow and we ship out the next day. Your wedding is in four days."
The lamp on the table burst startling the both of us. For a change it hadn't been my fault just
weird timing. Appropriate somehow, weird timing seemed to be the story of my life lately.
I had Agent James take me home. Well, back to the apartment anyway. Home, the place that had become
home, was looking to be further and further out of my grasp every day. He tried to convince me that
I should stay out, one last chance at some fun before my life got thrown topsy-turvy yet again. I
ignored his look of disappointment.
At the suite, while saying good night, he touched me and I got a mental flash from him. Sometimes,
no matter how tight I shield, I get images and emotions, usually because it's something I need to
know. I didn't need to know this. Agent James was very attracted to me, and there was no way in
hell I could return those feelings, even if I wanted to.
I managed to get him out the door, finally. He really wanted to stay. Poor fool. I went into the
bedroom and stripped, throwing the dress away, then tossed on a robe and sat on my bed. Gone, I
thought. I undid my hair, letting it fall down past my shoulders. Tomorrow it would be brown
instead of its vivid red, my eyes would go from their brilliant silver to dark blue. I would become
someone else, again. I didn't want to do this. It had taken me long enough to accept the image
facing me in the mirror now. I wasn't sure I could deal with it changing again.
Upset, angry, and lonely, I decided I had to do something. One last night of freedom, for myself. I
picked up the phone and dialed Darien's number. I'll admit I was hoping to get the machine -- I was
just going to leave a message, say goodbye, say sorry, say gods knew what, but I'd figure it out.
My luck was not with me today, though; instead of his machine, he answered on the third ring. At
his hello, I froze, my mouth going dry. I didn't think it would hurt this much. His second 'hello'
was filled with irritation. I took a deep breath. "Darien," was all I could get out.
"Alyx, where the hell are you?" he asked.
"I can't say," I managed. "I..." I hadn't realized it would be this hard. There were so many
things I wanted, needed to say, and I couldn't get a single one past the lump that had formed in my
throat.
"What Alyx?" He sounded concerned.
"I'm sorry. I..." I was saying, wanting to apologize for leaving with no explanation, when Agent
James burst into the room and yelled.
"Hang up, now!" He crossed the room and moved to take the phone out of my hand.
I made his hand stop in mid-motion, which surprised the hell out of him. "Don't you dare," I
growled. Focusing back on the phone, I said, "I'm sorry Darien. I'm causing trouble as usual. I
have to go." As I hung up the phone I heard his voice shouting, "Alyx, wait..." but I didn't let
it stop me. I turned to face Agent James, releasing his arm which he had been struggling to free
from my grip. Two other Agents had come in behind him, guns drawn.
"Oh, put the toys away and get out," I said in exasperation. I then flopped back on the bed and
tried to stare through the ceiling. I guess he sent the others away, because the next thing I knew
he was sitting on the edge of the bed saying my name. I tried to ignore him. All I wanted to hear
was Darien's voice, and not across a phone line. I wanted to hear it whispering in my ear.
Preferably just before he kissed said ear. Agent James' voice intruded on my wishful thinking.
"What do you want?" I asked irritated.
"Why did you break protocol?" he asked, seemingly as irritated as I.
"What are you talking about?" I was beyond irritated at this point.
"No phone calls, especially to your former colleagues," he said.
"First, you NEVER told me no phone calls. Second, he is my partner and my friend and I wanted to
say goodbye," I said sitting up.
"Never told you? It's SOP for something like this," he practically yelled in my face.
"I don't work for the CIA, or whoever you really are, so how would I know SOP? And yes, never told
me." I tapped my temple. "Perfect memory."
"Shit," he said.
"Would you just leave?" I said. I hurt enough without having to deal with him and what he thought
he wanted. The luck goddess was apparently busy elsewhere.
"Are you sure you want me to?" he asked.
I looked at him in astonishment. "Why would you even ask me that?"
"We'll be working together for a while. I'll be your contact at the American Consulate there and
I'll be an adviser of sorts to His Majesty," he said.
His meaning was blatantly obvious, and it disgusted me. "I'll also be married to the man," I stated
flatly.
"A loveless marriage. Company could make you're time easier." He laid a hand lightly on my leg and
began to slide it up and under my robe.
I didn't warn, I simply acted. After my experience with the slavers, no one was going to take
advantage of me that way ever again. I picked him up by the throat with my mind and carried him out
of my room. The two other Agents were still there, and when they saw the situation they drew their
guns again. Not in the mood, I simply yanked them out of their hands and stuck them to the ceiling.
I dropped Agent James and watched him as he coughed and gasped and tried to catch his breath. "Stay
away from me," I said. "I will do the damn job, but stay out of my way."
I turned and went back to the bedroom. I left the guns on the ceiling. Even if they climbed up to
them they wouldn't be able to move them until I decided they could. I lay on the bed. It was going
to be a long night.