A/N: Hello all. Life got in the way again. But may the Mirage POV chapter recapture you!

Chapter 8

It starts with the towel. She drags me into her room with hands still wet from her hair. I am reluctant. I don't want anyone to see. Of course she says the right thing to make me ignore my sensibilities. I am sitting on her bed, waiting for her to dress. She beckons my attention.

She's not wearing the towel; or anything at all. The last bits of my resistance fail me. She's beautiful; her body taut and firm from the training she's put herself through. My eyes linger on the scars ripped across her arm. They add so much charm to this brave thing in front of me.

"Oh Violet." I can hardly breathe. I wet my lips at the sight of her. She smiles at me and it shoots straight into my gut, twisting so pleasantly. I haven't felt this way in so long. Not even when her mother kissed me. I whimper for her.

She approaches me slowly, taking her time to show me the exquisite musculature in her legs. She stands in front of me. She takes my face in her hands and kisses me. Her fingers brush the curve of my jaw. I part my lips for her eager, probing tongue. I open my mouth wider, drawing her in. She moans against my cheek, breaking the kiss for the briefest of moments before she devours me again. Electricity chases up and down my body, the frisson of arousal fanning the flame to a roaring inferno.

"Tell me, please say it Violet." Tell me because I cannot. Say it because I am afraid to. Tell me I'm yours. Make me yours.

"I want you. You're so perfect. So beautiful." Her voice is so quiet, a nervous whisper.

"Tell me how you want me," I beg her, aching for her to touch me. I want nothing more than to give her anything she asks of me; to let her show me what she can do to me. She flickers her eyes over me, I feel naked even though I'm not. She licks her lips. She leans closer, capturing my eyes with her own.

"I've always wanted you." Her hands reach my waist, pushing me down upon the bed. Her fingers trail upwards from my exposed navel to the open collar of my shirt. She slides her hand beneath my blouse, gently smoothing the skin on my chest. "Just like this, still in your clothes. God, your fucking clothes. Those shoes you wear; you must know how sexy you are?"

I whine loudly, emboldened by her wandering touch, sliding between my breasts and deftly opening the clasp of my bra. Her lips touch mine again; so sweet and soft - gently exploring where no one has been in years. I feel her whisper upon my lips. "I want more than that. I want you in a house we share together. Maybe this place you love so much."

I gasp; trying to imagine what it would be like to have her always. It would be extraordinary. I shake for her. I have never shaken for anyone. Her hand slides down my stomach, soft where hers is firm. She pauses just at the waist of my pants; pants I've never hated so much in my life. I close my eyes when her hand slips lower.

She gently slides two fingers inside of me. Her other arm supports my head. I cry out for her. Her whisper is so loud in my ear, I swear I can feel her breath on my cheek.

"I want everything you are. I want so much to show you that you are loved." She moves faster, deeper but so so gentle I feel like I will shatter into pieces.

"You..." I cannot keep it inside; I practically weep for her. The sheer idea that she could love me - not Mirage. Such an idea. If only I would let her. "You love me?"

There is silence except for the gentle rustling of my trousers as she moves her soaking fingers to my neglected clitoris. She stills her hand. I feel her lips upon my earlobe. My breath comes ragged in my throat. She runs her fingers along the side of my clit, I can feel my body tightening all at once; so ready for her answer. "Tell me. If...you, please tell me Violet."

"I love you, Jane."

My eyes fly open. I catch the barest glimpse of her in my peripheral as my orgasm overrides every sense of warning, every thought of intrusion, every notion that she shouldn't be here. I fall back upon the chaise, chest heaving with the labor of breathing. I sit up carefully, rubbing the stars from my eyes. Finally I find the courage to look.

I am alone.

I grip the edge of the cushion until my hands ache. I can't tell if she was here or if it was my imagination. My head is spinning, my mouth is dry. Every part of me is overwhelmed by Violet. Guilt wracks my stomach; I shouldn't want her to be here...to see me like this. I bury my head in my hands.

It is obvious what is happening and I'm losing control of myself. I am giving in to infatuation with a girl half my age. A chime from the living area jerks me out of my stupor. I hook my fingers into the straps of my shoes, blushing, and slip them off.

I click open the small communicator I keep on my desk, dragging my fingers through my hair to straighten it. The N.S.A. logo flashes once before I am greeted with a fresh young face framed by short cropped ginger hair and a well tailored suit.

"Agent Mirage." His voice is clipped and terse as always. I supposed he doesn't fully trust me yet. Or he is the most serious young politician in the world.

"Director." I clear my throat once, tugging my shirt back into place. He lifts an eyebrow.

"Have I called at a bad time?"

"No sir, I was just retiring for the evening." I clench my hand tightly at my side, trying not to blush. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I understand you have recently come into custody of Dr. Magda Polinski."

"Yes sir," I nod, tucking my hair behind my ear. "She was under severe mental stress when we recovered her. I think a solid rest is in order before she can be properly debriefed."

"I have reassignment orders for her. As you well know, Dr. Polinksi is in possession of certain classified information. It is in her best interest to relocate to a facility with adequate psychological care." Straight to the point. I blink, surprised. He's right. I can't treat her properly here and I don't have proper clearance.

"Of course."

"I will forward the location of the facility you are to transport her to. Good night Agent." The transmission blinks off. I stare at the dark screen for a moment before closing the device and returning to my room. I sink heavily onto the bed. Part of me wants to cry; part of me wants to lay down and think of Violet. Its tempting.

I stand and change into night things; a soft pair of shorts and tank top before slipping beneath the comforter and switching off the light. I stare at the ceiling, unable to take my mind off her. I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, rubbing vigorously until the image of her head thrown back in ectasy fled my fevered brain.

I shouldn't be feeling like this. Not even the thought of what her parents would say can keep the images away for long.

She's so young.

Who cares?

Just once...

Her mother would kill me.

No one has to know.

That's not fair.

The reality of the final thought cools the flame in me. It wouldn't be fair to seduce her, to take her and then balk at the idea of a relationship...of trust. Oh she would keep me so very secret. I couldn't possibly ask. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and beg for sleep to come, even knowing no amount of backpedaling can stop my dreaming.

. . .

I do not sleep well, plagued by sweet imaginings that can never be. I look at myself in the boudoir mirror across the room. Lines pull at the corners of my eyes and lips. Age is catching me; slower than most but the signs are all there. I meet my own eyes and resolve to end this little infatuation between us. I must be professional.

I rise and dress quickly, finding the most demure and bland clothes in my ensemble. Curse my good taste. I sit at the vanity, one hand entering the passcode for my email while the other sets out my face for the day.

I can't remember when I started wearing make up. The thought gives me pause. I frown at the delicate, numerous plastic trays of powder and paste. I look at myself in the mirror once more before I apply my makeup with a swift, practiced hand.

The woman who looks back at me is so different from the one before. I bite my lip, eyes stinging. I don't know when I started thinking of myself as two people...maybe it was time to stop all this 'hero' nonsense. The supers don't need humans to babysit them. Theres little we could do to stop them anyway.

I look at my face in the mirror and I tell myself this is who Violet has feelings for. Not me...not the spindly, bookish girl I am on the inside.

'I would prefer a bombshell to a sheaf of paper if I were her,' I tell myself even knowing it's not true. I shake my head furiously and pull a brush harshly through my hair.

It is not lost on me that I fantasize about her knowing my name. I blush thinking about it again. I love you, Jane.

My scalp stings with my efforts but my hair shines brightly for it. I give myself a final appraisal: I look like a professor, all greys and natural tones. I slip my glasses onto my nose because I don't feel up to contacts today. Hopefully this won't take long.

I pull up the missive containing the paperwork regarding the doctor's transfer. The ease of her recovery concerns me. Even with their new training...it shouldn't have been so easy. Transportation will arrive in two hours.

As I turn to exit my room I catch sight of the chaise; scene of my guilty feverish moment weakness. I swear I turn pink to my ears. Funny how she makes me feel so young about this. I step over to it, reaching out to straighten the dishevled pillows. My fingers brush aside a small bit of lint, a short dark hair.

My blood runs cold. I hold the fine black hair between my trembling fingertips, unable to fully grasp the knowledge slamming into me all at once.

It was on my clothes already...I hugged her when I left her didn't I?

I can't remember. I don't have time to search my clothes for more. I take several deep breaths and try to calm down. It is just a coincidence. It's hard to believe but damn me if I won't try.

I swallow hard and slide into a pair of flat black shoes. I no longer have the energy for heels. I stride quickly for the door. With a final sigh, nervous Jane gives way to confident Mirage.

I have a job to do.