The Red Factor: A matter of trust

The Red Factor: A matter of trust

Rating: NC-17 for language, adult situations and sex in glorious detail

Disclaimer: Dana "Red" Scully, Bruce Wayne, Selena Kyle and Alex Krycek don't belong to me. They are the property of their respective creators. I'm just having a little fun with them.

Comments: sexychaynne@aemail4u.com

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Bruce stared at me impassively. His midnight blue eyes were unreadable. He thought I'd made a mistake and he was trying to make me back down.

"How did you find out?" he demanded. He was standing over me, using his full height of six foot two to intimidate me. I might only be five-five, but I could stand my ground with the best of them.

"I'm not stupid, Bruce," I retorted, stretching out on the hotel room bed. "I'm trained to notice things that otpeoppeople don’t. You're good, damn good, but I figured you out."

I rolled onto my stomach, making sure the huge fluffy towel stayed in place. I didn't want to flash Bruce. I didn't need to shock the playboy. I reached over the side of the bed to pick up the book I'd dropped when Bruce had stared hammering on my hotel room door five minutes earlier.

"Red!" he snapped. "Stop playing games with me!"

I realised that there was a cool breeze high up across my ass.pitepite my best intentions, the damn towel must have ridden up after all.

I left the book alone, rolled onto my back and sat up, keeping my legs crossed demurely at the ankles and the towel straight. My auburn hair was piled into a haphazard knot on top of my head, but tendrils kept escaping around my face and tickling it. I tucked an errant strand behind my ear.

"Bruce, I'm not playing games with you." I insisted and gazed up into those unfathomable midnight blue eyes with my best butter wouldn't melt in myth lth look.

His black Armani suit looked as impeccable as ever, but his loosened tie showed me how agitated he really was.

"So if I told you I'm not the Batman –" he started.

"I'd say you're lying though your perfect teeth," I retorted, cutting in.

"And you've made your decision based on *what* exactly?" he demanded hotly, running his hand through his short dark hair.

"Angela Belkin's fundraising gala, two weeks ago. You disappeared into a bedroom, Batman shows up on the roof, your bimbo du jour can't find you and discovers from Angela that you've been called into the office."

"Coincidence!" Bruce barked out.

"Maybe, but I've watched you closely, correlated events and timings. I was paid to watch you, don’t forget," I reminded him.

"You were paid to be Bruce Wayne's bodyguard!" Bruce started to pace up and down the small room, black, highly polished handmade wingtips flashing at each step.

"It's not my fault I'm good at what I do," I replied, smugly.

"So, supposing I *am* Batman, what are you going to do with that explosive piece of information?" he asked, trying to feel me out. I've used that interrogation technique too many times not to many times not to know it when I hear it.

"Nothing."

That halted his long-legged stride across the tiny hotel room.

"What?!" his head slowly swivelled to face me.

"I'd do nothing. We've both got secrets, and we'd prefer to keep them hidden."

"Small problem, Red, I don't *know* your secret."

I shrugged. I saw no harm in telling him. "I'm a covert government assassin. I work for an international organisation called The Network, which has links to governments from around the world. The bodyguard thing is just a cover. If you want confirmation, call Gregory Milner. He's an ex operative, and can confirm everything I've just told you. I know you play golf with him. He was one of my trainers."

Bruce raised a raven coloured eyebrow. "Assassin?"

"It pays the bills," I shrugged.

"You could be lying, and you still don't know if I'm really Batman. If you're telling the truth, well I know enough about you to expose you at any time."

I picked up the phone. "Call Greg." I tapped out the first few digits of his number, and Bruce stopped me.

"No, I believe you. I know enough about Greg's shadowy past to know you're telling the truth on that score. But you're not telling me the whole truth, are you?" he asked perceptively. I sighed. Busted. Time to tell Bruce the whole truth.

"Two years ago. My first job with you. You went to Switzerland for two weeks, on a skiing holiday. I know that you really went to a private clinic because of a knife wound to your right thigh that you got while you were out crime fighting as Batman. You'd managed to get back to Wayne Manor before passing out."

Bruce didn't seem to be breathing. "Go on, I'm enjoying this story," he said, but his frivolous tone didn't match the dark look in his eyes.

"Alfred couldn't handle you alone. He was recovering from a back injury. So he called me to help him move you."

"Alfred compromised me?" Bruce's tone dripped icicles.

"Not willingly. He's worried about you. He sometimes calls me at two in the morning 'cause he's so stressed. He feels that he's finally found someone who can relate to what he's going through with you."

Shock replaced the anger on Bruce's face.

"Worried?" he echoed.

"He loves you like the son he never had."

Poor Bruce looked poleaxed.

"I never realised the old guy took things so … personally. He was always there for me. Always Alfred. Strong. Unflappable." Bruce sank down onto the edge of the bed and raked his hand though his ebony hair. His strong, handsome features looked … lost. Bewildered.

"When I found that note you left me," he started slowly, quietly, "I was angry. Furious. I started to work out what I could do to keep you quiet. Nothing underhanded, mind you, but …," he paused, "I was determined to find out what made you tick, so I could exploit you. Then I decided the best way to do it was to play up on Bruce Wayne's good old playboy routine. Good old flighty Bruce couldn't possibly be Batman. But it didn't work." he sighed. "I'm scared I don't know how to trust anyone anymore. I've been playing a duel role for too long. I can't share my secrets with anyone, but I know if I don’t I'll end up eating the business end of a gun."

I wasn't sure what to say. I wasn't used to this side of Bruce. I was used to his playboy role or I've gotta be strong cause I'm batman role. I don’t know how to handle this new amalgamated personality.

Bruce turned and looked me straight in the eye. He seemed to be weighing up his options.

"What do you to relieve stress?" he asked me, suddenly changing the subject.

I thought about it for a whole second and a half. "I have sex."

Bruce raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"Seriously!" I laughed, glad to be back on familiar ground.

"With who?"

"Usually one of my team members."

"Why them? Why not a total stranger?"

"I know and trust them."

"Why do you trust them?" Bruce persisted.

"Miller and Krycek have saved my life countless times."

"Robin's saved my life a coupla times, but I don't go round screwing him every time he does it," Bruce retorted.

"It's not only that, stupid," I swatted him on the arm. "I can't explain it. I trust the two of them the most out of the thirty or so guys I work with. It’s an instinct thing."

"What about that other guy you work with. Quinn?"

"Christophe, yeah, he's not even part of the equation. He's married and I don't do married men. Never have, never will."

"So why sex? Why not drinking or something else?"

I shrugged. "I like sex and I like the contact. And I don’t sleep with just any or everyone."

"So basically you're saying that you're always horny and need sex?"

I guffawed. "No, not quite. I admit I do have a high sex drive. bt's t's a good way to relieve stress. In fact, it’s a damn great way to relieve stress. You should try it."

Bruce blushed faintly. "My sex life isn't up for discussion," he said abruptly.

"Oh, but mine is?" I laughed to show him I was only joking. "We're friends, or I'd like to think so, so its OK to discuss it," I told him, shifting my position on the bed. "I won't bite you. Unless you ask me to," I added saucily and winked.

Bruce smiled back. "That's true. But I don’t feel comfortable discussing my sex life. Or the lack of it."

"Lack? Aw, c'mon, you're kidding, right? You're easy on the eye, you date starlets..."I trailed off at the look on his face. "Shit, you're not kidding. You don’t trust anyone enough to sleep with them, isn't it," I finished slowly. We were back to the trust thing again. It kept coming back to it all being a matter of trust.

Bruce's blush deepened and he ducked his head. I leaned over and threw an arm comfortably across his shoulder. "Hey, don't feel bad. This trust thing's hard to do. Took me years to trust Krycek fully, and he's the closest I have to a best friend." I rose onto my haunches and knelt next to the multi-millionaire playboy. "You don’t trust a woman enough to make love to her, but what about Alfred? Or Robin? You trust them, right?" I asked him.

"Not 100 per cent. I always have to control the situation somehow. I have to hold back so I don’t get hurt, or they don't get hurt."

"Well, getting hurt is a risk you have to take when you trust someone. You ready for that?"

Bruce closed his eyes and sighed. "No."

I laughed gently. "At least you're honest."

Bruce nodded, and seemed to come to a decision. I could see the thought processes churning in his head.

"Show me, Red. Show me what it's like to totally trust someone," he said slowly.

I got off the bed to stand in front of him. "Do you have any plans for this afternoon?"

"Well," he smiled wryly, "I was going to have dinner with the current bimbo du jour."

I laughed. "I was hoping you'd missed that bimbo of the day comment. Anyway, call and cancel. I'm going to the bathroom to pome ome clothes on, and when I come back out I want you naked and face up on the bed. Use the towel to protect your virtue, if you want."

Bruce suddenly looked as if he regretted giving me full rein with his problems. He nervously licked his lips. "Strip?" he echoed hollowly.

"Yeah. Strip. Naked." I arched an eyebrow. "You want to trust me, do as I say."

"You sure this ain't some kinky sex ploy on your part? You know, with you having a high sex drive an' all…" he trailed off and looked sceptical. Very sceptical.

"Honey, if I want to screw you, we certainly wouldn't be wasting time talking about it now," I smiled sweetly at him and danced out of reach before he could swat me. "I'll be out in five minutes!" I promised and retreated into the bathroom, stopping to pick up a pair of cotton shorts and a tee shirt to change into.

Bruce Wayne is wonderful, charming and *so* not my type. I can't quite put my finger on it. I think he's too nice. Oh, he's handsome and built, but the spark isn't there. I'm attracted to dangerous men. Like Batman, his alter ego. If there was some way to combine the two – if Bruce wasn't so intent on leading a parallel life and hiding Batman – well, I'd give him a run for his money.

But of course, we'd never see eye to eye. I mean, I don't see anything wrong with eliminating some lowlife scum, once they deserve it. Bruce, on the other hand, sees everything wrong with it. He doesn't believe he has the right to be judge, jury and executioner. And somehow I don’t think he understands the little thrill, the adrenalin rush I get when doing an elimination. I don't think I'm psychotic, but sometimes the rush I get really scares me.

I looked around the small white and gold trimmed bathroom for something to massage Bruce with. I don’t have any massage oil handy. Didn't envision that I'd be teaching my friendly neighbourhood crime fighter the art of relaxation. I have some non-scented body lotion sitting on the white vanity. That will do.

"You decent?" I yelled after dressing myself in the comfortable navy cotton shorts and oversized grey tee.

"Yeah," came Bruce's muffled voice from the other side of the door.

I opened the door and stepped out. He was lying face up on the bed, with the towel draped across his middle. A man who follows orders. Hmmm. I like that! His clothes were neatly folded and placed on a reproduction Louis XIV chair.

"You are such a neat freak!" I teased him. He blushed.

"You're too cute," I giggled, "*way* too cute."

I approached the bed and put the bottle of lotion next to Bruce's stiff body. He gingerly raised himself onto his elbows and watched me warily. "I ah, didn't feel comfortable without my boxers, so I left them on. Ah, is that ok?"

I smiled. "It's cool." I lifted the edge of the towel. He had on white silk boxers with tiny hearts along the edges and the waistband.

"Very frivolous!"

Bruce shrugged. "I like them. I got them for Valentine's Day."

"Oh? From who?" I settled myself, straddled across his left leg.

"Selena Kyle."

The name soundediliailiar to me. Oh yeah, the animal rights campaigner. "I didn't know she was an admirer of yours."

"We've dated a few times," was all Bruce would admit to before changing the subject. "Tell me what you're gonna do, Red."

I raised an eyebrow, but got back to the matter at hand.

"I'm going to massage your feet, and legs, starting with the left, then your arms and finally your torso. Then you roll over and I repeat it on your back."

"You're gonna do it with that lotion?" he asked, looking at the bottle, but laying back down.

"Yeah," I told him, uncapping the big white bottle and pouring some into my hands. Rubbing the lotion between my palms to warm it up, I leaned forward and smoothed it onto his left leg, using my thumbs to simultaneously press his flesh down and along up his leg, towards his groin.

His thigh felt solid under my thumbs. Nice. Bruce's legs were spectacularly muscular. His whole *body* is spectacular. His muscles come from years of hard work, not bodybuilding down at the gym. Bruce is such an enigma. I've done five or six assignments as his body guard, and if I hadn't have discovered his alter ego on my first job with him, despite what I'd bragged to him earlier, I never would have worked it out. He's good at hiding behind his fluffy air-headed playboy image.

I concentrated on my massage rhythm. Press. Stroke upward. Press. Stroke upward. Press.

I realised that I'd reached the edge of his silken boxers, and I pushed the leg as high as it would go. Which was up the crease where thigh melvielvis. I also adjusted the towel so that he wouldn’t feel embarrassed or conscious of inadvertently flashing me.

As I touched the crease at the top of his thigh he flinched violently.

"Bruce?" I stopped and looked up at him, pushing tendrils of hair out of my eyes with the back of my hand.

"Sorry," he smiled sheepishly. "It startled me."

"Relax!" I admonished him.

He raised himself back onto his elbows. "Easy for you to say. You don't have a gorgeous half naked woman who's sitting on your lap," he groused.

I laughed. "Listen bud, I'm sitting astride one of the most handsome and eligible bachelors in Gotham City, but I'm managing to restrain myself."

Bruce stuck his tongue out at me and collapsed onto his back.

I laughed, continuing my massage his left leg then climbed onto his right to repeat the process.

As I massaged his solid flesh, we talked about anything and everything, from the weather to who we thought would win the Super Bowl, and by the time I reached above his boxers, he was definitely more relaxed. He lay there with his eyes closed, and I could see more and more of the dominant Batman side coming out over the fluffy playboy demeanour as we talked.

I placed my hands on his trim waist and started my press and stroke technique up his torso toward his shoulders. I was now straddling his thighs, sitting on the bottom edge of the towel. I noticed that he had a long thin scar, starting from his left side just below his ribs to the right side of his belly button, dipping below the edge of the towel.

I paused in my massage. "Howja get that scar?"

"Hmmm?" he didn't open his eyes. I traced it with a slick finger. "Howja get it?" I repeated.

"Selena," he answered lazily.

"Selena Kyle, the boxer shorts giver?"

"Yeah." Bruce slowly opened one eye. He has the most amazing eyes. Expressive. Bottomless. Compelling. They're dark blue, almost black, framed by thick dark lashes. When he's happy, they twinkle like sunlight reflecting off deep sea. Right now he's very happy.

"She's Catwoman, you know." He opened the other eye to gauge the full effect of his statement on me.

"Gotham's got too many costumed characters," I winked at him. "Does she know who you are?" I continued, resuming my ministrations. Press, stroke upward. Press, stroke upward.

"Yeah."

"Does that scare you?"

Bruce closed his eyes again, deep in thought. "Funnily enough, no," he said after a pensive silence. "I dream about her," he continued softly.

"Oh? How did she discover who you are?"

"She's kissed Bruce, she's kissed Batman," he said simply.

Ah. "So, what do you dream about?"

"Making love with her."

Ahhh. Bruce trusted easier than he realised.

"So, you've never made love to I a I assume," I asked, concentrating on his chiselled abs.

"Never."

"But you dream of doing it."

"Constantly." Bruce's voice was low and intense.

"So –" I paused, forcing him to his his eyes and look at me. "Why don't you?"

"It's – she would –" Bruceshalshalled his thoughts and tried again. "We're on opposite sides of the law. She has no qualms about breaking it when she has to."

Selena Kyle seems to be a woman after my own heart.

"So you love her from afar? Kinda one sided, don’t you think?" I surmised.

"Hardly. She feels the same way about me."

"But she gave you this?" I traced the scar again. Curious to see how far it went, I eased away the edge of the towel then the waistband of his boxers.

The scar disappeared into the thick tangle of dark pubic hair. I fixed Bruce's clothing. I'd seen enough.

"Does Miss Catwoman know that she almost neutered you?"

Bruce snorted a laugh. "No. I didn't tell her how bad it was."

"One day she'll see just how bad it was," I predicted.

"Hmmm," was all Bruce would say. Time to change the subject.

"Do you wax?"

Bruce's eyes flew open. "What?" he laughed.

"Wax, honey. Do you do it to get rid of your body hair? You're sinfully smooth."

Bruce closed his eyes again and drifted into a smug smile. "Good genes."

I punched him. "Show off."

He laughed, free and easy.

"God, that feels good, Red," he sighed as I moved up his body. "I haven't felt like this for a very long time."

"Like what?"

"Boneless. Relaxed. Happy."

"Mission accomplished, then," I said, moving off his body to do his arms.

After a long silence, Bruce murmured lazily, "Red?"

I liked the sound of my name from his lips. He sounded like he'd just had great, mind-blowing sex. God, I could get used to the sound of his seductive, orgasm-inducing voice…

"Hmmm?" I replied, trying not to imagine what it would be like to have him deep inside me while he said my name like that.

"If I asked you, would you sleep with me?"

Good god, I wasn't expecting that one. Was he reading my mind?

"Are you so hard up for dates that you have to beg me?"

Bruce laughed. "You're the only woman I know I can trust to give me an honest answer. Most women either want me for my body or my money."

"Money and a rock hard body is always a good place to start when looking for a man," I agreed easily, "and I'm flattered you think of me that way…but I'm going to be brutally honest. You don't mind, do you?"

"Its one of the things that I love about you. Your brutal honesty," he grinned at me.

I grinned back.

"Well, Bruce, I could sleep with you, that wouldn't be any hardship at all. You make great guy candy."

"But?" I could hear the smile in his voice.

"You would make love to me. I need to be fucked."

Bruce took a deep, deep breath. "And," he said carefully, "what makes you think that I can't fuck you?"

"You're too much of a gentleman. Too considerate. I like my sex rough and ready, with a little pain thrown in. Just a little mind you." I looked up at him, and my hair slid out from the careless twist I'd done earlier. Great, with my hair tumbling around my face like that, I probably look like a poster girl for Wild Sex R Us.

To his credit, Bruce didn’t look too shocked. "And you don’t think I could do that," he asked, his voice low and incredibly seductive.

"As Bruce Wayne, no. As Batman, after a fight, definitely. You need to get the adrenaline pumping, loosen up that tightly reined in control." Bruce merely grunted in reply.

I finished his arms and patted his side. "Turn over."

He rolled over onto his stomach, leaving the towel behind on the bed, partially trapped under his cobblestone abs. I reached to pull it out, but Bruce reached his hand down and put it over mine. "Leave it, I don’t think we'll need it now. I think we've established my virtue is safe."

"You're the boss." I decided to leave his legs and concentrate on his back. He had a particularly fine, muscular back. Mesmerised, I watched the interplay of muscles as he shifted his arms up to rest his hands under his chin.

"Red?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why are you so quiet? What are you thinking about?"

"I'm watching your back. The muscles in your back. I'm hooked."

Bruce laughed gently. "I'll take that as a compliment, should I?"

"Do."

I straddled his lower back, wiggling my hips to get comfy. I heard Bruce's sharp inhalation, and I abruptly stopped.

"My god, Red, you're … hot," he breathed.

I have no idea what he's – shit. Yes I do. I'm not wearing anything under e the thin shorts. By trying to get comfortable, I ended up angling my crotch up against his back. Bruce's breathing had grown very shallow. I was trying not to breathe at all. The air around us was suddenly thick and syrupy.

Abruptly, he rolled onto his side, throwing me off balance. I pitched forward and he turned again onto his back, so my hands landed smack into the centre of his chest. I kof jof jerked back to keep my balance and rocked back onto his silk covered groin. I could feel him, hard and insistent, under me. I raised my head, awaf hif his scorching gaze on me. I realised that it wasn't fluffy playboy Bruce Wayne I'd locked gazes with. Batman had totally taken over and was finally ready to come out and play.

My chest felt tight and I sat there, watching like a rabbit caught in the gaze of a snake. I was breathing as shallowly as Bruce was, and my control was about as thinly stretched as his seemed to be. I could feel him twitching in concert with his slow heartbeat, and every twitch sent a rush of fire into my veins. My pussy spasmed in response, and I resisted the urge to close my eyes and moan. I know he felt my response; his eyes glittered dangerously, and he slowly licked his lips. He raised himself up onto his elbows, taking his time. He was in control, we both knew that, even if we weren't sure exactly what happened. A short while ago I'd been telling him that he wasn't my type, and he'd been declaring unconsummated love for Selena Kyle. Now we were ready to climb into each other's skin and fuck each other senseless.

I wonder who Selena prefers, Bruce or the Dark Knight? I know which one I want. Power is a powerful aphrodisiac.

I could feel the power radiating off Bruce as he raised himself into a sitting position, and I gasped as the movement pulled the material of my shorts tightly against my swollen clit. I locked my legs around his waist to maintain the contact. Bruce clamped a strong forearm around my middle locking my arms against my body, and the other hand snaked around my neck to cradle my head, bringing me flush against him. He tugged on my hair to tilt my head back so that my lips were inches from his.

But he didn't kiss me.

My whole body felt hot and throbbing in anticipation of what might come next. I needed a release from the sensual haze surrounding the both of us. Bruce had my arms immobilised, so I started to rock my hips slowly to rub my shorts against my clit, but his hand dropped down and gripped the waistband of my shorts, twisting it in his hand so that the whole thing tightened almost painfully into me, and I was forced to stop rocking.

Bruce was showing me who was in control. I'd unwittingly thrown down a gauntlet and he was showing me that he was up to the challenge.

He leaned forward again, and again I prepared myself for the kiss. Instead, his voice rumbled sensuously next to my ear.

"midnmidnight. We're on a rooftop. Gotham is spread below us, silent and bejewelled. We've just foiled an armed raid at Gotham First National Bank. The police have come and gone, taking the robbers with them. Now we're going to head to to the Batcave to debrief. You were inside the bank, posing as a security guard, so that we could have a man on the inside, and you're still dressed in the guard's uniform, a dark skirt,te bte blouse and matching jacket. I watch the sway of your ass as you walk across the roof in front of me. I want you.

You reach the door and I reach out and touch your shoulder, halting you. In the ensuing silence, you hear the soft snapping of my cape in the wind. I tell you to stand against the wall, and you start to turn, puzzled. I stop you from looking back, and repeat it more harshly. You get angry and refuse to do it. I grab your shoulders and push you against the wall. You stumble and put your arms out to brace yourself. I make sure I'm right behind you and you can't escape.

Using my upper body to pin you against the wall, I grab your arms and anchor them above your head. With my other hand I roughly push up your skirt and rip off the panties you're wearing."

Bruce's voice had grown ragged. I shuddered in his arms. My eyes had fluttered closed, recreating the scene, his voice making me hot and wet.

"I push my hand between your legs, and you widen them, giving me access to you. You're wet, very wet, and desperate for the touch of my fingers. You arch your back, offering me more access. I slip a leather covered finger into you, and you bite back a moan. I slip another finger into you, and then another. You grind your hips into my hand, trying to fuck my fingers."

My breathing was now as ragged as Bruce's. He still had hims lms locked solidly around me, like a band of steel, and my legs were still clamped around his waist, but I was copiously wet from his aural sex session. I'm sure that Bruce could feel it though the silk of his boxers.

Oh god, I need to come. I could almost feel those leather covered fingers inside of me, stoking in and out, probing, sliding over my clit. I started to rock again, harder, faster, digging my nails into his thighs as I felt my body rising, straining toward climax.

"Lose control, Red. Shatter for me," Bruce commanded, and my body locked tight as my climax crashed over me, wave after wave of intense, almost painful pleasure. I felt like every vein in my body was standing out as I arched against the taller man. My breathing stopped, so did my heart – I felt it – then everything kick started with a bang as my orgasm rolled away.

I let Bruce support me as I sagged in his arms. He managed to unlock my legs from around his waist and lay me down on the bed. He came to rest behind me, pulling the quilt up over both of us, his arm lying loosely across my waist.

"What the fuck happened?" I demanded without much heat.

"I showed you I didn't need to lose my tightly reined in control to fuck you," he said, using my earlier phrase.

"Bastard," I said sleepily and Bruce chuckled. "I meant the physical act of sex," I griped good-naturedly. Trust him to toss my words back at me.

"I know you did. But you can't deny it wasn't just as fun, can you?"

"Well –" he had a point there. "But you didn't come."

"That's ok. I'm fine. I got a lot of pleasure from watching you."

"You're still hard." I could feel him against my butt.

"I'm fine, Red. Honestly." His voice had an air of finality, and I knew it was time to drop it.

I lay in front of Bruce, basking in my post orgasmic haze. It was around that point that I suspected that I really hadn't been the star of Bruce's little rooftop fantasy. I'd been in his arms, but I'd bet he'd been seeing Selena Kyle spread-eagled and fucking his fingers. I wasn't going to pursue it, though. Bruce had proved his point and showed me that I was wrong. I'd gotten an intense orgasm out of it. We were both happy.

I realised that his breathing was very deep and even. Too deep, too even. I turned to realise that he was sleeping. And he was soft. Damn.

Two days later, I was back in the Washington DC House when Raphela Di Contelli, the day receptionist, called me down to the front desk for a delivery. Intrigued I went down. Waiting for me were two dozen red roses and a small package. Smiling, I opened thckagckage. Inside was a teddy bear wearing white boxwithwith tiny red hearts. I touched the material. It was silk. I burst out laughing, startling Raphela. Smiling, I read the note that came with the roses.

Looping across the card was a sentence in Bruce's neat handwriting: "Selena finally got to see how bad that scar was."

I couldn't stop laughingviouviously, my encounter with Bruce had given him a few ideas to try out with Selena, which he'd done without feeling like he'd compromised his principles. Alex Krycek, my team’s second in command, had followed me into the lobby, and stood gaping at the flowers and the gift.

"What's that for?" he asked finally, gesturing at it all.

"It's a thank you present," I said smugly.

"That's a hell of a thank you," he nodded at the flowers and raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"Ah," I grinned wider. "You see, it's all down to a matter of trust," I laughed and carried my gifts back up to my room, leaving a puzzled Krycek in my wake.