"Find Me"
June 23, 2008 Molly Pitcher Rest Area, NJ 1025 hours Paige leaned against her car, her neck stretched, her face pointed upwards into the sun, feeling its warmth, its life, its promise of another hot and humid day. The picture stayed in her mind... ~~~~~~~~~~ Safehouse 1: Not ten minutes ago she had stood in front of one of the mirrors, alone in the locker room. The others were still resting, or maybe they were up, she didn't really know. But they weren't there when she turned on the hot water and let the steam cloud up the mirror. They weren't there when she listened again to Kihn's message on her cell phone or when she wrote the number in the buildup of condensation to capture the picture in her memory. They weren't there when she erased the evidence from her cell phone then wiped the mirror clean. ~~~~~~~~~~ And they weren't there now, in the parking lot of a rest stop along I- 95. There was nobody there to stop her as she dialed the number vividly captured in her memory. Though there was that small part of her that was insisting she stop this stupidity at once. Funny, it sounded a lot like Saf's voice. She held the phone to her ear as it rang. ~~~~~~~~~~ Jaime held her tightly in the darkness after another round of intense sex. Or fucking, you could call it. Or bonding. Or hurting. Any of the terms described what they had done quite accurately. "When do we start?" he had asked. She had smiled in the darkness though she didn't think that smile was of the nice kind, it was more of a smirk. ~~~~~~~~~~ The phone rang again. She was at the far end of the parking lot and she sipped the diet coke in her hand. Soda in the morning did funny things to her stomach. Apparently not enough to make her stop drinking it though. ~~~~~~~~~~ She was getting good at smirking. Came with the territory she supposed. She whispered back to him in the darkness. "As soon as possible. We can do a weekend, this one or next depending on both our schedules. After that, we'll have to mix it up, some during the week, some on weekends. Avoid patterning and all that." ~~~~~~~~~~ It rang for the third time. She was beginning to think no one would answer as she watched a trucker get out of his cab, climbing down gingerly from the monster sized rig. He had just woken up, she could tell by the way he moved. She glanced at her watch, it was 10:30 in the morning, surely, he should have been on the road already. ~~~~~~~~~~ Jaime was quiet for some time, she was almost asleep when he spoke to her again. "How many are there Paige?" It was a valid question she supposed. She also supposed he had a right to know. The exact scope of what they were doing, what they were undertaking, was huge, undeniably almost impossible. Still, they had to try...there was still so much wrong with the world. There were still so many evil people she had to deal with to make the world safer...for the innocents, for herself...for Brian. She moved, positioning herself chest to chest with him and kissed him softly. "Hundreds," she whispered before kissing him again. ~~~~~~~~~~ It rang again. Hang up, her mind warned her. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be after all. But Kihn would not have risked so much, would not have baited her into the open had it not been a real number. She was almost ready to hang up and look for another way. Or call back. ~~~~~~~~~~ "Hundreds..." The tone in his voice alarmed her for a moment. He was going to start asking questions again...how...why...who...where she stood in this again. It was dangerous having him ask questions, a very dangerous game. ~~~~~~~~~~ "Pastor Borton." So he did exist. "Pastor Borton...my name is Paige." "Yes, my child." She rolled her eyes, "yeah, ok, well, I'm looking for someone who gave me this number," then a smirk at the silence that followed the statement. She could visualize this man, one she had never met, dressed in his little black and white outfit, or maybe an elaborate white robe adorned with gold and red. Or maybe he wasn't into all that, it being a Monday morning and all, and he was wearing a pair of worn jeans and a red polo t-shirt. She almost giggled at the thought. "And who is that dear?" "Eric," she said flatly, "you might know him as Kihn, or Snowy Owl." There was a pause before he answered. "I know, he said you might call." She could hear the caution in his voice and her eyes narrowed, what kind of person would it make her if she killed a man of the cloth? "Where is he?" she demanded. "His instructions were to find out where you are, call him, and have you call me back. I will give you the meeting place..." "Just tell me where to meet him," she cut him off, checking her watch. One minute they were on together already. The pastor stammered, "I don't know...I have to call him..." "Fine," she dismissed him. "I'll call back in five minutes. Is that enough time?" She was nasty with her comment. "Yes, that's fine..." She snapped the phone shut clenching her jaw and taking a deep breath. Why were people always so difficult? ~~~~~~~~~~~ Jaime finally sighed, "we have a lot of work to do then." And he kissed her, a little harder than the time before, a little more pressing, more urgent, more needy. His hands moved over her body though she knew he was as exhausted as she was. Still, the need to feel that passion, that burn, to touch the flame was strong, stronger than the need to sleep. Stronger perhaps, then the need to even breathe. ~~~~~~~~~~~ The truck driver had moved to the back of his rig, kicking tires and checking lines. She wondered what cargo he was hauling, where he was hauling it to. An interesting past time, people watching. The man disappeared around the side of the truck. ~~~~~~~~~~~ When he was done with her, he held her tightly again. "I'm gonna be useless for work tomorrow...today actually." She smiled in the darkness rubbing his back and kissing his neck. "That's ok, just put some targets out, have them shoot at them...and drink plenty of coffee." He laughed softly, "good to see you still have that sense of humor." She shrugged, "I'm a funny girl." He kissed her forehead, "not all the time." It was her turn to sigh, "no, I don't suppose all the time." ~~~~~~~~~~~ The man reappeared from behind the truck and for the first time noticed her. She knew what was going through his head at that moment. Nice looking girl, tan cargoes, red wifebeater tank top, boots, black mustang convertible, long blonde hair, standing alone at the far edge of a parking lot..yeah, she knew what he was thinking. She watched him as he approached. She didn't worry that her gun, the one already used to kill once, was stashed under her seat. She didn't worry because he would go away on his own. He would sense the intensity in her stance, see the anger in her eyes...and he would turn away and go back into his truck. He smiled easily as he approached her. Or she would kick his ass to a bloody pulp and stuff him back into the truck. "Lost little lady?" he asked. She picked out the southern accent immediately though she just stared intently at him. Nothing was more unsettling then asking someone a question, trying to be helpful, and in return...they just stared back at you. "You waiting on someone?" Her look changed the tiniest bit as she gave him the 'you must be the dumbest fuck on the face of the planet' look. "You...uh," he shifted on his feet trying to place the intense look, "looking for..." and he shut his mouth. She lowered her head keeping her eyes on him and he shifted uncomfortably under that kind of scrutiny. "I guess..." and he turned around and walked quickly away. "Loser," she muttered, smirking at his retreating form. ~~~~~~~~~~ They stood in the small hallway, it was early in the morning. Jaime had to leave for work, and she had a long drive ahead of her. Their plans were tentatively set for the weekend. Saturday night, in DC again, another bigwig of Red Cell that had found his way on to Section's payroll. ~~~~~~~~~~ She flipped open the cell and hit the green call button twice redialing the previous number. "Pastor Borton," the now familiar voice said. "Where's the meet?" she asked flatly. "Outside of Newton, off 206, about 20 miles north of town, there's a scenic overlook. To the north end of the overlook is a trail. Hike the trail...he'll find you." As the pastor spoke her mind drew up maps of the area pinpointing the directions with ease. "It will take me about an hour to get out there. Is that it?" "Yes, that's all he said." "Well, you call him back and you tell him I'm coming for him," she hissed, "and then, Pastor Borton?" "Yes?" "You forget about me...or I'll come for you, too." "There's no need..." She snapped the phone shut not bothering to listen to his reply. She didn't care. She closed her eyes turning her face to the sun again. The sun's warmth was like kisses... ~~~~~~~~~~ Jaime touched her gently, running his fingers through her hair, laying soft kisses over her face, her closed eyes, her nose, her cheeks, finally, her lips. He pulled back to look at her and he smiled softly. She could see etched within his blue eyes, still that ruthless sorrow that now had a name, and also an uncertainty. Uncertainty as to where he stood in her new world, because he knew where he lay with her, but where he stood was a different story. Uncertainty to the future, the near future, the weekend and possible killings, and the far future, how long he could do it, how long he could be with her without burning out. How long he could stand the brightness and the torturous pleasure and pain she brought with it. She saw it, clearly, and she could offer no words of comfort. It would not be easy. These things never were. She smiled back at him and nodded her head. It was time. With no words spoken between them that morning, the two assassins moved on with their lives and started their morning. ~~~~~~~~~~~ Paige lowered her face and opened her eyes staring at the macadam for a bit. She could hear the rumble of the big rig as the man from before started it up. She smiled, he would think twice of approaching strange women in parking lots. She took a breath and got into the car turning it on. She undid the clasps of the top and hit the button to lower it. No reason not to enjoy the warm weather for a little while. She pulled her hair up in a bun and put her sunglasses on. She then picked a cd out, one she knew Jaime would approve of, and turned the volume up. She smiled as the first notes assaulted her ears. If anything, it was going to be fun. Her target was now in sight. Kihn, the tormentor and the healer, the traitor and the loyalist, her killer and her savior, all of these that made up him, made up her and their torn relationship...it would finally be over. Within hours...she would rid herself of him. The killer-become missed no opportunity... Return