Author's Note: This chapter covers two days. Also, please note, there is
some detail in this chapter somewhat more explicit than my usual style. I
promise it is not too too graphic, but I am still upping the rating for
this story. Not only because of this chapter, but also because if I want
to tie in Richard Kramer (and Richie Ryan)'s stories into this story, I
will need the slightly higher rating. Hope still that whoever is reading
this, continues to still read.
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September 5-6, 2001, 1130 PM (September 5, to roughly 930 AM September 6), Seacouver Washington
Trudging through the halls to her introductory class, Fiona thanked the Goddess she only needed to teach two classes today. She doubted she would be able to concentrate on anything more. She had enough trouble with her two classes, and was more thankful the second class was a first meeting, and she had nothing more to do than to pass out the syllabi, answer basic course content questions, and collect contact information.
Once she decreed the second class finished, she attempted some paperwork, before she finally called her concentration shot. According to the wall clock, the time was only barely six. She sighed, collected her things, stopping in to say good night to Richard Kramer and Rebecca Kitterman as she left. She noticed Methos leaving the same time she did, pulling out of the parking lot, as she threw her purse and remaining work in the passenger seat. He paused, sliding to a stop just to the left of her car.
"Leaving so early?" he smirked.
"I could ask you the same question," she spat, but her heart was not into the attempted sarcasm, and the words fell flat.
"Touché. See you tomorrow. Night, Fiona." He gave a wave through the open window, and Fiona nodded her return sentiments, hopping inside her own car, and following him out the parking lot, turning right to his left.
Coming to a red light several seconds later, she reached into a purse, and dialed a phone number she long since memorized. "Marius?" she asked, her voice too hopeful, when a male voice answered the call.
"This is he. That you, Fiona?"
"Tis. I need distraction. Where are you?"
"Still haven't left my office. Everything ok?"
"No, yes, I don't know. Meet me at the Chinese restaurant in twenty minutes."
She clicked the phone, throwing it back into her bag before Marius had the chance to respond, driving through the red light, quickly changing her pace from straight to a quick left turn. When she pulled into the parking lot, Marius already stood outside the restaurant. She sighed, running a finger comb through her hair, fluffing her bangs, straightening the lines of her skirt, before she stepped from the car, walking to where he stood, his arms crossed.
"Mind telling me why you sounded like the devil was chasing you just now, hmm?" His eyebrow raised, giving her a pointed look.
"Did I say that?" she shrugged, linking her arm comfortably through his. He nodded, and she sighed again. "Tell you inside?"
He nodded again, smiling somewhat distractedly at the hostess. "Two," he answered, when she asked how many, following her to a table, Fiona's arm still linked through his.
"Now, what is this about?" he asked, once they had been seated, and Fiona had ordered a large pot of the Chinese tea.
"Maybe I just wanted to see you?" she smiled innocently.
"You usually have a hidden agenda, Fiona." He paused, eyeing her. "Something happen at work?"
"You could say that," she shrugged, quietly thanking the waitress for the tea and menus, pouring herself a cup. "I told you of Adam Pierson, right?"
"Yes," he nodded, sipping at his own teacup. "You called me rather hurriedly yesterday. Did he do something?"
"He and I went for a drink last night. At Joe's, actually. We didn't talk too much, couldn't really, not there. Then, when I get to work this morning, he's waiting for me in my office. Actually had the nerve to apologize."
"For?"
"For?" she repeated, her eyes threatening to blaze in annoyance. "For leaving, for not trying as hard as he could have. For breaking two hearts. I told him I loved him, Marius."
"Harsh," he winced. Having first met Fiona roughly three years after he had first become Immortal, the first lesson she had taught him (outside of swordplay), was to never reveal your emotions, for if you did betray your emotions, you displayed your weakness to the opponent. Therefore, he had been surprised the first night they had slept together, almost a century and a half after their first meeting, as she viewed sex as the ultimate emotional betrayal, and he was a fellow Immortal. To have revealed her love, however ancient or true, or still true, to the man she hated more than anyone, he knew Fiona was not only feeling the consequences, but she was feeling the original betrayal. . . again. . .
"Did you tell him this? I mean," he paused, frowning thoughtfully, "did you tell him why you loved him?"
"He already knows." She shook her head, sipping more of the tea. The waitress returned, asking if they were ready to order, and both quickly scanned the menus, stammering entrée names, realizing they had not glanced to the menu during the conversation. The waitress smiled, jotting the choices down, collecting the menus, before disappearing towards the main kitchen. Fiona sighed, poured herself more tea. "I promised him I would not kill him," she added.
"Will you keep such a promise?"
"I want to," she answered honestly. "He was always merely an interloper in my life, Marius. It would be nice to know, to see if we could possibly be better friends."
"I didn't know you were friends now." He raised his eyebrows again.
"We're not, not exactly, at least. But I wouldn't call us enemies either." She paused, looking away for a moment, and whispering, "I don't know what we are exactly."
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Having finished dinner little more than an hour later, leftovers in plastic and tinfoil containers, Marius climbed into the passenger seat of Fiona's car, having promised, and re-promised he would spend the night. From the haunting look still echoing in her eyes, she desperately needed the company.
Once inside her apartment, leftovers in the refrigerator, shoes tossed somewhere on the floor, coats draped over the couch's back, Fiona had flopped back down on her bed, and Marius flopped down next to her. He side- glanced her, only to see her watching him, and cautiously, he leaned over slightly to press his lips to hers.
He pulled back only barely to gauge her reaction (not knowing in her off state if she was looking for sex or for simple company), but seeing the look in her eyes, he guessed she needed more than the simple company, and he pressed his lips to hers again, slipping one hand under her neck, forcing her head up so he could knot his fingers in her hair. Her head fell back again onto the bed. He slipped his tongue between her open mouth, knocking entrance, darting between her teeth, gently massaging her tongue.
"Marius," she whispered, her mouth still crushed against his. She wrapped her hands around his neck, her fingers clinging to the wisps of black hair.
With his other hand, he pulled her blouse from her skirt, clumsily unbuttoning with his fingers. He barely noticed when her hands moved to his front, beginning to unbutton his own shirt, moving lower, to undo the metal claps of his belt.
Naked body pressed to naked body, he had one hand splayed across her breast, sheets tangled with their legs. Fiona whispered against the skin of his neck, but the words and the language were lost.
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When Marius awoke the following morning, he found the bed half-empty. He propped himself on his elbows to see Fiona still in a towel, her hair still damp. "Morning," he mumbled.
"Morning," she greeted, and he noticed her voice sounded significantly brighter. "You missed a great run."
"I don't run."
She laughed, casting him an amused glance over her shoulders, fastening, and then straightening her bra.
He glanced to the clock, seeing the numbers blink back to him, reading just after seven. "Is there already coffee on?" he added.
"In the kitchen," was Fiona's muffled reply, her words caught behind the thin cotton of her short sleeve shirt. Marius nodded, distengaling himself from the bed, pulling on his jeans (cast aside last night), before strolling to the kitchen. Coming back, Fiona was nearly fully dressed, sitting on the edge of her bed, struggling with a pair of her stockings. "I never did understand these things," she muttered. "If you ask me, we should have kept them for forties craftsmanship."
"Parachutes?" smiled Marius, leaning in the door.
"Exactly," she agreed, standing, her stockings in place, wandering by him to find her shoes. He shot an arm out, looping it about his waist, bending down to kiss her. "What was that for?" she asked.
"Because," he shrugged, to which Fiona smiled.
Having left the apartment, she dropped him off at his, before heading to work. She sighed, greeted Rebecca, greeted Richard, stepped inside her office, and she readied prepare for another day.
September 5-6, 2001, 1130 PM (September 5, to roughly 930 AM September 6), Seacouver Washington
Trudging through the halls to her introductory class, Fiona thanked the Goddess she only needed to teach two classes today. She doubted she would be able to concentrate on anything more. She had enough trouble with her two classes, and was more thankful the second class was a first meeting, and she had nothing more to do than to pass out the syllabi, answer basic course content questions, and collect contact information.
Once she decreed the second class finished, she attempted some paperwork, before she finally called her concentration shot. According to the wall clock, the time was only barely six. She sighed, collected her things, stopping in to say good night to Richard Kramer and Rebecca Kitterman as she left. She noticed Methos leaving the same time she did, pulling out of the parking lot, as she threw her purse and remaining work in the passenger seat. He paused, sliding to a stop just to the left of her car.
"Leaving so early?" he smirked.
"I could ask you the same question," she spat, but her heart was not into the attempted sarcasm, and the words fell flat.
"Touché. See you tomorrow. Night, Fiona." He gave a wave through the open window, and Fiona nodded her return sentiments, hopping inside her own car, and following him out the parking lot, turning right to his left.
Coming to a red light several seconds later, she reached into a purse, and dialed a phone number she long since memorized. "Marius?" she asked, her voice too hopeful, when a male voice answered the call.
"This is he. That you, Fiona?"
"Tis. I need distraction. Where are you?"
"Still haven't left my office. Everything ok?"
"No, yes, I don't know. Meet me at the Chinese restaurant in twenty minutes."
She clicked the phone, throwing it back into her bag before Marius had the chance to respond, driving through the red light, quickly changing her pace from straight to a quick left turn. When she pulled into the parking lot, Marius already stood outside the restaurant. She sighed, running a finger comb through her hair, fluffing her bangs, straightening the lines of her skirt, before she stepped from the car, walking to where he stood, his arms crossed.
"Mind telling me why you sounded like the devil was chasing you just now, hmm?" His eyebrow raised, giving her a pointed look.
"Did I say that?" she shrugged, linking her arm comfortably through his. He nodded, and she sighed again. "Tell you inside?"
He nodded again, smiling somewhat distractedly at the hostess. "Two," he answered, when she asked how many, following her to a table, Fiona's arm still linked through his.
"Now, what is this about?" he asked, once they had been seated, and Fiona had ordered a large pot of the Chinese tea.
"Maybe I just wanted to see you?" she smiled innocently.
"You usually have a hidden agenda, Fiona." He paused, eyeing her. "Something happen at work?"
"You could say that," she shrugged, quietly thanking the waitress for the tea and menus, pouring herself a cup. "I told you of Adam Pierson, right?"
"Yes," he nodded, sipping at his own teacup. "You called me rather hurriedly yesterday. Did he do something?"
"He and I went for a drink last night. At Joe's, actually. We didn't talk too much, couldn't really, not there. Then, when I get to work this morning, he's waiting for me in my office. Actually had the nerve to apologize."
"For?"
"For?" she repeated, her eyes threatening to blaze in annoyance. "For leaving, for not trying as hard as he could have. For breaking two hearts. I told him I loved him, Marius."
"Harsh," he winced. Having first met Fiona roughly three years after he had first become Immortal, the first lesson she had taught him (outside of swordplay), was to never reveal your emotions, for if you did betray your emotions, you displayed your weakness to the opponent. Therefore, he had been surprised the first night they had slept together, almost a century and a half after their first meeting, as she viewed sex as the ultimate emotional betrayal, and he was a fellow Immortal. To have revealed her love, however ancient or true, or still true, to the man she hated more than anyone, he knew Fiona was not only feeling the consequences, but she was feeling the original betrayal. . . again. . .
"Did you tell him this? I mean," he paused, frowning thoughtfully, "did you tell him why you loved him?"
"He already knows." She shook her head, sipping more of the tea. The waitress returned, asking if they were ready to order, and both quickly scanned the menus, stammering entrée names, realizing they had not glanced to the menu during the conversation. The waitress smiled, jotting the choices down, collecting the menus, before disappearing towards the main kitchen. Fiona sighed, poured herself more tea. "I promised him I would not kill him," she added.
"Will you keep such a promise?"
"I want to," she answered honestly. "He was always merely an interloper in my life, Marius. It would be nice to know, to see if we could possibly be better friends."
"I didn't know you were friends now." He raised his eyebrows again.
"We're not, not exactly, at least. But I wouldn't call us enemies either." She paused, looking away for a moment, and whispering, "I don't know what we are exactly."
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Having finished dinner little more than an hour later, leftovers in plastic and tinfoil containers, Marius climbed into the passenger seat of Fiona's car, having promised, and re-promised he would spend the night. From the haunting look still echoing in her eyes, she desperately needed the company.
Once inside her apartment, leftovers in the refrigerator, shoes tossed somewhere on the floor, coats draped over the couch's back, Fiona had flopped back down on her bed, and Marius flopped down next to her. He side- glanced her, only to see her watching him, and cautiously, he leaned over slightly to press his lips to hers.
He pulled back only barely to gauge her reaction (not knowing in her off state if she was looking for sex or for simple company), but seeing the look in her eyes, he guessed she needed more than the simple company, and he pressed his lips to hers again, slipping one hand under her neck, forcing her head up so he could knot his fingers in her hair. Her head fell back again onto the bed. He slipped his tongue between her open mouth, knocking entrance, darting between her teeth, gently massaging her tongue.
"Marius," she whispered, her mouth still crushed against his. She wrapped her hands around his neck, her fingers clinging to the wisps of black hair.
With his other hand, he pulled her blouse from her skirt, clumsily unbuttoning with his fingers. He barely noticed when her hands moved to his front, beginning to unbutton his own shirt, moving lower, to undo the metal claps of his belt.
Naked body pressed to naked body, he had one hand splayed across her breast, sheets tangled with their legs. Fiona whispered against the skin of his neck, but the words and the language were lost.
------------------------------------------------------
When Marius awoke the following morning, he found the bed half-empty. He propped himself on his elbows to see Fiona still in a towel, her hair still damp. "Morning," he mumbled.
"Morning," she greeted, and he noticed her voice sounded significantly brighter. "You missed a great run."
"I don't run."
She laughed, casting him an amused glance over her shoulders, fastening, and then straightening her bra.
He glanced to the clock, seeing the numbers blink back to him, reading just after seven. "Is there already coffee on?" he added.
"In the kitchen," was Fiona's muffled reply, her words caught behind the thin cotton of her short sleeve shirt. Marius nodded, distengaling himself from the bed, pulling on his jeans (cast aside last night), before strolling to the kitchen. Coming back, Fiona was nearly fully dressed, sitting on the edge of her bed, struggling with a pair of her stockings. "I never did understand these things," she muttered. "If you ask me, we should have kept them for forties craftsmanship."
"Parachutes?" smiled Marius, leaning in the door.
"Exactly," she agreed, standing, her stockings in place, wandering by him to find her shoes. He shot an arm out, looping it about his waist, bending down to kiss her. "What was that for?" she asked.
"Because," he shrugged, to which Fiona smiled.
Having left the apartment, she dropped him off at his, before heading to work. She sighed, greeted Rebecca, greeted Richard, stepped inside her office, and she readied prepare for another day.
