Part 3
The sun was setting somewhere off to Darien's left, turning the sky various shades of orange and pink, tinting towards indigo off to the right behind the trees. He was sitting in the beat-up old rocking chair on the small porch outside the safe house; the same safe house the SWRB had tracked them to only a few hours after moving Gaither there. It made him wonder how safe the place really was. This was his second trip up here to bring 'Chele news and just spend some time with her. He was finding himself a bit confused.
He was trying to surreptitiously watch her over the top of the magazine he was pretending to read, but wasn't sure how successful he was being. The two agents that had been staying with her were inside, arguing over the correct way to layer the ingredients for lasagna. Not the typical type of argument one would have expected from two professional agents. Both men were fiercely protective of the girl, even after knowing her only a short time.
'Not a girl,' Darien reminded himself for the hundredth -- thousandth -- time. She was a grown woman trapped in the body of her teenage self. Her memories, her past, locked away from her, making her seem young, naive, innocent. She was anything but.
Over the last week, she had patiently told a tape recorder everything she could remember about herself and what she'd been through in the last three years, as well as answering specific questions that were sent to her. Every evening either Alex, Bobby, or Darien would stop by for a couple of hours to talk to her and pick up that day's tapes. It was amazing how detailed some of the information was, though it became horrifying when you realized exactly what she'd been made to do. Eberts had even been able to corroborate some of the details, though his intel made no specific mention of her.
Most of the time she had been used for interrogation purposes, reading the minds of those who had resisted other types of persuasion to give up the information that was required from them. She never even saw those she was reading, having been kept blindfolded. She didn't need to see those she read. She could feel them, or could do it through touch. Other times she had 'eavesdropped' on high-level meetings, feeding the information she pulled from the targets' minds to others, who would then use it to sway them to the correct path.
She even claimed to have been used for the of assassinations of two men. Both of them were indeed dead, and by the same method -- electrocution. Before, there had never been any reason to connect the two deaths, and now their admitted killer -- unwitting as she may have been -- stood on the grass before him doing yoga, which she claimed was part of her training. As he looked on, she released the painful-looking pose she'd been holding and flopped back onto the grass with a sigh.
He lowered the magazine and smiled. She took such joy in so simple a thing as staring up at the heavens to watch the first stars appear in the night sky. Getting to his feet he strode softly across the carpet of grass over to where she lay and gazed down at her. Her stay here had made quite a difference. She was no longer pale and wan, and had even begun getting some real color from sitting in the sun during the day. She'd looked fragile before, like a porcelain doll, and now... now she was lovely.
"Hey, oh tall one," she grinned up at him.
"Hey yourself, oh small one," Darien countered before squatting down next to her. "What is it you see up there, anyway?"
She sighed. "Space. Lots of space." Quick as a cat, she sat up. "Something you learn to appreciate when you don't get much."
Darien nodded absentmindedly, remembering how he'd felt every time he'd gotten out of prison. No more bars. No more gray walls. No more razor wire. Just space, freedom. He came back to himself when her hand came to rest on his forearm. He could feel the heat of her delicate touch even through the cotton of his shirt.
"You okay?" she asked him softly.
"Hmmm? Oh, yeah. Sure. Fine." She was on her knees before him. It would be so easy for him to reach out and caress her cheek, to run his hands through her hair, to kiss those sweet lips.
*So what's stopping you?*
It took him a second to realize she hadn't spoken aloud and another to realize she had, once again, picked up what he had been thinking. He cleared his throat, feeling embarrassed, and tried to move away. She stopped him with a light kiss, their lips just barely touching, the subtle scent of her in his nostrils, sending an unexpected thrill through him.
"'Chele, this isn't a good idea." Oh, how he wished he believed that. He'd been wanting to kiss her for days now, had spent the last several nights with images of her parading through his mind; the activities they'd been involved in had included plenty of kissing and not much in the way of clothing, and it wasn't always her lips he'd been teasing with his.
For a moment it looked like she was going to argue the point -- part of him hoped she would argue the point. Instead, she dropped first her eyes, then her head. "I... I understand. I'm sorry." She began to get to her feet, but he reached out and took one of her hands in his.
What happened next he was never quite sure of. There was a snap as she unintentionally shocked him. He jerked his hand away with a hiss and fell back to land on his ass with a grunt of pain. 'Chele collapsed, her hands going to her head and just lay on the ground moaning in pain. It took a couple seconds for Darien to get his act together and move to her side. He cradled her in his arms and she leaned against him, her eyes flicking about without really seeing anything.
"'Chele, What the heck was that?"
She blinked rapidly and came back to herself with a rush. She stared up at him in astonishment and....something else that he couldn't quite define. Something that was almost greed, or perhaps hunger, but it flitted by so fast he wasn't quite sure he'd even seen it.
"Darien?" She shook her head, trying to clear it. "Can you stay for dinner?"
He knew he should say no, should let her go, grab the tapes, and get out of there, but didn't want to. "You gonna zap me again?"
Her look became mischievous. "Only if you ask really nice." She squirmed out of his hold and got to her feet.
"'Chele..." he warned.
She shrugged. "I like you, Dare. More, I trust you. And you can't tell me you don't want to kiss me just as much as I want to kiss you." With that she turned and sashayed back to the house. At the door she paused and looked back at him, still sitting in the grass feeling stunned. He wasn't sure what the look meant, but her gaze was an almost physical caress that he reacted to with a burst of desire. Then she broke the contact and went inside, the door shutting with a solid thwack.
"Crap." Darien muttered into the darkness. "This is just perfect."
Walking into the Official's office three days later, Darien very nearly stopped dead in surprise to see Michele sitting in a chair, arguing good-naturedly with Eberts. As usual, he had been left out of the loop. He'd assumed she was still at the safe house with her two overprotective bodyguards, but obviously not. She must have come back with Alex last night; it had been her turn to spend the evening with the girl. Either they needed something from her that could only be done in person or they had deemed it safe enough for her to come back and try to put her life back together. They all knew whoever she had escaped from would not stop trying to find her -- they couldn't afford to.
Michele... she was astonishing. What she could do with the slightest effort of her mind was amazing and, as far as most of the world was concerned, impossible. Her tiny body contained a power that even Claire admitted she didn't understand, though she was slowly beginning to learn exactly what changes had been done to her.
That other chip they'd found in the lining of the jumpsuit had included a detailed breakdown of her DNA, along with basic information on height, weight, diet, training methods. It also detailed the best ways to control her, including the use of drugs and physical intimidation, and some rather severe beatings that had been used at one time. It was no wonder she'd been terrified of just about everyone at first.
She was still wary, but was much more at ease with just about everyone. Only Hobbes still seemed to frighten her, though that might only be because of his position. In her mind he was Corvan, the one who was in charge of controlling her, who would hunt her down if she tried to escape, who, while not her Keeper precisely, was the one who made sure she behaved and did as she was told.
The number stamped on her jumpsuit -- QSX053 -- meant nothing to her other than that was what she'd been called for the past three years. Her memory was so full of holes that she'd been lucky to remember that nickname from her childhood, but she was slowly putting her life and herself back together. There was still a lot for her to deal with, to get past -- hell, to relearn -- before she'd really feel free. Of course the Official, bless his greedy little heart, was more than willing to help her achieve her goals, in exchange for her helping him achieve his.
The Official had offered to give her an entirely new life, new name and everything, but she, still trying to deal with finding small parts of herself, had asked to have some time for that decision. She was still listed as a missing person in some databases; it wouldn't be too hard for her to make the disappearance complete and leave that life behind entirely. To start over again. On her own. Her own rules. Her own life. Well mostly her own life, supervised and protected by the Agency.
"You would be willing to assist us on cases?" Eberts was asking.
"I guess. It's not like I have any experience with this stuff. I was kept pretty isolated," 'Chele answered with some nervousness. "I'm pretty good with computers. Maybe...maybe I could help there?"
"Pretty good?" Eberts sounded like he was on cloud nine. "I'm a hack in comparison to you. You are a Mozart, nay a Beethoven of the keyboard." Whatever she had done must have impressed the hell out of Eberts; he was literally gushing his praise.
'Chele blushed almost as red as her hair. "It's not that hard for me."
"Eberts, down boy. You don't want to scare her do you?" Darien said as he moved across the room. He leaned against the wall and looked out the window for a moment before allowing his gaze to rest on her. "Morning."
"Hello, Dare," she said timidly, as if unsure of her reception.
Hobbes raised an eyebrow at Darien, and he knew his partner was wondering about the nickname. So was Darien, actually, but he didn't mind it. Kind of liked it, in fact. He pushed those kinds of thoughts away. After spending the evening with her the other night and her revelation about the way she felt about him, he'd come to a decision. A decision his sleeping mind apparently disagreed with, based on the dreams he'd had the last couple of nights, but he planned to stick with it. Her appearance, her carriage, and her mindset for the most part were that of a girl, a child who was not yet ready to deal with the sometimes overwhelming responsibilities that adults could face. For the last three years she'd been no more than a trained animal; she needed, and deserved, a chance to grow up. So he would be her friend and no more. No matter how difficult it would be.
"Anything for us today?" Darien asked of the Official, forcing himself to drag his eyes away from 'Chele and to the man who sat behind the desk and yanked at his leash.
"Yes. You and Hobbes have a small mission, Miss Monroe already has her assignment, and Miss... MacTierney will spend the morning with the Keeper and then assist Eberts with his work." He looked over all of them and ended with Michele. "We need to gauge where your talents lie."
Michele nodded tightly. It was a good bet she wanted no part of more tests from Claire, but knew she had to put up with it for now if the Keeper was to have any hope of understanding what had been done to her.
"We have secured a small apartment for you that should suffice for the time being. We'll have the paperwork you need to fill out within a day or two, if that is agreeable." It was obvious by both his tone and stance that Eberts had a soft spot for her, maybe was even a little sweet on her. It was understandable -- she was sweet. Even Hobbes tended to soften his tone and attitude around her, especially once he'd realized that he still scared her. She was warming to him, but slowly.
"Sure, Eberts. I mean, it's not like I have anywhere else to go, now is it?" She got to her feet and headed for the door, a false smile on her face, her carriage slumped as if she was exhausted.
Darien watched her close the door, debating. Coming to a decision, he turned to Hobbes. "I'll be right back." He caught up with Michele just down the hall as she made her way to the Keep. "Hey, you. Wait up a sec."
She stopped and turned to look up at him. "What?" She still sounded unsure, as if she was expecting the worst, though he had no real idea why.
"I..." He wasn't sure what to say. "You okay?"
"Good enough. Look, I need to get downstairs. The...your Keeper is expecting me." She sidled away, refusing to meet his eyes
"'Chele, if I'm free, you want to get dinner tonight?" Not what he'd planned on saying, but it was good enough. He wanted to know why she was suddenly distant from him.
She shook her head. "No thanks. I have stuff to do. New apartment to set up and all. Alex is gonna help me get some things together." She moved off down the hall. "Besides, you made your position clear." She turned the corner before Darien had a chance to process what she had said.
He went after her again and cut in front of her to get her to stop. "What is that supposed to mean?" He searched her eyes, but she was doing her best to give him the perfect poker face.
"Exactly what I said. You don't need to pretend interest just because you feel sorry for me." She dropped her eyes and tried to get past him, but his hand on her shoulder was enough to hold her in place.
"If this is about Tuesday, I... I apologize. I like you too, but I think you should have a chance to figure out who you are before getting involved with someone like me." He tipped her head up forcing her to look him in the eye. "I'm not the exactly best person in the world."
She pushed his hand away and laughed. "You have no idea, Darien. None at all." She successfully maneuvered past him this time. "And last I checked, I was an adult and fully capable of making rational decisions. That's how I ended up here, remember." Then she was gone, through the double doors at the end of the hall.
Darien leaned back against the wall and tipped up his head to stare at the cracked plaster of the ceiling. "Well, that went just swell." Darien could only wonder what screw-up he would make next.
"Fawkes," Bobby called from down the hall and Darien turned his head slowly to look at him. "I warned ya she was trouble."
"Hobbes, in case you've forgotten, so am I." Darien pushed himself away and side by side they headed back to the Official's office to get their assignment.
"Haven't forgotten, my friend. She's different though." Hobbes paused. After another couple steps, Darien did as well and looked back over his shoulder at him. "Just be careful, Fawkes. That's all I ask."
Hobbes actually seemed concerned over this. "Not another 'company pier' lecture, please?"
"Not this time. You wouldn't listen anyway. Just... be careful." Hobbes patted Darien on the shoulder and left him standing there, thinking about what had been just said. Okay, so his record for listening to and taking advice wasn't exactly stellar, but what made Hobbes think he was at all interested in Michele 'that way'? He couldn't seem to recall saying or doing anything that would give his paranoid partner the slightest hint he was thinking about her as anything but someone he wanted to help.
"Fawkes, move it. We have work to do," Hobbes snapped, jerking Darien out of his musing.
"Yeah, all right." He trailed along, his mind still far more on other things than the here and now.
The images on the screen before him had his full attention. With the lights dimmed and sound adjusted just right... it was perfect. He'd been waiting for this chance, to watch this movie undisturbed, for a couple of weeks now, but the timing had never been there. Then he heard the knock on his door. "Aww man, not now." Apparently the timing to view this wasn't going to be tonight either. He paused the tape and got to his feet, grumbling under his breath.
"Hobbes, if this is some sort of a joke..." he began as he undid the locks and opened the door. Instead of Hobbes, he found Michele standing there. "Hey, small one. What brings you here?"
She glanced from him to the darkened room over his shoulder and blushed. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt anything." She began to back away, but Darien reached out and stopped her with a light hand on her arm.
"You're not. Just watching a movie." He slid his hand down her arm and grasped her wrist. "Want to join me?"
She seemed to think it over and then nodded. "If you don't mind."
If it had been Hobbes, he would have minded a hell of a lot, but it was 'Chele. Stepping out of the way, he watched as she cautiously went past him and into the dimly lit room that was his home. He shut and locked the door and turned about to see her leaning against the pool table, looking back at him over her shoulder. "Uh, want something to drink?" He looked over the contents of his fridge.
"I've got some soda, or maybe some juice."
"How about a beer?" She had moved next to him, examining the contents of the fridge for herself.
"Uh, a beer?"
"Yes, a beer." She shoved him out of the way and grabbed a bottle for herself. "Look, I don't know what the hell is going on with you. Not sure I care, but you can cut the big-brother over-protective act. I am not your kid sister. In fact, I have more than a few years on you. It would be nice if you started treating me like the adult I am." She twisted off the top of the bottle, flipped the cap neatly into a trashcan, and proceeded to drink at least half the bottle.
Darien picked up a bottle for himself to cover his embarrassment. That's exactly how he'd been treating her, like a younger sister. He had to, because if he allowed himself to see her as an adult, as a woman, as the beautiful, smart, surprisingly strong person that she really was, then his resolve would crumble. And when that happened, he might as well pick up a pair of hip waders, 'cause he'd be taking up a new hobby.
"Sorry, Michele. It's just easy to forget that." He moved out of the kitchen and over to the sofa. He picked up the remote and attempted to hit stop. It was looking like he wasn't going to get to see the movie after all.
"What are we watching?" He jumped. She was standing right beside him. He'd never even heard her move.
"Damn, you're quiet." Looking her over, he noticed she'd kicked off her shoes and was walking about barefoot. She did that a lot, he'd learned over the couple of weeks she'd been with the Agency. She claimed she was just used to it. Shoes were not something she'd been given to wearing at the place she'd been held. Being barefoot tended to discourage the urge to flee. "Uh, nothing that can't wait," he said in answer to her question.
"I am interrupting something. You should have said so. I'll go." She turned away, moving just as quietly away from him as she had towards.
"'Chele, you don't have to go. Company would be nice. I don't see much over here." Darien didn't move, wanted her to make up her own mind. Part of him wanted her too stay a bit too much. Her commentary was eating away at his resolve to keep his distance. Looking at her in the darkened room, she turned so that he saw her in profile. By the light of the frozen images on the television, he saw the woman that she had been, that she was slowly learning to be again. He realized that his foolish wish to allow her a normal youth was a pipe dream. She was mixed up with the Agency now. What was she going to do, go back to high school? Get a boyfriend? Go to the prom? "I'd like you to stay."
Darien wasn't sure what was going on behind those glorious eyes of hers, but he could once again feel that gaze move across him. Maybe she was picking up what he was feeling or thinking, again. Maybe she could sense his change of heart, the easing of his tightly held perspective of how he'd been seeing her.
Padding softly back to him, she spoke in a low voice. "Just treat me like a person, not an object. That's all I ask."
He nodded, not sure of his voice with her this close. With gentlemanly hand on her back -- he had learned a thing or two from Hobbes -- he got her seated on the sofa and started the tape again. It had taken weeks of searching to find a quality copy of this movie. In the end he'd had to contact some of his old associates to obtain it. He'd paid a bit more than he should, but it was worth it. It was an old favorite from when he was a kid and he'd even managed to wrangle a directors cut with about ten minutes of missing scenes. 'Chele stared in fascination as the opening credits began to roll.
"Buckaroo Banzai?" she asked, with complete disbelief in her voice.
"Don't you remember this flick? It's the greatest." Darien enthused, then, at the rather exasperated look on her face, realization struck making him want to hit himself. Of course she didn't remember. "Trust me, you'll get a kick out of it."
Shaking her head, she turned back to the screen and let the images imprint themselves on her mind. A few minutes later she set the empty beer bottle on the floor and shifted closer to him. Almost without thought, like it was just something that should be, he put an arm about her shoulders and pulled her closer.
They sat there through the entire movie. Occasionally she would ask a question that he would do his best to answer, but his mind was not fully on the movie. He was more than a little distracted by the warm, sweet-smelling body pressed up against his. The last few weeks had been a new experience for all of them. Darien now had some idea of what Hobbes had gone through when he'd found himself with a new and unusual partner dumped in his lap. Michele had been working with Eberts for the most part -- dealing with computers instead of people was easier for her. She had also helped Alex out on one fairly simply job that could only be described as a sneak-and-grab. He'd done more than a few of those himself since coming to work for the Agency. Go invisible, sneak in, grab the whatever-it-was-this-time, and get the hell out. She'd had no problems and Alex had given her high marks for her performance.
Then she'd been assigned to work a stake-out with him and Hobbes that had gone sour. They'd ended up being spotted and forced to beat a hasty retreat. Then Hobbes had taken a wrong turn in the van and they'd become trapped on a one lane back street with nowhere to go, a semi truck blocking the far end as it made its deliveries, and the bad guys had come up right behind them. That's when they found out you don't want to either scare or piss off Michele. She had no way of knowing how dangerous agents from Chrysalis were, and she might not have even cared. She had flung open the rear doors of then van, ignoring the shouts of protest from Hobbes and Darien.
They'd started shooting, not knowing who she was and not caring. Not a single bullet hit either her or the van -- they'd stopped dead in the air a good two feet in front of her. It had been effective in shocking the hell out of the Chrysalis agents, who changed tactics and rushed the van, intending to overpower the trio with sheer numbers. 'Chele had flattened them. No warning. No sign of what she was about to do. They were simply flung backwards as one to smash into walls or dumpsters, or just to land wherever they fell. Only about half got to their feet. She then lifted the nearest car and flipped it over to land on the roof of the one behind it, effectively eliminating their transportation. The ones conscious enough, or with brains enough, took off, deciding, correctly, that this was a bit more than they could handle at this time.
Once they were gone, 'Chele had stumbled back into the van and collapsed, complaining of headache. Just a headache. Hobbes had called for back-up, seeing as they were currently trapped between a semi truck that was going nowhere fast and two rather flat cars, and then went about securing the remaining Chrysalis agents who were still in nappy land. At least they'd have someone to interrogate for their troubles.
Darien had done what he could to help Michele. He'd dug an ice pack out of the first aid kit and set it on her forehead in hopes it might help. She'd mumbled something at him and then passed out from the pain.
"Oh, Darien." He focused back on the present to find her smiling at him. "The tape ended." She was right, the television was showing some animal show, which meant he'd left the cable box set on the Discovery channel again. He could hear the VCR whirring softly as the tape rewound.
"Sorry, I was thinking about some stuff."
"Deep thoughts, I take it. Anything I can help with?" She was kneeling on the sofa beside him. Her gaze capturing him. Her eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of the room.
He blinked breaking the contact. "Nah. It wasn't anything of importance."
"Oh." She got to her feet and walked around the sofa to retrieve her sneakers. "I guess I better be going then."
"Yeah, the boss probably wants us in bright and early, as always." He walked her to the door, proceeded to unlock it, then set his hand on the doorknob to open it, but she stopped him with her hand atop his.
"Dare, I'd like to stay." 'Chele said almost shyly.
"Sure, I'm not kicking you out. I don't mind hanging some more." She was so near that he had to draw in a breath and consciously keep himself from giving in to the temptation to touch her more than just casually.
She laughed lightly and shook her head. "No, Dare. I want to stay the night, with you."
Darien froze. "W... What did you say?"
"I said I wanted to spend the night with you. Is it that unusual a request?" She seemed to find his reaction more amusing than anything. "I find it hard to believe that you are celibate."
Darien almost choked on her words. Celibate? "Not by choice, that's for sure." His tone was wry. "Me and women... Well there hasn't been much luck in that area since the gland." That was putting it mildly. There was Kate Easton, who was now in witness protection with her fiance -- or husband if they'd done the deed. Allianora, who died because of him. Then there had been that little madness-induced incident with Claire. That didn't bear thinking about. Yeah, he liked her. He could admit to that, but there was no way in hell he'd let himself become what Charlie Fogarty foretold. 'Cause if he did, if he did let himself fall for the Keeper with a huge case of unrequited lust, then one day, when they were a little slow getting him his shot, he would do something. Something terrible, and there would be no forgive-and-forget afterwards. There would only be regret and then death, as they finally harvested the gland. So he had made a point to distance himself from her a bit after that. She'd tried to talk to him about what had happened, but he had avoided it like the plague, perhaps fearing what he would discover. Like maybe that it was too late already, that the Keeper had accomplished her task and made sure her Kept would be kept for all time.
But now he knew that wasn't true. He'd felt desire before, along with the need for comfort that Claire had inspired. Had felt pure lust, that only Allianora could quench, that sudden fire that you knew would consume you, but that had to be experienced. You had to feel the flames burning your skin in order to survive it. But this, what he felt when he looked at Michele, was that slow burn that left him aching inside and wanting more. Wanting to fan the banked coals into a roaring pyre and bask in the torrid heat. But more than that, he wanted to know her, who she was, who she wanted to become.
"'Chele, this isn't a good idea. People who get close to me have this awful tendency to get dead."
"Hobbes is still here, as are Alex and Claire. Why should I be any different?" she countered. "I'm tired of being alone, and I think you are as well."
"Ah, so it's convenience and nothing more. The two lab rats have a romp to satisfy mutual needs," Darien sneered. "I'd rather be horny and lonely."
"Dare..." She closed her eyes on his harsh words and took a deep breath to calm herself. "No that's not why." Then she touched him, her hand gently caressing his face.
For a long moment, he stood there in confusion, trying to interpret the information rushing through him. Emotions -- not his, but hers. Everything she felt about him, how she saw him, how much she cared even after so short a time, how much she wanted him. He came back to himself to find her wrapped in his arms and his lips crushed against hers. Releasing her, he took a step back, breathing hard. Not knowing what to say, he locked the door. There was no way he was going to let her leave. She wanted to stay, to be with him, was willing to take the implied risk of getting close to him.
"Chele..."
She stepped away from him, kicking off her shoes as she went, and Darien could only stand there leaning against the door and watch. She undid her hair from the braid that had been containing it and ran her hands through it until it fell loose and free down her back. Darien swallowed hard and followed her movements with hungry eyes. When she looked back at him over her shoulder, she smiled and then began to pull her shirt off, her hands drawing it slowly up her sides.
He was beside her in a flash, offering his assistance, his hands tracing across the warm flesh revealed once it had been tossed to the side, forgotten long before it hit the floor. He leaned in and captured her earlobe with his teeth, making her gasp aloud. "There's one thing you should know,"
"What?" Her hands were under his shirt, seeking and finding all the right places to send his heart rate soaring.
"This." The quicksilver came quickly, coating the two of them in its snug embrace. One of these days he was going to have to figure out a way around this. Maybe with practice, and a willing partner, he'd learn to control this side effect and keep it from happening.
"Oh, this is different." She laughed even as she peeled the T-shirt over his head and tossed it away.
"Sorry, can't help it." He lifted her and carried her over to the bed. Laying her down gently, he leaned over her, his pulse pounding, the adrenaline flowing, his heart aching with need.
"Dare, just kiss me, would you?" She pulled his head down, just in case he couldn't figure out what to do on his own.
His hands were busy trying to find the button to her jeans, without much luck. It was just as invisible as the rest of her. He felt her hands then, offering their assistance their fingers tangling together as she undid the series of buttons that was preventing him from reaching his goal. When the remainder of her clothes were gone, Darien swallowed hard, his imagination conjuring up all sorts of images of what she'd look like. He wanted to see her, to touch her flesh to flesh, to bury his hands in her hair and pull her close. To taste her skin.
"Damn it," he muttered.
*You can do it if you really want to. Your control is more than good enough.* Her voice, her feelings, rolled through his mind, almost caressing him with her own desperate need to see him, to touch him, to drive the flames even higher.
"It's not that easy," he replied, finding her throat and biting gently, making her moan and throw her head back, baring herself to him.
*If it were easy, what would be the point?*
He lifted himself away from her slightly and closed his eyes, trying to figure out how to convince the gland to stop doing what it did without losing the desire, the ability to finish what they had started. He'd practiced so much at holding the quicksilver to avoid instances of 'involuntary visibility' that he had no idea how to do the opposite. Maybe if he focused part of his attention on something else. That old saw about going over baseball stats in one's mind wasn't a joke; it really worked, but he'd never been one for memorizing dry statistics. Methods for breaking into houses and safes, for disarming alarms and overriding security systems, that was more his style. Just to make it challenging, he tried to come up with the items in alphabetical order. Suddenly a voice intruded on his musings.
"Hello there. Ummm, maybe I should go?" Her voice was tinged with humor.
Darien's eyes flew open to see her lying beneath him, her flame colored hair spread out like a fan across the comforter, her eyes twinkling up at him. He looked lower and noticed the light dusting of quicksilver and freckles across her shoulders and... other places. He swallowed with difficulty, that barely-acquired control slipping already. The cold trickling of quicksilver ran down his spine as well as forward, following the curve of his neck to find and meet with other rivulets that gathered to drip off him and onto her. "Ah, c...crap."
Her looked changed, becoming heated, hungry. Levering herself up, she kissed him lightly causing him to shudder and groan. Then lower, his chin, Adams' apple, the hollow of his throat where the quicksilver gathered. Licking at the spot, the cold and heat combining against skin to drive coherent thought from his mind. Gone was the issue of worrying about control; it just was.
With her hands helping, he got rid of the slacks, which felt far too confining anyway, and buried himself in her with a growl of need. The heat of their bodies, the sounds from their mouths, their throats, the sweat and quicksilver sliding between them, drove them both up and over that edge. That burning pyre flaring higher than he thought possible before dying back, not out, just giving off a steady heat instead of the inferno it had become for a long timeless moment.
Once he'd caught his breath and some strength had returned to his limbs, he rolled off her and played idly with a curl that he captured with one finger. Twining it about into an ever-tighter spiral. "'Chele." Her eyes were closed, her body relaxed, and he thought she might have fallen asleep.
She opened her eyes with a smile. "Yes, Dare?" One of her hands ran along the muscles of his chest and then lower across his stomach, then lower still, teasing him into a state of arousal yet again, before moving up across his hip. She licked her lips and looked up at him expectantly; he didn't disappoint.
This time, with the immediate needs dealt with, he was able to take his time. To be certain she was satisfied, sated, before easing his own needs. Concerns about tomorrow never once impinged themselves on his mind.
When sleep finally came, it was much like their first night together, with him curled about her, his chin resting on the top of her head, his arms holding her snugly against him. 'This is the way it should be', was his last coherent though before the sandman took notice of him and dragged him under.
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