Firefly
Summary: Two deadly assassins, one mission, one cover, one school. One powerful love. Lily and James try to keep their cover a secret from each other, while maintaining their duties and keeping their grades up.
Disclaimer: This is a rewrite of the previous "Firefly." After being sick in the hospital, I had my cousin print out all the pages for my stories so I could read them over. And let me tell you, I wasn't very happy with it. So here is a rewrite of "Firefly."
Chapter One: Charity
She saw him approaching out of the corner of her eyes. It was the stupid coffee guy again; this time backed up by a group of his friends. He put a drink down in front of her and helped himself into her booth. His friends piled in after him.
"Come around yet?" he asked.
This was the last thing she needed: a bunch of drunks intruding on her mission. "Thanks, guys, really. I'm waiting for somebody."
The seniors let out a collective laugh. It wasn't sustained. It was more like one group "Ha."
He leaned closer. He reeked of beer and cigarettes, a combination that reminded her of being rescued by Carina from one too many parties. Drunk British college oafs were no better than American ones, apparently.
"Then where is he?" he asked. "I see a girl, sitting by her lonesome..." he trailed off, losing his train of thought. " 'S a crime, is what it is," he rallied.
She smiled politely. "You know, where I come from," she told him, "When a woman shoots you down, the polite thing to do is move on."
Another group "Ha," but this one was uncertain, as if the guys had taken the single syllable and turned it into two. Like "Haaaa-wha?" His attitude shifted instantly.
"Who do you think you are?" he asked in an angry whisper.
"She's trying to let you escape with some semblance of dignity."
All heads in the booth turned. Standing at the able was an extremely beautiful girl, elegantly dressed. "The girl asked you to nicely leave," the new girl said. "Now I'm ordering you."
Her voice held some teasing, challenging and authority. The way she said it, Rica Hernadaz immediately changed her mind about how bad it was to have to switch to a new trainer.
She assumed it would be a man like her last one. She was wrong.
There was something about seeing a beautiful, well-dressed girl humiliate guys. No matter how smooth or decent, they simply had no decent comeback. All he could muster was a defiant glare, until he mumbled, "C'mon, guys, let's find some real women worth talking to."
They shuffled out of the booth. "Try not to trip on your bruised ego on your way out," the pretty girl muttered. He turned, furious, but said nothing.
The girl sat down as Rica shot her a grateful look. "You looked like you needed some help."
"Yeah, I guess you could say that."
"My name is Charity Anders."
"Rica Hernadaz."
Charity looked around the room in disgust and suspicion, Rica could hear her muttering something along the lines of: "great, just flipping great! This place is a trash." Rica raised an eyebrow and started to talk but Charity held up a hand and shook her head. She moved her head fractionally to the door. Rica nodded, wondering why. After all, she didn't find anything wrong with the place.
"Follow me to the back alley," Charity said, rising from her seat. She started to move with indifference as if she had just walked in the store to get coffee. Rica followed; the minute she walked into the back alley, a door closed around them.
"What…?"
"Since you're new and the inevitable will happen-" Charity started in a no-nonsense type of voice.
"What is the inevitable?" Rica asked, surprised at Charity's attitude that suddenly became business-like.
Charity rolled her eyes, "Being captured, didn't your last trainer teach you anything?"
Rica flushed, her face began to look red, "Oh no," Charity gave a cold laugh that sent shivers down Rica's spine. "You dated your trainer? Probably slept with him, too." Rica flushed even more. "Tsk, you try to avoid sleeping, dating, or having any romantic emotions for you trainers. You might want to try that with your co-workers, as well." Charity's green eyes cut to her. "Understood?"
"Yes, but why?" Rica seemed oblivious to the importance of the factor, really.
"Because, sometimes people are double-crossers and will cheat you. They will trade information. If something happens, everyone suffers. We try to avoid any type of relationship while we're undercover. Capisce?"
"Undercover?"
"Of course, you guys didn't have covers in America, did you?" Rica shook her head. "We'll you get listed for one once I tell you the rules." Charity continued, "Once you're captured, they will test you. They will lie to you. They'll try to get you to contradict yourself, and you won't even notice. And when they have the information they need, you're good as deal." Rica paled.
"Don't you get a partner or something?"
Charity smiled softly, "No. We just we communication devices. Partners can blow covers and then you have to replan and rethink everything. 'Everything' takes too long." Rica nodded, in understanding.
"Charity? Um, the Ops said that I would be starting my first mission tomorrow." Rica mentioned, "Am I ready?"
"No. That's why some one else is going to take over your mission." Charity said, rolling her eyes and the door disappeared, leaving them free to leave. "I'll give you the needed information tomorrow."
Charity disappeared with a flip of her dark auburn hair.
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She felt her heartbeat pound to the strong pulsing techno-beat of the song as his lips came in dangerous range of her ear. She could feel the heat of his breath tickling the soft, fine hairs down the nape of her neck.
The hypnotic lyrics had begun to pour forth from the speakers, and he was whispering nearly pornographic scenes as it was descried into her ear. She closed her eyes as he spoke of violation, penetration, and fucking. Fucking. What animals do, not people. She normally winced at the images brought up by the very word. It was why she hated this song so. What transpired between a man and a woman shouldn't be lessened to a carnal act. There should be something more than that.
At least, that was what she would have told him if she wasn't using her nails to grip onto his shoulders, trying to hold herself up as her knees went weak with the line, "I want to feel you from the inside."
She honestly wasn't sure if it was the sound of his voice, breathy and baritoned, or the visual it caused; because she found herself wrapped around him, hanging on for dear life as he pounded in and out of her, making her call out his name in ecstasy.
The entirety of the song began to sound like lyrical poetry, and it caused her to whimper as he continued to tell the tale in his own words. A confession of a man finding himself in the frantic coming together with this woman, a woman he shouldn't love.
By the second time he admitted his existence was flawed, she found her leg wrapped around his waist, his arm holding it in place as he backed her against a support. She found the need of using both hands to grab, hold, and caress his skin.
He was hot under her fingertips; she shivered as he finished the song by tracing her outer earlobe with his teeth. Without thinking, she gave into the overwhelming need and crashed her lips against his.
She'd never experienced tenderness through brashness- at least until she met him. She could imagine nothing more tender or sweet than the hiss he gave as she bit his shoulder when he bent down enough to whisper into her ear yet again. This time words that were inspired solely by her.
"I want to bend you over the bed and fuck you until you can't remember your name," he said, scraping his nails down her neck, taking the hair he'd fisted along for a tug.
She gave as much of an agreement as she could muster through her haze, a brief nod as she focused on her breath, now coming shallow and hard, heaving her chest under the weight of her want.
The true punishment now seemed that her own release from her tightly wound core would not come. In the course of one song, this man had turned the table on her, she wanted him- perhaps needed him- to find the relief that none other had ever been close to bringing her.
"Take me, Tristan," she breathed, just loud enough to be heard over the still pounding music.
"I love you, Charity," he whispered as he scooped her up in one swift motion, bending her at the waist and throwing her over the shoulder. He made quick for the exit, and she felt the surge of adrenaline shoot through her from knowing his next destination.
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She laid her head on his bare chest as she looked up at him. She smiled and brought her lips to his neck, throwing open-mouthed kisses up and down his neck; and eventually she moved his chest.
She felt the tension radiating from his body, even with a long night of lovemaking. He had been relaxed for quite a while then he tensed up. Sighing, Charity looked up at him in concern. "What's wrong, baby?"
Tristan sighed, running a hair through his messy black hair; he looked back at her. "I'm just thinking." Charity rolled her eyes and made the universal sign for "go on." He smiled at her gestures. She had always been impatient. "If we hadn't gotten into that fight at Pysch Ops and if they hadn't sent us on that mission together; I wondered if we would still be were we are."
She quieted and seemed to ponder his thoughts. "Probably not." She smiled sadly, tears brimming her eyes as he stroked the promise ring that hung from a white gold chain on her neck. "I love you."
"I know, Angel. I know."
She snuggled closer to his warmth. "Promise me something."
He kissed her palm. "Anything, love."
"Don't ever leave me. Promise you won't leave?" He stopped from kissing every single one of her knuckles and he brought his hazel eyes to meet hers. "Please, Tristan."
Unable to resist her, he nodded. "I promise, Angel. I promise I won't leave." He knew that wasn't true. He would be going on a mission soon, and with each mission, it became harder to hide his love for her. Especially went they went on their missions together. If anyone found out about their love for each other, chances were high that they would probably never see each other again.
"Thank you," she uttered, laying her head on his chest again. He stroked her bare back.
"Go to sleep, baby. I'll wake you up." She struggled. "Shush, you're tired, Charity. Get some rest. I don't want you collapsing on me." She pulled her tighter. She finally relaxed and within a few minutes she few asleep.
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Author's Note: Well, I that had taken a whole unexpected turn. I'm not sure if I should make this 'R' rated and have smut scenes or keep this story 'PG' with a few swear words. Please review and tell me what you think! If you had read the first chapter of "Firefly" before this, you might notice that I rewrote the WHOLE ENTIRE chapter! I changed all their names and stuff as well.
Gracias, and it's good to be back. Wait- yes, I would like at least 8 reviews for each chapter!
Emerald.
