Author's note:

I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of this lovely little work, and I'd like to congratulate Agon Dy on a job well done. It really was a lot of fun to read. I'll be posting the response to her very soon. For now, enjoy the letter to Erik, and killing Solace isn't okay. She belongs to me.

Disclaimer:

Nothing in this chapter belongs to me accept for Solace.

Mon pere,

As we have not used this system of letters in nearly fifty years, forgive me if my time of readjustment is far longer than it should be. Your directions as to the location were clear enough, as you hoped they would be, and the target in question was a far easier find than I ever could have anticipated. Solace too has joined me, I suppose by your request, and the typing of this missive is what keeps me distracted from watching her as she becomes better acquainted with our target.

She intrigues me, this creature I know only as Solace, and I wonder how badly the cut of loneliness must sting when one is forever bound to change, to be only what any man she encounters desires her to be instead of giving that truest part of herself over to a lover. She is what she is though, and I suppose it is not for me to allow my mind to make of her anything more or less.

I suppose you know that I received a letter from Artimus last night, and I'll confess, father, that it puzzled and worried me greatly. Firstly, she said that her father compelled her to write, a thought I found most troubling, as I understood her father to be dead. Do you know anything about this?

She said that things had been terrible there and that Corin had tried to help her all she could. The way she spoke of my Rin though, it concerned me, truly, the way she spoke of most things concerned me. She seemed so cold… so distant, and I found myself thinking that she was attempting to tell me only what I wanted to hear, not the true nature of things. Thus, I ask you, what has happened there with my being away?

Solace approaches, and though I trust her well enough, I have not known her long enough to know if it is safe to allow her to look upon these letters. Give my love to mother and to Treble, and let them know that I am safe.

Gustav

…

The quiet click of the keys and the absence of his eyes told her he wasn't watching her. Of course, this wasn't anything new to her, as he never did when they worked together. If she thought about it, Dessler was the only man who didn't make sense to Solace, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

Men were what she did, simply that and nothing more. For nearly five years, since age eighteen, she'd studied them, watched the things that truly made them the weaker species as far as intelligence gathering was concerned, and learned to take a great pleasure in being the force that, both literally and information wise, brought them to their knees. That was why she'd been sought out by the best known forces of espionage throughout the world. She'd finally settled on the American CIA, feeling a sense of patriotism and love of country. Occasionally though, provided she could sneak it under the radar, she didn't hesitate to go out on her own, taking a free lance assignment or two. That was how she met Dessler, or l'Ange du Mort, as he was known in the underground.

He was one hell of an assassin, that much was certain, and she'd tried several times to steal him from whatever employer owned his soul in Paris, to bring him to the safety of her handler's care. He'd hear nothing of it though and soon grew to dangerous levels of irritation every time she mentioned it.

She saw him push back from the table slightly and close the lid of the laptop he'd been working with. He sat, staring at nothing for a moment, and she knew he let the music of the club wash over him. It was his way of putting aside whatever had been on that screen and coming back to the assignment and what he was. He beckoned her to him, and catlike and silent, she obeyed.

Strattling his lap, she rubbed greedily against him and purred with an invitation that was more than just simple necessity to cover in the S&M club in which they sat. His eyes silently warned her to be still and keep to the protocol, but she knew that if she did that no one would believe they were there and happily together. Seductress though she was, no man would make an advance toward her unless that was what she wished, and willing or not, Dessler was going to protect her from that.

"Did you get it kitten?" he asked her softly.

She nodded absently and made a gesture to the carefully hidden transmitter in the necklace at her throat.

"Yeah Gus, I got it. He'll be an easy kill for you. There's no reason you shouldn't be able to get it finished tonight and be home, or… wherever it is you're taking the information by tomorrow."

"Good girl," he purred and ran absent minded fingers through the ebony of her hair. She knew those fingers, knew they were meant for someone he wished she was, but for one of those gentle touches, she'd let him call her by whatever name he'd like, see whoever he wanted to see behind her eyes.

"Kitten, you're distracted," he warned her.

"Gus, would you stop it," she growled, "I hate it when you call me that."

"Fine," he acquiesced, "Let's get out of here."

She followed him out of the club, and for the rest of that night, she thought about how much she truly didn't hate when he called her that.