by CW Browning
Alina blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“Well, you know...did you just pass in the hall?” John shrugged. “Did you fight next to him? Were you more than friends?”
He watched as her eyes grew shuttered.
“We trained together,” Alina answered slowly. Her mind was working furiously, trying to come up with something close enough to the truth without actually being the truth. “And, later, we did fight together.”
“So you would have taken a bullet for him,” John stated.
Alina nodded.
“Of course. Were we more than friends? Of course.” Alina shrugged. “You become family at some point. But if you're asking if we slept together, that is none of your business.”
“I never asked that!” John protested with a grin.
“You implied it.” Alina stood up, indicating that the conversation was over. “I would appreciate it if you would not tell Stephanie. I'm sure Damon will get around to telling her if he thinks it's important. However, I understand if you can't keep secrets from your partner.”
John stood up and drained what was left of his beer in one swallow.
“She'll figure it out eventually,” he said, setting the bottle on the floor next to his chair.
He stepped closer and looked down at her.
Alina felt nothing but caution as she stared into his eyes. This was not the John she had left behind ten years ago. Angela was right. He had turned into one hell of a perceptive son of a bitch, and he was clearly looking for answers. She could only hope that he had not found the right ones.
John stared down at Lina. She was more beautiful now than he remembered and he was more than a little annoyed that he had been such an ass all those years ago. But who would have thought that things would turn out like this? She was something special. She always had been. But now she was more. He couldn't put his finger on it, but she was more of everything now. More beautiful, more mysterious, more experienced, and smarter. Smart enough to tell just enough of the truth. He knew she hadn't been completely honest with him. He just didn't know which part was the lie. John lifted his hand and was somewhat surprised when she allowed him to touch her. He slid the back of his fingers down her jawline slowly.
“Thanks for the beer,” he said softly. “And for the talk.”
“You're welcome.” Her voice was just as soft.
“Maybe next time you'll invite me in,” John murmured.
Alina took a deep breath and stepped back, the spell broken.
“Into my parlor?” she asked with a slight smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
John grinned and let his hand fall to his side. He moved past her to the steps and stepped off the deck.
“I'm not a fly,” he replied, starting toward the drive. He paused and turned back. “And you're not much of a spider,” he added, his voice carrying across the darkness to the invisible figure watching from the darkness. “A snake, maybe, but not a spider.”
Alina froze, her heart stopping for second before beginning to pound.
“A snake?” she shot back sharply.
John grinned and started backing up toward the drive.
“Spiders spin a web. They're pretty upfront with their intentions,” he informed her. “Snakes are sneaky little buggers. They don't like anyone to see them coming.”
Damon sucked in his breath. Even at this distance, he could see the tension in Alina's whole body. Viper looked like she was ready to strike. He watched as her hand flexed at her side briefly, and then her body suddenly relaxed again.
“Well, either way, I don't think you want to go willingly into their parlor,” Alina retorted.
Damon heard John's chuckle.
“I think I can take you,” John said confidently.
“We'll never know,” Alina shot back.
John just laughed and got on his bike. A second later the engine roared to life. He turned it around in the driveway and then, with a wave, he roared off.
Hawk was watching Viper. Long after John had gone, she was still standing on the deck. The tension was back in her body. She stood with her legs braced apart, staring out into the night. Damon lifted his binoculars once more. This time she wasn't looking in his direction. She was staring somewhere else. Somewhere not here, but in the past. Damon lowered the binoculars slowly and watched her thoughtfully for a moment. John had got to her. Somehow, something he had said, had gotten under her armor.
Damon had to force himself to stay in the tree and not go to her. She had to face whatever it was and deal with it. Herself. Damon felt a sinking feeling inside him as he realized that he wanted to help her and wanted to support her.
He wanted her.
The realization had been there all along, but Hawk nonetheless felt a sharp shock at admitting it to himself. He wanted Viper for himself. She was everything he wanted, and just enough of what would drive him crazy to make it interesting. Damon watched her, his mind reeling with all the difficulties in his situation and all the possible outcomes. It wasn't just a physical desire, which he had always known existed for her, but now it was emotional. He wanted to be part of her life. He wanted to make her laugh, and be there when she cried...if she cried. He wanted to protect her. And have her protect him. He groaned silently.
Oh Hawk, this is not a complication we need right now. Sex is one thing. What you're thinking is something completely different.
Damon sighed.
This was going to get complicated.
Alina stood on the deck long after the sound of John's motorcycle had faded away, her mind reeling. A snake.
The words kept coming back to mock her. When he had said them, her mind immediately grasped the fact that he couldn't possibly know that her codename was Viper. There was no way he could know. But her instinct had taken control for a split second. For that split second, tension had coursed through her body, tightening her muscles and causing her hands to flinch in reaction, ready to reach for her weapon in sheer instinctual reaction. But then, as quickly as the wave of shock had crashed over her, it ebbed away. Alina had flexed her hands, her vision clearing enough to see John's teasing laughter. She breathed now, long deep and calming breaths, staring into nowhere. His touch after all these years had shocked her into immobility. Then, following hard on that, a snake. Not very complimentary at any time to a lady, but then John was never known for his smoothness.
Alina stared blindly into the night. She had accepted who she had become a long time ago. She was good at what she did, and had come to terms with the fact that someone had to do it, so it might as well be her. However, there was no disputing that every once in a while, the grimness of what she actually did for a living would rise up and taunt her. It usually happened randomly; when she saw a wife and husband out for the day with their perfect children, living their perfect lives, blissfully unaware of what other people did to ensure their freedom to live their perfectness. ...A snake.
She earned the nickname Viper during that tenuous period between training and activation, when they were sent out on their own with loose over-sight and given an objective. It was that final test, the one that determined if they would be accepted into the “elite” of the Organization. Her “oversight” had been so impressed with the way she conducted her tracking that he started using the nickname in his reports. It was only natural that it would then become her codename. They all had them. Hawk received his in much the same way. There had never been any doubt that they would join the ranks of the elite. The only question had been how high up they would go. Viper completed her objective a few hours before Hawk. By the time he learned she had beat him once again, she was on a plane, alone, heading for the middle east. ...A snake.
At first she had been amused at the name Viper. She certainly didn't think of herself as a fast, poisonous snake. But as the months went by, and the jobs started piling up, she realized how accurate the assessment by that long-forgotten oversight agent had been. She did strike like a snake. She got in, got it do
ne, and got out as quickly as possible. Alina didn't give herself time to form attachments or get to know the targets. She just got the job done and moved on. As time went by, she began to realize that the speed was her coping mechanism. It didn't give her time to think about the morality or immorality of what she did. The speed with which she worked helped her distance herself from the job, and not let it consume her.
It also ensured that she remained alone, with no friends, family, or connections.
Except Hawk.
After they completed their training, she hadn't seen him for over a year. Then, unexpectedly, they came face to face in a street in Paris, of all places. Alina smiled slightly as she stared out into the night. Damon took her to dinner, to a little restaurant near the Louvre. Neither had mentioned why they were in Paris. They ate dinner and laughed over people they had known and places they had seen. And when dinner was over, they parted ways again. Alina had left Paris later that night, feeling strangely like she left behind a friend. She kept the linen napkin from the restaurant as a reminder that she was not completely alone, that there was someone else, a friend, who understood and was living the same life. It had helped with the loneliness that came with the existence that she lived.
Alina shook her head suddenly, her eyes coming back into focus. Her mind returned from the past and she sighed. She had no idea why she was suddenly so retrospective, or why she was reminded now, ironically, of how much she depended on Hawk for her sanity. The thoughts made her nervous. When this job was over, she would move on and so would Damon. This was just another interlude in their respective life paths. Alina tried not to dwell on why they kept running into each other. Sometimes things just were what they were, and that was all there was to it. However, as Alina turned to pick up the empty bottles and go back inside, she was honest enough to admit that it was getting harder and harder each time to say goodbye to Damon.
Alina paused at the sliding door and glanced back. Raven stretched, looking at her, and then suddenly lifted his wings, lifting up into the air and disappearing into the night. She watched him go silently, and then looked back out into the darkness. She wondered briefly if it would be possible to stay here, and travel freely, and not be questioned by Stephanie or Angela. She wondered, if Damon always knew where to find her, would she see him more frequently?
And she wondered how on earth she was going to say goodbye at the end of it all.
Chapter Eight
Stephanie stepped off the elevator at six in the morning, coffee in hand. After spending a restless night, she had headed to the office early to get a jump on the day. Sipping her coffee, she went down the hall towards her desk. The whole Solitto thing was bothering her. She knew it was bothering John as well, which was why she had been turning it over in her head last night. Unlike John, she wasn't so worried that someone had apparently tipped him off to their arrival. What bothered her was the fact that Frankie had seemed pretty unconcerned about who may have killed his employee. In her experience, the Family was pretty territorial over their own. If someone messed with one, they messed with them all. So why the unconcern? Did he know who did it? Did he already have plans in place to take care of it? Or had he already taken care of it? Were they going to have another body float up somewhere?
Stephanie came to a halt as she entered her nearly deserted department. One person was already there, slouched in his chair, fast asleep. Stephanie resumed her trek to her desk, staring at John as she went. He was never in much before eight. Yet, clearly he had been at his desk for quite some time. Paper coffee cups from the vending machine were littered across his desk, along with papers and file folders. His monitor was still up, the results of a search flashing silently. Stephanie’s curiosity got the better of her. She set her purse and coffee down silently and tip-toed over to peek at the search results. Her eyebrows soared into her forehead when she saw the name at the top of the search file. She went back to her desk silently and stood for a second, staring at the sleeping man. What on earth was he up to? There was only one way to find out.
Stephanie dropped her keys onto her desk with a loud clatter and John awoke with a violent start, swinging around to peer over at her.
“Morning, Sunshine!” Stephanie said cheerfully. “What are you doing here, so bright and early?”
“I was following up on something.” John locked his monitor quickly, obscuring the search results from her view. “I couldn't sleep.”
“Uh-oh.” Stephanie sat down and reached for her coffee. “What's her name? Wait....I don't want to know. It's probably Bambi, or something equally obnoxious.”
John yawned widely and grinned.
“Why so hostile?” he asked innocently. He yawned again and started fishing around on his desk, looking for something. “What time is it, anyway?”
“Just past six.”
Stephanie sipped her coffee and reached over to turn on her computer.
“Good God.” John stood up and stretched. “I'm going to run out for coffee. Do you want some?”
“Got some.” Stephanie held up her cup. John nodded and turned back to his desk for some more aimless shuffling. Stephanie watched as he searched through the mess. “What are you looking for?” she finally asked.
“My phone,” John muttered, still searching.
“On the floor,” Steph told him.
John straightened up and looked at her. She motioned to the floor at the side of his desk, where his smartphone was laying on the floor, face down. He picked it up with a grin.
“Thanks.” He headed for the elevators. “See you in a few minutes.”
Stephanie nodded, her eyes on her monitor. She went about her morning routine until the she heard the elevator doors ding. She waited until she heard them close and peeked around. He was gone.
Without hesitating, Stephanie got up and went over to John's desk. She looked at the chaos covering his desk and took mental note of where everything was before she started opening up file folders. Several were open case files on various Solitto members, past and present. There were a few cold case files. One that had been pushed toward the back of the desk, near the monitor, caught her eye. It was a thicker file on their terrorist. Stephanie picked it up, careful not to disturb anything. John often appeared careless, but he rarely missed anything. She wouldn't put it past him to have some kind of order in all this chaos. The file was a new addition to the desk. It didn't have the same wear marks and coffee drops that the others had. If Stephanie had to hazard a guess, the file had probably been pushed back to protect it from damage. Stephanie glanced at her watch and flipped the thick file open, standing in front of John's desk. She had worked with him long enough to know exactly how long it took him to go to the corner coffee shop, flirt with the girls behind the counter, get his coffee, and come back. She had roughly ten minutes.
Stephanie had read the file on Johann already, but John was obviously looking for something. She glanced through the file quickly, her eyes scanning the pages. The laundry list of terrorist acts was substantial, but nothing they didn't already know, and she wondered why on earth John had pulled the file again last night. What was he thinking? She continued reading, scanning each page for some sort of keyword or phrase that would give her a clue as to what had led John to the file. Pictures of exploded store fronts and houses, dead women and children from school attacks, any number of office buildings and shopping areas with high body counts were packed into the file. She had felt sick the first time she had read through the file, but she flipped through all the pictures again, trying to see what John was looking for last night. Stephanie finally gave up and replaced the file where she had found it. She went back to her desk thoughtfully and had just sat down when the elevator doors dinged. John appeared next to her a minute later and set a white bag on her desk.
“Blueberry muffin,” he said, heading back to his desk.
Stephanie opened the bag and peeked inside.
“Thank you!” she said, pulling it out.
“No
problem.”
John grabbed the back of his chair with one hand and swung it over next to her desk. He settled himself facing her and sipped his coffee. Stephanie tore off a piece of the muffin and popped it into her mouth.
“I have a question to ask you,” John said after a moment.
Stephanie nodded, her mouth full of warm muffin. She opened her email and scanned it quickly before turning her full attention to John. The office was still empty and she knew this was the best time to find out what was on his mind.
“Do you wonder what Alina has been doing the past ten years?” John asked her, his blue eyes meeting hers.
Stephanie sat back in her chair and picked up her coffee cup.
“Not really,” she answered slowly. “She was in military intelligence. I would prefer not to think about what she has been doing for the past ten years. It would probably turn my hair gray.”
“Your hair is already turning gray,” John said with a grin.
Stephanie glared at him.
“From working with you,” she shot back. “The way I look at it, if Alina wants to talk about where she's been and what she's been doing, then she will. Otherwise, I am just her old friend and I love her for who she is, no questions asked,” Stephanie continued. “Why?”
“I went and saw her the other night,” John said slowly.
Stephanie's eyebrows went up and her lips twitched.
“Really?” she drawled. “And how did that go?”
John grinned.
“I don't have any broken bones or new stitches,” he retorted. “I thought we had to get some things out of the way and clear the air, so to speak.”
Stephanie considered John thoughtfully. He was right, of course. The past had to be resolved between the two of them. There was never any question about that. Neither of them had ever truly closed the door on the mess that their relationship had become. However, Stephanie was somewhat surprised that John had recognized that fact.
“That was very mature of you, John,” she commended him warmly. “You two needed closure. Did you work it all out?”
