My love, is all mine

"Come to give me that "greeting" you promised?" A deep husk voice threatens into her shell of Irene's ear. Irene lets out a gasp upon feeling the coolness of a sharp metal blade being pressed against her throat. It was deep enough to nick her skin ever so slightly while her heart raced in her chest. The gun she held tightly in her hands was being firmly placed at the underbelly of someone her heart ached for a long time. His blue eyes narrowing down at her while her own green ones never leave his gaze.

"You know how this ends... For the both of us." Irene says, her voice calm and collected; but deep down she was panicking. Her breathing was unsteady, it was uneven, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to try and still her shaking hands. However, her face was plain and stoic.

"You and me..." His voice gruff and stern, holding back onto that gentle tone Irene loved hearing so much. "We don't need to kill each other for our missions, do we...?"

"Not unless that's what the assignment is. It's our duty..." Irene responds. Michael's heart was still pounding in his chest as he looked down at Irene. His own hands were shaking. The small faint cut from the blade on her throat made him feel like he could really kill her if it ever came down to it. The only thing holding him back was his love that he kept locked up for the woman he's ever known to make an enemy, but also an ally in his heart. 'If it ever came down it... Would I really be able to kill her...?'

In a moment of weakness, Michael falters. He allows the knife to be taken away from Irene's neck, still keeping his expression stern, but his gaze turning softer.

"You're right. I would. It's our duty... Our job. We both signed up for it." Irene lets out a sigh of relief, exhaling a breath she had kept stored away in her lungs. Her fingers gingerly gazing the small cut wound as warm red liquid coats her fingertips. She was relieved that Michael didn't have the guts to end her life right then and there.

Irene takes her gun away from Michael's side, tucking it back into its holster as Michael puts the combat knife away. The tension lingering in the air was starting to grow thicker the longer they went on in silence. Unresolved and conflicted feelings stirred around, taunting the both of them. The overwhelming urge of wanting to say something but ultimately having no words come out was starting to become unbearable.

"That's what they trained us to do, Michael." Irene breaks the silence.

"And you believe what they're doing to us is right?"

"You know damn well as I do that, we don't have a say in the matter- right or wrong. You don't ask questions. You finish the mission and that's it. Onto the next."

"But it never seems to get any easier, does it? That this is what it comes down to- killing each other." He scoffs. Irene could hear the bitterness in Michael’s tone, staring directly into her green eyes, piercing them with his harsh gaze. Irene could only bow her head, looking down at the floorboards in defeat, knowing that Michael was right.

Irene’s heart tightens in her chest, feeling the walls of the small bedroom seemingly grow smaller and smaller- a thick warm layer of suffocating air folding over them. Even the small crack of the window wasn’t enough to get rid of the words they both wanted to say to each other. How they longed for one another, to feel each others warmth. Soft kisses, tender touches-

"You knew the consequences and yet you still followed."

"And if I could do it all over again, I would." Michael's footsteps grow closer to Irene, watching her shoulders tense up. The click of Michael’s combat boots started to reflect Irene’s racing heart, however, Irene doesn’t dare move a muscle. Only standing still in her place as if she was frozen in time while her eyes avoid Michael’s gaze.

The smell of his cologne- buried underneath all the sweat and grime still- made its presence known. That fresh waterlily scent mixed with spice and musk, providing that small sense of serenity and comfort they both longed for in this line of work.

It smelt like home. Forgiveness.

"All the pain and suffering we had to go through... I believe what we were accomplishing meant more than just the mission." A small tinge of regret washed over the softened features of Michael's face. Even if it was for a split second, Irene knew this wouldn't last for very long. Everything would go back to as it was before: a small heartfelt game of cat and mouse. Knowing it was their all-time favorite game to play with one another for as long as they wanted. The only difference was that the cat doesn't catch the mouse. Not entirely.

Michael places a tender hand across Irene's soft tan freckled skin, letting his thumb stroke the apple of her cheek. Irene could feel the warmth radiating from his skin as she lets out a soft sigh and leans into the palm of him. It was small moments like these were the both of them wished things could have been different between them. What life would have been like if this wasn't the life they lead. Trust. Love. Communication. Everything that had been stripped away from them.

"You know, you're a great spy. A good agent like you is hard to find. If... If something bad does happen to you... know that I really did value you." Michael says with a soft smile, looking down at Irene. A soft blush rises to Irene's cheek though her heart was breaking at every word Michael spoke. It was like he was already killing Irene through his words, through the way he looks at her with so much love and with the gentle caress of his touches.

"Don't..." Irene softly pleads, moving away from Michael’s touch. "Don't sit here and try to sweet talk your way out of this. You know my organization wants you dead, and vice versa." The same look of regret on Michael's face had returned.

But before Irene could fully walk away, he gingerly reaches out and takes her hand into his own, pulling her back to his body. Irene had been ripped away from Michael’s arms so many times, that he wasn’t going to let her go again. Not this time. This had to be the one moment where they both felt like they had control over something in their complicated lives.

"You're right, again." Michael chuckles. "They want me dead, and my team wants you dead... But what do you want?" Michael lowers his head to Irene's level, his hand coming to brush the small set of black curls covering her eyes out from her face as he slowly inches

closer to her. His eyes trialing over her soft lips, looking and stargazing at her freckles like constellations.

"Are you going to do this just for your mission? Or is it more than that?" The way Michael's words moved like water, smooth and calm but still harboring that serious tone of voice made Irene look away from his gaze once more, hesitant to even answer his question. Deep down Irene knew there was some truth to his questions. Michael just hoped Irene would let her guard down and realize that it was just them.

No organization to track them down, higher ups breathing down their backs, eyes everywhere and watching their every move. Just the sound of their breathing and the comfort of their presence.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Irene whispers. 'Liar. You do.' She deflects, trying to push away her pesky inner monologue of being in denial. Michael stays silent, a faint smirk dashing across his lips as he crosses his arms and watches Irene struggle internally.

“I think you do, Reni.” Michael teases, seeing Irene’s cheeks flush a vibrant red as she pouts her lips with her eyebrows furrowing. Irene hates the fact that Michael could always read her like an open book, how he was able to find every nook and cranny, every flaw that made Irene the woman he fell in love with all those years ago.

"And so, what if there is? It's out of our hands, Michael. You know that." Irene sighs in defeat. Michael tilts his head slightly, letting his thumb trace alongside Irene's cheek, finding a resting place underneath her chin. The lips that spoke so many dangerous words to him, how they molded to memorize him and his own movements. The same pair of eyes that looked at him as if he was... just another person. Not someone who has killed people for the sake of a mission.

And her hands... The same hands that allowed him to roam her body and explore her just as she did to him- to find and unlock every secret they had to unveil in their vulnerability.

"We could both always say no. Say screw it. You and I... We could run away. It would be a one-way ticket to living on the run, but we would still be alive. We would be... together." Michael pleads, holding onto Irene's hands. As tempting as that sounded, Irene realistically knew it just wasn't possible. No matter how much she wanted it, craved it, dreamed about it. It just wasn't a life that was meant to be hers...

Irene was on the verge of breaking down in tears, pressing her head gently against Michael's chest, feeling his arms automatically wrapping around her small frame. He pulls her as close as possible, smelling her vanilla and lilac perfume through her grime-soaked clothes.

"Michael, I- I can't. We can't..." Michael soothes and coos Irene as his fingers gently nestle their way into her curls, tugging and separating the smooth hair strands, being careful not to pull on any knots that have occurred.

"I know..." It deeply hurt to see someone Michael loved and cared for so much, be broken down and become vulnerable all over again right before his eyes. Deep down, Michael knew the outcome and reality of the situation, but he was just as much as in denial like Irene was. Glossy blue eyes shy away from Irene as he couldn't fathom the sight of her crying. But this was also to not let Irene see his very own tears threaten to fall from his cheeks.

A choked sobbed leaves Irene's lips, burying her face into Michael's cotton shirt. She could hear his heart beating out from his chest and the soft caress of his hands on her lower back. The touch alone was comforting as the pair sway gently. Michael holds onto Irene as tight as he could, as if to shield her from anything bad in the world.

"I'm sorry... I guess this wasn't the greeting you were looking for." Irene laughs through her tears and takes a deep breath. Michael chuckles and shakes his head, wiping the tears away from Irene's red, rosy cheeks. Even with puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks, she was still the most beautiful woman Michael had ever set his eyes on.

"No, I guess it wasn't." His voice goes from being stern and serious to soft and comforting as he continues to hold her; one hand running through her curls while the other squeezes her shoulders.

"Irene... We had something. We still have it." Michael tells her, his voice becoming warmer and even sweeter like honey. Every bone in his body was going to try and convince Irene to come with him. To leave this job- this mission behind. To live in peace and solidarity... with each other.

"Is it really fair to let all of that go to waste? Just because of our mission- their mission?" There it was. That same back and forth of trying to bargain with one another in hopes of seeing eye to eye. Holding onto that small sliver of hope, of what ifs and taking that leap of faith.

"We can pack up some stuff, get in a car and just drive for ages without stopping. Who knows? We might end up somewhere nice together. I mean, what's more important here? Our mission... or our life?" Michaels voice echoes in the room with passion, trying to get Irene to understand the wight of what he was saying.

"I know what you're saying, Michael!" Irene yells, pushing Michael gently with her hand's, tears streaming down her face as her sadness now turns into irritation and anger. Irene knows the risks, she knows the future of what they could have- or what could have been, but it would Never. Work.

"The moment their best agents disappear at the same time, suspicions arise, and they would hunt us down like dogs! Don't you see that?!" Michael felt Irene's words piece his skin like daggers, rubbing even more salt in the wounds he already has. The feeling of complete and utter defeat finally settles in Michael's body, wanting to reach out to Irene- to have his touch to save him once more, but retracting his hands as he slumps his shoulders and gently nods his head.

"You're right... You're always right. They would find us. It doesn't matter how good we try to hide... They would see our little escape and come after us." Michael says quietly. "There's no use in trying to fight it..." He tells Irene, sounding exhausted as he comes to the bitter realization.

"Guess it's really mission first huh?" The sheer disappointment in Michaels' voice makes Irene avert her gaze away from him. Irene couldn't dare bring herself to look into Michael's eyes and see the pure shame and guilt in them. It would reflect her own eyes too much.

"I guess it is... We don't really have a choice, do we?" Irene wanted nothing more than to be comforted by Michael’s arms and embrace. The life they both wanted was only that of a dream. The constant feeling of being on edge, not being able to live comfortably no matter how hard they try.

The risk was far too great to take no matter how much they both wanted to take it.

"Then we finish what started. What we came here to do." Despite his expression not showing much emotion, Michael's eyes and voice gave off the underlying hint of sadness peeking through his words. His throat tightening up as he reaches a shaky hand towards his combat knife, struggling to even pull it out from its holster.

"And then when our mission is complete..." Irene says, finally looking up to meet the once warm blue oceanic eyes now turn into a cold icy blue gaze, narrowing down at her. The man she had fallen in love with crouches into a fighting stance, juggling the knife between his hands while Irene reaches around to firmly grasp the handle of her gun.

"I'll let you decide what happens next."