Fic: A Lion in Paris
A sleeping lion rolled over in a restless dream; stalking his prey even in sleep. Muscles tensed as a rumble escaped his heavy body and he rolled over once again, spreading out his limbs as far as possible in the heat of a Parisian summer. The lion finally awoke in a rush of nightmares and memories of his past hunts. Flashes of the kill and the rush of a night spent stalking the unsuspecting made the lion groan in the thrill of memories. Shuddering, he relaxed back towards the ground and breathed in deep the night’s drowsy air. Agent Derek Morgan breathed a sigh of relief as he looked around his tiny yet tidy loft.
The lion quieted his breathing and stood to look out the window on a dark, cloudy night in Paris. Derek looked onto the Parc Monceau, the familiar trees and graceful paths comforting him in a way nothing else did. He’d been living in Paris for three years now and Monceau was one of the few restful places he’d found. With the life that Derek lived; it was a luxury he was willing to pay for to live so close.
Derek Morgan lived a life that none of his friends, or family knew about; he was a spy. He would cringe at the term every time some new book used it; he wasn’t a spy in that sense. He didn’t go out and uncover plots to destroy the world, he didn’t find any damsels in distress living under the thumb of some evil Count, and it sure wasn’t the exciting, living moment-to-moment job that everyone portrayed it as. If anyone asked- not that Derek could actually answer- he would tell them he was an Asset. He waited around until he got an opportunity, then slipped into some place he wasn’t supposed to be, took some photos, then slipped back out and passed them to a courier to be delivered to whom ever got his information.
Everyone in Derek’s life thought he was just a boxer, an excellent boxer that was famous around Europe for his skill and ease in the ring. It was an easy story to tell; too much of it was true to begin with, for it to be difficult. Derek had moved from the US to France because of the discrimination he’d faced back home, after all it was one thing to be black…but mixed, that was something even the toughest of people had trouble dealing with in America. France, however, had a reputation for tolerance that was unprecedented. So he’d moved; his mother had understood after what had happened to his father. No one knew that his trip however was facilitated in a big way by the United States government.
Derek had settled for a few months near the center of the city, working on becoming integrated into the boxing world and Paris as a whole. As he traveled the city, and later the country and continent; he discovered that he loved one thing above all else in his new life- Parisian parks. Especially Parc Monceau, it was so calm and serene; something that Derek felt had been lacking from his life as a whole. So after a few more months of getting paid and rising fame, Derek got an apartment at the end of Rue Rembrandt that over looked the park.
Comforting himself once again with thoughts of the walks and days spent in the park, Derek ended his dazing and returned to bed. Tomorrow was a busy day and he couldn’t afford to be anything less than on his toes. A big day at the gym, a meeting with his manager, and a fight with one of Paris’ most famous boxers: George Foyet known affectionately as ‘The Reaper’.
Chapter One
The lion quieted his breathing and stood to look out the window on a dark, cloudy night in Paris. Derek looked onto the Parc Monceau, the familiar trees and graceful paths comforting him in a way nothing else did. He’d been living in Paris for three years now and Monceau was one of the few restful places he’d found. With the life that Derek lived; it was a luxury he was willing to pay for to live so close.
Derek Morgan lived a life that none of his friends, or family knew about; he was a spy. He would cringe at the term every time some new book used it; he wasn’t a spy in that sense. He didn’t go out and uncover plots to destroy the world, he didn’t find any damsels in distress living under the thumb of some evil Count, and it sure wasn’t the exciting, living moment-to-moment job that everyone portrayed it as. If anyone asked- not that Derek could actually answer- he would tell them he was an Asset. He waited around until he got an opportunity, then slipped into some place he wasn’t supposed to be, took some photos, then slipped back out and passed them to a courier to be delivered to whom ever got his information.
Everyone in Derek’s life thought he was just a boxer, an excellent boxer that was famous around Europe for his skill and ease in the ring. It was an easy story to tell; too much of it was true to begin with, for it to be difficult. Derek had moved from the US to France because of the discrimination he’d faced back home, after all it was one thing to be black…but mixed, that was something even the toughest of people had trouble dealing with in America. France, however, had a reputation for tolerance that was unprecedented. So he’d moved; his mother had understood after what had happened to his father. No one knew that his trip however was facilitated in a big way by the United States government.
Derek had settled for a few months near the center of the city, working on becoming integrated into the boxing world and Paris as a whole. As he traveled the city, and later the country and continent; he discovered that he loved one thing above all else in his new life- Parisian parks. Especially Parc Monceau, it was so calm and serene; something that Derek felt had been lacking from his life as a whole. So after a few more months of getting paid and rising fame, Derek got an apartment at the end of Rue Rembrandt that over looked the park.
Comforting himself once again with thoughts of the walks and days spent in the park, Derek ended his dazing and returned to bed. Tomorrow was a busy day and he couldn’t afford to be anything less than on his toes. A big day at the gym, a meeting with his manager, and a fight with one of Paris’ most famous boxers: George Foyet known affectionately as ‘The Reaper’.
Chapter One