Allegory || Mihai

[Aoife O'Neill]

It had been far too long since she had last been home, though it probably felt much longer than it actually was in reality. Aoife O'Neill, completely wiped out from the last couple of days, had so far spent the majority of her morning crashed out on her couch, whilst her dog (an adorable little red setter pup by the name of Oscar) had hopped up to worm his way into a patch squished between her and the cushions. So far, it had just been a quiet day. Aoife certainly didn’t mind that in the slightest. If anything, she was wishing she could have had more days like this. Just herself and her little buddy, enjoying the peace of an empty apartment.

Honestly, the amount of time Aoife was away from home (thank God for her friends being kind enough to “dog-sit” all the time for her), it was a miracle the pooch even recognised his owner. But, maybe it was that Irish luck which she would joke about coming into play. Aoife was almost certain of that now, especially after all that had happened. The fact she was sitting on her sofa and thinking these things came entirely down to good fortune. She was lucky somebody had found her before the frost had arrived, lucky she hadn’t taken in any more water into those lungs, lucky she had wound up in a hospital.

The strange occurrences still had yet to be fully divulged to MI6, and Aoife wasn't really looking forward to that. She would have to meet with M tomorrow and explain the entire incident. Already she could hear the questions which would be rattled off to her: How had Braginsky exposed her identity? Why had she been so careless? How could she let herself get caught? What happened between the time MI6 had lost contact with her and when she turned up? What did she have to say for herself about the matter?

God, she was going to be getting an earful tomorrow. It was exhausting just to think about it. If truth be told, however, the main reason Aoife was really dreading this meeting was the fact that, in all honesty, she probably wouldn't be able to answer those questions. How had Braginsky found out? Granted, Aoife had been a little careless that fateful night, but even so. She couldn't comprehend that Ivan could have known so suddenly. Unless... could he have been tipped off? That certainly wasn't a settling thought.

“I’m over-thinking again,” Aoife mumbled to the young dog at her side, who raised and cocked his head slightly at her in interest. His reaction had earned a smile from his owner, and she sat up a moment later. “Let’s take you for a walk. You probably need the exercise, and I could do with some fresh air.” Oscar seemed to understand those words, for in a split second he had already jumped down and scampered over to the front door, his tail wagging a mile a minute in excitement.

The woman herself soon followed after him, gathering up his leash in one hand and going to grab her coat with the other. It was just at that moment, however, when the dog by the front door suddenly began growling angrily. Aoife froze at the sound, her expression surprised. Oscar was still a rather young dog, and hardly ever had problems with anything or anyone. But, it was then that Aoife noticed a shadow just creeping through the small crack under her front door. Someone was outside the apartment, and whoever it was had agitated Oscar for some reason. Maybe the pooch could sense something off about whoever that was?

Quickly shooing the dog away, Aoife opened the door without a moment’s hesitation, fully prepared to find herself face to face with some sort of thug or shady character who she would then, of course, fight off if worse came to the worst. But it just so happened, that wasn’t the sort of person who she was faced with at all.

“Michael!” she sounded more relieved than surprised at the sight of the man standing on the other side of the threshold. Her boyfriend certainly was a pleasant sight for sore eyes, and like her earlier thoughts on being back in her own home, it felt as though it had been far too long since Aoife had last seen him. Taking this into consideration, it was unsurprising that a delighted smile quickly replaced her momentarily surprised expression, and it was with genuine enthusiasm that she practically threw herself at him. Her arms wrapped around him and she laughed excitedly in his ear. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

She was so caught up in the moment, she hardly even noticed that the dog behind her was still growling threateningly at the man. It’s never a good sign when your dog doesn’t like someone.

[Mihai Chimet]

So, Braginsky had failed. After Mihai had so graciously laid out all the clues for him, the Russian had still managed to let her escape, ruining the one good chance he had to kill her and Mihai's to let someone else take care of the dirty work. He had some mixed thoughts about the situation: on one hand, that entailed he had to come up with yet another way to get rid of Aoife Saoirse O'Neill, on the other, it meant he had something to hold over the head of Ivan Braginsky, even if the purpose it served would only be a matter of gloating.

Mihai had found out about it all the day after, about the agent turning up in the hospital, a bit worse for wear but still alive. He had yet to figure out how she had arrived there (naturally, precautions were necessary to ensure he hadn't some unseen enemy), but the news had yet to come. The only thing that mattered was that, for all his faults, Braginsky didn't seem to have allowed himself to blab before throwing Aoife to the river, thus guaranteeing that Mihai's cover was still safe. With the presence of the unknown helper however, he could still not be certain, and he was quite glad for the fact that his job would allow him to carry a gun into her apartment without appearing suspicious. Just in case.

The entire scheme was nothing personal towards Aoife, really. If anything, he rather preferred the fiery agent to the domineering Bratva boss, but—well—duty called. Or, in this case, Paris had, enraged that she had managed to make a fool out of them (as if they needed help doing that, hah). He was more than disinclined to secure their revenge for them—hell, if it were a group anything other than FOL he would have gladly rewarded Aoife with a medal for obliterating the incompetent infants that lay over the Channel—but then, an opportunity had so invitingly presented itself.

In the immediate aftermath of the event, he'd done as any good bureaucrat would have, railing on the MI6 for overstepping its boundaries so very blatantly. Terrorist activity was, after all, under the jurisdiction of the CI, and after all the red tape and paperwork and bad press were all over, MI6 had been more than willing to grant him whatever simple request he wanted in order to get him to shut up. No one said that bureaucracy didn't come with any benefits. He'd demanded to see the "Erin" in question, who had spearheaded the whole operation, though the interrogation with her had served no legitimate purpose; rather, it was for him to figure out how much information she'd unearthed from the bumbling idiots in Paris.

Indeed, it was an unexpected twist that they got along quite well—or at least she with his persona of the politician—but he'd always considered himself an opportunist, and the chance had offered itself so willingly. So, as fate would have it, they ended up dating, with Mihai playing the role of the caring boyfriend. Which would be the reason he was paying his sweetheart a visit, handful of flowers replaced with some groceries, which he imagined she might appreciate more than a bouquet of baby's breath or whatever.

His knock on the door was quickly answered, not by an invitation to enter but with muffled barking. He rolled his eyes and grimaced at the sound. He had little against animals, but Aoife's pet had always been aggressive towards him, and after the dog managed to draw blood once, he'd stopped trying to make peace. He just let Aoife deal with him, which she did by stepping in front of the dog before opening the door and greeting him with an excited hug.

Mihai responded to her laughter with a light chuckle of his own, not quite genuine but not really fake either. "Oh—careful, love," he warned, wrapping his free arm around her waist. "My hands are a bit full at the moment." His tone held all the artificially sweet fondness in the world, as easy for him to dredge up as it was to breathe air. He allowed her to have her moment, turning his head and nuzzling into her hair, inhaling the spices of her shampoo. He rather did like her hair; it was soft and fanned out around her like a halo, and when the light hit it right, it looked like a sunset—not the type that caressed the horizon like satin, no, the type that looked like it had reversed the center of the earth with the heavens, that looked like it was setting the sky to flames. And if only she would be willing to as well.

"I begged to be let off of work early today," he answered into her neck, twirling a little strand of fire between his fingers. "After all, my girlfriend was finally released from the hospital, and I surely couldn't leave her at home all by her lonesome." Then, he pulled back, a bit of teasing in his grin. "Of course, that was just an excuse so that I could get off work earlier." Taking in the jacket in her hand that had partially been pulled over his shoulder and around his neck, and the leash connected to the dog's collar, his expression turned inquisitive as he added, "Did I come at a bad time?"

SPOILER: Click to show

Aoife O'Neill: /o/