Firestarter
Show: Alias
Rating: R/NC-17
Pairing: Sarkney/
Setting: AUish
Summary: “It’s all pretend, isn’t it?”
Banner by Nu, Illustrations by Nimbolina
*Written for the Sarkney Smut Challenge at sd-1.net, FIRST PLACE WINNER
*Title from the song “Firestarter” by Prodigy
You once told me that love was a kind of warfare. I believed you. I wanted to justify each scar I had on my body, each bruise on my face, each tear I had shed. I wanted everything to mean something. Danny’s death and Francie’s, Will, losing my mother and Vaughn…they were not meaningless. Each was a stepping stone. Each was a casualty in this on-going battle, this long war.
Because if one had to fight a war, one had to accept that there were going to be victims.
You told me that.
**
You approached me years ago. I didn’t know your name back then. I didn’t know you.
You said hello and sat yourself down across from me.
I tried to figure out who you were. Were you in my chemistry class? Did you live in my dorm? Were you a friend of Francie’s?
You looked at my library books with feigned interest. Shakespeare.
“Personally, I prefer Marlowe,” you said.
I kept my head lowered, pretending to be reading my notes, but I still smiled.
You noticed.
And then I noticed.
The way your blue eyes crinkled at the corners as you smiled back. The way your dimples indented your cheeks. The stray blonde hair peeking out from underneath your knit cap.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but do I know you?”
“I’m here to make you an offer,
You always went straight to the point. No messing around for you.
“How do you my name?” I asked.
You kept that smile on your face. I began to wonder about your age. You looked no more than eighteen—maybe you were a freshman trying to hit on an upperclassman. In the library. Then again, maybe not.
You ignored my question and asked, “Do you ever feel like this life isn’t big enough for you?”
I narrowed my eyes in confusion.
You handed me a small business card. There was a phone number on it.
“If you do,” you got up to leave, “then call this number.”
I kept your card for days, weeks, months.
I never called.
It wasn’t until I joined SD-6 that I realized I had called the wrong people back.
**
I found your card last week. Tucked inside Dr. Faustus.
I stared at the ten digits. My fingers began to itch.
Seconds later, I dialed your number.
You picked up on the first ring.
**
You met me at the festival downtown. It was easy to get lost in the crowds, but somehow you saw me right away.
I was standing in front of a grocer’s booth surrounded by fresh fruit and vegetables. I picked up an orange. For breakfast tomorrow, I thought.
“The crate, please.” It was you.
You gave the grocer a hundred dollar bill and picked up the wooden crate filled with oranges. You didn’t wait for your change.
My eyes went wide. “What are you doing?”
“You can never get enough vitamin C.” You started to walk away with the oranges.
I followed you.
**
You placed the crate of oranges in between us. You offered me one and started to peel one for yourself.
We looked out to the ocean. The boardwalk was quiet tonight.
I turned to your side of the bench. Your face was half in light, half in shadows.
“I was surprised that number was still working,” I said.
“I was surprised you called,” you said.
I watched you peel away the waxy layer of orange. “Were you?”
You didn’t look at me. “No.” You successfully split the orange in half and took out a slice. The juices ran through your fingers, down your hands. You were careful not to get any on your suit. You glanced at the orange in my hand. Still whole. You raised your piece of orange to me.
To you I always came first. I understood that much too late.
I placed the slice inside my mouth. My tongue became alive with the taste of citrus.
“Aren’t you even going to ask me?” I said.
You were slowly chewing, letting the orange flavor linger.
“Ask you what?” you said.
“Why I called.”
“I know why you called,
“You do?”
You gave me another slice of your orange.
“You’re ready to move on from this life.” You looked at me as if you could see inside me. Maybe you could. “You’re ready to move on to a bigger one.”
“Do you think I’m ready?” I asked.
“You were ready the day I gave you that card.” You popped another slice into your mouth. “You just didn’t know it yet.”
“And now I do?”
You didn’t answer me. I took your silence as a yes.
A homeless man wandered over to us with an extended hand. “May I have one?” He gestured to the crate of oranges.
“It’s all yours,” you said.
The man’s face broke into a broad smile.
And for the first time, I saw you make someone truly happy.
We left him alone with the oranges.
We walked down the beach and you didn’t hesitate to take my hand. Our sticky fingers interlaced.
**
You told me my mother was alive and fine. I asked to see her.
“No,” you said.
“No?”
“Not yet.”
You made me hopeful and I never forgave you for that.
**
We created a plan.
There were no maps, no layouts, no brainstorming.
It was easy actually.
One thing. One simple thing.
I had to die.
**
We decided on fire.
If I could do it once, I could do it twice.
Vaughn and I were going to
Vaughn and I completed our mission. We ran out of the warehouse before the alarms could activate. He made it out. I made sure of it.
By the time Vaughn turned around and saw that I was missing, it would have been too late. He would have been blasted into the air as the warehouse exploded. And when he got over the initial shock of the explosion, he would have been able to do nothing but watch the place burn. With me inside.
But the truth was I was running away from him. I could smell the heavy smoke drifting in the air. The heat was catching up to me as I ran in the forest. I ran and ran and ran and ran and ran…my legs started to cramp and my knees were ready to give out. I kept going though, running blindly in the dark.
You caught me mid-stride. Breathless I locked eyes with you. I felt your fingers on my forehead, tracing the beads of perspiration. You dropped your hand and turned to lead the way.
We walked out of the forest. The smell of smoke fading with each step.
**
You decided to give me a test.
“Not a test of stamina,” you said. “I trust that completely.” You placed a gun in my hand. “It’s your loyalty that I don’t trust.”
**
I was a ghost.
Not a guardian angel, but a ghost.
I stood next to Vaughn and Lauren as they slept in bed. You stood on the other side. You were a living ghost.
I looked over at you. Your eyes instructed me on my next move. I raised my gun, my finger poised on the trigger.
“Do it,” you whispered, but your mouth didn’t move. I could feel your hot breath against my skin, urging me to fire the gun. “Do it.”
A noise came from the living room. Vaughn and Lauren stirred in their bed, but neither opened their eyes.
You motioned for me to be quiet as you left the bedroom to investigate the noise.
I remained in place. My hand still gripping the gun, my eyes trained on Vaughn and Lauren. I took in a deep breath and waited for you to return.
The moment I saw your dark figure enter the room again, I fired the gun. The silencer may have held back the sound of the gun fire, but it did not hold back the sound of Vaughn and Lauren gasping for air as the bullets struck their hearts. I heard another gasp. I realized it had come from me.
When I lowered my gun, I felt you come up behind me. Our eyes watched the Vaughn’s white sheets turn crimson. The stain grew. A puddle gathered at our feet. I half-turned to you and I saw a smile flicker on your face. You placed your hands on my hips and lowered your face into the crook of my neck. This time I could feel your hot breath. It was hotter than I had imagined. You took a step backwards and I stumbled with you. We melted into the shadows.
**
I was running out of lives.
I was going on my fourth one.
There was the Sydney Bristow who was a graduate student by day and a spy by night, who refused to tell anyone her middle name was Aunda, who used vanilla ice cream as a chaser when drinking tequila, who preferred Joe Perry over Steven Tyler.
There was Julia Thorne, who had blonde hair, who fucked Simon Walker, who worked for the Covenant.
There was the Sydney Bristow who rose from the ashes, who woke up in Wonderland with her friends gone, her heart broken, her memories erased.
Now here I was. Neither Sydney nor Julia.
But alive.
**
The first time I let you inside me, it was painful.
You knew I was broken, damaged, and yet you still managed to bend me in your direction, twist me, fray me.
You wanted me to be as dark as you were. As broken. As heartless.
I wanted it too.
Your hands, hands that killed, hands that peeled oranges, stroked my skin. With each caress, I trembled. I wanted more. I wanted it. I wanted you.
You murmured in my ear. Incoherent whispers and soft sighs. You made no promises though. I would have questioned you if you had.
My eyes became heavy with desire. You pushed me back onto the bed, onto the cool sheets (crimsonreddripdripdripgasp) and you fell over me. I tore at your clothes, eager to get to flesh. You did the same to me.
You slid your hand between my thighs. You kissed me, forcing your tongue inside my mouth. Our teeth clanged. I moaned against your lips as you pushed deeper between my legs. Your fingers, fingers that pulled triggers, fingers that traced my face, moved in and out of me. Teasing me. Another test perhaps.
Well, I had my own test for you. I pushed you back and reversed our positions. I climbed over you. My dark hair tumbled across your chest as I left marks there with my mouth, claming every single inch of your body. A small moan escaped from your lips and I smiled to myself. Your hands grabbed my hair, clutching tightly, knowing what was to come as my mouth moved lower and lower. I ran my tongue along your inner thighs and I took you in my mouth. My head bobbed up and down and you met me with each movement. You were close. So close.
“Enough!” You grabbed my head, hands full of hair, and forced my lips off you. Our eyes met. It was like a wildfire. Untamable. Merciless. Destruction. Your hands let go of me. You looked like you wanted to apologize. You didn’t. I would have questioned you if you had.
I understood what this was about. And since we were both broken, damaged, heartless, I let you have your way. Neither one of us would be the winner or loser regardless.
I rolled over to my back and reached for you. You wrapped your arms around me and gathered yourself in between my spread legs. You plunged inside me. You were not gentle. I would have questioned you if you had been. Over and over you thrust into me.
Over and over I screamed out your name.
**
Somewhere in
“Love is a mutual understanding between two people to manipulate each other,” you said.
“Where did you hear that from?” I asked.
“A fortune cookie.” You smirked.
**
You were careless on a mission. A huge gash on the side of your stomach.
You didn’t thank me when I shot the man who sliced you.
After I tended to your wound, you clasped onto my hand. It startled me.
“Do you believe there’s life after death,
“Well, considering that I’m supposed to be dead,” I said, “I think so.”
You didn’t laugh at my joke.
I knelt down beside you in the chair. “Do you?”
You shrugged. “I don’t know. I asked you because I wanted to know.”
Something inside me softened. Knowing that you feared something. Knowing that you were mortal.
**
You came to me softly. Light footsteps on the tiled bathroom floor.
I wiped the steam off the mirror and caught your reflection. It was blurry and before I could turn to you, you had me pressed against the glass. You grabbed a hold of my wet hair and spread my legs. Your hands reached for my breasts and you entered me from behind. We came at the same time. Our bodies shook, the mirror rattled.
The glass fogged up once more from our heavy breathing.
**
I lost track of time with you. I did not know what month we were in, what day it was, what hour. Time was infinite.
You made time stop for me once though.
“I think I love you,” you said.
My breath caught in my throat.
“You think or you know?” I said carefully.
You took a moment to reply. “I do.”
**
We still fought.
Once you called me selfish and accused me of always taking.
“I’ve given you everything!” I argued.
“What if that’s not enough?” you said.
“That’s all I can give you.”
You crept closer to me. “There’s still one thing I don’t have.” Your finger moved down my neck and rested on my chest, over my beating heart.
I closed my eyes.
You were right.
**
You divulged a secret to me one time while we were lying in bed.
“I wanted to be dancer when I was a child,” you said.
I giggled. “A dancer?”
“I saw ‘The Nutcracker’ and I immediately wanted to be the Prince.”
“But you are a prince,” I said, thinking of your Romanov blood.
You brushed your lips against my hair and I felt you smiling there.
“Only because you kissed me,” you said.
I pressed my forehead against yours. “If it makes you feel any better, my middle name is Aunda.”
You let out a laugh. I hadn’t expected it to be so loud.
“Shut up.” I pushed myself away from you.
You pulled me back. “It’s okay. I’ll tell you my middle name.”
“What is it?”
“Aleksei.”
“Aleksei,” I echoed.
**
We could have easily started over our lives as Aunda and Aleksei, but for whatever reason, we remained
I think it was meant to be that way.
**
We had to meet with a contact in a shopping center in
I stepped into the clothing store and spotted the woman. She was a plain-looking woman with long stringy dark hair and glasses. Her clothes were unkempt. I walked over to her and told her about the sale on the second level of the shopping center. She told me she had some clothes she had to try on before she checked out the other store.
I went with her to the dressing room. I stood outside the curtain as she tried on the dresses she had taken with her.
“The man you’re looking for is no longer in
“Where is he?”
The curtain swayed with her movements. I listened to her zip and unzip, the sliding of garment over skin.
“He will be in
“What is he doing in
“Returning to his wife.”
The curtain opened and I was taken aback at the woman’s transformation. The black dress clung to every curve of her body. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail showing off her flawless skin and high cheekbones. Her glasses were gone; her brown eyes wide and intense. She moved to the three-way mirror to admire herself. She smiled, her full lips revealing straight white teeth. She glanced at the price tag hanging from the side of the dress. Swiftly, she removed it with a tug.
“If you don’t mind, I have to be on my way,” she said. “I have a dinner date to get to.”
I nodded and handed her her payment.
She tucked the check into the front of her dress, safely secured in between her breasts. “Au revoir.”
She walked out of the store with a new dress and check for $5,000.
**
I found you in the middle of the shopping center. You were watching the fish swim in the fountain.
I stood next to you, my fingers gently grasping yours.
You didn’t say anything. You didn’t ask about the woman. You didn’t ask about the man we needed to find.
We were just silent. A rare moment. A moment we didn’t want to disrupt.
**
We found the man’s home in
There were only a handful of guards awaiting us. I watched you move with grace, like a cat scaling a wall, agile and alert. I watched your hands move in synchronization: fist to face, fist to stomach, fist to chest. Your feet were just as in tune: kicking, tripping, hitting. You were dancing in your own way. Listening to your own rhythm. Playing in your own musical suite.
You didn’t become a dancer, but you became the next most graceful thing.
A killer.
**
We finished tying the husband and wife to their seats. The man, Vitale, looked up at us with a bloody lip and a swollen eye. His silk pajamas ruined with wrinkles and a rip. His wife was gagged. Her eyes red from crying.
“Who are you?” Vitale asked.
You took off the black ski mask so you could speak more freely. “We’ll be asking the questions, Mr. Vitale.”
Vitale glanced at me. I kept my mask on. It made me feel safe.
“I believe you have the answer to a problem we are having,” you said to him.
He looked back at you.
“We’re making a serum,” you said, “and we’re missing the final ingredient.”
“You have the wrong man,” Vitale said.
“Then, who’s the right man?” you asked.
Vitale was quick to tell us the name.
You gave him a courteous smile and pulled out your gun.
Vitale’s wife screamed behind her gag.
“I told you what you needed to know!” Vitale was beginning to panic. “Please do not harm us!”
He had just sealed his fate. You liked it when people begged for their lives.
I didn’t blink as you pulled the trigger.
We left their bodies strapped to the chairs in the cellar.
**
From
Unlike Vitale, Spencer was a single man. A playboy with an endless history of hookers and escorts.
You told me it was my turn to play.
**
You let me sleep with another man once.
I was hurt that you wanted to share me.
“Things won’t change between us,” you said.
But things will change.
**
Spencer was in his early-thirties. He was blonde with fair skin and blue eyes. In the dark club, the smoky air made him look like another man. But it was all an illusion.
Tonight I wore no wig. Only a tight leather dress. You picked it out because you knew it would entice him. High stiletto heels. Dark red lipstick.
Your voice cackled in my ear. “Have you acquired a visual?”
I moved a strand of hair over my right ear to hide the earpiece. “Yes.”
I heard you moving around in the surveillance van that was parked down the block. I wished you were with me. I wished I didn’t have to do this.
You never claimed to grant wishes.
Spencer turned from the bar and scanned the club. His eyes connected with mine. I raised my glass and he did the same to me. I took that as an invitation and glided over the dance floor to him.
“Good evening,” he said.
His voice was sweet. I knew better than to believe his sugary tone. After all, this was an illusion.
He continued with his mission to win me over. “You are a very beautiful woman.”
I gulped down the rest of my drink and grabbed his hand. “I charge five hundred dollars for the night.”
He grinned. “Let me show my hotel room.”
**
I was fortunate that Spencer was not a fat old man. He was built with lean arms and a strong washboard stomach.
He took a hold of my arms and tossed me on the bed. In any other circumstance, I would have retaliated with my fist. This time I played the docile escort. I planted a pout on my lips and curled my legs underneath me. I beckoned him to me with my index finger.
There was a glint in his eyes. I found it strangely familiar.
He stripped out of his clothing and proceeded to undress me. His hands were just as sweet as his voice. I began to wonder if this was really an illusion. Maybe the rough hands I had become accustomed to were the illusion.
I pushed him onto his back once I was naked. My hands began to shake, not because I was filled with wanting or needing, but because I was afraid.
“What are you waiting for?” Spencer asked.
I lowered my eyes.
I am not a whore.
“Come on,
Your voice was heavy and I pictured you underneath me. Naked. Ready. Lost in your ecstasy.
“Come for me, darling, Sydney.” I heard you again in the van. I pictured your hand inside the front of your pants. Pulling. Stroking yourself. And just as I was imagining you, you were imagining me.
I sank into Spencer and he grabbed my hips as I grinded my hips against him. I began to moan.
“Harder,
I closed my eyes and rocked my hips slowly. Spencer…no…you… you tightened your grip on my hips.
I heard you whispering in my ear. “
It only quickened my pace. I rocked back and forth. I licked my lips, knowing I was close to coming. I wanted you now. I needed you now.
Your comet exploded before my eyes. A blinding white light. I opened my eyes gasping for air.
You groaned with pleasure through the earpiece and a small smile spread across my face. We both got what we wanted.
I looked down at Spencer. He was close to coming. I pulled out of him just as he came. The gooey white liquid spilled onto the sheets.
“Oh, god, that was amazing,” he said.
“You were amazing.” I could hear you smirk.
Spencer looked up to the ceiling, running his hands through his drenched hair.
I moved in closer to him. “May I kiss you?”
He attacked my mouth, practically gnawing me. He pulled away suddenly and I sat back, another smile ready to form on my lips.
He wiped at the dark lipstick that stained his mouth. His eyes narrowed. “You bitch.” And then he fell back onto the pillows, the poison already running its course through his blood system.
I put my dress back on and took out the vile I had hidden in my small handbag. I put on the plastic gloves and collected Spencer’s semen, depositing it inside the glass vile.
“
“Yes, dear,” I said smiling.
“Hurry it up, will you?”
“I’m on my way.” I didn’t bother to look back at Tom Spencer’s naked body sprawled on top of the bed.
**
I felt the hot water pour over my sensitive skin. I placed my hands on the tiles in front of me in the shower. I dipped my head back and opened my mouth, catching the water inside. You placed your mouth over mine. I drank you in. I turned to face you. Beads of water dripped down your stoic face. I ran my tongue down each of one of them.
You reached behind me and shut off the shower. You pushed me against the wall. I felt the shower handle jab into my back. You wrapped my legs around you and you filled me quickly. There was a sense of urgency to it. After Spencer, you wanted to reclaim me. Remind me that it was you who owned me. Like I could forget.
Our wet bodies moved against each other. Up and down. Faster then slower.
I cried out your name and cradled my face into your damp neck. But you weren’t done. You thrust into me a few more times before you were satisfied. My wobbly legs found the ground again.
You covered my face with feathered kisses. A soft contrast to what had just occurred.
“Feel better?” you asked.
I nodded, ready to put this night behind me.
**
The sperm from Tom Spencer was injected into the green liquid. You and I watched the color change to a bright red.
“Now what?” I asked.
You picked up the test tube. “We wait.”
**
I waited with you. I didn’t ask for how long or for what reason. I just waited. With you.
One night I crawled onto your lap. I hiked up my pleated short skirt and straddled you. I leaned my head to your ear and whispered, “Sometimes I wish I had never met you.” You stiffened and I continued. “Because then I could go to sleep at night not knowing there was someone like you out there.”
You ran your fingers through my hair. Your body seemed to relax.
“Where did you hear that from?” you asked.
I smiled next to your ear. “A fortune cookie.”
“Uh-huh.” Your hands moved down to my legs, under my skirt.
I turned my head to look at you. My mouth hovered over yours. Your breath was already hot and your eyes glazed over with intensity. I placed my lips on the corner of your mouth, not yet kissing you, but murmuring your name over and over.
Your fingers took a hold of my panties and they were slowly moving them down my legs. I arched my back so you could pull them to my knees. I got on my feet and allowed the black panties to fall down my legs. I stepped out of them and walked back to you on the couch. You stood up instead and met me face to face. I waited for you to undress me. You did not. You grabbed my hands and wrapped them around my back. You got down on the floor, still holding my hands behind my back, and I had no choice but to imitate your actions.
On the floor, you guided me onto my back. You let go of my hands and pushed my legs up, spreading them until you had enough room. Before I even felt your mouth on my thighs, I was already out of breath. My skin prickled from the strands of your hair brushing against my legs. My fingers curled into the beige carpet as your tongue tasted me. My hips began to thrash uncontrollably and you kept up with each my shudders: a perfect harmony.
I let out a low moan and finally became still. You pushed my legs higher until my skirt fell towards my stomach. I could see you now. You could see me now. I was still panting and you were still smiling. A smug expression on your face.
You rolled back into a crouching position, unbuckling your belt and taking off your pants. When you were naked from the waist down, you returned to me. You spread my legs again and drove into me. My skirt began to ride up as we moved on the carpet. Your dress shirt rubbed against my perspiration-soaked tank top. Your buttons burned holes through the thin cotton material.
You lowered your head to my chest, taking a hold of an erect nipple in between your teeth. Your hand moved to my other breast, rolling the nipple between your thumb and forefinger.
As you buried yourself in my breasts, I buried myself in you. I thought it would make a lovely grave.
I moaned, pulling you away from my tank top. You growled and narrowed your eyes. I steered your face to mine and kissed you. I could still taste myself on your lips.
You pushed harder into me. My legs tightened around your waist, refusing to let go until I was fulfilled. I shut my eyes. Every part of my body was throbbing. Both of our bodies were humming with electricity. The feeling of you inside me was like fuel, the key to igniting a spark.
One more push and I was over the edge. My eyes flew open, wide and awed. I watched you kiss me. I slowly removed my legs from around you. You laid your head on my heaving chest.
I blinked and felt moisture. I blinked again and the wetness was still there. I realized that I was crying.
You looked up at me, mystified at my tears. “Why are you crying?”
“Because you finally have what you want.” I took your hand and placed it over my rapidly-beating heart. I let your hand stay there. I put my hand on your face, my thumb caressing your eyelashes. “I love you.”
Your eyes fluttered with my touch and when they opened, they radiated warmness. You smoothed down my disheveled skirt until I was covered up again. You took me in your arms and we fell asleep on the carpeted floor.
**
Sleeping next to you was never peaceful. My nightmares only grew with each passing day I spent with you.
Once I had a dream that I was attending a masquerade party at Weiss’s apartment. Everyone had a mask on. I didn’t have one on, and when I looked across the room, I saw that you didn’t have one either. You were conversing with my father and Weiss. You each were holding glasses filled with some kind of alcohol. I walked up to the three of you.
“Hi, Dad,” I said.
But he did not hear me.
“Weiss?” I turned to my friend.
But he did not hear me.
I looked at you. “
You heard me.
“Step away,
“Do what?”
A gun appeared in your hand and you fired it at my father and Weiss. You fired it at everyone attending the party. And then, there was no one left except us.
“Why did you do that?” I stared at the dead bodies littering the floor. The spilled alcohol from their fallen glasses turned dark and sticky. “Why?”
And you said, “Because you asked me to.”
I realized I had not let go of your hand.
I realized I was standing in blood.
When I woke up, covered in sweat, eyes suddenly focusing to the darkness in the room, I felt you next to me. Your breathing was soft and your face filled with temporary serenity. Your hand moved to my side of the bed and I moved closer to you so you would not awaken thinking that I had gone. Your hand brushed my arm; you smiled faintly in your sleep.
**
I asked you once if you knew how to play the piano.
You were amused with my question. I could tell by the way your eyes shifted colors: from midnight blue to cloudless skies.
“I always wanted to learn when I little,” I said. “My father thought lessons were too expensive.”
“Your mother could have taught you,” you said. “She knew.”
“She left me before she could.” I looked at him cautiously. “Did she teach you?”
“She did.”
There was a piano in the house we were staying in. I wondered why you had never played for me before.
You took a seat on the piano bench and pulled me onto your lap.
“You keep your hands relaxed,” you placed my hands over the piano keys, “but you curl them like this, like they’re ready for the next note,” your hands lingered over mine, “and then you just go.”
I watched your hands move effortlessly up and down the piano. It was a slow and haunting tune. I felt like I was inside a music box. I was the ballerina in the middle, watching myself in the mirror spinning and spinning and spinning…
**
It was raining the day you made me choose.
We were sitting on the floor next to the fireplace in a
house in
“What will you do for me, Sydney?” you asked.
I tilted my head. “What are you asking me to do?”
“Kill Irina.”
I turned around to look at you. “You want me to kill my mother?”
You gave me a simple nod.
This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? To kill my mother. That’s why you made me kill Vaughn, to prove that I could kill someone I loved.
“Why?” I asked.
“She no longer cares for me.” Your lip curled with anger. “I gave her my entire life and she left me to rot in CIA custody.” You looked me in the eye. “She no longer cares for you either.”
I could feel you pulling my strings, the puppet master with his puppet, but still, I did not cut the strings.
I put my hands on your legs. “Do you know where she is?”
You nodded again.
I did not break eye contact with you. I wanted to show you how serious I was. “I’ve been meaning to pay Irina a visit.”
You smiled before leaning forward to kiss me. You pulled away just slightly and asked, “Do you love me?”
“Yes,” I placed my lips on yours, “I love you.”
We made love next to the fire. Funny how I had not grown tired of your body.
**
I watched you with the knife. I always preferred you with a knife in your hand rather than a gun. You always argued that a knife was too personal, too intimate. Which was why you had the knife pressed against my neck.
I dared not to blink. You took it as a sign of encouragement and continued to press the blade to my skin. I felt the coldness of the steel, the coldness from your naked body on top of mine. I shifted in the bed, but I did not move far. My wrists and ankles were already getting sore from the rope you used to tie me to the bedposts.
“So, you do like it kinky.” You winked and pulled the knife away from my neck. “It’s a good thing you’re tied down.”
I smirked. “Because you know I’ll kick you in the balls?”
You laughed. “Now, we both wouldn’t want that now, would we?” You lowered your body against mine. I felt your erection on my thigh. “Would we?”
“Maybe not,” I said breathlessly.
You placed the knife on the nightstand and reached for the oranges you had cut in half earlier. You took one in your hand and squeezed it over my stomach. Goosebumps formed on my skin as the cool juices slid down between my thighs. You followed their trail with your tongue.
My hands clenched in their restraints. My legs began to twitch with each stroke of your tongue. I resisted to the urge to shut my eyes. I focused on your head in between my legs. Your golden hairs brushing against my soft skin. Your hands planted inside my thighs. I felt a scream growing in my throat. It rumbled like thunder and when I opened my mouth, it blasted the silence.
You looked up at me with arrogance. You licked your lips, and I was sure you could taste my scent mixed in with the citrus.
“Kiss me,” I said because I wanted to taste it too.
You moved your tongue inside my mouth. You tasted divine.
You pulled away to squeeze another orange over my breasts. Again, your tongue went to work. Your teeth grazed my nipples, your mouth gently sucking.
I arched my back and moaned as you moved to the next breast. You slipped your hand back in between my legs. I was still wet, still ready for you.
I glanced at the nightstand and frowned. There were no oranges left. I knew you had done that on purpose. You would not allow me the opportunity to render you powerless.
You untied me from the bed. Immediately I embraced you, kissing your face, your neck. You grabbed my lower back and pushed into me. I let out a low moan as our movements began synchronized. We moved like a guitar bass line: slow, heavy, deliberate.
Your hands went into my hair and pulled my head back. I smiled at the tug. It made you pull even harder.
“
And you did.
“Faster.”
And you did.
harderfasterharderfasterharderfaster…
And you did.
We came at the same time. You shouted my name and collapsed on my chest. You were still inside me and I wrapped my legs around you to keep you there.
“
I ran my fingers through your damp hair. You looked up at me. Clear blue eyes examined me. I moved my fingers down to your flushed face.
“
**
You loved me right away, but you did not grow to trust me until the night I let you inside my heart. I kept you locked there. You held me prisoner as well inside your own heart-shaped box.
You told me to prepare for a trip.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To see Irina.”
I searched for my suitcase, but you stopped me.
“This is all you will need.” You handed me a gun.
**
My mother was hiding in
“How did you find her?” I asked.
“When I want something,” you took my hand into yours, “I usually get it.”
“And the serum? Does my mother want it?”
“She might.”
“Will you give it to her?”
“I might.”
“After you give it to her,” I paused, “I pull the trigger?”
You noticed the question mark at the end of my sentence.
“After you give it to her,” I tightened my hold on your hand, “I pull the trigger.”
You squeezed my hand back.
**
The night before we were to meet with my mother, you told me that love was a kind of warfare. Always fighting. Always struggling.
“But you know what makes us different?” You scraped your fingers on my arm. “What makes us stand out among all the other lovers in this world?”
I turned my head to look at you. Your face was covered in my hair. I felt you breathing next to my neck. My nose swept over yours. Your mouth opened over mine.
“War always has victims.” Your lips lightly brushed against mine. “And we are not victims.”
My tongue flicked out, creeping its way inside your mouth. You pushed me back into the pillows, your body scaling on top of me. I lowered my hand inside the front of your boxers. You were ready for me.
I didn’t waste any time. I pulled down your boxers and spread my legs for you. Our bodies filled with haste. We rocked back and forth against each other, finding our rhythm again. It didn’t take long for us to be in tune: a perfect unison of flesh on flesh.
When we came, you started to pull away. I held you back.
“No.” My lips quivered. “Don’t leave me yet.”
And for the second time, I cried in front of you.
Your face filled with confusion, and for the second time, you asked me, “Why are you crying?”
You still didn’t understand. Why people cried.
You kissed me and whispered, “I love you.” You wiped away a teardrop.
Another tear replaced the one you erased.
You rested your forehead against mine and closed your eyes. “I love you so much.”
I wrapped my arms around you, believing you.
You fell asleep in my embrace. I did not sleep that night. Instead, I memorized every inch of your body with my hands and eyes.
I kissed you in your sleep. “I love you.”
**
The warehouse was in
You held the briefcase with the serum inside. I watched you from the dark.
My mother was late. She was never late.
You started to pace back and forth. I could tell you were getting restless.
Suddenly, gunfire erupted from outside.
Your eyes became alert. Your hands reached for the gun in your holster. You became dangerous.
“
You motioned for me to stay calm.
“This is the Romanian police!” Outside, a man’s voice came over a megaphone. “The building has been secured! You have nowhere to go!”
“
But you didn’t listen to me. Your anger was taking you over.
“Irina.” You shook your head, disgusted. “She betrayed me again.”
“It wasn’t my mother,” I said.
Your head snapped back. You looked at me with blue flames.
I raised my gun towards you. “Put down your gun,
Your eyes narrowed, wondering if I was serious. You did not let go of your gun.
“Drop your weapon,” I said. I did not want you to see how badly I was shaking. “NOW!”
A glimmer of hurt flashed on your face, but you quickly recovered with a smirk. “So, it seems like you had your own agenda with me.”
You began to circle me. I followed with my gun still aimed at you.
“I told you love was about manipulation.” You cocked your
head. “You do love me, don’t you,
“Shut up.”
You laughed. You always seemed to laugh at the most inappropriate moments.
“I know you, Sydney, darling.” You stopped walking and leaned forward to me. “I’ve tasted you. I know you from the inside out.”
“It wasn’t real,” I said.
“Everything was a lie?”
“Everything,” I lied.
You lowered your eyes. “The truth finally comes out.” You stretched out your arms and looked back at me. “How about it? One more dance?”
I managed to duck the first punch you threw. You reached for my gun and I kicked you in the gut. I grimaced watching you double-over in pain. But you were on your feet again. We moved like we were walking on air. Light. Weightless. Nimble.
And in the end, your gun was in my face. We halted and breathlessly, I scanned your face to see if you would shoot me. I could tell nothing from the empty expression. You blinked and I saw moisture in your eyes.
The doors to the warehouse blew open and an army dressed in black ran in with their weapons raised.
“Step away from Agent Bristow!” Vaughn led the raid with his rife trained on you.
You did not fear Vaughn and the CIA or the group of Romanian officials. Your gun remained under my chin. Our eyes locked and everyone else in the warehouse vanished.
“I never expected this.” Your voice was low enough so that only I could hear you.
“What?” I said just as quietly.
A tear rolled down your cheek. “This.”
And before I could stop you, your arm flinched. Just enough of a movement to make the sniper to take his shot. I gasped as you fell to the ground. The hole on the side of your head grew. Blood flowed from you.
I heard the commotion coming from all sides of me. I felt Vaughn’s arms around me, his voice softly telling me everything was all right. But all I could do was stare at you. Your eyes were still locked on mine.
**
My mother wasn’t late after all. She arrived moments before the gunfire occurred outside. She was taken into custody. Later she will be interrogated on the whereabouts of the Covenant leaders and Sloane, and what the mysterious serum is supposed to be used for.
Thanks to you, the CIA was able to apprehend Irina Deverko.
“I don’t know if I should feel upset or flattered that I was
the prize in the games you and
My father came over to eat dinner with me the other night. He told me how proud he was that I was successful in my deep cover assignment. He didn’t ask me about how convincing I had been with you.
A UPS man delivered a bouquet of flowers to me the other day. They were from Vaughn and Lauren.
We wish you well. Hope
to see you back in the office soon.
You didn’t know about the kind of gun I used the night we snuck into the Vaughn’s bedroom. You didn’t know about the concealed bags of blood taped to both Vaughn’s and Lauren’s chest.
All you needed to know, all you needed to believe, was that I had shot them.
You’d been dead for nearly a week. And I couldn’t stop thinking about you.
**
I was running out of lives.
I was going on my fifth one.
This Sydney Bristow came back to life after a fire in
**
You were buried in an unmarked grave in
I went there once and carved your name on the tombstone:
Aleksei
**
I went to the boardwalk to burn this. These words to you. I wanted to forget everything.
I sat down on the bench we had sat in. For a moment I thought I smelled oranges in the air.
I was alone. I needed to be alone.
I looked down at the thick layers of paper in my hand and took out the lighter from my pocket. One flick of my wrist and these moments I shared with you would be gone forever.
A raindrop fell upon my hand. Then another one. And then another one.
The flame from the lighter was extinguished. I tucked the papers back into my pockets.
Once again, you had foiled my plan. You would not let me forget.
**
Everyday I remember.
THE END