Disclaimer: I don't own "The Pretender" or any of its
characters. Thanx for not suing! ~Oriana
~~~~~~~~~
Spartan's Goddess
Part 3
He knelt beside her, barely daring to breathe, completely entranced. Asleep, the warm, rhythmic breaths escaping her mouth brushed lightly across his face like a caress. Nicholas closed his eyes, and savored the moment.
The entire complex was underground; their quarters had no windows, and as a result the room was pitch black. Still, when he opened his eyes, he knew every detail of the woman asleep beside him. Her pale pink lips, silky skin, thick dark eyelashes...
A murmur. "Nicholas?"
"It's me."
Alexa sat up in her bed. He heard a slight rustling of the pillow, and despite the dark, knew she was replacing the gun she'd drawn just moments before. "What are you doing here?"
"I woke up early."
"Nightmare?"
"Yes... I had to see you."
She reached behind her to the wall against the bed for the touch-sensitive pad built into it, and pressed twice. Dim light filled the large room. She reached out and brushed his cheek, a way of assuring him that it was all right, then got up. "Let me get dressed, and we can spar before the meeting."
~~~~~~~~~
It was just before dawn. Pale rays of sun illuminated small areas, casting long dark shadows everywhere. Despite the cold dew on the grass, he walked barefoot across the lawn, picked up a basketball on the sidewalk next to the garage, and began to dribble. The thoughts that had woken him up were still in the back of his mind, and as they pushed forward, flooding his mind, he began to dribble harder and harder, until the banging of the ball against the concrete was echoing through the neighborhood.
Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. Picking up the ball in one hand, he threw it against the basketball hoop with an angry growl.
"You know, they have anger management classes for this sort of thing." He turned, and it was like looking into a mirror, only this reflection was over a decade older.
They walked to each other, and met in the middle of the dewy lawn. "Hey, Jarod."
"Hey, Mini-Me."
The younger Jarod winced. "Just can't let that joke go, can you?"
"What, and miss your reaction every time you hear it? Never." Picking up the duffel bag he'd dropped a minute earlier, he nodded toward the house. "Dad up yet?"
"I don't think so."
Jarod looked down at the younger man's bare feet. "How can you not be cold?"
He gave him a confused look, then glanced down. "Oh. I hadn't even noticed."
Jarod sighed. "Yeah, well, it's the same with all you young 'uns." He patted him on the back. "Come on, rugrat--"
"Jarod," he warned.
"I know, I know, sorry. Come on, Jay, let's go inside and whip up some pancakes."
"Chocolate chip?"
"What else?"
~~~~~~~~~
The thick steel doors separating the complex and the elevator to above ground slowly slid apart. The handful of men waiting nodded respectfully as the elevator's passenger hurried past.
Gregory caught up, matching his fast pace. "Good morning, sir. Have a nice drive over?"
"It's six in the morning."
"Oh, um, right."
"Where are they?"
Gregory knew who he meant by "they." "They" were the only reason he ever bothered to make a personal appearance. "In the third level training room, sir, sparring." They reached an elevator, and Gregory followed him in. "I'll have someone fetch them, bring them up to the main conference room."
The other man held up a hand. "Wait. The third level, did you say? That one has an observation window, doesn't it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then leave them. I'd like to watch for a minute."
~~~~~~~~~
The third level training room was built specifically for hand-to-hand combat. There was no equipment, and the floor was covered with removable padding. It was the only two-story training room in the complex; the second story was for the purpose of observation. One-way windows, dark to anyone inside, covered all four walls.
Alexa and Nicholas had rolled back the pads, revealing hardwood floors beneath, and were completely absorbed in the current fight. Both had the precise motions honed from years of training, and as a result, practically every punch or kick by one was blocked by the other. Occasionally something would get through, and the hit person would stumble back a step or two. But as soon as they caught their breath, and often even sooner, they plunged right back in. For these two, sparring wasn't just a practiced sequence, it was an unpredictable, full-contact challenge.
Arriving at one of the observation windows, Gregory and the man he accompanied watched the two. The energy was almost tangible.
Alexa blocked a punch, gave one of her own, and as Nicholas managed to duck it, she gave a swift roundhouse kick, flooring him. Immediately, Nicholas sprang back up to his feet, and the game continued.
At the window, Gregory snuck a glance sideways as the man beside him chuckled in amusement. He knew why--every time he came, his interest was blatantly centered on Nia.
An assistant appeared behind them, and gave a small cough to make his presence known. "Um, sir?"
The man sighed impatiently, and turned to look at him. "Yes?"
"The other car has arrived--"
"Other car?" Gregory repeated, puzzled. "Sir, you've brought someone along?"
"Yes, my daughter."
Gregory froze. "Y-your daughter, sir?"
"Is there a problem with that?"
"Oh, uh, no, of course not. It's just that, well, I was under the impression that she was still unaware of the--" He glanced back down through the window. "--shall we say, special circumstances that are the very purpose of this complex."
"She is."
"Sir?"
"She is still unaware. That's why she's here. Given the assignment Nia and Marcus are to complete, I thought it to be the perfect opportunity to reveal present circumstances to her."
"I see." He gave a nod, and the assistant scurried away. "Sir, with all due respect, is this wise?"
"You have concerns?"
"Well, to be frank, yes. Your daughter's opinion of the Centre is already less than stellar, and this isn't exactly the sort of thing that's likely to raise it. And to bring her here for the first time, without giving any information beforehand... You have no worries as to how she'll handle it?"
"Of course not," he replied briskly. "She was raised in the Centre, she knows to expect these sort of things. She's strong, intelligent, and perfectly capable of handling the truth."
"Yes, sir."
"She'll be fine. After all, she's a Parker."
~~~~~~~~~
Down in the training room, they were still caught up in the game, and completely oblivious to the conversation taking place above. Neither showed signs of exhaustion, and aside from a few red marks where skin made contact with a blow, their sparring was flowing so precisely that it gave a sense of being easy and painless.
~~~~~~~~~
Back up at the observation window, their previous discussion was at an end. The two men stood side by side, and watched.
"They are incredibly good," the man commented suddenly. "And young--how old are they, again?"
"Nia is 20, sir, and Marcus is 22."
"The project has done quite well--at that age, and already far more capable than any of our others." He watched a moment longer, then asked, "How long have they been at it?"
Gregory looked down at his watch. "Nearly two hours."
"Impressive."
"This is nothing. We tested them once, four years ago, for endurance. They sparred for six and a half hours--we left about half way through, videotaped the rest. I came back expecting to find one or both of them passed out on the floor."
"And?"
"And they weren't. Those two were still going at it. We stopped them, and sent them to the infirmary. Nia had two bruised ribs; Marcus had sprained his wrist, fractured his ankle, and needed thirteen stitches."
"You'd think they were enemies."
"Far from it." Gregory looked over at him. "But then, you already know that."
Down in the room, they saw the fighting continue. Gregory again glanced down at his watch. "Sir, the meeting's scheduled to start in a few minutes. Why don't I walk up with you?" They moved away from the observation window.
~~~~~~~~~
With a sharp kick to her lower legs, Alexa was knocked to the ground, landing on her back. The kick, however, didn't go as smoothly as expected--his leg was tripped as she fell, and Nicholas was knocked down as well.
He landed just next to her, his arms meeting the floor first, and propping him up; one arm crossed over her, his hand pressed to the floor inches from her head. The exercise had left both breathing heavily. Looking down, Nicholas stared intensely into her eyes. Slowly, his eyes trailed down to her lips.
"Your kick was too high," she commented, her voice calm and even despite the deep breaths. She moved to sit up, and he withdrew his arm. "Next time, aim low, and you won't be tripped." Both sat for a brief moment, catching their breath, then stood. "We should go--the meeting will start soon." They walked side by side out of the training room.
~~~~~~~~~
Outside of the complex's main conference room, where two halls met, Gregory arrived at the doors just as the other two did. "Nia, I need to talk to you."
Alexa stopped. "We're about to start the meeting."
"We have five minutes--you said we could talk this morning."
"Fine." Looking to Nicholas, she said, "Marcus, I'll meet you inside." He walked in, leaving them alone. She turned her attention back to Gregory. "Well?"
He pulled her away from the doors, and led her around a corner down the hall. She recognized it as one of the few areas of the complex that was completely out of security camera range.
He took a quick look around them, then began to speak in a low voice. "I had to warn you. Nia, you and Marcus are in danger."
She studied him closely. "Why?"
"The Centre's getting anxious. They think they've gotten too dependent on you lately, and with every mission you learn even more about projects, the Triumvirate, everything."
"It makes no sense to kill us," she commented in a neutral tone. "We're the best tool they have."
"If they think any of what they've worked for is in danger, they'll do whatever it takes to protect it. Marcus especially is making them nervous. You've seen how he kills--"
"He's doing his job," she interrupted, her voice slightly defensive.
"He's on the verge."
"He's always on the verge." Her voice was once again calm. "Wasn't that the idea?" She lowered her head a little, so that her eyes were shadowed and appeared even darker. "Tell me something, Gregory, why warn me? You don't gain anything from it. In fact, you've never protected us unless you benefited."
Her eyes were baring into him, and he had to force down the lump forming in his throat. He was just like everyone else in the complex; Nicholas was the only one not terrified of her, and what she was capable of.
"When Vincent died," he said in a less than stable voice, "and I took over, I tried to continue his idea of a family unit. I protect you because of fatherly instinct."
She didn't reply, continued to watch him.
"You don't believe me. Why?"
Alexa leaned close, and said in a low voice, "Because I've seen the way you look at me--" She pressed a finger against his lips. "--and it's anything but fatherly." She turned abruptly, and walked away.