Chapter Twenty Five – Take Down

Author's Notes: I hope you don't mind if I start changing voice and POV like this, but I need the practice writing 1st person, and I was getting a little bored.

This chapter was inspired by the classic Alias fanfic, Say What by Snagga, and the movie Miss Congeniality.

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Dammit!  I knew that we should have told him earlier.  It's my fault… it's my fault.  I know.  But, how was I supposed to casually bring that up?  "Hey, Will can you pass me the salt, and oh, by the way, your partner and your handler are sleeping together."  Dammit!  If he just would have asked me during one of our truth evenings.  Dammit!

I tie off the white gi pants and walk out into the practice area.  There are eight pairs of people, mostly men, sparring on the matted floor.  Two trainers are pacing back and forth watching the fights, making suggestions, and occasionally breaking in to show better technique.

And last night hadn't helped things.  He asked about Raven Song.  He asked a lot of questions about Raven Song.  And I answered every one.  That was the deal, right?  All truth.  That was the most I had talked about it since I'd returned to LA.  I couldn't even tell Mike the things I told Will.  And I ended up crying in his arms.  Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid.

But I never told Will the real reason I took that op – that I thought taking it would give me a chance to return and live a normal life… a normal life with Mike.  I told him everything else, why couldn't I tell him that?  I'm pathetic.

I'm not surprised to spot Will in one of the more active pairings.  But I am pleasantly surprised to find that I know the trainer working Will's side of the mat.  When Ben sees me, his face lights up and he practically runs to me. 

"Jess!" he says as he gives me a big hug.  "I heard you were back, but by the time I looked you up, you were already on another op!  You workaholic!"

He lets me go.  "I love what I do," I lie.

He knows better, I think.  He laughs anyway.  "Well, you look great!"  I look down at the standard issue CIA tank top and gi pants.  So does he.  "Are you here to work out?"  He is obviously surprised.

"Sort of."  I nod my head towards Will, "Can I have a go at the new guy?"

Ben smiles.  "Tippin?  Sure.  He seems to be having a bit of a control problem tonight, though, so watch yourself."

I smile knowing exactly why.  "Don't worry about me," I say.

"Oh, I'm not worried about you," Ben replies.  He approaches Will and his sparring partner.  I follow.  "Rogers, take a break.  I've got a new partner for Tippin."

I will always remember the look on Will's face when he turns around and sees me.  Incredible surprise.  Then anger.  Then flat out disgust – like he had just figured out that his high school sweetheart wasn't a virgin.

And damn but he looks sexy!  No glasses.  Sweat glistening on his face and those well defined, broad shoulders, soaking his tank t-shirt.  Bare feet.  God, I'm a sucker for bare feet… they're so intimate.  I mean you can know someone for years and never see their bare feet.

I give him a small smile.  He sets his jaw and glares at me with those cool, blue eyes, much cooler than usual, I note.  Ben and the other agent move away as I approach Will.

His voice is as cold as his eyes.  "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," I say.

"How did you…?"

"Find you?" I finish his sentence.  "Will, I've got your schedule memorized.  It's kind of my job."

"Of course.  Your job." he replies sarcastically.  Okay, so I should have been more careful with my choice of words.  He was obviously hoping that I'm here for more reasons than just my job.  Shit.  Maybe I am.  "Now what?" he asks.

As if on cue, Ben shouts at us like a Marine drill sargent, "Tippin, Anderson, you planning on fighting off attackers with evil glares?"

Since I have my back to Ben, it's safe for me to smirk.  "We practice."  I take a slightly defensive stance.

"You've got to be kidding," he says.  "I'm not fighting you."

"Why not?" I taunt him with a 'bring it on' gesture with my hands.  "I'm the one you're mad at.  No reason to beat up on poor Rogers."

Will makes the mistake of putting his hands on his hips.  I don't know if it's a woman thing or a partner thing that's making him so reluctant to fight me.  It doesn't really matter.  If he wants me to kick his ass while he stands his moral high ground, then I'm more than willing to accommodate him.

I drop to the ground, brace myself with my hands, and swing a leg around, knocking both his legs out from under him.  As he lands on his back on the mat, I stand back up and return to my defensive stance.

"Why don't you tell me why you're so angry," I say.

He won't even look me in the eyes.  He just lying on the mat staring up at the ceiling.  Finally, he rolls over on to his side and starts to get up.  For a split second he's on his hands and knees and I debate on whether I should give him a kick in the ribs to help get him in the fighting mood.  But I never get to make that decision because in an instant he's on his feet, spinning around and delivering a side kick, a beautifully executed side kick, to my solar plexus which sends me flying backwards and coming to a stop on my back on the mat. 

As I suck in air, I wonder if that was full contact.  I kick myself back up, and land on my feet.  He's a good four feet away from me still glaring in my direction.  At least this time he has the good sense not to leave his body wide open to me.

"You lied to me.  Vaughn lied to me.  I thought we were beyond the point of lies," he says. 

His words are an attack, so I protect myself.  Both physically and verbally.  I quickly step into him and throw an elbow at his face.  He easily blocks it.  Then I land a solid punch in his solar plexus.  It's his turn to suck air, and no, that isn't my full contact punch in case you're wondering.  I turn my hip and step one leg behind his knee, and easily throw him to the mat.

From the side, I hear Ben again, "Follow through Anderson!  Are you sure you're a field agent?"

I don't dare take my eyes off Will.  "We never lied to you.  Did either one of us ever say we weren't seeing somebody?  Did I ever say, 'Ugh, that Vaughn, I'd never sleep with him!' ?"

That's it.  That's what it takes to get him in a fighting mood and I make it easy for him since I haven't moved away from him since the throw.  He grabs one of my ankles and yanks it up in the air.  I land ass first on the mat beside him.  He's on me immediately, straddling me at my waist and pinning both my wrists to the mat.

Now that's a move that you don't often see in the CIA practice room.  No matter how dirty sparring gets, it is rare for one fighter to pin another like that.  I momentarily lose my focus as I feel his strong thighs push in on my ribcage.  As I feel his heat warm my skin.  I look into his eyes and see that they have changed – they're not cold any more… now they're filled with another emotion.  His lips… I find myself wondering what it would be like to kiss those lips.

What in the hell am I thinking about?!  I kiss those lips dozens of times a day.  Get your head back in the game, Anderson!

He leans his face down closer to mine.  I watch his lips move seductively as he speaks, "You never thought about mentioning that fact some Sunday evening?" he hisses.

I know it's going to totally piss him off, but it's instinct.  I slam my forehead into his.  As his head snaps backwards his torso follows, and he releases his grip on my wrists.  I roll him off and fight off another kind of instinct that's telling me to follow him over and straddle him in the same way he had just straddled me.

I scramble back to my feet.  He's quick to get up as well.  "Yeah, the thought crossed my mind," I say as I attack again with a side kick-kidney punch-knee to the solar plexus combination.  The only one he can block is the knee shot.

He counters with a left cross to my ribs, roundhouse kick to my abdomen, and a right cross to my jaw.  I know the ribs were at least bruised, and I taste blood in my mouth.  If that isn't full contact, then I'm in serious trouble.  I now have a new priority: end this conversation as quickly as possible.

"But I didn't know how to casually bring it up," I say as I spin around and pop him just above his right ear with a jumping spinning back kick.  Once I land on the mat, I do a twisting front kick to his ribs, hoping to give him a matching bruise, and finish up with a roundhouse to the left side of his head.  He spins around and hits the mat.  I seriously enjoy the sound of him hitting the mat.

I continue my explanation as he pushes himself up, "To just blurt something like that out would be presumptuous.  I would be assuming that you would find that information significant for some reason."

Suddenly I feel my legs go flying up in the air from a well timed leg sweep and now I am in the familiar position of being on my back on the mat and Will climbing on top of me.  But this time I don't let him get in position.  I roll over taking him with me.  The tension in his body has changed now.  It's gone from an adrenaline twitch to a sexual hum.  To my chagrin, my body responds in kind.  We continue to roll across the mat a flurry of fists, elbows and knees, all the while leaving a distinct trail of pheromones. 

Will finally breaks free and does a pretty good Jackie Chan impersonation by bridging his body up off the mat and jumping to a standing postion.  I scramble to my feet as well.

"Oh, like I might find that important because sometimes I forget that my life is just a CIA op?"  He comes at me with a jumping front kick.  I block it.  "That I wish you were with me for a reason other than it's your job?"  He attempts a roundhouse kick that I also block.  "Or maybe because the longer I'm with you the more I want to be with you?"  A wicked punch to my stomach.  Literally and figuratively.  His words take me by surprise and I'm unable to block his punch.

The force of the punch causes me to stumble back a few steps.  My body is telling me to fake an injury and get this fight over with, but my ego refuses to yield.  I attack him.  I throw every kick and punch in my arsenal.  Very few of them make it past his blocks, but when they do, I feel an almost erotic pleasure.  I end the fight with one more throw.  He's on his back once again.  I jump up in the air and aim a knee at his throat.  At the last moment, I move my knee so that instead of delivering him a well-deserved death, I land mostly on his chest with one knee millimeters from his neck.  The force on his chest is enough to push all the air out of his lungs leaves him gasping for air.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I was thinking," I say breathing heavily.

Once he's caught his breath, he looks me in the eye for the first time since we started sparing, and says, "Why in the world would I think that?"

My hormones are arguing with my ego – give him passionate kiss or knock his block off.  I come back to my senses when I hear Ben again, his voice thick with sarcasm, "Congratulations Tippin, you're dead."

"In more ways than one," Will says softly.

I sigh heavily and roll off him.  I stand up and offer him my hand.  He takes it, grudgingly, and I help him up.  Now I have to look up at him.  I hate that.  "Look, Will, I'm sorry that we didn't tell you sooner.  What else do you want from me?"

"You know what I want," Will says.  Those words affect me more than I thought possible.

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