In My Hands the Means

In My Hands the Means 10

Vice

Vi veri universum vivus vici

Why hadn't I thought of it before and why had it taken us such a long time to figure it out now? These were the questions plaguing my mind during the beginning of the trip while Fleur slept soundly. She was apparently okay with flying on a plane to Germany in order to find Severino (after a little convincing). I was just glad I had contacts there.

About a week ago we were still in the building and I was staring at her like an idiot as she slowly but surely caught her breath. She was just standing there, looking around for something it seemed. I turned away from her, yanking my neck in another direction.

"Fleur, go back to your room and get dressed. I'll schedule a flight to Germany." My order fell lightly on her and she hardly reacted at all.

"Nonstop? Straight to it... like the trip from France to here? I don't want to deal with that again...it's more trouble than it's worth." She sounded exhausted already even with her breathing back to ordinariness. My eyes found their way back to the scantily covered girl, moving from her feet, up her smooth legs, the fabric of her immaculate towel ensconcing her body and starting from her mid thigh to just above half of her upper torso. The piece of cloth may be covering her, but fit her like a second skin and I was grateful the Task Force members weren't here right now. Matsuda would have had a fatal nosebleed from just glancing at the suggestive image of her there... zoning out and away from reality again. Why was it she was only really able to focus when she was in the shower? Fleur had absolutely no idea the distraction she created in such flimsy attire. I shook my head.

"This is no time to escape the real world, Fleur." Standing in front of her as she targeted something behind me as I concentrated on her face. Then without another word she spun on her heel and walked out, the steady swaying of her hips brought itself to my attention until she walked out of my line of sight... later coming back in more appropriate wear.

"I don't want to leave yet... I want to wait until I can interrogate the ones we have under supervision first." Was what she tossed behind her.

So then I went with her several days later when she let me know she was ready to interrogate them her way...with me present and nearby. They would be almost fully restrained (not like Misa had been that time) and as Fleur told me 'more willing to talk'...though she later informed me what we were about to do might be in vain as they were paranoid and insane.

"They must stay the way they are at all times while we are in the same area as them... after they find out why they were caught and we know what they are doing, they will want to kill us. That part is natural, of course, but you understand my meaning." She mildly rambled as she absentmindedly paced.

Fleur was wide awake and alert when we finally rode to where the three men were waiting. I remember constantly glancing at her to see if she was okay or about to snap because I could never tell.

"I want you to be in the room behind the window. Severino is still out there and we don't know what they are capable of." She muttered. I raised a brow at her request but didn't reply. If it wasn't for her we wouldn't have gotten this much of the case done so quickly, so she was entitled to some...favors, I supposed.

"If you're sure you want to. I won't get in the way." I agreed and she frowned as she looked out the window.

"You've never gotten in the way, Deneuve." She took her iPod nano out of her pocket and tossed it to me.

"When you get the time, watch the videos on there..." After that, she was quiet until we reached where they were all being held.

Fleur had chosen to wear the most conservative thing I had even seen her in since she got here. A scoop-backed, semi-low, and a black halter corset that covered everything except a portion of her throat from just above her breast to her neck, where the band around her neck held her top to her body. Thin silver designs slithered around her top. The skirt was a full, wine red, ground length piece that flowed just above the ground she walked on, making it appear as though she were gliding. She had on hand made gloves that laced up the sides of her arms and ruffled at the bottom, encircling her hands in soft satiny waves, while florally patterned lace decorated her hands. I had spotted her shoes while she was situating herself in the vehicle. They appeared to be combats with platforms and my thoughts sounded true as I heard the heavy thud of them on the laminate flooring as we made our way to the room.