we've got crosses on our eyes (ilana/abaddon, pg-13)
Title: we've got crosses on our eyes
Author: cloudytea
Characters/Parings: Ilana/Abaddon. Mentions of Charles Widmore.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Her eyes scream suspicion. For flaky_artist. 540 words.
He slips into the dark pub just before the snow gets too heavy -- evenings in Moscow are notorious for their cold climates and even colder company, but he knew just where to find her.
At the bar, she sips a glass of vodka through a haze of cigarette smoke and florescent lighting. He approaches her from behind and gives his order to the bartender, who merely nods -- he is sure that the only English he knows are the names of drinks and an over-practiced hello to only the loyalist of customers.
It has been a while, has it not, Matthew? She pronounces his name with such perfect precision, as if savoring each syllable before letting it past through her lips. Matthew Abaddon sits down on the stool beside her and accepts his glass of Medovukha from the bartender. He nods his answer and takes a sip and tilts his glass long enough to allow himself a glance over the sleekness of Ilana’s body. She reminds him of an expensive car -- beautiful and eye-catching, but very pricy to maintain.
Not long enough, Matthew finally replies and they finally make eye contact. Her eyes are as beautiful and brown as before, but give off an ominous glow that screams suspicion -- Ilana knows what he is up to.
Tell me: how did you find me? She lights a cigarette with a nearby candle with the Virgin Mary printed into the wax. The smoke streams through her lips like all the secrets she will never give up to him. Moscow is a long way from Manchester, after all.
I have my ways, he answers. And he does -- Charles Widmore is a powerful man who is more than willing to pay for a roundtrip ticket to Moscow. All he asks is that Matthew to finally secure the information needs -- the information he’s been searching for ten years to find.
They talk, just as they always do -- just long enough for Matthew to sway her mind from his mission. And they laugh, they order more drinks, they reminisce about the times before Ilana discovered Matthew’s true loyalties. You were always a strange one, she laughs and he knows it wasn’t just the vodka talking.
The night ends just as it always does -- he walks her back to whatever expensive hotel room she’s decided to stay that night, she invites him in for a sampling of the mini-bar (as if they haven’t just drank their weight in Russian mixers) and she gives him a sampling of a different kind. Her kisses taste like the endless vodka she’s downed during the night and he savors it like he savors the many other nights they’ve spent together. And just as always, she escapes in the middle of the night, leaving the hotel bill for him to pay, along with the price of her warm caresses.
Paris, Florence, Hong Kong -- the possibilities are endless, but he is sure he will find her again. It’s only a matter of time until the tables will be turned. One day, Widmore will get what he wants and she’ll be at his mercy.
And until then, she’ll keep on running -- and he’ll keep on chasing.
Author: cloudytea
Characters/Parings: Ilana/Abaddon. Mentions of Charles Widmore.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Her eyes scream suspicion. For flaky_artist. 540 words.
He slips into the dark pub just before the snow gets too heavy -- evenings in Moscow are notorious for their cold climates and even colder company, but he knew just where to find her.
At the bar, she sips a glass of vodka through a haze of cigarette smoke and florescent lighting. He approaches her from behind and gives his order to the bartender, who merely nods -- he is sure that the only English he knows are the names of drinks and an over-practiced hello to only the loyalist of customers.
It has been a while, has it not, Matthew? She pronounces his name with such perfect precision, as if savoring each syllable before letting it past through her lips. Matthew Abaddon sits down on the stool beside her and accepts his glass of Medovukha from the bartender. He nods his answer and takes a sip and tilts his glass long enough to allow himself a glance over the sleekness of Ilana’s body. She reminds him of an expensive car -- beautiful and eye-catching, but very pricy to maintain.
Not long enough, Matthew finally replies and they finally make eye contact. Her eyes are as beautiful and brown as before, but give off an ominous glow that screams suspicion -- Ilana knows what he is up to.
Tell me: how did you find me? She lights a cigarette with a nearby candle with the Virgin Mary printed into the wax. The smoke streams through her lips like all the secrets she will never give up to him. Moscow is a long way from Manchester, after all.
I have my ways, he answers. And he does -- Charles Widmore is a powerful man who is more than willing to pay for a roundtrip ticket to Moscow. All he asks is that Matthew to finally secure the information needs -- the information he’s been searching for ten years to find.
They talk, just as they always do -- just long enough for Matthew to sway her mind from his mission. And they laugh, they order more drinks, they reminisce about the times before Ilana discovered Matthew’s true loyalties. You were always a strange one, she laughs and he knows it wasn’t just the vodka talking.
The night ends just as it always does -- he walks her back to whatever expensive hotel room she’s decided to stay that night, she invites him in for a sampling of the mini-bar (as if they haven’t just drank their weight in Russian mixers) and she gives him a sampling of a different kind. Her kisses taste like the endless vodka she’s downed during the night and he savors it like he savors the many other nights they’ve spent together. And just as always, she escapes in the middle of the night, leaving the hotel bill for him to pay, along with the price of her warm caresses.
Paris, Florence, Hong Kong -- the possibilities are endless, but he is sure he will find her again. It’s only a matter of time until the tables will be turned. One day, Widmore will get what he wants and she’ll be at his mercy.
And until then, she’ll keep on running -- and he’ll keep on chasing.