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Date Posted: 15:52:56 05/03/02 Fri
Author: Repost Fairy
Author Host/IP: 64.193.19.25
Subject: Part 47 - Language
In reply to: Lila 's message, "The Beginning - Part 33 and Up" on 15:11:24 05/03/02 Fri

Part 47 - Language

Walter chuckled into his glass of wine. Good for them, he thought. He hoped they fucked all night, not sure, however, the house wouldn’t collapse around them. It was five hundred years old. He scooped up the glass of wine and decided to go back to the rooftop terrace. If he were lucky, he’d either fall asleep up there or watch the sun come up. Sleep would be better; tomorrow was going to be almost as hard as the day he had just been trying to forget.

************

The trip across the Gulf of Thailand was long, hot, tiring, seas rough, everyone focused on their mission. Cambodia was hostile, uninvolved in the war, completely involved, refugees everywhere. This was the kind of mission Wolfe despised. Intel was confirmed, but that was no guarantee. Nothing was guaranteed in this ‘conflict.’

“How far in?” Walter asked, oiling his weapon.

“Three hundred clicks,” Wolfe responded. “A jeep is supposed to be waiting…” but that never meant anything in this part of the world. Not now. There was little talking amongst the others.

Adrian hoped her medical skills would not be needed, but they usually were. A long time ago being able to kill and rescue tormented her, now it was just who she was. She glanced over at Paul, his determination carved into his face. He was a striking man, handsome, dignified, and utterly corrupted by the war. The warmth having been drained from him during his years in country. His contempt for the two Frenchmen no longer concealed, tolerance for her. She watched as he and Walter conferred on strategy, the lieutenant giving Walter his complete attention. Yes, she thought, he still cared for Walter. He hadn’t lost his entire humanity.

“We’ll arrive at Krong Kaoh Kong,” Wolfe said.

Walter narrowed his eyes, “Why there? That port is too big, too dangerous.”

Wolfe ignored the question. “The jeep should be waiting. Maybe a translator. My Cambodian’s kind of rusty.”

“Better ‘an mine,” Walter responded, noting his question ignored. “Lieutenant,” he queried, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Stay out of it Walter,” he responded. “You have your orders.”

***********

Michael’s body curled around Nikita’s, spooning her, protecting her. Their pulses had almost returned to normal. Their bodies, slick in spots, warm all over, still touching. Michael held his palm flat, against her stomach, his index finger drawing circles around her navel. Nikita rested her head against his neck.

“Maybe you’re right,” she said, interrupting the quietude.

“Hm?” he asked, trying to recall what was nagging at him about Walter.

“Maybe we should leave,” she said, falling onto her stomach, elbows propping her upper body, hands curled under her chin. Michael rolled on to his back, moving his hand to her lower back, not wanting to not touch her beautiful skin, her beautiful self. “I don’t care anymore… I just want to be with you.” She blessed him with a kiss on his nose.

Michael smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling at the corners, eyes mirroring her excitement. “The money?” he asked, the back of one finger brushing along the sides of her ribs, occasionally visiting her breast.

“Stop that!” she laughed, swatting at his hand, “I’m talking!”

Michael’s heart sung. She was talking, animatedly, like the day her first met her. “Go on,” he said, hand returning to her ribs.

“I don’t care about it,” she replied. “It doesn’t matter who’s giving it to me. I don’t care who my father is, I mean, if it’s Walter, I’m… I’m thrilled! I mean… I don’t know how to describe it. But if it’s not… I mean… who cares. He’s been a father to me for almost ten years! That’s good enough for any girl.”

“Arms tired?” he asked, sweeping them out from under her with his arm, her face falling forward, he pulling her close.

“Michael,” she said, somewhat irritated, “Are you listening to me?” She was now resting on her side, elbow bent, her hand under the side of her head, blue eyes dancing in his.

His lips attacked hers, tongue pressing into her mouth, sucking the breath from her. She returned his kiss, annoyed, moaning before she could help herself from him. With great strength of will, she put her hand to his chest and pushed him back. “I asked you a question,” she said, blatantly ignoring the fingertips that were delicately massaging her lips.

Michael lay his head back on the pillow. “I heard you,” he said, his hand having moved from her lips to her breasts. Sweet, tender motions. “You don’t care about the money.” A flutter ran down her belly, re-igniting her. She ignored it.

“You said we could run, hide,” she said, trying not to respond to the fingers that had moved from her breasts, slipped between her legs, stoking her, regenerating the sap of her desires. She finally grabbed his hand and tried to move it, but he was steadfast in his ministrations to her.

She gave up and continued. “What do you say?” she asked, as he nudged her leg up with his knee, leaving her foot flat on the bed, her entrance exposed to him.

Michael, on his side, entered her gently, watching her eyes as he filled her entirely and said, “If you asked me to swallow a hive of bees, I would.” He kissed her, and together they fled to the realms of their passion.

************

The five of them stood next to their jeep, stolen from the port. The jeep and translator had not materialized, and they were forced to improvise. The maps were spread on the hood, Adrian holding a flashlight. Wolfe pointed to a spot on the map, the nearest recognizable city Phnom Penh, hundred of kilometers from them.

“We walk the remaining ten clicks,” he said.

“Civilians?” asked Gerard.

“None,” Wolfe said, eyes downcast, “all hostiles.” He rolled up the map, and stuffed it into the back of the jeep. “Let’s go people.” He headed forward into the jungle, the four of them following him in single file. “No failures,” he muttered. They all heard.

*************

Nikita and Michael’s bodies remained joined, their lovemaking completed. Nikita kissed Michael deeply, and said, “Are you going to do that every time I try to have a serious conversation with you?”

Michael smiled, “Probably,” he answered, wishing that real life would be this easy, could be.

She swiped at him, clipping his nose. “Soooo,” she said, “can we leave? Just fly, go, leave it all behind?”

“Walter?” he asked, knowing that a lifelong separation from him would damage her heart. Maybe irrevocably.

“He could come visit us,” she announced, the voice of a sixteen year old emanating from her mouth. She rolled on to her back, looking up at the ceiling, her hand waving in the air. “We’ll live on a hillside, a huuuuge garden, grow our own food.”

“Ni-ki-ta,” he said, hating to roust her from her delightful, albeit naïve, reverie. ‘If we leave, we disappear.”

“I know,” she whined, “I get it.”

He rolled on top of her, his hands next to her face, holding it, cherishing it. “Ni-ki-ta,” he whispered, “Forever. No contact… ever… with anyone.” He searched her eyes for understanding. “Forever,” he repeated, the weight of the word dampening the air with humidity.

Aquamarine eyes conveyed understanding. Nervously she bit her lower lip, and nodded. Her eyes pooled with tears, “Walter?” Michael shook his head. Not even him. Nikita wrapped her arms around him, holding him with ferocity, “But I’ll have you,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said quietly in her ear. “Me.”

************

They walked for hours. “Ten kilometers, my ass,” Walter mumbled. Ten kilometers was a thirty-minute walk through the park. “Lieutenant, where the fuck are we?” he asked.

“Walter,” Wolfe said, “Can it.”

Adrian and Walter exchanged glances. Something wasn’t right, and all they could do was follow the leader. Military, rules, that’s what they knew.

They bushwhacked through miles of jungle, then fields, not a soul appearing during their sojourn. They came upon a small stream. “Rest,” Wolfe said. The four broke formation, each taking up residence on a patch of dirt.

Walter ventured, “You gonna tell us what the hell is going on?”

Wolfe’s dark blue eyes bored into Walter’s. “The mission has changed,” he said, respect for Walter’s challenge clear. “The General, still an objective.” Six eyebrows were raised, two focused on the ground, waiting for the next part. “There’s a field,” he said, “Poppies.”

“Oh fuck,” Walter groaned, “This is about drugs?” He lay his weapon on the ground in disgust.

“Not drugs,” Wolfe replied, “Not the way you’re thinking.”

“Then fucking what?” Walter demanded.

“Walter,” Adrian warned, not wanting to demonstrate her medical acumen at the moment.

Paul leaned against a tree, raising his leg, so his foot rested squarely against the trunk. He removed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, shook one out, and lit it, cupping his hands, protecting the match from the wind. He brought the cigarette to his lips, and inhaled, deeply. He held the smoke in his lungs, filling each air sac with poison, relishing. Smoke slowly filtered from his mouth, his nose. “Mind control,” he said.

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Replies:

  • Part 48 – DARK, NC17 -- Repost Fairy, 15:55:26 05/03/02 Fri
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