Stockholm \Moriarty\AWKIF BK2\

13

"So," Jim drawled as he stood over Clarice in an icebath, "who was the girl?"

"Hacker I met when I first came to America," she replied between shivers. "Her set up kept me off of any and all grids after my parents."

"Good lay?" he asked curiously. Clarice gave him a sacrastic stare that was colder than the water she was submerged in. "Must be, she seemed rather fond of you."

"When we first met I told you I didn't have friends... What in God's name do you think I'd be doing in a romantic relationship?" she hissed.

"If you weren't such a sissy, there might have been something serious between us," he stated. As he expected, Clarice's mask fell away and she looked tormented by something.

"This bath is torture enough. Have some mercy." Jim looked away and Clarice practically pounced on an oppertunity. "What happened to 'you would never hurt me'?" she asked, a little too hopeful.

Jim smirked and leaned towards the tub. "Sweetheart," he said in a low, quiet tone, "if I were hurting you, you would know it. I'm just sobering you up."

As Clarice closed her eyes, her brows pulled together and she grew a slight frown. "When you think you're ready, come on out. But leave your clothes in the tub. Mycroft won't be happy if you damage his jet."

As if in response, Clarice took a silent breath and put her head under the water, effectively clearing her head. She came up a few moments later but kept her breathing surprisingly light. When Jim remained in the bathroom, dull blue eyes slid over to him and silently threatened him. The message was clear and Jim gave her a little smirk before leaving.

Since no fresh clothes had been provided, Clarice exited in just a towel, her long blonde hair dripping onto the carpet. "Am I expected to return to London buck ass naked or am I permitted clothes, Mycroft?" she said in an irritated tone, her voice carrying over the engines and her accent growing to be a mix of Aussie and American.

Two pairs of brown eyes shot up to her, examining the lightly scarred flesh in their view and the brightly colored tattoo on her arm. While the two men continued to stare, Mycroft's jockey woman walked up and gave her a garment bag, typing away on a small device and completely ignoring the awkward air in the jet. "Perverts," Clarice scoffed before returning to the bathroom.

After changning, she noticed Mycroft and Jim were playing chess and approached them. Upon further inspection, the game was obviously staged and neither man dared to acknowledge her and face her fury.

"What is it about me that brings the two of you together?" she scoffed. She sat on the arm of one of the seats, propping her ankles up on the table and kicking the edge of it so all the pieces fell over. "Whoops," she sighed in a bored tone.

"I've already tried speaking to her," Jim announced, clearly irritated. "It's your turn." Mycroft glared harshly and watched the way Clarice turned towards him, for once giving him her full attention.

"In our present situation, I am a hostage," he sighed. "Another one of your boyfriend's little tricks." Clarice stared at him for a long moment before bursting into laughter.

"He wishes he was my boyfriend. What happens when he lets you go?" Jim held up a small vial and handed it to the blonde.

"A little tranquilizer. He'll forget the last twenty-four hours and so will the rest of the people who knew about our rescue mission." Clarice studied the white liquid briefly before handing it back to Jim.

"Does that include me?" she asked curiously.

"Depends." When Clarice raised a brow, he only winked and turned back to Mycroft. "But I must mind what I say. Some stuff might stick."

Clapping her hands together, Clarice stood and gave the two an obviously displeased expression. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to cut off some of my hair." She grabbed one of her bags from a chair and brought it to the bathroom.

After throwing it on the counter, she leaned against it and sighed heavily. She didn't have long before the door opened again and Jim was accompanying her. "Yes, Moriarty?" He frowned and watched her through the mirror.

"I don't even know what I did when you ran off. Would you at least explain that?" he asked in a guarded voice.

"I was pinned against a wall and had a pair of hands around my neck," she reminded. "You may not have hurt me, but you brought back some things I'd rather forget."

"Carlisle," he sighed, running his hand over his face. "I never wanted you to leave. I'll admit, I may have gotten a little careless with this latest job."

"So you brought me back to help you out of some mess?" she asked incredilously, turning around to face him.

"You and your hacker can stay at my place, so long as you keep her away from me. I can't promise I won't get spiteful."

"No." Clarice shook her head and stared at the floor. "I'm not dragging her into your petty drama."

"So you do care for her?" Clarice chuckled and met his gaze.

"I have enough respect for her to not lead her on," she corrected.

"And we both know why you'd be leading her on," Jim tempted.

"Do we?" The blonde straightened and held her ground as he stepped forward.

"I've told you before. You choose me. Always. We will always end up here" -- he cupped her face and held his lips and inch away from hers -- "and we just can't help ourselves. I complete you just as much as you complete me." Clarice's lips parted and she was hardly breathing, understanding imediately what he meant. "And as wonderful as you and that girl mut have been together, I'd skin her if she touches you again."

Instead of meeting her lips, he began kissing her jaw and holding her tightly. "You can have someone normal, someone who loves you. And yet, you choose the choas." He held her hips tightly and sat her on the counter, standing between her legs with very little space between their hips. "You wanted me to whisk you back to your homeland, didn't you?"

He stopped moving and she was left with to options. Yes: forget everything, pull him closer and jump his bones. No: push him away and continue to be stubborn. Not much thought behind this ultimatum.

Clarice ignored the way his lips ghosted over her neck and grabbed his chin, bringing his eyes up to hers. "If I help you, I'm your equal, not your pet."

"Done," he muttered, moving forward but stopping when she pulled his hair back.

"I'm going to be upset enough to kill you the next time you decide to pull something like that," she warned, her body almost trembling.

"Don't tempt me." He easily caught her lips and felt her relax, his arm curling around her greedily.

Clarice pulled away, but kept Jim within reach, her head swimming as she looked at him. "Not around Mycroft. He can't know. Shock like that would over come your drug."

"Babe," he sighed, curling his arm securely around her waist. "It's actually just cream in there. We're going to court for the hostages and the bombs. This was all just part of a plan to get you to come."

"Of course," Clarice sighed, leaning her head against the mirror. "You won't even give me five minutes before we start."

"We both know you like my surprises better," he sighed dramatically.

"Sometimes."