"A Voice in the Dark" (Lucas/OC; Thriller/Romance- PG13/R) Chapter IX
TITLE: A Voice in the Dark
AUTHOR: Lexie aka lillianschild
FANDOM: Spooks/MI5
RATING: PG13
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. This fic is my own version of Series 7.
A/N: I'm going to come back to this one as soon as I'm done working on the next chapter of my Guy/Marian fic "To be Worthy". By the way, I posted the second chapter a few days ago if you haven't read it yet.
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 HERE
CHAPTER IX
“I was so afraid of the dark growing up,” she murmured, feeling the unmistakably subtle scent of sandalwood and musk envelope her.
“And now?” he asked quietly, leaning over Annabelle with his elbows propped on either side of her to bring their bodies tantalisingly closer.
“I love hearing your voice in the dark,” she confessed as he traced her features with gentle caresses.
“Only my voice, Ангел мой?” he whispered teasingly before taking possession of her lips in a languid kiss which eventually turned into a sensual duel as Annabelle's fingers ran through his hair and then journeyed down to his broad shoulders.
As soon as the kiss was broken she felt her long chestnut tresses spill down her back.
“I love you like this,” he told her, burying his nose in her hair and pressing a kiss on that very special spot behind her ear which he'd discovered would set her heart racing the way his was with the anticipation of making her his once again.
Annabelle wondered if it was possible for eyes to burn in the dark for she was scorching under his gaze.It made her wish she could actually see herself reflected in them.
Untangling her fingers from his silky hair, she daringly touched his face and grazed his trademark stubble. She traced the thin-lipped mouth and then moved up to his strong nose. Emboldened by his acquiescence, she continued her exploration towards the bridge of his nose and the arch of his eyebrows only to be stopped when she was about to start the descending journey.
“Things are beautiful if you love them.“ she whispered, sensing the sudden tension which had seized his body.
“Annabelle...”
“Shh... It's just you and me in the dark. Don't let any ghosts spoil what little time we might have left,” she silenced him
“Где ты был все это время?“ he replied to her tentative caresses.
Where have you been all this time?
“Ожидание,“ she sighed as their bodies became one once again.
Waiting for you.
* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*
“Ведьма,“ he gasped against her lips, struggling to catch his breath in the afterglow.
“A witch, am I?” she echoed, responding to his kiss with fervour and fighting the tears which had welled up in her eyes.
“Я не помню, как говорить по-английски, когда я с тобой,“ he replied, tightening his arms around her as if he feared she might bolt and never come back.
“Well, then you're lucky that I remember my Russian quite well or else how would we communicate?” she teased him, trying to make light of the emotional mood they were both in.
“Golubushka...”
“What is it?” she asked, hearing the hesitation in his voice and dreading the words she knew he'd utter; his languorous lovemaking and desperate clinging to her in the aftermath had felt like goodbye.
“I want you to know that... no matter what happens after tonight... I'll never forget,” he said into the darkness as she rested her head on his chest and let him embrace her; the tears she'd held back finally rolling down her cheeks.
* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*
She was deeply asleep when the sound of his mobile phone vibrating on the bedside table intruded into her dreams. By the time he picked up the call she was wide awake. However, she snuggled against him and closed her eyes, making a conscious effort to obliterate the outside world that persevered in piercing the fragile cocoon which enveloped them.
“Yes,” he answered quietly, changing the mobile to his other ear and shifting his body gently not to disturb her.
“It's Pearce,” she heard the speaker on the other end say before his indistinct voice was muffled.
Harry. Annabelle's heart skipped a beat. Was her mentor the man her captor was listening to so attentively without uttering a word? Was Harry the traitor in their midst? Or was the man who'd made such tender love to her conspiring to condemn her foster father to the same destiny as that of Adam and the man in the castle's?
Once he'd hung up the phone, she remained still, pretending to be asleep, and then pulled away as if irritated in her sleep when he stretched out next to her and put his arm around her waist again.
The delicate stroke of his tender hand against her bare back was a form of bittersweet torture and made maintaining the charade doubly difficult, but her acting skills triumphed in the end, and he settled with his back to hers, respecting the distance she'd put between them.
A long time went by until the sound of his breathing convinced her it was safe to slip away. She trusted his word that no harm would come to her and knew it'd be foolish to risk her liberation. However, she couldn't stop thinking about the phone call and the name she'd overheard. There was no way she'd stand idly by while others got killed or tortured. She'd never be able to live with the guilt. She had to warn someone.
Getting orientated in the dark took her a little while when she found herself in the corridor, having left the door ajar for fear of waking him up with the noise of the latch being engaged. Barefoot she moved towards the staircase and climbed down in search of his study. She recognised the room almost immediately and walked in noiselessly going straight to the windows overlooking the gardens. Leaving through them was impossible with the alarm system installed, so that left only one avenue open; she'd have to make the call from the phone on his desk.
Listening to the dial tone, she hesitated as a feeling of betrayal assaulted her. She had to keep remembering herself who she was and what was at stake if her instincts, blinded by love, had been wrong or if Harry was the man who'd sold out everyone, including her by sharing that grainy picture with the man upstairs.
“Hello,” said the voice on the other end.
“It's me, Annabelle,” she whispered, blinking away a couple of tears of disbelief at getting through so easily.
“Annabelle? God, where are you?! We thought you were dead.”
“I don't know where I am. I only know that it's a house away from London.”
“I'm tracking the number to see if I can locate you.”
“Is Malcolm helping you?”
“No, he's not on the Grid right now.”
“OK. It might be better that way... He's too close to Harry.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I don't know for sure, but I think that Harry might have something to do with everything that's been going on.”
“You can't be serious.”
“I can't believe it either, but I overheard his name in a phone conversation. There's a good chance he's working with the people who have been holding me prisoner.”
“OK. Mum's the word. Where are you calling from?”
“From the house. I managed to slip downstairs and make a call from the study.”
“How many are they?”
“Two. At least, I haven't seen or heard anyone else since I arrived.”
“Good. Listen, I've got your location. It's going to take me a few hours to get there with back-up, so you'll have to stay put. Leave everything the way you found it, go back upstairs and wait for me.”
Although Annabelle knew the plan made sense, she was suddenly filled with panic.
“Annabelle, are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“I need you to do as I say. We can't risk losing another agent or letting these bastards have their way. I'll be there in a few hours.”
“OK. I'll go back upstairs.”
“Good girl. See you soon.”
Putting the phone down into its cradle, she rested her forehead on top of her hands, which were still gripping the receiver.
Her mind was a jumble of confusion screaming for a solution other than the one she'd promised to carry out. She knew that as soon as they discovered her missing they'd also disappear. She'd promised she'd return to his bed until her rescuers came and leave everything the way she'd found it for her captors not to discover she'd made the call. And yet, she didn't want him to be harmed in any way.
Her lover was a spy, probably an FSB operative, and she was considering letting him escape by staying hidden away. Her absence would be the warning he needed to be safe and avoid any repercussions his role in the demise of the man at the castle might have.
The memory of the courageous man she'd interviewed on his deathbed steeled her against any decision other than the one her principles demanded of her.
Wiping the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hands, she made her way back to the first floor and the darkness which kept the intruding world away.
GO TO X
A/N: Ангел мой means "My angel"..