La Femme Serena
by Aglaia
---
Chapter 3: Fatal Attractions?
Seiya read the report on his desk with relief
and satisfaction. Today, Serena had undergone her
weapons proficiency test. Not only had she passed,
but she had passed with flying colors, attaining a
score that probably only twenty percent of agents
currently working for the Project were capable of
achieving. It was remarkable. No one who saw her
now could possibly believe that she had once been
frightened of guns. Yaten had done a spectacular
job.
As if his thoughts had called the other into
his office, Yaten now ambled in and dropped down
casually into a chair. His long gray hair tossed
negligently over one shoulder. It was obvious that
he was there to gloat.
"Come to collect your favor?" Seiya asked.
"Suffice it to say, that I won't waste this
opportunity. You owe me big."
"Very well, Yaten. A promise is a promise."
"Hmmmm. Now what should I collect from you?
A case of beer? No, too mundane, and not big
enough besides. Maybe I should get you to dress
like a woman for the day?" Yaten laughed
uproariously at this idea, but dismissed it also.
"No, too humiliating. I'll have to give this some
serious thought."
Yaten laughed again and left the office with
that threat hanging in the air. An avaricious
gleam in the instructor's eyes told Seiya that
whatever he asked for it would be costly.
Little did Yaten know that Seiya was
prepared to pay whatever price was necessary...
Within reason, of course; there was simply no way
that he would dress like a woman, not even for a
day. No way in hell. But whatever Yaten asked for
could never compare to the price the Project would
have exacted had they found out the truth about
Serena. So Seiya was willing to give Yaten what
he wanted.
After the instructor had left, Seiya called
Serena into his office. She came promptly, and for
the first time, Seiya could detect no trace of
petulance or recrimination in her attitude towards
him. It seemed that Serena had finally accepted
her place within the Project - temporarily at
least - and that she had forgiven him for whatever
part he had played in bringing her here.
She may have forgiven him, but Seiya would
never forgive himself. Looking at her now, he
wondered for the thousandth time how he could have
misjudged her. Honesty shone from her like some
kind of a beacon. Still, she was fitting in well,
and with any luck, no one would ever know about
his little mistake.
"Congratulations on your high marksmanship
score. You aced the proficiency test," he said.
"Thank you. I've worked hard."
"Yes. Well, this marks a new stage in your
training. Report to level six tomorrow morning at
eight o'clock for training in etiquette and
deportment."
Serena seemed very surprised. Shell-shocked
almost. "Ex-excuse me?"
"You'll be studying etiquette and deportment
starting tomorrow," Seiya repeated. "Here's the
access code for level six."
Serena didn't know if Seiya was aware of it,
but the handsome agent always seemed to be able to
rattle her. He had been the one to deliver almost
all the major bombshells in her life. This was
merely the latest in a long series.
She had come to his office expecting to hear
the results of her tests and a review of her
performance. Comportment was the last thing Serena
expected to have to study. How could etiquette be
important to an organization whose philosophy was
to shoot first and ask questions later?
"Are these lessons compulsory?" she asked
cautiously, fidgeting uneasily in her seat.
Having been klutzy all her life, Serena was
skeptical about her chances of success at this
kind of training. It would be like putting an
elephant in a china shop.
Seiya was a bit surprised at her question.
"Yes, I'm afraid so."
He studied her a bit more closely now, trying
to figure out why Serena would be nervous about
these lessons. It suddenly struck him that if
Serena, a loner, had never been comfortable in any
kind of social setting, etiquette would be as
foreign to her as gun-slinging had once been.
Little did Serena know that her unrelenting
training in martial arts and weaponry had already
cured her of any signs of clumsiness or
awkwardness and had made her movements fluid,
supple, and polished. Her tutoring with Amy had
given her sophistication and complexity. Because
of the confidence she had gained, Serena now
walked with her head up, emanating an unconscious
grace and poise, instead of hunching over and
trying to escape attention, as she had been wont
to do on the streets. It helped that regular
eating and rigorous exercise had shaped her body
into its current state of perfection; while before
she had been merely pretty, now she was beautiful.
Thanks to her training and natural beauty, Serena
would attract attention wherever she went, even
dressed in rags.
In his line of work, Seiya's sense of
compassion was rarely called upon and was often
deliberately turned off. But even though it was
rusty with disuse, it helped him to understand what
Serena was feeling now. Seiya appreciated this
insight into her character. He tried to lend her
some of the confidence that he had come to feel for
her.
His voice was almost gentle when he said,
"Like any new material, these lessons will be
difficult at first, but I firmly believe that you
can master this the way you have mastered so many
skills since your training began."
Serena was surprised again, this time by
Seiya's words. She had never thought of him as
being particularly understanding or nice before.
He had always seemed like a bit of an egotistical
jerk. But what he had just done was unquestionably
kind. He had understood her fears and had tried
to help her overcome them. This small act of
decency was all the more potent in the face of the
casual disregard he usually displayed. It made him
seem more like a human than the mindless automaton
he normally was.
Serena began to feel an inkling of warmth for
the devastatingly striking agent. It wasn't quite
friendship, but it was more than just respect.
"I'll try my best," she said.
"I know you will."
---
Serena woke briskly after the early morning
wake-up call. She threw on a jogging suit and
headed one level up to the indoor track for her
daily three mile run.
She made her way around the familiar track
and allowed her thoughts to wander. Today she
would begin a set of lessons that frightened her
more than dodging gunfire or translating foreign
languages. Today she would learn to act like a
lady of breeding. She approached the lessons with
no small amount of trepidation, but was determined
to make the best of it.
Serena showered after her run and changed
into a comfortable pair of baggy jeans, an
oversized t-shirt, and a pair of sneakers. Then,
with butterflies in her stomach, she proceeded
to her newest lesson on level six. She had to
admit that she was somewhat curious about that.
Never before had she been allowed access to level
six, and Serena wondered what went on there.
After she stated her desired destination in
the elevator, the neutral voice of the computer
queried her for an access code. She entered the
code Seiya had given to her only yesterday, and
the elevator began moving.
The doors slid open. Serena was surprised
to see that the hallways were finely decorated.
Unlike the Spartan modern design of the other
levels that reinforced the impression of power,
sterility, and isolation, this level was warm and
inviting. The walls were painted in soft, earth
tones. Soft instrumental music drifted out into
all the rooms, as if played by invisible musicians.
Paintings and sculptures were placed tastefully
around comfortable leather, cambric, and wood
furniture. The warm organic materials used in the
design were at polar opposites from the cold glass
and metal of the other levels.
Serena explored the level cautiously. Not
having been told previously where she should go,
she passed slowly from room to beautifully
decorated room. Instead of the bright,
unflinching fluorescent lighting used elsewhere in
the complex, this level was lit with muted light-
bulbs and candles in gothic sconces on the walls.
There was wood paneling in some rooms, and wall-
paper in others. In contrast to the strict
functionality of the other levels, this one had
strange curios that served no obvious use. It
had photos and paintings. It had ancient relics
and arcane ornaments. It had potted plants and
vases filled with fresh flowers. But most of all,
it had personality.
Serena felt like she had stepped into a
country estate and felt a strange sense of
homecoming. She picked up an oddly curved dagger
from its stand and examined it more closely.
"Hello, Serena." A soft, melodious voice
drifted over to her.
Serena quickly spun towards the sound and
saw a woman who was much older than herself. She
was dressed in a conservative but flattering black
pinstriped pant-suit with a cream-colored silk
blouse and black satin pumps. Her only jewelry
was a pair of garnet earrings shaped like inverted
chevrons. The woman's long, black hair was
streaked with gray, but dark green highlights
showed when she moved. Part of her hair was tied in
a bun at the crown of her head, while the rest hung down
and brushed the back of her knees. Her face was
unlined except for a few small creases around her
eyes; her patrician nose gave her a mature
appearance. She was of an indeterminate age; she
could have been anywhere between forty and sixty.
Serena looked into her eyes and felt disturbed by
what she saw there. They were knowing eyes - eyes
that had seen too much - and Serena inexplicably
felt a little afraid.
"My name is Trista. I'm your new
instructor."
Serena replaced the dagger on its stand and
walked over to shake hands with her new teacher.
"It's nice to meet you," she said politely.
"It's good to meet you, Serena. Welcome to
my humble abode."
Serena was surprised. "You live here?" she
exclaimed. "It's beautiful!"
Trista smiled, "Thank you. That means a lot
to me. I designed it myself."
If possible, Serena's eyes widened even
more. "Are you serious? It's so spectacular!"
"Please, have a seat." Trista motioned
courteously to a small grouping of wicker chairs
set around a tripod table.
Serena sat down slowly; she felt grungy and
uncomfortable sitting in such opulent surroundings
in her casual, oversized clothes. Under Trista's
watchful gaze, Serena grew even more uncomfortable.
She nervously squirmed in her chair and fidgeted
with her hands, not knowing where to put them.
Trista smiled encouragingly and sat down at
the other side of the table. She gently folded
her hands in her lap and crossed her legs at the
ankle, keeping her knees pressed tightly together.
Serena was put at ease and immediately felt
better. She did her best to emulate Trista's
pose. Trista began the lesson by kindly warning
Serena that Ladies never crossed their legs at the
knee. Serena smiled gratefully as Trista
continued to instruct her in the ways true Ladies
should behave. This was followed by a lesson on
tea service, as the two shared a few cups
accompanied by small sandwiches and scones.
Serena found Trista to be warm and engaging,
by far one of her nicest instructors. As they
chatted amicably, Trista inserted gentle cautions
and advice about behavior, but she did so without
making Serena feel ignorant or embarrassed.
Never once, in all her years of teaching
these lessons, had Trista ever shed her mask of
serenity. Despite the sometimes wild and
uncultivated students who had come mostly from the
wrong side of the tracks, Trista had always
prevailed in teaching them the basics of good
manners - genteel behavior that would allow them
to pass unnoticed in the best of circles. Whether
showing an uncouth ex-gang member how to converse
in polite society or teaching a boorish former bank-
robber the proper way to walk, she had boundless
lengths of patience and a personality that invited
confidences.
However, as Serena quickly found out, Trista
shared very little about herself. In fact, after
spending three hours together, Serena knew almost
as little about Trista as she had when they
started. But in spite of the way Trista closed
herself off, Serena implicitly trusted her new
instructor, and she left the lessons feeling a
happiness she hadn't experienced in years.
---
For the fourth night in a row, Seiya lay
awake on his bed in the dark, staring at the
ceiling. The room was completely empty except for
the double bed and a tall dresser. Anyone who saw
the space would be surprised by its strange
emptiness, lacking in photos or personal items of
any kind. It looked as if he had moved into the
room only yesterday, instead of the twelve years it
had really been since he started living there.
For as long as he could remember, Seiya had
been lonely. Trapped in an isolated and dangerous
lifestyle, he never allowed anyone into his life.
There was always the chance that civilian liaisons,
if known, could be used against him, and he would
never want to put a loved-one in the considerable
danger he faced every day in his work. The
Project had strict regulations forbidding
relationships between fellow operatives, and that
left him with nowhere to turn. He had come to
gradually accept these conditions as a hazard of
the job, a job so necessary that sacrifices must
be made. But the emptiness had only increased,
and there was a hole in his heart that gnawed away
at him - an ache in the pit of his stomach that he
couldn't forget.
It was getting ridiculous; the hollow feeling
inside him was an unnecessary distraction that was
beginning to affect his work. Sleep deprivation was
the most common source of mistakes, mistakes that
Seiya could little afford to make. At this rate, he
was going to wear himself out in a matter of weeks.
In an exasperated gesture, he ran his hand through
his perpetually-mussed hair.
As the hours passed, Seiya continued to toss
and turn, sleepless. Finally giving up at three in
the morning, he decided to get some work done
instead. He took a quick shower to clear his mind
and headed directly to his office.
---
"...and finally, the important thing to
remember, Serena, is to be considerate," Trista
spoke in her usual soothing tones. Light piano
music played in the background. "Always do your
utmost to make sure that everyone is as comfortable
as possible, and exercise politeness and gentleness
at all times. Now we will begin our dinner."
Serena was seated at the head of a long,
rectangular dining table of solid cherry. The
table was set for a formal dinner, complete with
candlesticks and a centerpiece. Flickering light
from the candles glinted off of the many sparkling
crystal glasses. A lightly embroidered white damask
napkin was folded daintily in her lap.
Trista had been lecturing her on table manners
for several hours now, making Serena memorize a long
list of general rules. Serena had been hungry when
the lesson had started, but now she was ravenous.
Anticipating the lovely meal, her mouth began
salivating even as her stomach made its complaints
known. Serena leaned back in her chair as Trista
finally served the soup course.
"Bon Appétit!"
Unfortunately for Serena's stomach, before
she could enjoy her soup, she had to figure out
which spoon to use. For the next five minutes,
Serena agonized over the flatware. She mournfully
eyed the appetizing cream of asparagus soup as it
cooled rapidly while her hand hovered indecisively
over the multitude of utensils before her. Making
her decision, she hesitantly reached for the
smallest spoon.
Ahem Trista cleared her throat discreetly.
Serena's face flushed with embarrassment as
she put the small spoon back in its place at the
table. Relieved that there was only one other
spoon, Serena eagerly grabbed the correct utensil
and hungrily closed her mouth over a large spoonful
of soup.
Almost immediately, her mouth opened again:
"Gaaaahhh!"
Serena frantically blew through her mouth,
her cheeks filling out like a smith's bellows.
Her eyes bulged, and her face turned a fascinating
shade of red. The soup hadn't been as cool as she
had expected. Swallowing at last, Serena fanned her
hand in front of her face in an attempt to cool
her scalded mouth.
"Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot! Hot!"
Grabbing recklessly for the glass of water
on her left, Serena accidentally knocked over the
goblet on her right and spilled its contents across
her lap.
"Cold! Cold! Cold! Cold! Cold!" she
yelled as she jumped up from her chair, knocking
it down.
Trista sighed as she surveyed the damage.
The carefully positioned place settings were in
scattered disarray. Water and ice cubes trailed
across the once-pristine tablecloth from the upset
goblet until it dripped pathetically into a puddle
on the floor. Serena's high-backed chair had fallen
down and lay overturned on the ground behind the
still-hopping girl. 'We've got out work cut out
for us,' thought Trista with resignation.
When things had calmed down and everything
had been replaced, Serena found herself once again
up against the cream of asparagus. Her head was
held down in shame at having been defeated by a
mere soup.
Trista encouraged her, "Go ahead, Serena."
With more caution this time, Serena picked
up the correct spoon. Placing her left elbow on
the table, she greedily slurped the now-cold soup
(after all, she was still starving).
Trista tried to refrain from criticizing,
knowing how fragile Serena's ego was, but was
unable to remain silent when Serena brought the
bowl to her mouth in order to drink the last drops
of the soup.
"Serena, when eating soup, one should never
make sounds. When you reach the last few spoonfuls
of soup, tilt the bowl away from yourself and spoon
the rest," Trista said as she demonstrated. "Never
pick up your soup bowl. And remember Rule #3.
Will you recite it for me?"
Realizing her mistake, Serena took her left
elbow off the table. "Rule #3: Keep elbows off the
table, otherwise it can interfere with the people
beside you."
"And Rule #15?"
"Rule #15: Your water goblet is always on
the right. Your bread plate is always on the left."
"Very good, Serena. Don't forget that when
you're eating bread, you should first serve the
butter onto your own bread plate before buttering
the bread. Now, let's move on to the next course."
Serena looked at the salad now placed in
front of her with trepidation. Now what would she
do? This was worse than the soup; there were so
many forks to choose from, so many possibilities
for making more mistakes. After several more
minutes of agonized deliberation on Serena's part,
Trista took pity on her and gave her a hint.
"Remember Rule #8? When in doubt, work your
way from the outside in."
Serena sighed, picking up the correct fork.
How could eating be so complex and convoluted?
There were literally dozens of unwritten rules that
she would have to learn and memorize. As she slowly
picked at her Caesar salad, she despaired of ever
mastering good table manners.
---
Several weeks later, Serena and Trista were
once again dining together. When Serena finished
the superbly roasted beef, she placed her knife and
fork on her plate to indicate eleven o'clock.
"You're doing splendidly, Serena,"
complimented Trista.
Serena had undergone yet another
transformation. Like a young doe learning to walk,
she had wobbled on her own two feet until she was
able to stand on her own and finally take her first
shaky steps. With trepidation at first, but then
with growing confidence, Serena had finally mastered
the etiquette of dining at and hosting a formal meal.
Once the plates had been cleared, a "waiter"
then served the next course: dessert.
Serena's eyes devoured the tall parfait glass
filled with her favorite ice cream - vanilla. It
was served with rich chocolate syrup and mint leaves
on a small china plate with an accompanying dessert
spoon. As she blissfully enjoyed the treat, Serena's
mind wandered to the music that pervaded Trista's home.
"Trista, what is the music that's always
playing whenever I come here? It's beautiful."
"I'm glad you like it. This piece is called
Canon in D, by a man named Johann Pachebel."
"Pachebel? Who is he? Is this... classical
music?"
"That's correct, Serena. Would you like to
learn more about it?"
Serena nodded her eagerness.
"Well, Pachebel was a German composer from
what is called the 'Baroque' period..."
And with that, Serena began a new set of
lessons.
---
It had been months since she had originally
begun her training, and Serena still had yet to
set foot outside the underground complex that
housed the Project. Never before had Serena spent
such an extended period indoors, and in spite of
the size of the complex, she was beginning to get
cabin fever. She longed to go outside, smell fresh
air, see the blue sky, and feel the gentle caress
of a passing breeze. Now she knew what submariners
must feel like on extended journeys.
"Well, Serena. How are your lessons
progressing?" A deep voice interrupted her thoughts.
Serena looked up from her computer monitor
and saw Seiya leaning casually against a table
nearby. Seiya wore one of his standard black,
designer power-suits. The earring in his left ear
glittered and contrasted with his bronzed skin.
He lips were curved in a reflexively seductive
smile; his perfect, white teeth gleamed at Serena.
'My God,' Serena thought. 'It can't be
legal for someone to look that good!' She forced
herself to answer calmly and show no sign of her
thoughts.
"Things are progressing well, especially
with Trista. She thinks that I will be finished
with her lessons soon."
"Good, good. You're making excellent
progress, well ahead of the originally scheduled
parameters."
Serena found it disconcerting the way she had
gradually begun to run into Seiya more and more
frequently. Ever since she had agreed to enter the
Project, they had shared an uneasy truce, and he
had continued to appear randomly to supervise her
lessons or give her instructions.
Even more disturbing, however, was the way
they now seemed to bump into each other seemingly
accidentally; hardly a day or two passed without
her seeing him at least once. She was sure that
he was checking up on her, but she couldn't help
but feel that these innocent conversations were
masking something deeper.
It was true that he was physically very
attractive. He was good-looking in a conventional
way that probably had all kinds of women flinging
themselves at him. Even now, as they continued
their innocuous discussion, she had to repress the
desire to run her hands through his wild, silky
hair.
But Serena felt that it was more than that.
Whenever they touched, even if it was only his arm
brushing accidentally against hers, she felt a
thrill of electricity run through her. Looking
into his navy blue eyes, she wondered if he felt
that spark between them whenever they were together.
It was difficult to tell from his controlled body
language, and his expressionless face gave nothing
away. At times, there seemed to be a degree of
warmth in his voice, but just as Serena felt sure
that it was there, the cold tones would return and
make her question whether she had imagined it.
She wondered if he even liked her at all.
Serena sternly marshaled her thoughts by
reminding herself of the serious consequences that
would result from a relationship with this
obviously dangerous man. She had been recently
informed about the Project's policies on personal
relationships, and it was simply another incentive
to stay away from him. Unfortunately, this was
becoming increasingly difficult as Seiya seemed to
go out of his way to look in on her regularly.
"If you're having any problems, don't hesitate
to come to me," he assured her.
"Actually, I do have a request."
"Yes, Serena? What is it?"
"It's my birthday tomorrow, and I was
wondering if I could go outside. I promise I'll
be good!" she pledged.
Serena was surprised to notice Seiya
clenching his teeth convulsively. His body suddenly
became rigid, and there was something in his eyes
that she had trouble identifying. However, his next
words distracted her from analyzing the strange
look in his eyes.
"I'm afraid that's against the rules, Serena.
We can't let you outside."
"It could just be for a few minutes, a walk
around the block even! You could have guards with
me the whole time. Or you could even come. I
won't run away! Please?" she pleaded desperately.
"I just need to breathe air that hasn't been
filtered and recycled."
"I'm sorry. I can't." With that, he turned
away abruptly and walked back to his office.
---
The next day, Serena had skipped all her
lessons and locked herself inside her room in an
act of rebellion. So far, no one had reprimanded
her for the absences, but Serena knew it was bound
to come sooner or later. At seven pm that night,
someone knocked on her door.
"Go away!" Serena yelled.
The knocking persisted until Serena was
forced to open the door. She yanked it open
violently to find Seiya standing awkwardly in the
hallway.
"What do you want?" Serena asked bitingly,
expecting a punishment or lecture for missing
lessons.
"I just wanted to give you something." He
reached behind him and brought out a large cake
frosted with pink icing. There were twenty-three
candles lit on the cake. "Happy Birthday," he
said with a smile that was almost shy.
Serena was very surprised. Seiya had never
before shown much compassion or understanding, and
Serena was touched.
"Blow it out," he instructed gently.
Completely mollified, Serena closed her eyes
to make a wish and blew out the candles. They
stared at each other in silence for a few moments.
"Don't you want to know what I wished for?"
Serena finally asked. There was a deep underlying
tension running between them. Somehow, her
question was about more than just a wish.
"Don't tell me," he answered softly. Seiya
stared deeply into her cerulean eyes and felt that
familiar ache that resonated in his soul. "If you
do, your wish won't come true, and I would never
want that to happen." Finally breaking eye
contact, Seiya handed her the cake and turned to
leave.
"Thank you," Serena whispered almost
inaudibly.
As he left, Seiya said, "I hope your wish
comes true."
Serena stood, holding the cake, and watched
his retreating figure with emotion-filled eyes,
following it down the hall until he was out of
sight.
"Me too."
---
AN: Well? Whaddya think?
I'm sorry to all those Sailor Pluto fans for
making her so old. I needed a "motherly" figure
in Serena's life, and since she was the oldest and
most mature scout. . .
Much thanks to all those who have reviewed!
Please send some more my way!!
Next chapter: Serena finishes up her training and
embarks on her first mission.
Aglaia
