FIC: Ceremony of Innocence (1/1)
Oct. 22nd, 2007 03:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nilchanceTitle: Ceremony of Innocence
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance and beanside
Rating: Adult
Pairing: JDM/JA
A/N: Retriever-verse. Auspicious meetings. Many thanks topoisontaster for the read-through, without which this would be much less coherent.
"Librarian Calliope? The Administrator will see you now," a soft, soothing feminine voice murmured across the void of the uplink.
His last chance to run. Jensen stood and began walking slowly towards the Administrator's office. Smooth, easy. No odd movements, no trace of nerves or fear. Nothing to give them any reason to retire him. Every inch of his posture had to radiate how well he'd rehabbed.
No matter how many times he'd met the Administrator, Jensen still found himself taken aback by the man's extensive cybernetic implants. They all had a certain amount of implants. Access ports came with the territory when you served. But the Administrator...he was a different breed.
Bracing himself, Jensen looked up into the Administrator's brushed steel features, trying to read emotion in the still-human eyes that laid under the impassive face. It didn't help that the Administrator's desk was on a platform, giving him the psychological advantage and a perfect view to catch Jensen if he got caught in the uplink mid-interview.
"Good afternoon, Librarian Calliope. Please, have a seat." With a wave of his hand, the Administrator indicated the chair in front of his desk.
"Greetings, Administrator." Jensen sat gracefully in the chair, forcing down any reaction as his hand touched the cold metal. Too much like the ones in the Care Unit--screams and cold, pain, always pain, floating in it, fighting the tide of the Uplink, trying to tear his self away--Jensen put a calm smile on his lips, cutting off that line of thought before it could overwhelm him.
"Your Unit Nurse seems to think you're ready to go back into the field," the Administrator said, watching Jensen's face. His concern was cloying as he laid out the trap. "Do you feel ready?"
"I think she's quite right," Jensen murmured, voice placid. "I am ready to serve, sir."
"Good for you." The Administrator picked up a file, smiling. "As it happens, we have just the Retriever for you. I think you'll make an excellent match."
Already? Fuck. He'd expected a few weeks in the Librarian pool, helping out here and there until he had healed. More the fool, he, for expecting kid gloves. The emotional demands of a match, after Weatherly... they were testing him to destruction, and probably getting rid of a troublesome Retriever in the process. Jensen kept his smile in place. "Thank you for the honor, Administrator."
"It's certainly nothing," the Administrator demurred, but his posture radiated the pleasure of a well-fed mouser. "He's a very well-regarded Retriever. Lost his Librarian just over six months ago. Unfortunate incident, that."
Jensen couldn't stop himself from blinking in reaction. Six months without someone to soothe down that killing temper, to bank the rage that simmered just below the surface? Great Athena help him, that did not bode well. And what was an "unfortunate incident," anyway? Had he killed his Librarian? It wouldn't be the first time a Retriever had snapped. Wouldn't even be the hundredth.
"Yes. No way around it, not after-" The Administrator shook his head. "Anyway, we think you'll match up well with him."
He could do this. He prove to them he wasn't damaged, just another functional Librarian to be led to the slaughter. "Who is my match?"
"Retriever Bia."
Bia? Personification of violence and rage, Bia? Oh, wonderful. He was going to die. Jensen felt the itch at the back of his thoughts, the pressure of the Uplink battering at him. The clothes weren't working anymore. The tie couldn't be tight enough, couldn't keep him grounded, too easy to let it in, to--
"Librarian Calliope?"
"Excuse me, sir. Retriever Bia, sir." Since Retrievers were defined by violence, their codenames had a tendency towards irony. Particularly considering what Retriever Cupid did to that civilian in Quartertown. Being named after a Fury or a martial deity was both a sign of respect and a warning to others. Amazing that Bia had lasted even six months to begin with. "When will I meet my charge?"
"As soon as you can gather your things." The Administrator slid a small data pack to him. "All of the information is there. Security codes for your new apartment, basic information on your Retriever. Do us proud, Librarian Calliope."
****
They assigned a Supervisor to accompany Jensen to the Introduction Room at the Retriever's Citadel. Officially, the Supervisor came along to activate the transceiver and input the codes that would link Retriever and Librarian. Unofficially, Jensen had no doubt he was being observed for the slightest flinch. Despite the cheery name, the Introduction Room was as cold and sterile as it had been when Jensen met Weatherly. The sparse furniture hadn't been replaced.
The drain in the center of the floor was newly clean, given away by the smell of bleach; the last Introduction had gone poorly. Jensen wondered if the last Retriever who had been here had rejected his new Librarian or chosen to consummate immediately. Either way, blood was spilled.
He hadn't heard any keening through the uplink. The Librarian was either very well-trained or too badly hurt to salvage.
After a few moments of sitting beside the Supervisor, listening to the shuffle of papers and trying to quiet his own heart, the door opened. It was always a gamble then: some Retrievers hated eye contact, while others found averted eyes an insult. Jensen glanced up, his face carefully tipped down, and caught a glimpse of his Retriever. Tall, dark hair, rumpled clothes. No weapons. Why would a man codenamed Bia bother with guns?
"Retriever Bia," the Supervisor said. There was a nervous edge behind his courtesy. "Thank you for joining us."
Bia pulled one of the chairs around and sat, stretching long legs in front of him. His boots were scuffed with road dust. His voice was deep with the shadow of a low-class accent. "You people didn't give me much of a choice."
The hair raised on the back of Jensen's neck. His Retriever was not only violent, but under coercion to take a Librarian. The danger kept escalating. He kept his mouth shut, but when he risked another glance, Bia caught his eyes and said, "I'm guessing they didn't ask you about this, either."
Shit. He'd given something away. Jensen met Bia's dark eyes and said, "I regret burdening you, Retriever Bia. My name is Librarian Calliope. I will try to please you as I can."
Jensen had trained extensively in counseling and service, but he couldn't define Bia's expression. Displeasure? He could only hope not.
"It's not Bia here," Bia said finally. "My name is Jeff."
Out of the corner of his sight, Jensen saw the Supervisor's sharp stare. Bia wouldn't be reprimanded for a breach in propriety, but any answering slip would be documented in Jensen's file. Caught between the drain on the floor and his memory of the Care Unit, Jensen could only say, "As you wish."
The silence gaped between them.
"May I continue?" the Supervisor asked.
Bia nodded, never taking his eyes off Jensen even when the Supervisor's chair scraped loudly on the floor as he rose. Other Retrievers sat tense, muscles flexed for constant action. Bia leaned back in his chair, the predator at rest. He badly needed a shave. When the Supervisor mumbled a warning before touching the transceiver at Bia's throat, Jensen could smell the stink of the man's fear. He couldn't imagine how Bia was drowning in it, how his instincts had to be screaming, but Bia didn't lash out through the invasive, unpleasant process that was importing a password. His eyes rested on Jensen's face, a hot weight pinning Jensen in place. The corner of Bia's eyes crinkled as the Supervisor breached his transceiver, tearing through scar tissue to activate it again.
In a moment, Bia would have access to Jensen. He could track location, emotional states, physical condition. Jensen exhaled, projecting calm like a shield, and savored the last crumbs of privacy. The Supervisor didn't bother warning him, simply braced his hand against Jensen's shoulder and pressed the key to his transceiver. There was a pop, like air pressure equalizing, and it was done. Only two steps remaining.
Holding Bia's eyes for another second -- would the man never stop staring?--, Jensen stood and began to undo his jacket, then his shirt. He left the tie where it was, bestowing an insane calm as long as Jensen could manage to keep it. The Supervisor had turned his face away by then, of course; only a fool stared at a Retriever's property, prospective or not, with a covetous eye. Only Bia was meant to see what he was receiving before he agreed to accept.
Jensen had just unbuttoned the last shirt button and was reaching for the fastener to his pants when Bia moved. He felt only the drag of air past him and heard a pair of dull thumps, followed by a pained gasp. Jensen looked up as Bia came to his feet and stalked past Jensen, smooth and lazy as a mountain cat. Jensen turned his head, feeling like he was struggling under deep water, and saw the Supervisor pinned to the wall by two thin stilettos, one in each shoulder.
Bia stopped in front of the Supervisor, lips curled back from his teeth. If he'd been aiming to kill, the Supervisor would have been dead before he hit the ground. Jensen considered stepping in to stop Bia, to calm him, but the damage had been done. He would intercede if necessary, saving his somewhat pathetic charms to prevent homicide instead of assault. They would forgive Bia roughing up staff; it was civilians that concerned the Administrators.
The Supervisor made a sharp, frantic noise. Fucking idiot, he was only making Jeff's rage worse by reacting like pinned prey. Bia lifted his hand, a flash of silver between his long fingers drawing Jensen's attention. "One," Jeff said, sounding bored. "Librarian Calliope is not public property, and you will keep your eyes to yourself. Two. He's perfect, and you goddamn well know it. How long have your little mice been watching me?"
Instinct drew Jensen's hand towards Jeff's shoulder. Jeff glanced at him sidelong, inscrutable. Jensen pulled back, unsure of what to do. The cold edge in Bia's voice didn't bode well for the Supervisor.
"Retriever Bia," the Supervisor began. Too close to a rebuke. Silver flashed, and the Supervisor screamed pitiously. Jensen stepped closer, trying to see, and edged back when Jeff didn't acknowledge the brush of Jensen's body against his arm. The touch wasn't welcome.
When Bia lifted his bloody hand, something rested in the palm. Raising his voice to be heard over the Supervisor's wail, Jeff said, "If I ever catch any of your people watching me again, I'll be back for the other one."
His eye, Jensen realized. He'd taken the Supervisor's eye. Cool light swept through Jensen, left him dizzy.
"And if anyone so much as glances at what's mine..." Bia let the word trail off, then closed his hand on the eye. Jensen averted his eyes, but he still heard the wet pop. "Do you understand?"
The Supervisor whimpered. "Report you, I'll--"
Teeth bared in a gentle smile, Bia laid a hand on the Supervisor's shoulder and pressed him down into the stiletto. The Supervisor screamed again. "Do you fucking understand me?"
"Yes, Retriever!"
Bia stepped back, calming as suddenly as he'd moved. He dropped the ruined eyeball on the floor, toeing the goop with his boot. "Good." Glancing at Jensen, Bia added, "Unless you've changed your mind?"
Aside from being appallingly naive about Jensen's choices, the question was challenge and resignation both. Bia expected him to balk. Maniac calm descended. You didn't run from a Retriever, not unless you wanted to be hunted to ground. "No," Jensen said, absently impressed by the flat veneer of his voice, "that will be fine."
"Good." Bia studied him, expression ferally intent. Jensen wondered if he was about to be thrown across the table and fucked, if he should've taken a moment to prep in the restroom, but Bia said only, "You can button your shirt now."
Impossible to tell if he was being rebuked. He had lost weight and tone in the Care Unit; he would have to do better. Inclining his head, Jensen began to work the buttons. His hands were steady, steady, steady. "Thank you, Retriever." Let Bia figure out whether Jensen meant the assault or the permission to dress.
"Jeff," Bia corrected, then paused and added less tersely, "Please."
"Jeff," Jensen echoed, avoiding the Supervisor's wet eye.
That got him a smile, at least. A moment later, Jeff turned back to the Supervisor. "Codes. Now."
"I can't--my arms--" The Supervisor gestured weakly at the blades still pinning him.
Jeff tilted his head. "Which buttons do I push?"
"Let me down," the Supervisor pleaded. "Fingerprint access, I-"
The blade still in Jeff's hand flashed again, and he calmly retrieved the Supervisor's severed finger. Blood welled from the end as Jeff pressed it against the sensor. Disinterested, Jeff said, "Code?"
"Six-five-three-eight-two," the man babbled "Oh, god, you can't-"
The uplink verified, a wrenching twitch under Jensen's skin. Jeff wrenched the blades out of the Supervisor's shoulders, wiping them on the man's stained tunic. "Fine. Leave." When the man only sobbed, Jeff leaned into the Supervisor's face. "Leave. Now," he bit off.
Jensen forced himself to remain impassive as Jeff watched the man crawl away, tossing both datapad and finger out the door after him. The door shut. Then those dark, intense eyes turned on him.
Holding out his hands, Jensen said, "May I clean your blades?"
It was an honor to be given a Retriever's weapon. Jensen still fought to remain steady when Jeff laid blades sticky and warm in his open palms. There was a keen rage in Jeff's eyes; Jensen inclined his head, careful not to break eye contact lest it tip them into violence. Dealing with Retrievers in full fury was dancing over a void.
Jeff's fingers lingered at Jensen's wrist, brushing against his pulse point. Jensen inhaled; Jeff's mouth curved in something that wasn't a smile. "Thank you, Librarian Calliope," Jeff murmured.
"My pleasure to serve." Jensen's voice sounded breathy to his own ears, but Jeff didn't seem to notice anything amiss. Tucking the blades away into a pouch meant for that purpose, Jensen sank to his knees. He kept his motions steady and deliberate, the rhythm of the tea ceremony or the kata. The drain in the floor seemed black enough to swallow him.
From his knees, Jensen hesitated, then rested his hands on Jeff's hips. Muscles hummed with tension under his hands, the taut bowstring. Jensen undid the fasten of Jeff's pants; Jeff made a sharp noise, oddly sweet from a man with blood under his fingernails.
Glancing up at Jeff, Jensen wet his lower lip and said, "Let me serve."
As he reached forward again, big hands closed on his wrists, and Jensen waited for pain. Instead he found himself tugged to his feet and pulled close to Jeff. The sudden jolt of skin on skin brought a noise to Jensen's throat.
"No," Jeff said, and smoothed a hand down Jensen's back. "I won't require you to serve like that. Understand?"
Jensen nodded, keeping his face placid and unruffled, but inside, his mind was whirling. His retriever didn't find him attractive? That did not bode well for his continued survival. The chemical cocktail and genetic manipulations that a Retriever was put through left them far more prone to base emotions like lust or anger. If his Retriever was unwilling to let Jensen defuse his emotions via sex, it made it more likely that he would take the brunt of Jeff's violence.
As he tried to find his balance, to quiet his thoughts, Jeff's hand slid across his shoulder and he flinched. Sucking in a hard breath, Jensen looked up nervously. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "I apologize."
"None required," Jeff murmured. He had a nice voice. Quiet. The arm tightened briefly, and Jensen swallowed the flutter of fear in his throat. "Come on, Calliope. I'll show you our home."
Jensen allowed Jeff to lead him out of the Introduction Room, and wondered if he should be more or less nervous that the explosion had yet to come.
Authors:
nilchance and beansideRating: Adult
Pairing: JDM/JA
A/N: Retriever-verse. Auspicious meetings. Many thanks to
poisontaster for the read-through, without which this would be much less coherent."Librarian Calliope? The Administrator will see you now," a soft, soothing feminine voice murmured across the void of the uplink.
His last chance to run. Jensen stood and began walking slowly towards the Administrator's office. Smooth, easy. No odd movements, no trace of nerves or fear. Nothing to give them any reason to retire him. Every inch of his posture had to radiate how well he'd rehabbed.
No matter how many times he'd met the Administrator, Jensen still found himself taken aback by the man's extensive cybernetic implants. They all had a certain amount of implants. Access ports came with the territory when you served. But the Administrator...he was a different breed.
Bracing himself, Jensen looked up into the Administrator's brushed steel features, trying to read emotion in the still-human eyes that laid under the impassive face. It didn't help that the Administrator's desk was on a platform, giving him the psychological advantage and a perfect view to catch Jensen if he got caught in the uplink mid-interview.
"Good afternoon, Librarian Calliope. Please, have a seat." With a wave of his hand, the Administrator indicated the chair in front of his desk.
"Greetings, Administrator." Jensen sat gracefully in the chair, forcing down any reaction as his hand touched the cold metal. Too much like the ones in the Care Unit--screams and cold, pain, always pain, floating in it, fighting the tide of the Uplink, trying to tear his self away--Jensen put a calm smile on his lips, cutting off that line of thought before it could overwhelm him.
"Your Unit Nurse seems to think you're ready to go back into the field," the Administrator said, watching Jensen's face. His concern was cloying as he laid out the trap. "Do you feel ready?"
"I think she's quite right," Jensen murmured, voice placid. "I am ready to serve, sir."
"Good for you." The Administrator picked up a file, smiling. "As it happens, we have just the Retriever for you. I think you'll make an excellent match."
Already? Fuck. He'd expected a few weeks in the Librarian pool, helping out here and there until he had healed. More the fool, he, for expecting kid gloves. The emotional demands of a match, after Weatherly... they were testing him to destruction, and probably getting rid of a troublesome Retriever in the process. Jensen kept his smile in place. "Thank you for the honor, Administrator."
"It's certainly nothing," the Administrator demurred, but his posture radiated the pleasure of a well-fed mouser. "He's a very well-regarded Retriever. Lost his Librarian just over six months ago. Unfortunate incident, that."
Jensen couldn't stop himself from blinking in reaction. Six months without someone to soothe down that killing temper, to bank the rage that simmered just below the surface? Great Athena help him, that did not bode well. And what was an "unfortunate incident," anyway? Had he killed his Librarian? It wouldn't be the first time a Retriever had snapped. Wouldn't even be the hundredth.
"Yes. No way around it, not after-" The Administrator shook his head. "Anyway, we think you'll match up well with him."
He could do this. He prove to them he wasn't damaged, just another functional Librarian to be led to the slaughter. "Who is my match?"
"Retriever Bia."
Bia? Personification of violence and rage, Bia? Oh, wonderful. He was going to die. Jensen felt the itch at the back of his thoughts, the pressure of the Uplink battering at him. The clothes weren't working anymore. The tie couldn't be tight enough, couldn't keep him grounded, too easy to let it in, to--
"Librarian Calliope?"
"Excuse me, sir. Retriever Bia, sir." Since Retrievers were defined by violence, their codenames had a tendency towards irony. Particularly considering what Retriever Cupid did to that civilian in Quartertown. Being named after a Fury or a martial deity was both a sign of respect and a warning to others. Amazing that Bia had lasted even six months to begin with. "When will I meet my charge?"
"As soon as you can gather your things." The Administrator slid a small data pack to him. "All of the information is there. Security codes for your new apartment, basic information on your Retriever. Do us proud, Librarian Calliope."
****
They assigned a Supervisor to accompany Jensen to the Introduction Room at the Retriever's Citadel. Officially, the Supervisor came along to activate the transceiver and input the codes that would link Retriever and Librarian. Unofficially, Jensen had no doubt he was being observed for the slightest flinch. Despite the cheery name, the Introduction Room was as cold and sterile as it had been when Jensen met Weatherly. The sparse furniture hadn't been replaced.
The drain in the center of the floor was newly clean, given away by the smell of bleach; the last Introduction had gone poorly. Jensen wondered if the last Retriever who had been here had rejected his new Librarian or chosen to consummate immediately. Either way, blood was spilled.
He hadn't heard any keening through the uplink. The Librarian was either very well-trained or too badly hurt to salvage.
After a few moments of sitting beside the Supervisor, listening to the shuffle of papers and trying to quiet his own heart, the door opened. It was always a gamble then: some Retrievers hated eye contact, while others found averted eyes an insult. Jensen glanced up, his face carefully tipped down, and caught a glimpse of his Retriever. Tall, dark hair, rumpled clothes. No weapons. Why would a man codenamed Bia bother with guns?
"Retriever Bia," the Supervisor said. There was a nervous edge behind his courtesy. "Thank you for joining us."
Bia pulled one of the chairs around and sat, stretching long legs in front of him. His boots were scuffed with road dust. His voice was deep with the shadow of a low-class accent. "You people didn't give me much of a choice."
The hair raised on the back of Jensen's neck. His Retriever was not only violent, but under coercion to take a Librarian. The danger kept escalating. He kept his mouth shut, but when he risked another glance, Bia caught his eyes and said, "I'm guessing they didn't ask you about this, either."
Shit. He'd given something away. Jensen met Bia's dark eyes and said, "I regret burdening you, Retriever Bia. My name is Librarian Calliope. I will try to please you as I can."
Jensen had trained extensively in counseling and service, but he couldn't define Bia's expression. Displeasure? He could only hope not.
"It's not Bia here," Bia said finally. "My name is Jeff."
Out of the corner of his sight, Jensen saw the Supervisor's sharp stare. Bia wouldn't be reprimanded for a breach in propriety, but any answering slip would be documented in Jensen's file. Caught between the drain on the floor and his memory of the Care Unit, Jensen could only say, "As you wish."
The silence gaped between them.
"May I continue?" the Supervisor asked.
Bia nodded, never taking his eyes off Jensen even when the Supervisor's chair scraped loudly on the floor as he rose. Other Retrievers sat tense, muscles flexed for constant action. Bia leaned back in his chair, the predator at rest. He badly needed a shave. When the Supervisor mumbled a warning before touching the transceiver at Bia's throat, Jensen could smell the stink of the man's fear. He couldn't imagine how Bia was drowning in it, how his instincts had to be screaming, but Bia didn't lash out through the invasive, unpleasant process that was importing a password. His eyes rested on Jensen's face, a hot weight pinning Jensen in place. The corner of Bia's eyes crinkled as the Supervisor breached his transceiver, tearing through scar tissue to activate it again.
In a moment, Bia would have access to Jensen. He could track location, emotional states, physical condition. Jensen exhaled, projecting calm like a shield, and savored the last crumbs of privacy. The Supervisor didn't bother warning him, simply braced his hand against Jensen's shoulder and pressed the key to his transceiver. There was a pop, like air pressure equalizing, and it was done. Only two steps remaining.
Holding Bia's eyes for another second -- would the man never stop staring?--, Jensen stood and began to undo his jacket, then his shirt. He left the tie where it was, bestowing an insane calm as long as Jensen could manage to keep it. The Supervisor had turned his face away by then, of course; only a fool stared at a Retriever's property, prospective or not, with a covetous eye. Only Bia was meant to see what he was receiving before he agreed to accept.
Jensen had just unbuttoned the last shirt button and was reaching for the fastener to his pants when Bia moved. He felt only the drag of air past him and heard a pair of dull thumps, followed by a pained gasp. Jensen looked up as Bia came to his feet and stalked past Jensen, smooth and lazy as a mountain cat. Jensen turned his head, feeling like he was struggling under deep water, and saw the Supervisor pinned to the wall by two thin stilettos, one in each shoulder.
Bia stopped in front of the Supervisor, lips curled back from his teeth. If he'd been aiming to kill, the Supervisor would have been dead before he hit the ground. Jensen considered stepping in to stop Bia, to calm him, but the damage had been done. He would intercede if necessary, saving his somewhat pathetic charms to prevent homicide instead of assault. They would forgive Bia roughing up staff; it was civilians that concerned the Administrators.
The Supervisor made a sharp, frantic noise. Fucking idiot, he was only making Jeff's rage worse by reacting like pinned prey. Bia lifted his hand, a flash of silver between his long fingers drawing Jensen's attention. "One," Jeff said, sounding bored. "Librarian Calliope is not public property, and you will keep your eyes to yourself. Two. He's perfect, and you goddamn well know it. How long have your little mice been watching me?"
Instinct drew Jensen's hand towards Jeff's shoulder. Jeff glanced at him sidelong, inscrutable. Jensen pulled back, unsure of what to do. The cold edge in Bia's voice didn't bode well for the Supervisor.
"Retriever Bia," the Supervisor began. Too close to a rebuke. Silver flashed, and the Supervisor screamed pitiously. Jensen stepped closer, trying to see, and edged back when Jeff didn't acknowledge the brush of Jensen's body against his arm. The touch wasn't welcome.
When Bia lifted his bloody hand, something rested in the palm. Raising his voice to be heard over the Supervisor's wail, Jeff said, "If I ever catch any of your people watching me again, I'll be back for the other one."
His eye, Jensen realized. He'd taken the Supervisor's eye. Cool light swept through Jensen, left him dizzy.
"And if anyone so much as glances at what's mine..." Bia let the word trail off, then closed his hand on the eye. Jensen averted his eyes, but he still heard the wet pop. "Do you understand?"
The Supervisor whimpered. "Report you, I'll--"
Teeth bared in a gentle smile, Bia laid a hand on the Supervisor's shoulder and pressed him down into the stiletto. The Supervisor screamed again. "Do you fucking understand me?"
"Yes, Retriever!"
Bia stepped back, calming as suddenly as he'd moved. He dropped the ruined eyeball on the floor, toeing the goop with his boot. "Good." Glancing at Jensen, Bia added, "Unless you've changed your mind?"
Aside from being appallingly naive about Jensen's choices, the question was challenge and resignation both. Bia expected him to balk. Maniac calm descended. You didn't run from a Retriever, not unless you wanted to be hunted to ground. "No," Jensen said, absently impressed by the flat veneer of his voice, "that will be fine."
"Good." Bia studied him, expression ferally intent. Jensen wondered if he was about to be thrown across the table and fucked, if he should've taken a moment to prep in the restroom, but Bia said only, "You can button your shirt now."
Impossible to tell if he was being rebuked. He had lost weight and tone in the Care Unit; he would have to do better. Inclining his head, Jensen began to work the buttons. His hands were steady, steady, steady. "Thank you, Retriever." Let Bia figure out whether Jensen meant the assault or the permission to dress.
"Jeff," Bia corrected, then paused and added less tersely, "Please."
"Jeff," Jensen echoed, avoiding the Supervisor's wet eye.
That got him a smile, at least. A moment later, Jeff turned back to the Supervisor. "Codes. Now."
"I can't--my arms--" The Supervisor gestured weakly at the blades still pinning him.
Jeff tilted his head. "Which buttons do I push?"
"Let me down," the Supervisor pleaded. "Fingerprint access, I-"
The blade still in Jeff's hand flashed again, and he calmly retrieved the Supervisor's severed finger. Blood welled from the end as Jeff pressed it against the sensor. Disinterested, Jeff said, "Code?"
"Six-five-three-eight-two," the man babbled "Oh, god, you can't-"
The uplink verified, a wrenching twitch under Jensen's skin. Jeff wrenched the blades out of the Supervisor's shoulders, wiping them on the man's stained tunic. "Fine. Leave." When the man only sobbed, Jeff leaned into the Supervisor's face. "Leave. Now," he bit off.
Jensen forced himself to remain impassive as Jeff watched the man crawl away, tossing both datapad and finger out the door after him. The door shut. Then those dark, intense eyes turned on him.
Holding out his hands, Jensen said, "May I clean your blades?"
It was an honor to be given a Retriever's weapon. Jensen still fought to remain steady when Jeff laid blades sticky and warm in his open palms. There was a keen rage in Jeff's eyes; Jensen inclined his head, careful not to break eye contact lest it tip them into violence. Dealing with Retrievers in full fury was dancing over a void.
Jeff's fingers lingered at Jensen's wrist, brushing against his pulse point. Jensen inhaled; Jeff's mouth curved in something that wasn't a smile. "Thank you, Librarian Calliope," Jeff murmured.
"My pleasure to serve." Jensen's voice sounded breathy to his own ears, but Jeff didn't seem to notice anything amiss. Tucking the blades away into a pouch meant for that purpose, Jensen sank to his knees. He kept his motions steady and deliberate, the rhythm of the tea ceremony or the kata. The drain in the floor seemed black enough to swallow him.
From his knees, Jensen hesitated, then rested his hands on Jeff's hips. Muscles hummed with tension under his hands, the taut bowstring. Jensen undid the fasten of Jeff's pants; Jeff made a sharp noise, oddly sweet from a man with blood under his fingernails.
Glancing up at Jeff, Jensen wet his lower lip and said, "Let me serve."
As he reached forward again, big hands closed on his wrists, and Jensen waited for pain. Instead he found himself tugged to his feet and pulled close to Jeff. The sudden jolt of skin on skin brought a noise to Jensen's throat.
"No," Jeff said, and smoothed a hand down Jensen's back. "I won't require you to serve like that. Understand?"
Jensen nodded, keeping his face placid and unruffled, but inside, his mind was whirling. His retriever didn't find him attractive? That did not bode well for his continued survival. The chemical cocktail and genetic manipulations that a Retriever was put through left them far more prone to base emotions like lust or anger. If his Retriever was unwilling to let Jensen defuse his emotions via sex, it made it more likely that he would take the brunt of Jeff's violence.
As he tried to find his balance, to quiet his thoughts, Jeff's hand slid across his shoulder and he flinched. Sucking in a hard breath, Jensen looked up nervously. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "I apologize."
"None required," Jeff murmured. He had a nice voice. Quiet. The arm tightened briefly, and Jensen swallowed the flutter of fear in his throat. "Come on, Calliope. I'll show you our home."
Jensen allowed Jeff to lead him out of the Introduction Room, and wondered if he should be more or less nervous that the explosion had yet to come.