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Crouching Tiger: Chapter 8
By Marissa
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Author's Note: I can't believe I did this, but in the last chapter I made Harm drink whiskey. A Russian would NEVER drink whiskey! They drink VODKA. I can't believe I made such a stupid mistake. Anyway, it's been changed and any future references I make about drinking will always involve vodka. Oh yeah, I also know that the Concords are no longer in use, but to make this part work, I had to pretend. Okay? Just pretend you don't know and it will make everything a lot better.
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Mac unlocked her hotel room door and went to flip on the light switch but Harm's hand covered hers before she could complete the action.
"Leave them off," he whispered in her ear. "I missed you," Harm told her before placing a kiss on the soft skin of her neck.
"I missed you too," Mac replied, turning around to face him, closing the door as she did so.
With the door closed the room was shrouded in darkness and it took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the pale moonlight filtering in though the window. It had begun to rain again, filling the room with the pleasant sound.
Harm took Mac's hand and led her over to the bed where he sat down. Mac remained standing and shrugged out of her sweater, tossing it to the side. He pants quickly joined her sweater.
"Come here," Harm said as grabbed her wrist and pulled her down on the bed next to him. He quickly rolled over, pinning her to the bed.
Mac smiled. "All this time and not much has changed, has it?"
Harm laughed. "I love you Mac."
"And I love you."
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Clayton Webb paced back and forth in the five feet between his desk and his door. Something was wrong. He couldn't say what, but he could feel it. He stopped his pacing to stand in front of his fish tank.
"She found him," he jumped, startled by his loud voice in the silent room. That was it. He knew it. She had found him and he didn't trust her to bring him back.
Webb fumbled for his phone as he left his office and made his way to his car. All the necessary arrangements were in place by the time he unlocked his Porsche and he was soon on his way to Dulles International Airport where a first class ticket was waiting for him on the Concorde flight 112.
The traffic on the freeway was light at ten thirty at night and Clayton was at the airport in no time. After parking, he grabbed the overnight bag he kept in the trunk for emergencies and quickly found his boarding gate. He smiled at the annoyed gate attendant who informed him that he was the last passenger on the plane and who quickly closed the doors behind him. Only after he was safely settled in his seat and had taken a sip of the complementary champagne offered to him did he begin to relax, if only for a moment.
Webb had a monumental task in front of him. Not only did he have to bring in a Russian spy; he also had to bring back Mac.
Clayton groaned and loosened his tie. Mac was going to hate him. He shook his head. She would get over it, even thank him...someday. He was saving her from herself. Saving her from betraying her country because of her love for a Russian Spy.
Webb sighed and closed his eyes. He might as well try to get a little sleep because who knew how long it would be until he would get the chance again.
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A gentle tap caused Clayton to open his eyes.
"Sir? Sorry to wake you, but we will be landing in Paris in a few minutes," the flight attendant informed him.
Webb shook his head and rubbed his eyes. The three-hour flight had gone by in no time. He waited for a few moments until the plane touched down, gathered his things and departed. He had less than twenty minutes to catch the next leg of his journey; a flight to Moscow.
In the end, Clayton had to run the last few hundred feet to the boarding gate and was once again informed that he was the last passenger on board.
The four-hour flight seemed to last much longer than it really did and Webb fidgeted the entire time. He finally calmed himself and forced himself to think back to his earlier conversation with Mac. What hotel had she said she'd been staying in? Hotel Moscow, Clay thought? No, that wasn't it. The Hotel Metropol Moscow! That was it!
Webb was off the plane almost as soon as its wheels touched the ground. As quickly as he could he found a cab and instructed the driver to go to the Hotel Metropol Moscow. Once they arrived Webb made the driver pull around the corner and down a block before he got out. He walked back the block and a half to the hotel and was delighted to find a newspaper stand across the street. He bought a paper and made his way into the hotel lobby where he soon found a chair close to the entrance. Holding the paper up to shield his face, he began to watch.
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Mac watched Harm's sleeping form and brushed a stray strand of hair from his face. He was tired and Mac was in no hurry to wake him. God knew he'd been through enough in the last few weeks. It showed. He looked different from the last time she had seen him. He was thinner, he needed to shave and he had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. Mac had also noticed that he smiled less, his characteristic Russian roots showing through.
Harm opened his eyes and looked at Mac. "What are you doing?"
"Just watching you sleep. You look like you needed it."
Harm nodded. "I did. What time is it?"
"Six eighteen."
Harm smiled. "That's Mac for you. You never ceased to amaze me."
"So what now?"
Harm's features clouded. "I don't know Mac. I don't know."
"I don't know either," Mac whispered.
"I'm not going back. Like I said earlier, I don't know what you expected to accomplish by coming."
"I wanted to find you. To see you again."
"And then what?" Harm asked, wincing as the words came out much harsher than he would have liked.
"I told you Harm...." She hesitated. "Ivan.... I don't know. To be quite honest, I never even thought I would find you. Now that I have, that's all I can ever think about. What now? *What now*?" Mac covered her face with her hands.
Harm pulled her shaking body close to his. "Never mind Mac. We'll figure that out together, but later. How about breakfast?"
"How can you think about food at a time like this?" Mac asked, laughing though her tears.
"Only because this is the first time I've been hungry in a week. So, breakfast?"
"Of course."
After a quick shower the two were ready to go out. The rain had stopped and the sun had made a rare appearance. Harm took Mac's hand, partly to lead her and partly out of need. Ever since he had first seen her last night he had to keep touching her to remind himself that she was really there with him. Because of her, the dark clouds covering his heart had lifted, if only for a short while.
Harm led Mac to a small café a few blocks from her hotel.
"A word of warning," he whispered to her in English. "Don't get the coffee here, it tastes like mud. Get the tea instead."
Mac nodded and watched in fascination as Harm spoke rapidly in Russian to the clerk behind the counter. She shook her head to keep from staring. It was like the final blow. No matter how much her heart had tried to ignore it, the fact remained; Harm was Russian.
"Mac? Sorry, you blanked out for a moment there," Harm explained, continuing to speak in Russian. He leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Speaking English draws too much attention."
Mac nodded her understanding.
Harm gathered their breakfast and sat down at a small table in the corner near the window. He made quick work of the bread and eggs, but let Mac have the bacon.
She shook her head and remembering his earlier warning, spoke in Russian. "You really were hungry weren't you?"
"I told you, I haven't had much of an appetite since I left Am-" Harm stopped mid sentence for Mac was looking very pale. "Mac? What's the matter?"
"Harm, Mac, fancy seeing you here," said a voice in behind him.
Harm spun around and found himself face to face with Clayton Webb.
Crouching Tiger: Chapter 8
By Marissa
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Author's Note: I can't believe I did this, but in the last chapter I made Harm drink whiskey. A Russian would NEVER drink whiskey! They drink VODKA. I can't believe I made such a stupid mistake. Anyway, it's been changed and any future references I make about drinking will always involve vodka. Oh yeah, I also know that the Concords are no longer in use, but to make this part work, I had to pretend. Okay? Just pretend you don't know and it will make everything a lot better.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
Mac unlocked her hotel room door and went to flip on the light switch but Harm's hand covered hers before she could complete the action.
"Leave them off," he whispered in her ear. "I missed you," Harm told her before placing a kiss on the soft skin of her neck.
"I missed you too," Mac replied, turning around to face him, closing the door as she did so.
With the door closed the room was shrouded in darkness and it took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the pale moonlight filtering in though the window. It had begun to rain again, filling the room with the pleasant sound.
Harm took Mac's hand and led her over to the bed where he sat down. Mac remained standing and shrugged out of her sweater, tossing it to the side. He pants quickly joined her sweater.
"Come here," Harm said as grabbed her wrist and pulled her down on the bed next to him. He quickly rolled over, pinning her to the bed.
Mac smiled. "All this time and not much has changed, has it?"
Harm laughed. "I love you Mac."
"And I love you."
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Clayton Webb paced back and forth in the five feet between his desk and his door. Something was wrong. He couldn't say what, but he could feel it. He stopped his pacing to stand in front of his fish tank.
"She found him," he jumped, startled by his loud voice in the silent room. That was it. He knew it. She had found him and he didn't trust her to bring him back.
Webb fumbled for his phone as he left his office and made his way to his car. All the necessary arrangements were in place by the time he unlocked his Porsche and he was soon on his way to Dulles International Airport where a first class ticket was waiting for him on the Concorde flight 112.
The traffic on the freeway was light at ten thirty at night and Clayton was at the airport in no time. After parking, he grabbed the overnight bag he kept in the trunk for emergencies and quickly found his boarding gate. He smiled at the annoyed gate attendant who informed him that he was the last passenger on the plane and who quickly closed the doors behind him. Only after he was safely settled in his seat and had taken a sip of the complementary champagne offered to him did he begin to relax, if only for a moment.
Webb had a monumental task in front of him. Not only did he have to bring in a Russian spy; he also had to bring back Mac.
Clayton groaned and loosened his tie. Mac was going to hate him. He shook his head. She would get over it, even thank him...someday. He was saving her from herself. Saving her from betraying her country because of her love for a Russian Spy.
Webb sighed and closed his eyes. He might as well try to get a little sleep because who knew how long it would be until he would get the chance again.
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A gentle tap caused Clayton to open his eyes.
"Sir? Sorry to wake you, but we will be landing in Paris in a few minutes," the flight attendant informed him.
Webb shook his head and rubbed his eyes. The three-hour flight had gone by in no time. He waited for a few moments until the plane touched down, gathered his things and departed. He had less than twenty minutes to catch the next leg of his journey; a flight to Moscow.
In the end, Clayton had to run the last few hundred feet to the boarding gate and was once again informed that he was the last passenger on board.
The four-hour flight seemed to last much longer than it really did and Webb fidgeted the entire time. He finally calmed himself and forced himself to think back to his earlier conversation with Mac. What hotel had she said she'd been staying in? Hotel Moscow, Clay thought? No, that wasn't it. The Hotel Metropol Moscow! That was it!
Webb was off the plane almost as soon as its wheels touched the ground. As quickly as he could he found a cab and instructed the driver to go to the Hotel Metropol Moscow. Once they arrived Webb made the driver pull around the corner and down a block before he got out. He walked back the block and a half to the hotel and was delighted to find a newspaper stand across the street. He bought a paper and made his way into the hotel lobby where he soon found a chair close to the entrance. Holding the paper up to shield his face, he began to watch.
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Mac watched Harm's sleeping form and brushed a stray strand of hair from his face. He was tired and Mac was in no hurry to wake him. God knew he'd been through enough in the last few weeks. It showed. He looked different from the last time she had seen him. He was thinner, he needed to shave and he had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. Mac had also noticed that he smiled less, his characteristic Russian roots showing through.
Harm opened his eyes and looked at Mac. "What are you doing?"
"Just watching you sleep. You look like you needed it."
Harm nodded. "I did. What time is it?"
"Six eighteen."
Harm smiled. "That's Mac for you. You never ceased to amaze me."
"So what now?"
Harm's features clouded. "I don't know Mac. I don't know."
"I don't know either," Mac whispered.
"I'm not going back. Like I said earlier, I don't know what you expected to accomplish by coming."
"I wanted to find you. To see you again."
"And then what?" Harm asked, wincing as the words came out much harsher than he would have liked.
"I told you Harm...." She hesitated. "Ivan.... I don't know. To be quite honest, I never even thought I would find you. Now that I have, that's all I can ever think about. What now? *What now*?" Mac covered her face with her hands.
Harm pulled her shaking body close to his. "Never mind Mac. We'll figure that out together, but later. How about breakfast?"
"How can you think about food at a time like this?" Mac asked, laughing though her tears.
"Only because this is the first time I've been hungry in a week. So, breakfast?"
"Of course."
After a quick shower the two were ready to go out. The rain had stopped and the sun had made a rare appearance. Harm took Mac's hand, partly to lead her and partly out of need. Ever since he had first seen her last night he had to keep touching her to remind himself that she was really there with him. Because of her, the dark clouds covering his heart had lifted, if only for a short while.
Harm led Mac to a small café a few blocks from her hotel.
"A word of warning," he whispered to her in English. "Don't get the coffee here, it tastes like mud. Get the tea instead."
Mac nodded and watched in fascination as Harm spoke rapidly in Russian to the clerk behind the counter. She shook her head to keep from staring. It was like the final blow. No matter how much her heart had tried to ignore it, the fact remained; Harm was Russian.
"Mac? Sorry, you blanked out for a moment there," Harm explained, continuing to speak in Russian. He leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Speaking English draws too much attention."
Mac nodded her understanding.
Harm gathered their breakfast and sat down at a small table in the corner near the window. He made quick work of the bread and eggs, but let Mac have the bacon.
She shook her head and remembering his earlier warning, spoke in Russian. "You really were hungry weren't you?"
"I told you, I haven't had much of an appetite since I left Am-" Harm stopped mid sentence for Mac was looking very pale. "Mac? What's the matter?"
"Harm, Mac, fancy seeing you here," said a voice in behind him.
Harm spun around and found himself face to face with Clayton Webb.