Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground.
Reviews are welcome, loved and encourage prompter updates.
Glancing down the corridor to ensure he was alone, Hal gave the customary trio of knocks, then used his master key to enter the suite. The door had been locked. Alex had no need for keys.
She was tugging on a pillowcase, the pillow levitating out in front of her when he came in. If someone else were to enter - another one of the staff - without his signal she would vanish. Thus far, there hadn't been need. Hal kept a clear schedule matrix.
He crossed the room to where she was working, noting the open window behind her. The air felt fresh with the sun-warmed salt breeze. A gull cried nearby. She had removed her jacket, exposing the bare skin of her shoulders and chest.
"Hey sugar," she greeted but kept on tucking in the pillow. She was still ruffled about earlier.
"I need to talk to you," Hal stated, standing opposite the bed.
"So talk," Alex placed the first pillow and levitated the second over from the stack of linens on the nearby table. Hal eyed the freshly-made bed, surprised at how tempted he was to lie down.
"Rook telephoned," he stated bluntly. "They are aware Richard was here. He wishes to meet regarding an incident he couldn't speak of over the line."
"Today?" Alex asked. Hal nodded the affirmative. "Well that will be just lovely fun on top of everything else. I'll come with you."
Hal was relieved she understood so quickly. Returning to the Archive was a return to Rook's offer. Hal didn't like feeling reliant, or even directly asking for help. But he had to admit that Alex continued to be instrumental in his fight against temptation, even if she herself was included in those temptations.
"Is that clean?" He asked despite knowing it was.
"Yeah, course," Alex replied.
"Good," Hal threw back the duvet and sat down with a sigh. He was damned tired.
Alex finally stopped what she was doing and flopped onto the bed next to him. Surprisingly, she had that mischievous grin of hers. Before he could even protest she kissed him. "You're on lunch now, right?" She asked against his mouth.
"Mmph. Yes, but -"
"Good. You need a nap," she asserted. His protest was smothered by another enthusiastic kiss as she straddled his lap. "Mmm, you taste like tea."
"Alex -" but he couldn't finish the thought. She was untucking his shirt, sliding her hands up to the bare skin of his stomach. His response was immediate. He groaned.
"Take off your shoes," she whispered, her breath warm on his neck.
"Half the night and this morning wasn't enough? Jesus woman."
"It'll never be enough," she said huskily, pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders. Against his better judgment, reason was rapidly leaving.
"Alex -" he moaned but tried to push her away. "Not at work."
"Hal come on, lighten up! I've wanted to do this since you were hired," she admitted and renewed her fervor in kissing him. Hal's hands were stroking the smooth silk over the curves of her waist almost against his will.
"But we weren't doing any of this yet."
"I know," she pivoted her hips in a way that made a growl escape his throat and his hands move to the ribbon of her dress. Their clothes were gone in a matter of seconds.
It was times like these, when the urge to be as close as they physically could overrode all other thoughts, that Hal wondered if sex with Alex, or Alex herself, had truly become a new addiction to add to his list. It had all gotten so tangled. He no longer knew what was the pull of her blood versus the amore of emotion he felt for her. In that moment, with sunlight boldly streaming in to illuminate her skin as he moved in her, Hal didn't care.
Leaning into him, she stifled his moan with a kiss. "Shush," she breathed. "Wouldn't do... to be heard..." she whispered. She had a point, except no one could hear a ghost. Hal smiled wickedly and switched his efforts to elicit such illicit sounds teased from her lips. He was quite successful. The noise she made at their climax was deliciously primal, whereas Hal had to bite down on his lip.
He held her to his chest as they came down, the gulls bearing the only sounds once more. With the weight of her, and the warm sunlight, the pull of sleep was a heavy thing to fight. He stroked the long line of her spine in an attempt to stay awake. "I'll have to order extra lamp bulbs if we keep this up," he muttered into her hair. She had burnt one out overhead.
"Mmm..." she lifted her head to look at him with a contented smile. "There's time if you want to sleep. I'll wake you."
Hal knew that he needed to. He kissed her softly and accepted, "Okay."
Alex snuggled against him, holding her warmth to his torso with his head tucked under her chin. She could feel the weight of his fatigue pulling them down but she resisted it. Instead she glanced at the clock to gauge the time, and let her thoughts drift. Gazing out the window at the few passing clouds, she idly stroked his stomach. His face relaxed. He had already drifted into dreaming, she could tell by the barest twitch behind his eyelids. It should be criminal for a man to have such long lashes as he did. She couldn't believe he had let her get away with this. She thoroughly expected to be refused. They were in trouble, big time. Now that she got him to agree here once... Alex smiled. It was undeniable. He was softening with her. Trusting her, opening to her. She loved him all the more for it.
She didn't want anything to change it. Earlier, when he had told her about Richard she had felt so fiercely protective. Why couldn't they just leave him be? Why couldn't the world just leave them be? Alex had a sinking feeling that between Richard's reappearance and Rook's insistence that Hal talk to him about it, something was going to change, and soon. It filled her with dread.
She woke Hal with enough time to have a shower. Returning to work smelling like he did would not diffuse the advances of their female co-workers. As he gathered his garments that had gotten surprisingly strewn, she couldn't help that her eyes were drawn to the angry red line across his thigh. Two weeks and the burn still looked god awful. He had admitted that he wasn't sure if it would ever heal, as long as he remained dry. The last burn he had received from Tom's blood hadn't. At least he had perfected making a limp look sexy, she thought as he left for the shower.
Alex stood and pulled the sheets from the bed as the water came on. She'd have to replace them. Stepping into a sunbeam from the open window, she reveled in the sense of warmth on her bare skin. In moments like this she felt so completely solid, it was easy to forget she wasn't to anyone else but him. She sauntered to the bath and carefully pulled the curtain aside. His back was to her as he rinsed, steam and spray rising. The water dulled his senses and she didn't think he had heard her approach. Alex crept past the curtain, feeling the spray but not being affected by it. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders and pressed her breasts into his back. Hal didn't say anything, didn't rebut her, merely leaned against her, a hand coming up to cup her arm. The water poured between them like she wasn't there at all. Saddened she still wasn't as solid as she felt, she placed a kiss on the damp skin at the back of his neck before teleporting away. Like a permanent reset, her clothes - from her boots to her bra - reappeared in perfect order. The water turned off and Alex went about stripping the pillowcases she had just put on while he dressed.
At the door, she straightened his collar even though he didn't need it. Except for his lips that were delightfully swollen from kissing, he looked impeccable as always. "Meet me here after your shift?"
"I was going to drive," he answered sleepily.
"In daylight? It will take you ages! Now that we've been there once I can teleport us."
Hal rubbed his face with a sigh, "Alex, you know how I feel about that. Besides, it's Rook's request. If I cause a traffic accident or a heart attack because someone failed to see me in a mirror, it's on his department to deal with."
"Yeah, but I also know you need more than a twenty minute disco nap. If I teleport us then we can be there and back again in time for a mildly normal evening."
He looked like he was forming an argument so she stepped in and kissed him, "Just think on it, okay? I'll tidy up our love nest here and see you later, alright?"
Hal leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. "Okay," he agreed.
The library at Cardiff Law left much to be desired if one was seeking anything other than Law. They hardly had a decent literature section, much less books on the supernatural, which is how Allison Larkin continually found herself at Cardiff Central library between classes. Today, she was seated in the reader's lounge with her laptop. The rustle of newspages and the clickety-clack of other computer users was a peaceful accompaniment to the sunbeam she was enjoying while she worked.
She had begun the project even before her first transformation had confirmed her suspicions. Something had attacked her that she couldn't debate, rationalize or ignore during her Duke of Edinburgh's Award camping expedition. The creature had sideswiped her and knocked her down like she was no more than an irritation. One bloody shoulder and a broken pair of glasses was all she suffered. One un-blurred glance was all she had before the beast was gone, loping off into the darkness. No one had been with her to corroborate her story. No one had been with her to confirm that what she thought she saw had been real. So she had played it off. Patched herself up with her first aid kit, using all her sterile wipes and claimed she stumbled while gathering firewood. And then, as soon as she returned home she began looking for an explanation as to what she had seen. "Just to be safe" she had spirited away that first full moon, still disbelieving until the first gut-clenching spasm of the transformation took over. Afterwards, her research had been to find an explanation for what she had become.
Her introduction and subsequent involvement with Honolulu Heights hadn't deterred her one bit. Tom and Hal had both taught her much about their world, but Allison knew it wasn't the whole story. In the months since she had been turned, she had become a collector - a connoisseur if it were - of supernatural leads, rumors and dead-ends. If anything, the dead ends were even more fascinating now that she knew of the work Mr. Rook and his department oversaw. She had sent him a message requesting scholarly access to the archive. Thus far, he had neglected to get back to her.
On her computer, she had scanned, saved and categorized over 200 news articles, mentions and rumors of potential werewolf activity. It was global. Their contagion was spread worldwide, each area having its own name and mythology to explain the phenomena. Lycanthrope, Skinwalker, Wendigo, Loup-garou, Mannaro, Nahaul, Lobisomem - she had hunted down stories on them all. But their kind in whatever name seemed to be scattered, generally lone incidents here and there and sparse.
With the oddly curious exception of Brazil. The Lobisomem, which merely translated to 'werewolf' in Portuguese, were often referred to as "them," "they" and "Pack". They were even rumoured to have their own city. Joanópolis was openly known as the supposed "Capital of the Werewolf" with more recorded sightings than any other location she had come across. The stories began circulating in frequency about a pack of man-sized wolves in the jungle. The stories had appeared mysteriously and, after only a decade, had petered off and disappeared again. Almost as if a werewolf pack had at some point broken away from the modern world to disappear into the jungles, never to be heard from again. Allison had been fascinated, but had stored it away in her archive of stories along with the rest. The closer she became to Tom however, the more she had realized just how much of his life had been spent looking for such a pack. So she had renewed her curiosity.
Making use of one of her favorite Google tools, she had been able to roughly translate a recent article citing an "eyewitness" account of the Lobisomem. With a name like Vinicius Emanuel da Rocha Batista, Allison had easily tracked him down. A young historian and folklorist for the area, his claim that he had caught a glimpse of the wolves was actually quite suspect. No one had believed him. One online commenter even accused him of being in the pocket of the local tourist board. So when Allison had contacted him with an email in passable Portuguese citing a scholarly interest that accompanied her own sighting, she hoped he would be intrigued enough reply.
Saudações. Estou muito curioso para ouvir da sua conta.
Even without translating the brief email, Allison nearly broke the sanctity of library silence with a yip of excitement. Her query had been returned!
