The Infiltration Ch. 55

I traced the path of a drop of rain with my fingertip as it ran down the passenger side window and traveled it's own unique journey.

Udre half lay on top of me, dead weight. Dead weight... that phrase skittered with long jagged nails through my mind. Someone was crying... more than one someone, but crying in different ways. Another random thought flew through my head, one of how it is that different people react in different ways to things like this... to death and violence and carnage... but that wasn't what was important right now, damn it...

Udre half lay heavily on top of me and my gun hand dropped and fell against the floor as if it were also 'dead weight', while my other hand floated with eerie lightness up to Udre's head where it rested between my breasts, heavy weight, dead weight, and my fingers felt the wetness that slicked the skin of his neck, wetness that I knew was blood and not just water from the fountain I had pulled him from, blood that ran from my love's veins...

The rivulet suddenly ran into and became one with another droplet. I stared at the unexpected joining until the man beside me broke the silence of the parked car. We had already spoken on the drive here of all the most important things, and then the 'do you have everything you needs, and such. Now I turned to him, watching him crane his neck to peer through the front windshield and up into the sky. His eyes briefly followed an airplane rising swiftly in it's departure, but his attention was on the weather.

"Ah... the sun is coming out. This is good! We will consider it a lucky omen for you."

I gave him a small smile. "That sounds like something Gypsy would say." I murmured. His eyes darted in my direction before he looked outside at the clearing sky once more.

After another moment of silence he spoke quietly.

"You know how sorry I am for not being here for you when you needed me most."

"Anatoly, hush." That was all I needed to say. He met my eyes then.

"Do you know, Udre was more of a brother to me than my own brother of blood. For what I am, what I have become, for who I am, I owe Udre... SO much. I am talking of the Udre that you knew in the past weeks, Minou, not the Udre the world thought it knew." He shook his head ruefully, as if he thought the world lacking because of it's quick and thoughtless judgment of Udre Belicoff. "One does not steal from one's brother... but in another life, another world... you and I? Perhaps." I raised a brow at that and he shrugged again, the corner of his mouth lifting and falling in quick succession. "But of course it was not meant to be. Not if we each follow our heart. That is something you have taught me to do, Minou, and I thank you for that. I see now where my heart belongs, as you have known all along where yours should be. My wish for you now is that you keep following your heart, and do not turn away when it coincides with the path of another." And this was the man that had called ME a romantic?

"Oh, but look at all the trouble that following my heart has caused. If I had used my HEAD more, then maybe..."

"No 'maybe'. No regretting. No looking back with anything but the good memories. You will do that."

"You sound like Gypsy again." I laughed a little, somewhat sadly. I was going to miss both of them, Anatoly and Gypsy alike. I sighed and looked at the clock on the dashboard. "I had better get going." I didn't move in spite of my declaration.

"Minou... I will follow Gypsy's lead in another way and not say goodbye to you." Anatoly took my hand and raised it to his lips, his blue, blue eyes boring earnestly into mine. He pressed his mouth to my skin for a long moment, then enveloped my hand in both of his and squeezed. "I will only say 'until we meet again'. Darling."

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"Butterfly."

I had been so focused on the destination-driven tap tap tapping of my heels echoing dully through the deserted airport corridor that I was badly startled by the voice, no matter that it was low spoken and soft.

I spun toward the sound just in time to see a tall, dark haired man step from the shadow of a doorway.

"Dimitri?" I was just as startled to see him as I had been to hear his voice.

I took a step towards him. He mirrored the movement.

"Dimitri! Where have you been? Everyone has been worried. We all thought you were... you had... we didn't know WHAT to think!" The words rushed out of me. He only smiled calmly.

"Where are you flying off to, Butterfly?" Dimitri asked his own murmured question instead of answering mine.

I didn't answer his either. I felt it was rhetorical. Instead I took the last step forward, which brought me close enough to lay a hand on his arm. He looked down at my touch and I realized I had put my hand over the place that I had shot him... so very long ago. Speculation about where he had disappeared to and what had happened to him had run rampant in the days since the happenings at Anatoly's nightclub and Udre's penthouse. I was still curious, but at least having him here in front of me was an assurance. I felt he was 'okay'.

"I have so much to tell you... but so little time." I glanced at down the corridor at the door I had been headed for when he had surprised me. I was torn between the man in front of me and the plane I knew was waiting for me. "I have to tell you, it's important..." I rushed on, stopping when he lay his hand over mine.

"You do not need to tell me. I know. I know everything." His green eyes bore into mine. He'd known where to find me just now. That fact alone made me believe that he did indeed 'know' everything, as he said. Even so...

"Oh, but... you know that Udre...?" Dimitri's hand moved up to my cheek and his thumb brushed the corner of my mouth, stopping my words once again. He nodded.

"I know everything. Do not worry about that." He spoke quietly in the deep, smooth tone that was all his own, then smiled sadly. "It was quite the funeral.

I watched the television screen as the live image of Udre's casket being carried through the huge cathedral had me transfixed. Gypsy broke the spell by clicking the TV off manually, not even bothering with taking the remote from my numb fingers. "You don't need to watch that." she'd said, some admonishment in her voice but mostly kindness.

Yes, it had been quite the funeral. A lavishly put on affair to mark the end of the life of a man that no one but I and his closest friends REALLY knew. A memorial put on by a brother who was, in the end, no real brother of Udre's. But now that brother himself was gone, assassinated not long after the funeral he had held for Udre, and despite the political upheaval we all knew was coming, there weren't very many who truly mourned the passing of Mikhail Belicoff. I wasn't sorry about that.

So many things whirled through my head, things that I wanted to talk to Dimitri about. But I had no time, and I believed him when he said he knew everything anyhow. I saw the truth of that in his eyes. He seemed to read my thoughts and lay his hand back over my own which was still curved around his bicep.

"I also do not have the time, much as that saddens me." His glance darted to the end of the corridor that I had come from, furtive and almost too quick to notice.

"Pandora-" I began...

"I know of her also." Dimitri repeated, interrupting. "I wish her every happiness, back in America or wherever she wishes to finally land. EVERY happiness. But Minou, I wanted to see you before you left, wanted to talk with you... I wish you to know how I feel that I could not help you. I tried to get to you. I cannot tell you now what happened or why... but I tried..."

It was my turn to stop his words, seeing how distressed he was becoming. Rumors had run rampant about Dimitri in these past days. I had my own ideas. The letters C, I and A were among my thoughts, but I didn't need the corroboration at this point. Not really.

"Dimitri... hush." The simple word had worked for Anatoly, and now seemed just as good for Udre's cousin.

The door he had glanced so quickly at a moment ago swung open suddenly, intrusively. I jumped a little at the noise, still so easily startled, but Dimitri only looked resigned, as if he'd known it was going to happen. He didn't look happy about it, but he had been expecting it. He glared at the man striding towards us, and then his arms were around me in an all encompassing embrace.

He whispered something. My ear was muffled against his neck and I couldn't quite catch the words, words that I felt deep down were intensely private and maybe not even I was meant to hear them, and then he was releasing me and smiling with a touch of forced brightness, declaring that I shouldn't worry or be frightened, that I would be 'all right'. He knew it now.

"You will always be as a graceful butterfly. Remember this."

Dimitri turned on his heel, holding his arms out as if he were going to hug the dour and extremely irritated looking man who was now almost upon us. No hug appeared, but Dimitri led the way down the corridor without a backward glance, his voice echoing off the walls.

"Ah, my Keeper! I am surprised you found me so quickly! Next time, please do me a favor and give me a LITTLE more time."

The dour man mumbled something that sounded like 'There won't BE a next time.', at which Dimitri's laugh echoed off the walls.

And then they were through the door and gone.

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I stepped across the threshold, staring at the floor. My feet followed carefully in the footsteps of the feet in front of me. There was no one behind me. The small, low heeled pump clad feet that led the way stopped and the diminutive woman spoke. Her words were in English, quite a change for me after making my 'native' language Russian for what seemed like so long, but it was no problem. Not for me.

"Well, for Pete's sake!" The pixie-ish blond looked around the empty space, her hands on her hips. "He was here a moment ago..." Rikka stopped as the loud, authoritative voice, speaking in heavily accented English, carried to us from the direction of the jet's cockpit.

"You will do so because I say it. You will take care of it. I am CLEAR to you, da?"

Udre strode through the small door, a scowl on his face. Bijou followed at his heels, head and tail held high as if she were the one barking orders and held the position of Queen Feline of the Airways. I wondered how Queenly she would be feeling and acting when the jet took off and my precocious and usually fearless cat discovered that she was in a strange and magical vehicle that was about to lift up and fly through the air, of all things. And then I had to work to keep my mouth from twitching when I recalled the moment in the early hours of this morning, just before Udre had left to say a last but temporary goodbye to his little niece Lidiya and the three women who, it was decided, would be best at continuing to care for her, and I had noticed his odd demeanor when we were talking about our impending flight...

"Udre," I had said, really just teasing, "are you nervous about flying?"

"Udre is afraid of nothing!" he had practically roared, and I had laughed... and then so had he. It was a wonderful moment, because there was now a ring of truth in that.

Now, on Udre's private jet and moments from lifting into the air to be on our way to... somewhere else... all thought of laughing flew away as he stopped and stared at me, his eyes narrowing, boring into my very soul. It was THAT look. That one I loved. Intense. Glittering. From what seemed like miles away I heard Rikka clear her throat and mumble wryly 'Excuse me.' as she left the private jet cabin. Udre still stared, motionless. I tried to breathe.

He was breathing. Just barely, but he was, and that meant he was alive. Oh my god he was still alive, even though he was heavy as a dead weight laying against me as I half sat half lay on the floor of the main room next to the lion head fountain that I had come to hate.

The water that soaked Udre's robe had already seeped through my own clothes, cold as death but I knew that some of that wetness was his own blood and that was what chilled me to the bone. But he was still alive. Nina was crying quietly, in shock. Mavra was crying hysterically, as was her way. Bijou had run off and hidden somewhere the moment I had fired the gun in my hand, and Yerik lay not even two feet away from me, staring with lifeless eyes at the ceiling and the whole room was littered with the newly dead bodies of Udre's guests... but Udre was alive.

And for me, at that moment, that was all that mattered.

That was still all that mattered to me in the blur of the next days. My Udre was alive... hurt, but showing promise of recovering with great speed, waving away comments that he was lucky that he wasn't dead. He knew he was lucky. No one had to tell him that. Yes, he would walk with a limp for a while. Yes, he had some difficulty using his arm even though he stubbornly refused to rely on the sling he was given. Yes, he'd had to have his hair cut shorter in order for the small wound caused by the bullet to be cared for. These were just little things. Yes, he was incredibly lucky.

Lucky... and wanting to change. During his recovery we had talked long and often of his past, the present, and occasionally had even touched on what the future would bring. Neither of us were naive enough to think that some of these changes, though desired, wouldn't be difficult. But at least he was willing to try, and I was willing to help.

'After the pain, comes the pleasure.'

Udre had told me that. Little had he known how far reaching that phrase would be into his own life. Or had he known? Had hoped, perhaps?

Mikhail had shaped Udre's life. That was just the way it was, no undoing the past. Was there? Mikhail was now gone. The past was gone. Udre was a strong man and I knew that, despite surface appearances, he was a good man.

Yes, there IS redemption. After the pain, comes the pleasure. Some roads are more difficult and winding than others, but still worth continuing the journey.

Men came to see us. Mysterious. Serious. Obviously devoid of emotion or at least well versed in hiding themselves. We learned that the bald headed man who had infiltrated Udre's penthouse did not care either way if Udre had lived or not. For his purposes it would have been just as well had Udre died, but the end result was the same when the Men had come to us afterward and had convinced us to let the world think that Udre Belicoff was no more. Even letting us in on that much probably never would have come about if the Men hadn't thought it would ensure our co-operation. The huge... and fake... funeral for Udre had followed, getting the result that had been intended all along: to draw out Mikhail Belicoff (or was it Mikhail's double? we still did not know which... THAT much we were not privy to), to get the Russian President out into the open and assassinate him. And that, in a nutshell, is what had happened.

Udre cried no tears of sorrow. Not for Mikhail.

There was, of course, more to it. Much more. But other than our agreement to leave Udre's homeland for the time being even though there were hints of it soon being nothing of interest to the Men whether Udre's survival was revealed or not (our closest friends, the people that MATTERED, already knew), this is just about all of this that I can tell you. In end, the Men got what they wanted - I got what I wanted. The two were separate but intertwined.

All that mattered... all that matters... is that my Udre is alive and well and breathing...

I took a deep breath and lowered my eyes until all I could see was the carpeted flooring, my hands rising and fingers interlocking familiarly at the nape of my neck.

I almost jumped when I felt his hand under my chin. His touch was firm, but gentle. He pushed my chin upward, lifting my face. I closed my eyes to keep from looking at him. His hand slid smoothly down my neck, his palm warm against my skin but causing a shiver. He felt that... and chuckled.

"You are Virgin?" I heard the smile in his throaty voice.

"Oh no, Sir. I am definitely not."

"Mmm." He rumbled from deep within his chest. "Open your eyes." he whispered. "I wish to see them."

When I did as he requested I blinked in surprise. He was close, so close, but I knew he would be. That wasn't the surprise. One hand curved warmly against my neck, his thumb stroking the jeweled collar as his fingers moved in unconscious little circles where they touched my skin. His other hand he held up before my eyes so that I couldn't miss the ring held between the tips of his index and middle fingers. It looked just like the Celtic knotted snake ring I had given him, the one he never took off now, but a smaller version. I looked from the ring to Udre in silent curiosity. He took a deep breath... to calm himself? I wondered... but then spoke as self assuredly as ever. His voice was strong as he began and he looked straight into my eyes, but by the time he had finished I was firmly wrapped in his arms and he was murmuring his words against my ear.

"If I keep you, you will be my Virgin. You will be my whore. My pussy. My Minou. Kitten. Milaya moya. My slave. My Mistress. My savior... my downfall. My Veta-Elizaveta-Elisabeth. Kisa, ahhh my kisa. My love and my life. My Minou. You are my everything, my Minou. Now you will be my wife."

It was a statement, but really it WAS a question none-the-less. I heard a tremorous "Please." and then I felt the hesitant stiffness of his body melt away as I nodded, the whiskers of his cheek scritching with reassuring familiarity against my skin.

"Yes Sir." I whispered. I unlaced my fingers from behind my neck, moving my arms to wrap them around Udre's broad shoulders, feeling his own arms tighten around me with gentle strength. "Yes Sir."

"I will keep you." I barely heard it, and his voice broke on the words... but he said it.

I was in.

~End~

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Author's Note:

THANK YOU thank you thank you for reading!

You all have been so great. I have truly enjoyed reading your comments (whether good or not, you know it's something that has kept me going!) and am thrilled about how many of you have stuck with the story from beginning to end.

I'm a little sad that it's over, but I do hope I get the Muse for a new endeavor.

Thank you for reading, and HOPE to see you here again soon!

~Ardella