"A Voice in the Dark" (Lucas/OC; Thriller/Romance- PG13/R) Chapter VII
TITLE: A Voice in the Dark
AUTHOR: Lexie aka lillianschild
FANDOM: Spooks/MI5
RATING: Mild-R for this chapter
PAIRING: Lucas/OC
SUMMARY: Section D has a traitor in its midst and a mysterious man arrives with what appears to be the key to rid MI5 of the mole.
A/N: this fic is my own version of Series 7. I will probably update it once a month, considering my busy work schedule, and try to pen a one-shot in between to continue my Guy & Marian Acrostic Series.
Disclaimer: all recognisable characters belong to BBC and Kudos Productions; I'm just playing with them for a little while without making a profit. No infringement's intended.
READ THE BEGINNING HERE
READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER
Sorry for the long delay in posting but RL got in the way. Hopefully, I'll be able to post an update every month as planned when I stated sharing this fic. Now I'm off to working on a new instalment of my G & M fic "To Be Worthy" . Enjoy!
CHAPTER 7
The days dragged on, and Annabelle toyed with different plans to run away now that she was no longer restrained, plans which she discarded one by one. Although a few weeks ago she’d have celebrated being alone in the house with Tom, for it would have made her escape a lot more feasible, now she felt more protected around her kidnappers than around those whose allegiances she no longer trusted.
True to the promise she’d been made, several volumes of poetry and Russian literature appeared on her bedside table the following day. They helped her while away the hours, but they did little to assuage the sudden inexplicable fear which had seized her as one day turned into two and then three and he didn't return. What was it about this man that had managed to tap a cord within her no adult male ever had? Why did the thought of never being able to hear his voice again or see his face at last filled her with such a sense of overwhelming loss?
“It's been four days... Tom, where has he gone?”she asked one morning, unable to keep pretending indifference any longer.
“Annabelle...”
“I know when someone says goodbye and believes it might be forever.”
“You returned your dinner tray untouched last night. Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”
“I'm not hungry.”
“If he finds you half-starved when he comes back, he'll have my precious neck.”
“I won't let either you or whoever's out there killing my unit strip me of the last shred of control I have over my life. Nobody's going to order me when to eat.”
“I thought you liked me.”
“I was starting to until you got patronising.”
“Patronising?”
“What is this conversation if not patronising? You want me to believe I'm not here as a prisoner but as a guest. You want me to trust you, to believe you only had my best interest at heart when you abducted me from my own home. And yet you lie to me- even if it is by omission- and treat me like a fool.”
“He's strong and resourceful,” he replied after a pregnant silence.
“That doesn't answer my original question.”
“It's the only answer I have.”
“The only one you have? Or the only one you're willing to give?”
* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*
“It was high time,” exhaled Tom on seeing Lucas cross the threshold. “What in heaven's name happened?”
“You want the long or the short version?”
“The abridged will do till the morning. How long has it been since you last slept?”
“You know the answer to that one better than anyone.”
Yes, it'd been a foolish question to ask. Lucas' nightmares had awoken Tom and Christine many a time, and finding their friend sitting in the dark in the middle of the night had become a common occurrence. Lucas and insomnia had been close friends ever since his return from Russia.
“So...what happened?”
“Your wife's contact is dead. He was murdered in the archives at Thames House and so was the junior case officer who apparently witnessed the execution- Ben Kaplan. Same MO. Did you know him?”
“No, he must have joined when Carter was appointed. What about the CCTV cameras?”
“There was a power cut in Section D and the emergency generator failed to respond. By the time Malcolm fixed the problem and the cameras were back on both operatives were dead.”
“No doubt it was an inside job. Have you talked to Harry?”
“Oh, yes,” he smirked, pouring himself a shot of vodka.
“What did he say?”
“We had a very illuminating chat.”
“And...?”
“And... what about you? Any problems I should know of?”
“So this is how we're going to play it. You know what? I have a wife I haven't seen in four days, and I too need to catch up on some sleep. Why don't you go to Annabelle's room and tell her you're back? We both know it's what you want and, judging by the way she's behaved since you were gone, I believe you'll find out she does too.”
“You don't know what you're saying.”
“You've sacrificed eight years of your life. Whatever it is you found out in your tête-à-tête with Harry can wait a few hours or you'd have already shared it with me. You deserve to be a little selfish for a change.”
“Enough people have got hurt already.”
“Annabelle's a smart young woman, Lucas. At least, grant her the right to decide what it is that she wants.”
* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*
She felt the ghost of his lips brush her fingers and then press a soft kiss on the quickened pulse of her delicate wrists. Annabelle turned in her sleep, making an unconscious effort to shake off the cruel taunting of the recurrent dream.
Just as it happened every night, she responded to him, raising from her lonely bed to rest against the security of his body.
“Annabelle,” whispered the voice she missed in her waking hours. “Annabelle,” insisted the chocolatey baritone.
Lucas felt the soft caress of her fingers on his scalp as she buried them in his hair. Sitting on the edge of her bed, he found their movement erotically soothing and her body pressed to his sweetly inviting. Her delicate perfume was proving hard to resist, but it wasn't until he knew for sure she was awake and not just dreaming that he responded to her call, crushing her against his chest and burying his face in the chamomile-scented softness of her hair.
Lowering his head, he grazed the hollow of her collarbone with his lips and then kissed her shoulder before tracing the milky column of her throat. His touch was as light as a feather and yet it sent her heart racing. The brush of his lips was sensually tantalising, first against her temples and then her closed eyes, until the long-awaited moment arrived when he sought her mouth in a scorching kiss which left both of them breathless.
“You missed me,” he murmured softly, his forehead leaning against hers, clearly overwhelmed by her eager response.
“When four days went by and you didn't come...” she whispered, her voice cracking as her hand stroked his cheek.
“I should have shaved first,” he said sheepishly.
“I like it like this,” she smiled, feeling his masculine stubble. “You can clean up in the morning... I was so afraid...”
“I've made you a promise, Golubushka,” he replied warmly, gathering her against his body, “and I have every intention of keeping it. Nobody'll ever hurt you again.”
Annabelle relished his embrace and wished she could tell him openly her fear had had nothing to do with her own safety, but rather with the disquieting thought which had plagued her as days went by, that she might never get to hear his voice again. Confessing that particular secret would give him even more power over her than he already had.
“It wasn't my original intention to be away for so long.”
“Was your meeting with someone from Section D?”
“Annabelle...” he began, tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ears.
“Just tell me you had nothing to do with our asset's death... or with Adam and Dr Delaney's,” she interrupted him, a barely disguised tone of hopeful pleading in her voice.
“Клянусь, я этого не сделал,” he answered quickly.
He swore he didn't. And- God help her if she was deluding herself- she believed him. Maybe she was just choosing to believe what she wished was the truth to justify this powerful attraction between them and the step she was about to take, but she was tired of fighting. She'd known from the start that he'd break her, only she'd thought it'd entail betraying other people's secrets and not losing her heart.
Shaky fingers undid the buttons of his shirt and then slipped inside the opening to feel the smoothness of his skin. Broad shoulders and shapely upper-arms were traced with delicate strokes that scabbed a hundred wounds. Fingertips explored long uncharted territories, seeking to read in the surprisingly slender contours the secret past he kept hidden from the world.
In the dark, touch was the only language they used to learn each other, and the unhurried unveiling of what lay beneath the clothing that separated them rendered the exploration infinitely sensual. His long-fingered hands outlined her curves with gentle strokes in much the same way a painter sketches on a canvas before executing a masterpiece. And as she felt the cool of the room kiss her feverish skin while his hands journeyed upward, gradually exposing her body to his lips, Annabelle arched her pliant body like an instrument eager to be played.
Kissing the hollow between her generous breasts, already free from the confines of her nightdress, Lucas felt her heart beat like a frightened animal's. It had been a long time for him, eight years without knowing a woman's touch or experiencing the communion of two souls like the one he'd only known with Vyeta, and his well-known control was hanging by a thread. He lowered his head once again and blew a warm puff of air over her breast; and there it came, a sob. He'd let his selfish needs blind him and misread the signs.
Slowly he pulled away; he'd been deprived of the power to decide his own destiny and suffered the manipulation of a ruthless jailer not to know what must be going though her mind.
“I promised I wouldn't let anyone hurt you again, and that includes me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss into her palm. “I know what it feels like to have the control over your life snatched away, Annabelle. Maybe you believe that giving yourself to me is the only bargaining chip you've got to keep yourself safe.”
“It isn't like that...”
“You don't need to lie to me. I have never taken advantage of a woman, and I'm not about to start now, no matter how enticing the offer. “
“I thought you wanted me,” she said shakily as he sat up on the bed.
“I still do. But not like this, not ruled by fear. Not unless you're willing to come to me freely. I don't want it to be a sacrifice; there's already been too much of that. Go to sleep, Golubushka.”
“Stay,” she stopped him, grabbing his hand when she felt him pull away. “Stay with me tonight,” she pleaded, not caring if she revealed the full extent of her feelings for him. “Just hold me.”
“I'm afraid I'm not that strong. If I stay tonight, I'll do a lot more than just holding you. It's been too long... I'm no good at playing games,” he added softly, stroking her cheek.
“It isn't a game,” she replied, her eyes welling up.
“Then why are you crying?” he asked with an indefinable emotion in his voice, feeling the wetness of her tears on his fingertips.
“I don't know... I only know that I care about you. You must think me crazy, but from the first moment I heard your voice I felt a connection with you, as if I recognised you. And when you touched me... it felt right when common sense told me it shouldn't.”
“You don't know anything about me,” he said quietly.
“I don't need to see what you look like or to learn what you're called to know who you are. “
“How do you know I am the one you think me to be? Most of the times even I don't know who I am any more. “
Sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her, Lucas felt her reach in the darkness that enveloped them and take his hand once again and, in a gesture which mirrored his, press a kiss on his palm.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked after a long pregnant silence.
She nodded against the hand she still held to her cheek.
With slow and sensuous movements he pulled her down to lie next to him, his lips nudging against the throbbing pulse of her neck and then tracing her milky breasts in search of her pebbled peaks. Annabelle's long legs soon fell apart involuntarily to cradle him and welcome his demanding caresses, which fanned the molten lava that was already coursing through her veins.
Finally surrounded by her liquid warmth, Lucas felt unexpected tears burn behind his eyelids. It wasn't fair; but then nothing is fair in this world. He'd told himself a night was all he could give her, that he was no longer the man he used to be, that he could have her once and walk away unscathed. He'd been wrong on all three counts.
* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*
“Is everything all right?” she murmured sensing his strange mood, her face resting on his chest as they both caught their breath and their galloping heartbeat returned to normal.
“Shouldn't I be the one asking that question?” he chuckled, gathering her to him.
“I have no regrets.” She turned around in his arms, soothed by the caressing sound of his voice and the fading fragrance of his aftershave. “I never knew I could feel that way,” she added emotionally, curving her urge to touch his face and learn his features.
Lowering his mouth towards her, he tasted her lips gently, coaxing her to invite him in. She acquiesced, knowing their borrowed time would soon come to an end.
Whispered endearments in Russian poured out of his mouth the moment his lips found moisture on its trail.
“Love me again,” she begged him as his thumbs carefully wiped away her tears.
And he did. His musky perfume on her sheets was the only proof Annabelle found in the morning to convince her their intimate time together hadn't been a dream once again.
GO TO CHAPTER VIII
AUTHOR: Lexie aka lillianschild
FANDOM: Spooks/MI5
RATING: Mild-R for this chapter
PAIRING: Lucas/OC
SUMMARY: Section D has a traitor in its midst and a mysterious man arrives with what appears to be the key to rid MI5 of the mole.
A/N: this fic is my own version of Series 7. I will probably update it once a month, considering my busy work schedule, and try to pen a one-shot in between to continue my Guy & Marian Acrostic Series.
Disclaimer: all recognisable characters belong to BBC and Kudos Productions; I'm just playing with them for a little while without making a profit. No infringement's intended.
READ THE BEGINNING HERE
READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER
Sorry for the long delay in posting but RL got in the way. Hopefully, I'll be able to post an update every month as planned when I stated sharing this fic. Now I'm off to working on a new instalment of my G & M fic "To Be Worthy" . Enjoy!
CHAPTER 7
The days dragged on, and Annabelle toyed with different plans to run away now that she was no longer restrained, plans which she discarded one by one. Although a few weeks ago she’d have celebrated being alone in the house with Tom, for it would have made her escape a lot more feasible, now she felt more protected around her kidnappers than around those whose allegiances she no longer trusted.
True to the promise she’d been made, several volumes of poetry and Russian literature appeared on her bedside table the following day. They helped her while away the hours, but they did little to assuage the sudden inexplicable fear which had seized her as one day turned into two and then three and he didn't return. What was it about this man that had managed to tap a cord within her no adult male ever had? Why did the thought of never being able to hear his voice again or see his face at last filled her with such a sense of overwhelming loss?
“It's been four days... Tom, where has he gone?”she asked one morning, unable to keep pretending indifference any longer.
“Annabelle...”
“I know when someone says goodbye and believes it might be forever.”
“You returned your dinner tray untouched last night. Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”
“I'm not hungry.”
“If he finds you half-starved when he comes back, he'll have my precious neck.”
“I won't let either you or whoever's out there killing my unit strip me of the last shred of control I have over my life. Nobody's going to order me when to eat.”
“I thought you liked me.”
“I was starting to until you got patronising.”
“Patronising?”
“What is this conversation if not patronising? You want me to believe I'm not here as a prisoner but as a guest. You want me to trust you, to believe you only had my best interest at heart when you abducted me from my own home. And yet you lie to me- even if it is by omission- and treat me like a fool.”
“He's strong and resourceful,” he replied after a pregnant silence.
“That doesn't answer my original question.”
“It's the only answer I have.”
“The only one you have? Or the only one you're willing to give?”
* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*
“It was high time,” exhaled Tom on seeing Lucas cross the threshold. “What in heaven's name happened?”
“You want the long or the short version?”
“The abridged will do till the morning. How long has it been since you last slept?”
“You know the answer to that one better than anyone.”
Yes, it'd been a foolish question to ask. Lucas' nightmares had awoken Tom and Christine many a time, and finding their friend sitting in the dark in the middle of the night had become a common occurrence. Lucas and insomnia had been close friends ever since his return from Russia.
“So...what happened?”
“Your wife's contact is dead. He was murdered in the archives at Thames House and so was the junior case officer who apparently witnessed the execution- Ben Kaplan. Same MO. Did you know him?”
“No, he must have joined when Carter was appointed. What about the CCTV cameras?”
“There was a power cut in Section D and the emergency generator failed to respond. By the time Malcolm fixed the problem and the cameras were back on both operatives were dead.”
“No doubt it was an inside job. Have you talked to Harry?”
“Oh, yes,” he smirked, pouring himself a shot of vodka.
“What did he say?”
“We had a very illuminating chat.”
“And...?”
“And... what about you? Any problems I should know of?”
“So this is how we're going to play it. You know what? I have a wife I haven't seen in four days, and I too need to catch up on some sleep. Why don't you go to Annabelle's room and tell her you're back? We both know it's what you want and, judging by the way she's behaved since you were gone, I believe you'll find out she does too.”
“You don't know what you're saying.”
“You've sacrificed eight years of your life. Whatever it is you found out in your tête-à-tête with Harry can wait a few hours or you'd have already shared it with me. You deserve to be a little selfish for a change.”
“Enough people have got hurt already.”
“Annabelle's a smart young woman, Lucas. At least, grant her the right to decide what it is that she wants.”
* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*
She felt the ghost of his lips brush her fingers and then press a soft kiss on the quickened pulse of her delicate wrists. Annabelle turned in her sleep, making an unconscious effort to shake off the cruel taunting of the recurrent dream.
Just as it happened every night, she responded to him, raising from her lonely bed to rest against the security of his body.
“Annabelle,” whispered the voice she missed in her waking hours. “Annabelle,” insisted the chocolatey baritone.
Lucas felt the soft caress of her fingers on his scalp as she buried them in his hair. Sitting on the edge of her bed, he found their movement erotically soothing and her body pressed to his sweetly inviting. Her delicate perfume was proving hard to resist, but it wasn't until he knew for sure she was awake and not just dreaming that he responded to her call, crushing her against his chest and burying his face in the chamomile-scented softness of her hair.
Lowering his head, he grazed the hollow of her collarbone with his lips and then kissed her shoulder before tracing the milky column of her throat. His touch was as light as a feather and yet it sent her heart racing. The brush of his lips was sensually tantalising, first against her temples and then her closed eyes, until the long-awaited moment arrived when he sought her mouth in a scorching kiss which left both of them breathless.
“You missed me,” he murmured softly, his forehead leaning against hers, clearly overwhelmed by her eager response.
“When four days went by and you didn't come...” she whispered, her voice cracking as her hand stroked his cheek.
“I should have shaved first,” he said sheepishly.
“I like it like this,” she smiled, feeling his masculine stubble. “You can clean up in the morning... I was so afraid...”
“I've made you a promise, Golubushka,” he replied warmly, gathering her against his body, “and I have every intention of keeping it. Nobody'll ever hurt you again.”
Annabelle relished his embrace and wished she could tell him openly her fear had had nothing to do with her own safety, but rather with the disquieting thought which had plagued her as days went by, that she might never get to hear his voice again. Confessing that particular secret would give him even more power over her than he already had.
“It wasn't my original intention to be away for so long.”
“Was your meeting with someone from Section D?”
“Annabelle...” he began, tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ears.
“Just tell me you had nothing to do with our asset's death... or with Adam and Dr Delaney's,” she interrupted him, a barely disguised tone of hopeful pleading in her voice.
“Клянусь, я этого не сделал,” he answered quickly.
He swore he didn't. And- God help her if she was deluding herself- she believed him. Maybe she was just choosing to believe what she wished was the truth to justify this powerful attraction between them and the step she was about to take, but she was tired of fighting. She'd known from the start that he'd break her, only she'd thought it'd entail betraying other people's secrets and not losing her heart.
Shaky fingers undid the buttons of his shirt and then slipped inside the opening to feel the smoothness of his skin. Broad shoulders and shapely upper-arms were traced with delicate strokes that scabbed a hundred wounds. Fingertips explored long uncharted territories, seeking to read in the surprisingly slender contours the secret past he kept hidden from the world.
In the dark, touch was the only language they used to learn each other, and the unhurried unveiling of what lay beneath the clothing that separated them rendered the exploration infinitely sensual. His long-fingered hands outlined her curves with gentle strokes in much the same way a painter sketches on a canvas before executing a masterpiece. And as she felt the cool of the room kiss her feverish skin while his hands journeyed upward, gradually exposing her body to his lips, Annabelle arched her pliant body like an instrument eager to be played.
Kissing the hollow between her generous breasts, already free from the confines of her nightdress, Lucas felt her heart beat like a frightened animal's. It had been a long time for him, eight years without knowing a woman's touch or experiencing the communion of two souls like the one he'd only known with Vyeta, and his well-known control was hanging by a thread. He lowered his head once again and blew a warm puff of air over her breast; and there it came, a sob. He'd let his selfish needs blind him and misread the signs.
Slowly he pulled away; he'd been deprived of the power to decide his own destiny and suffered the manipulation of a ruthless jailer not to know what must be going though her mind.
“I promised I wouldn't let anyone hurt you again, and that includes me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss into her palm. “I know what it feels like to have the control over your life snatched away, Annabelle. Maybe you believe that giving yourself to me is the only bargaining chip you've got to keep yourself safe.”
“It isn't like that...”
“You don't need to lie to me. I have never taken advantage of a woman, and I'm not about to start now, no matter how enticing the offer. “
“I thought you wanted me,” she said shakily as he sat up on the bed.
“I still do. But not like this, not ruled by fear. Not unless you're willing to come to me freely. I don't want it to be a sacrifice; there's already been too much of that. Go to sleep, Golubushka.”
“Stay,” she stopped him, grabbing his hand when she felt him pull away. “Stay with me tonight,” she pleaded, not caring if she revealed the full extent of her feelings for him. “Just hold me.”
“I'm afraid I'm not that strong. If I stay tonight, I'll do a lot more than just holding you. It's been too long... I'm no good at playing games,” he added softly, stroking her cheek.
“It isn't a game,” she replied, her eyes welling up.
“Then why are you crying?” he asked with an indefinable emotion in his voice, feeling the wetness of her tears on his fingertips.
“I don't know... I only know that I care about you. You must think me crazy, but from the first moment I heard your voice I felt a connection with you, as if I recognised you. And when you touched me... it felt right when common sense told me it shouldn't.”
“You don't know anything about me,” he said quietly.
“I don't need to see what you look like or to learn what you're called to know who you are. “
“How do you know I am the one you think me to be? Most of the times even I don't know who I am any more. “
Sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her, Lucas felt her reach in the darkness that enveloped them and take his hand once again and, in a gesture which mirrored his, press a kiss on his palm.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked after a long pregnant silence.
She nodded against the hand she still held to her cheek.
With slow and sensuous movements he pulled her down to lie next to him, his lips nudging against the throbbing pulse of her neck and then tracing her milky breasts in search of her pebbled peaks. Annabelle's long legs soon fell apart involuntarily to cradle him and welcome his demanding caresses, which fanned the molten lava that was already coursing through her veins.
Finally surrounded by her liquid warmth, Lucas felt unexpected tears burn behind his eyelids. It wasn't fair; but then nothing is fair in this world. He'd told himself a night was all he could give her, that he was no longer the man he used to be, that he could have her once and walk away unscathed. He'd been wrong on all three counts.
* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*
“Is everything all right?” she murmured sensing his strange mood, her face resting on his chest as they both caught their breath and their galloping heartbeat returned to normal.
“Shouldn't I be the one asking that question?” he chuckled, gathering her to him.
“I have no regrets.” She turned around in his arms, soothed by the caressing sound of his voice and the fading fragrance of his aftershave. “I never knew I could feel that way,” she added emotionally, curving her urge to touch his face and learn his features.
Lowering his mouth towards her, he tasted her lips gently, coaxing her to invite him in. She acquiesced, knowing their borrowed time would soon come to an end.
Whispered endearments in Russian poured out of his mouth the moment his lips found moisture on its trail.
“Love me again,” she begged him as his thumbs carefully wiped away her tears.
And he did. His musky perfume on her sheets was the only proof Annabelle found in the morning to convince her their intimate time together hadn't been a dream once again.
GO TO CHAPTER VIII