2007-09-24: Their First Mission


Felix_icon.gif Mariska_icon.gif Noah_icon.gif

Summary: Felix and Mariska get their first mission from The Company.

Date It Happened: September 24th, 2007

Their First Mission

Hartsdale, NY - Primatech - Offices

"That's great, Mr. Rogers The delivery will come in tomorrow. Just make sure that you have someone to sign for it at the front door this time, okay?" Despite being on the phone, Noah gives a large plastic smile. For some reason, it helps his tone if he has the facial expression to go with it. "Sounds good. Uh-huh. Well, if that golf game gets off the ground, make sure I'm one of the first that gets the call, okay? …Sounds good. Goodbye." Hanging up the phone, Noah takes off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. He hates having to do the cover job stuff. While it was quaint at first, it got tired after a bit, and now he'd rather just pretend he worked for the FBI or something. Sadly, he doesn't make the rules, merely enforces the rules and precepts that are often set in front of him. At least that's what he does most of the time.

At least for now though, Noah can enjoy the few moments of silence he has before he has to tackle the next objective the day. He places a hand on the table as he places his glasses back on with the other, preparing to get up from his office and go. The office is rather small, but it has nice bookcases and a large desk. There is a mini-fridge hidden behind it, but the large desk hides it from view.

Felix does work for the FBI. How about that. Not that it makes living a double life that much easier. Harder, in fact, because it means your legit employers as well as your super sekrit moonlighting spook bosses might be keeping an eye on you. He's in his usual impeccably tailored suit, rimless glasses on, and raps politely on the door, waiting for permission to enter.

"Come in" comes the simple order from Noah. Once Felix comes into the office, Noah gives a small smile. "Ah, Mr. Ivanov. Glad to see that you came… take a seat. If you are here, that means that your 'partner' should be here soon." there is a slightly off smile that Noah gives to the word partner. Once Felix takes his seat, Noah moves back to his. "Would you like a water… V8?" At least he's polite at the start of these meetings.

"Water would be fine, thanks," Felix says, calmly. Partner, huh? How exactly does he mean that? But he takes a seat, comfortably, expression mostly impassive, save for a flicker of polite curiosity.

Speak of the devil and she shall manifest, right? Or, maybe her ears were just burning a bit. Either way, the sound of high-heeled shoes echoing in the hall on the approach to the office of one Noah Bennet herald the arrival of the aforementioned 'partner' — Mariska. Pale, green eyes pass an expectant look over to the man in horn-rimmed glasses before she announces herself formally with, "I hope I haven't kept the two of you waiting…?"

"All, the second member of the duo has arrived," Noah points out with a faintly amused smile or a fake amused smile, one of the two. "Please take a seat. We just started." Pulling out a pair of bottled waters, Mariska and Felix get a chance to drink as Noah speaks. "I just wanted to let you both know that you both are approved to be partners under the Mr. and Mrs. Jones classification." Noah takes a small sigh. Personally, he figures that the decision by the higher ups was foolish, but as usual, he keeps the feelings to himself. "Felix, you will be taking a vacation from your work at your earliest convenience. Once you are there, you are to 'marry' Miss Dmitryeva. Once you both are married," Noah's attention temporary shifts to Misha. "You can be brought in as a citizen of the US in order to make your transition to the US as smooth as seamless as possible." His gaze goes back to Misha and Felix in a more equal manner now. "If either of you have a problem with it, that is fine… The Company life is not for everyone and I am sure you've already been told what would happen if you wanted out of the Company."

Noah wasn't the one that offered the job, but usually the carrot and/or stick of the Company's recruitment is sure to keep things running smoothly. Even in forced marriage issues.

In all honesty, had Noah yanked out a pistol and shot him repeatedly in the gut, Fel would likely be less surprised. The FBI agent has gone completely rigid in shock. It's not like he hasn't already proposed this form of immigration fraud to Mariska herself, really. But. he's just frozen in his seat for a few moments, before he takes a deep breath. "I…..have nothing to say to that," he says, lamely. "Did you mean to specify a place that we're supposed to conduct this charade? Am I supposed to make it look like a whirlwind romance?"

Uh…'scuse me? Surely this must be someone's idea of a sick joke and, initially, for a millisecond, Mariska flicks a glance over to Felix from the corner of her eye, half expecting to find him grinning in a smug and satisfied manner but, no — he's just as shocked and horrified as she is. He wears it better, however, and recovers quicker. It take Mariska nearly a minute to snap her jaw shut and end her startled gaping. Good God! What… what just happened here?!

"I, er—" She stumbles over her words, apparently. Go ahead, Misha. Say 'no' to it now. She sucks in a deep breath and, after enhancing her calm, she replies: "Yes, sir." Good girl. Roll with it.

"I will leave it to you both to come up with a feasible story," the Man with the Horn-Rimmed Glasses explains, not at all phased by the adverse reactions. After all, he would feel that way too if he was expected to do what they did. Then again, he didn't have a fling that resulted in a child.

"You have roughly a week to organize all of this. It will be run by me before you proceed with the plan. Your own money will be used for this operation to protect credibility, though you will be reimbursed whenever we find a fitting manner to do so. I am aware that you both have issues with one another, but this serves multiple purposes. After all, if you both are not able to handle this matter competently and gracefully…" Noah pauses to get himself water from the mini-fridge, opening and relieving his somewhat parched throat. "Well, let's just say this is the first test we have for you before we consider sending you out to assignment."

Well, Misha's willing to have sex with him. Which is really the sticking point in defrauding the INS when it comes to Misha and her paperwork. Fel's throat works before he speaks again. He hasn't actually glanced at his blushing bride-to-be, not yet. Still too thunderstruck to come up with anything. "I see," he says, faintly, removing his glasses to polish them with a scrap of cloth. Operation Shotgun Wedding proceeding as planned, sir.

Don't think that Noah's own wedding ring hasn't escaped Mariska's notice. Whether the man on the other side of the desk realizes it or not, he's just officially designated himself to be their official unofficial marriage counselor… you know, when Doctor Eames isn't in. Not that Noah would ever be terribly inclined to dispense any such advice, asked or otherwise, but Mariska's over there thinking that Hell itself has frozen over, so, why not? Felix is fooling himself into thinking he's straight. Let's all be delusional together!

When she finally finds her voice again, Mariska says, "We will, sir." That is… they'll handle things competently and gracefully — or they'll kill each other die trying. She's on the verge of asking about Sasha again but coughs the question back down into her throat and says instead, "We'll let you know when arrangements have been made."

Noah nods. With the marriage matter handled, Noah nods. It seems to be making the pair uncomfortable. That's good. After all, anyone can do a good job when the factors are in their favor and it's something they feel comfortable doing. However, take people out of their comfort zone and you see what really makes them tick. The Company doesn't want people that only preform when someone has a full belly and a good night's rest. They want someone who can keep their cover story, even when a Evolved is trying to melt their hand into a putty like substance.

"Good. I'll look forward to seeing what you both have figured out. Unless there are any more questions, the pair of you are free to go," Mr. Bennet announces, giving a slight motion toward the door just in case they forgot where it was.

Fel might well have, by the expression on his face. But he rises reflexively from his seat, and inclines his head politely to Noah. "Of course," he murmurs, still blinking like he's just been gazing into a bright light. He waits on Misha, though, holding the door for her.

Class dismissed? You don't have to tell Misha twice! She's on her feet and, for a split second there, it almost looked as if she was about to pull her stupid human trick and flee via teleportational vanishing act; she wants to escape the shrinking office that desperately. But, no. She circles 'round the chair and hastens to cross the threshold and proceed back down the hallway that brought her into the dragon's mouth. Hurry up, honey. Let's GTFO!

And soon is door is shut and only then does Noah give a sigh of relief. "I'm in charge of a group that involves sadistic security, spies that can't lie… and now couples that are ordered to marry. And people wonder why I miss Odessa so much," he mutters on his breath. That said, Noah just pulls out a Tums or two from his desk. Because he needs the Calcium. No other reason.

Queens, NYC - Felix's Apartment

His car is out there. But she can drop him off tomorrow, sometime. Fel lets her take them home the instant route. His heart is racing like he's on a stimulant. "I…..didn't see that coming," he says, very carefully, as they appear in the living room to the fury of the two surprised cats.

Neither did Mariska, though she fails to voice her shared astonishment in lieu of fleeing — fleeing — to the back bedroom where she then begins to hastily snatch up what articles of clothes she might need for the night and stuffing them unceremoniously into her messenger satchel. Must… get… out…

«Hey, hey, hey. Don't. I know you wanna run. But please. Don't leave me. Or take me with you. We gotta talk this out,» he says, coming in, hands up like she's a perp with a gun and a hostage, expression open and pleading.

Caught at the corner of the footboard and the closet door, Mariska turns to give Felix an absolutely heartbreaking look. «What's there to talk about?» She's already begun to chafe at her invisible chains… but, maybe not so much for the reasons he might imagine. «Go see the spetsnaz,» she says, balling up a pair of underwear in her fist. It's almost ironic.

Huh, what? «The - Will? Why would I go see Will?» Pretty soldier has a name, yo. It's certainly derailed Fel for the moment. «There's plenty to talk about. Listen. This doesn't have to be terrible,» he cajoles. «I swear I'll do my best to please you.»

She can't help it. Her eyebrows bounce upwards in that 'o rly?' way of their own accord in response to the last phrase that falls out of the man's mouth. Which isn't to say that she has doubts, per se, so much as — oh, alright. She has doubts. More than a few. «You don't really want this, do you?» Strike 'this' - insert 'me'. That's what she's really asking. «Go. Be with him… before you can't.» Now, don't go mistaking this for some sort of martyring and noble gesture. It's not. What it actually is comes harder to define, smeared somewhere between a concession and a… dismissal. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it's just instinct to shove him away… who knows?

He's surprisingly quick, really. Because all of a sudden he's right by her, hand on her wrist. It's not a harsh grip, but she's not leaving without him. «What the fuck, Dmitriyeva,» he says, in a mingling of exasperation and amusement. «What're you talking about? You think I'm gonna walk over there and he's gonna let me in? WE were never lovers, Misha. And the last thing I'm going to do to you is go fuck someone else on the eve of our wedding. I know I haven't done much to warrant your good opinion, but I swear to you, I've never cheated on any lover of mine. Nevermind that that Company would no doubt have my head, anyway. Do you think I'm a good enough actor to fake what we do? Like fucking you is some trial I have to nerve myself to endure. Are you crazy? Really? Want? What I want is to go back in time eight years and warn my twenty-seven year old self not to be such a jackass, but it's a little late for that.» He's face to face with her, voice an impatient hiss. «If you don't want to sleep with me, you don't have to. We can make this literal immigration fraud. It's not like you couldn't head home to Saint Petersburg every night and sleep in your own bed if you wanted. But don't fool yourself that desire is not part of the equation.» Remember how he's been all tender and solicitous? Not so much right now - the kiss she gets is nearly bruising in its force.

"Stop talking about Bud White."

The hand that grips Mariska's wrist instantly earns Felix the whole of her attention and pure gut reaction kicks in; he can feel the reeling pull of a space-folding jump imminent and yet — nothing happens. They go nowhere. All she can do is stand there and look stricken while he lambastes her - she of little faith (and even littler romance) - for her lack of good judgment, sound reasoning, forethought, general use of brain save for frantically scrambling…

But then there's that kiss - that brutal, challenging kiss - and she's forced to battle him back, mouth to mouth, if only for the sake of her scant remaining sanity. If she gives in now? She's never going to be able to — fuck it! Why fight it? She surrenders.

It doesn't go any further before he steps back from her, almost panting, releasing that grip on her. But the point's been made. «I assume you really want me, at least at times. You seem to enjoy what I do to you, and you've got no real reason to fake it. You don't have to love me. You don't have to like me. I'm not a likable man. But don't ever pretend to yourself that I don't want you. That's one lie I'm not having, no matter how much of the rest of this ends up being a charade.»

Don't say it! Don't you fucking dare…

The relinquishing release gives Mariska the opportunity to roughly rid herself of her messenger bag, tossing it aside from the shoulder, and shrug out of her tailored suit jacket before she's all but literally throwing herself at Felix. Seriously. She introduces his back to the closest wall. If only he could remember the advice she gave him the other night… this is no time to try and have a conversation. Let's hope he wasn't too fond of that dress shirt because it's bound to be short a few buttons before it's all said and done.

There's nothing to say. Because whatever comes after, whatever's left to be said, at the moment, this isn't about love, or affection, or trying to salve anyone's feelings. And as for the shirt? Well…. That's okay. He knows how to sew. The only thing that gets any care is the holstered .45 under his arm, though the shoulder rig is stripped off with enough enthusiasm that the gun dents the floor. It's up to debate whether they'll even be able to find the bed. The last coherent thing he can manage is an order, rather abstract considering: «Never lie to me.»

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