| Subject: This I Offer 12/20 |
Author:
Athena4
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Date Posted: 17:32:11 03/09/02 Sat
In reply to:
Athena4
's message, "This I Offer 11/20" on 19:59:36 03/07/02 Thu
Standing on the balcony overlooking the garden, Madeline watched the sun rise, her eyes focused on the almost blood-red streaks that accompanied it across the sky. The angry slashes were a distraction - nothing more, nothing less. The analysis of their form, of their cause, and their possible effects were keeping her mind from processing the events of the night before. Events and emotions she simply wanted to avoid.
At the edge of her vision, a figure approached silently, pausing at the doorway. It was possible he sensed her mood, possible that her posture – arms crossed around her chest, body stiff – was keeping him back, but it was just as possible that he didn’t know what to make of her.
“Ms. Williamson.” Something in his tone made Madeline tense, images from the previous evening invading her consciousness. The feel of Ryker’s caress, his weight above her.
Shaking her head to dislodge the memory, she refocused on the sky. Fluffy, white clouds hovered on either side of the rising sun, deepening the orange colouring of the sky. “Yes, Joseph?” she said, only barely keeping her voice steady.
“Mr. Ryker would like to see you in his study.” He paused. She could feel him watching her back, probably gauging her reaction. His next words were said in a dry tone, one that did not completely hide his discomfort with the situation. Ryker ordered people; he didn’t ask. “At your earliest convenience, of course.”
“All right,” Madeline replied, stepping towards the edge of the balcony. Paul crept into her mind this time, bringing tears to her still-swollen eyes. With effort, she pushed him back, turning her attention back to the sky. The clouds were shifting to cover the sun. In a few hours, they would probably darken and break, sending sheets of water down over the town. “I’ll be there shortly.”
Joseph left as quietly as he’d come, leaving the door slightly ajar. Turning, Madeline closed it completely before returning to her position by the railing. It was only then that she allowed the tears to flow. They ran in streams down her face, her chest tightening with unspent sobs.
The people below her on the grounds scuttled through the beginnings of their day: gardeners trimming bushes, maids hanging out laundry, guards preparing for the day’s meetings. Each went about their duties, oblivious to the way things had changed.
Because for them, nothing had changed. The wheels of Ryker’s organisation were well oiled; each loss taken in stride, each death dealt with quickly and efficiently.
But for Madeline the world had ceased to turn.
Stubbornly, she wiped away her tears, taking a deep breath to quiet any remaining sobs. She was behaving like a child. Section would continue to function. She would continue to function. She had to, and any self-despairing tendencies had to be dealt with. Quickly. And efficiently.
Pushing aside any final thoughts of Paul, she focused instead on the mission. End game was almost in sight; she could sense it in the atmosphere of the compound, and she could feel it in her bones. Ryker’s organisation was crumbling beneath him, his people were becoming fearful and untrusting, and Ryker himself was exactly where she wanted him.
There was no doubt in her mind that the previous night had been a success. If Joseph’s behaviour, and Ryker’s invitation, were any indication, she’d made a lasting impression. He had seen her just as she’d planned. Helpless. Hopeless. Alone.
The remainder of the operation would go off without a hitch. There was just one problem: it hadn’t all been an act. It had begun that way, but it had gone far beyond that, deeper than Madeline had ever anticipated. She’d needed him. Desired his touch on a level that frightened her in its intensity.
In truth, his call couldn’t have come at a better time – or a worse. She wanted him again, craved his smooth touch on her bare skin. Needed him to push away the visage that hovered behind her eyes. To let her forget, for what would seem like eternity, the pain of loss.
Mentally shaking herself, Madeline re-entered her apartments. Pausing in front of the standing mirror, she brushed a few stray tears from her cheeks. She wanted him, and, because he called, she would go to him; would revel in his touch, as if his rutting could fill the hollowness within.
As much as she hated herself for it, she would obey his desires.
And hers.
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