He shivered slightly as a water droplet hanging from the street vendor's sign above him fell onto the back of his neck. Carefully keeping an eye on the people going by, Alex opened the door of Shakespeare & Co., a small bookstore.
Reading had always been one of his favourite past times, as he needed to keep himself occupied in between killing assignments. Indeed, one could say he had become an expert in various fields due to this hobby. How could he learn to be a successful chameleon if he didn't understand the past and the present, if he couldn't camouflage himself to be either beggar or prince?
As he rummaged through old forgotten classics, walking first down the children's section, looking for any obscure fairytales that could be the retelling of early human abductions, Alex eventually found himself picking up a John LeCarre book. He had always had a weakness for flawed heroes, especially those characters who reminded him of his favourite fibbie, Fox Mulder.
Heading toward the front of the store, something caught Alex's attention. A young Parisian was carelessly holding onto the ladder that was attached to the top of the bookcase. From where Alex stood, he could see the young man as he stretched, reaching for some books.
Just as the young man was about to grasp another set of books, one of the locks that held the ladder in place broke, and Alex dropped his book, rushing to the scene as the man toppled over. Alex caught him in his arms, and found himself looking down at surprising large hazel eyes.
The young man smiled somewhat shyly as if embarrassed by his own clumsiness and the attention he was receiving not only from Alex but also the customers near by them.
"Monsieur?" The young man asked at the continued silence, one eye brow raised slightly.
Realizing he was still holding tightly onto him, Alex loosened his hold on the man, reluctantly letting him go.
To say he had been bewitched was an understatement. Day after day, Alex found himself visiting the shop, learning the young man's schedule, intrigued by the simplicity of their first meeting.
There was no hidden agenda, no reason for Alex to have been at the store. It was a rare occurrence for him to meet people who were not tied to the Consortium, to the conspiracy that ruled over his existence. It was somewhat pleasant to allow himself to have, even if it was for a short time, a semi-normal life. While he would admit that stalking was not, by most people's standards, a normal activity, for him this one was a novelty.
Stalking for the purpose of just wanting to meet someone, to know them better was a nice change from his usual hunts.
And he couldn't seem to forget the hazel eyes that had welcomed and encouraged Alex to share the amusement felt by their bearer whenever Alex "accidentally" ran into him.
Adam Pierson.
Alex silently mouthed the name, not allowing himself the opportunity to say the name aloud. It felt like a secret, silently saying the name of the man who was almost a boy.
Alex watched from afar as Adam entered the American Blues Bar. To his mind, the kid spent too much time studying, working or lounging at the bar. The only interaction Adam seemed to have with people was if they were fellow students, customers, or bartenders.
Especially bartenders.
Alex bit his lip, for the first time in a long while feeling uncertain. He was in Paris, in-between assignments for the Brit, trying to maintain a low profile. He wasn't here to flirt or start a relationship with someone, he reminded himself, especially some student who specialized in antiquities.
Playful eyes.
Adam had been amused when, in the process of releasing him, Alex had tripped on one of the books on the floor, coming close to falling flat on his face.
Adam had chuckled as his hands had reached for Alex's arm, to steady him.
Who would it hurt, Alex thought, if he just talked with the boy?
Talking did not always lead to other things.
Alex unconsciously adjusted himself slightly at the thought of all the pale flesh on display just for his pleasure.
Before he could change his mind, he walked toward the bar, feeling himself relax when, upon opening the door, he was welcomed inside by the smile on Adam's lips.
He nipped and licked the length of the collarbone, hearing the low moan beside his ear. He rubbed his thumb along the dip of Adam's back, encouraging the arch, the sway of the hips as Adam tried to close the gap between them, rubbing himself against Alex.
A quick gasp, then hands coming out to hold onto the side of Alex's jeans, as Adam murmured along Alex jaw, whispering inconsequential things like how Alex tasted better than beer.
"A..lex." His name breathlessly called, and Alex wondered when Adam would allow him to reach third base.
Standing in the rain was not Alex's idea of fun.
They were in a park, walking with no real destination in sight when it had started to rain. First it had been a slight drizzle and Adam had just smiled at him walking onward, not at all bothered by the rain. When the drizzle turned into a downpour, Adam reached for his hand, to keep Alex in place, raising his face to the sky as if to welcome the heavy shower.
They were all alone in the park as everyone else has sought shelter.
"Adam." Leather and water were not a good combination, and Alex had a fondness for this particular jacket. But Adam didn't seem to care for Alex's discomfort for he continued to insist that they just stand there, as if they were two escapees from the insane asylum who knew no better.
"Adam," he called again, and his patience was rewarded with a tumble in the rain.
A leather jacket was a small price to pay for that pleasure.
Staring at the man sleeping on the bed, Krycek wondered how he could have been so blind. He looked down at the sheet in his hand. Adam Pierson. Mother: Carla Pierson, deceased. Father: Benjamin Morgan, deceased. Heir to the Morgan fortune, and all that wealth was held in trust by the British arm of the Consortium.
For most of his life, Krycek had tried to find the means of bringing down the Consortium and the one time he actually hadn't been looking, that one time...he crumbled the paper in his hands. He could bring the Consortium down, destroy it from within and all he had to do was use Adam's trust fund. He could apply economic pressure, cut them off from accessing the money, and from their ability to fund operations.
He could do this.
But.
And that was the problem.
Adam was a complication Krycek had not foreseen.
He could use him, manipulate the other man into giving Krycek the control he would need to destroy the Consortium, via its business needs. And he would be successful at it, he had no doubts to that, but...
It was that pause in his game plan that troubled him.
Somewhere along the way he had developed a conscience, at least where Adam was concerned. Adam, who in the matter of weeks, had lit up his dark life.
In the past, Krycek had corrupted innocents. He could do this. He had to do this. Earth relied upon him.
Tossing the crumbled paper away, Krycek lay next to Adam and gathered him in his arms.
In a few short months, Adam would have access to his trust fund and Krycek could immediately stop the flow of money headed into Consortium pockets. In one easy stroke Krycek could deal them a major blow.
Krycek rested his chin in the crook of Adam's neck. He didn't want to do this, if there were any other means...he sighed and Adam shivered in response.
To save over a billion lives or one, that was what it boiled down to.
He wished...
Wishes were for the innocent.
To be continued...Summer Breezes.
Author's Note: I know many people have been waiting for the next chapter in the Summer Breezes series, "The Black Plague." Please note, I had to write these two prequels in order to advance the storyline. As I was plotting down Black Plague' I realized something was missing. I needed to further explore Krycek's and Skinner's motivation. Needed the reader to understand why the two characters are reacting to Adam in such a way.
Thank you for your patience.
Gentle is the Rain
by Erika
He ran across the road ignoring the large puddles along the wet street. It had been raining all morning and he found himself ducking from one shop to another trying to avoid the heavy raindrops.
