Work Text:
The first time they met, Abbie had been intrigued by how timid he seemed. Ichabod Crane seemed a little doofy compared to war-battered ex-marine he had replaced. But it wasn't her job to screen who was qualified for the job. That was Joe's job. The company paid him big HR money for it.
So Abbie was determined to just do her job like always.
The first few weeks went by problem free. Run a few documents to Manhattan, take some blueprints to DC. Same old. Same old. There and back again, same day.
Those days they didn't talk much. He was polite, yes. Getting stuck in the DC/Baltimore traffic at rush hour, on their way to Norfolk, VA via the interstates changed that. He seemed a little unnerved by how even the express lanes were congested as they were. His nervous fingers drummed on the leather briefcase in his lap.
"I don't recall the traffic being so wretched on either of the DC trips," he bristled.
"That's because we came through before all of this," Abbie provided calmly. "I tried telling them we needed to leave no later than 6am this morning so we'd come through after the morning rush but before lunch. Cause that's when the tourists start to get out and about and all hell breaks loose."
"Oh," he said quietly.
The window between them and the driver let down. "According to the info channels, there's an overturned tractor trailer on the highway. Traffic both ways is stopped."
"Are they certain it was an accident and not a plot to--"
"Calm down," Abbie said, shaking her head. "Not everything is a plot to steal whatever you're carrying. I've been doing this for years. It happens sometimes. If there's any kind of danger, we'll keep you safe. Won't we Ash?"
"Damn right we will," Ash laughed and let the window back up.
"I'll have to call the office and get them to book us a room," Abbie said.
"A room?" Crane asked, cocking a brow.
"You thought I would be sleeping in a separate room while I'm supposed to keep my eyes on that briefcase at all times?" Abbie shook her head. "It's standard procedure. Me and Bill used to room-up all the time for this run."
"Oh." Ichabod nodded toward the glass between them and Ash. "What of the driver?"
"Ash?" Abbie scrolled through her phone directory until she found the number to the company's travel liaison. "I honestly don't know what he does. I think he stays with the car, to make sure it doesn't get compromised. All I know is, once we're settled in, he gives us a salute and I don't see him until morning."
Abbie called up the liaison and before she could even end the call, Ash was lowering the window again. "College Park?"
"Confirmed," Abbie stated.
The window went back up. Ichabod blinked at her. "That was rather quickly arranged."
"Pandora is used to stuff like this happening. By time we get there, they'll have had someone from the base sweep the room and secure it," Abbie explained. "Pandora is feared by five star generals. If Pandora calls in for a security sweep at a hotel for a stay that night, Pandora gets a security sweep done at a hotel for a stay that night. If Pandora does not get what she wants, when she wants it, heads roll until she does.
"I remember once when a new guy in upper management tried to deny her request," Abbie said. "I know he had been in another department and he always hated how she would do these last minute orders. He even bragged about how, once he got promoted to being, quote, over her he would put an end to it. He got the promotion eventually. And of course the first time something like this happened, he decided he was gonna show her who was boss. I don't know what was said or done. But I know he was escorted from the building before the end of the day. I think he thought she was the one to play with. She was not."
Ichabod made a small sound of acknowledgement, his eyes flickering to the window as he pushed his glasses up. He watched as an ambulance and three DOT vehicles zipped down the inner shoulder of the interstate.
"If you don't mind me asking," Abbie ventured. "Because we're going to be like this for a minute… How did you manage to get this job?" Ichabod looked at her curiously. "I mean, I know the qualifications are strict as hell…"
He shrugged. "Obviously, I met those qualifications," he said dryly, a small smirk appearing at the corner of his mouth. The apples of his cheeks flushed and he ducked his head. "Sorry… I was… trying to sound mysterious… but it sounded really… terrible."
He shook his head, sighing as he pushed his glasses up again. Abbie couldn't help but laugh.
"I served with the Royal Navy for several years, reaching the rank of Captain," Ichabod explained. "Found a job as an intelligence analyst for the MI6. Did that until I was offered the chance for this. I'd always liked America when I had to visit, so I took the opportunity when it presented itself."
"Captain, huh? You look a little young for that," Abbie commented. "Most of the captains I've met were in their mid-40s or so."
"I was promoted rather quickly because, to be honest--" he sighed and looked embarrassed "--I had dirty laundry on people that didn't want it aired."
Abbie stared at him for a second before bursting into laughter. "Seriously?"
He nodded. "I was regarded for my very adept memory throughout the ranks. So if I had turned up dead, it would have caused quite a stir. They promoted me instead. Although I'm sure if the information was discovered, it would at the worst caused them an inconvenience. It was never detrimental information. But I did meet all the other requirements for promotions, if I didn't have the years behind me. My accomplishments in the ranks was often used as justification for overlooking the years of service."
"Intelligence analyst, huh?" Abbie snorted lightly when he nodded. "No wonder you're so damn paranoid."
"What about you, Lt Mills? What brought you to the doors of ApocalyptiCorp," Ichabod asked.
Personally, Abbie was impressed. Not many people, even those who had worked there a while, could pronounce the company name so effectively. Even old Bill had just called it DoucheCorp.
Abbie shrugged indifferently. "I was injured in a car accident while off the clock. I was working with Sleepy Hollow Westchester County Sheriff's Department at the time. Some of my injuries didn't heal properly so I couldn't pass the physical part of returning. Needed a job to stay sane while going through physical therapy. My sister's boyfriend mentioned an opening he said I qualified for," she replied quietly. "So I jumped on it. Kinda like it, so here I am. Seven years later."
"Sorry to hear that," Ichabod stated. He closed his eyes and sighed. "The… injury that is. Not… not the still working here."
"Got it," Abbie chuckled.
"Should… should we be getting so familiar with each other?" Ichabod asked, cautiously.
Abbie shrugged. "Me and Bill were good friends, hung out all the time. Don't see why we can't. But if you're not comfortable with being familiar we don't have to be."
"I… don't mind actually. It's strange, really. Normally I find it laborious trying to carry on idle conversation with someone else," Ichabod said. "But it feels rather easy with you. Despite your authoritative demeanor, I find your presence very… comforting."
"Can't say I've heard that before," Abbie commented. Most people said they felt intimidated by her. That had actually been one of the things Bill had liked about her--as he put it, she always looked ready to punch the shit out of somebody and that was a trait he admired. "Like a friendly pitbull or something, yeah?"
"No," Ichabod said, shaking his head. "More like a… a good cup of tea and a beloved book."
Abbie glanced towards him. He was still staring out the window, watching a fire truck barrel the wrong way down the other side of the interstate. She couldn't think of how tea and a good book could be described as having an authoritative demeanor, but she reasoned he had been an MI6 so there was probably some kind of experience there she couldn't readily think of.
She wasn't sure how long they had actually been stuck in traffic--at least four hours she knew--but it had been filled with comfortable chatter. By the time they arrived at the hotel, they were both exhausted and hungry. So Abbie ordered them some takeout and watched the briefcase while Ichabod hit the shower.
Pandora had secured them a nice suite at the College Park Marriott. Two nice and comfy queen beds and a comfortable living room area in a separate room along with a mini fridge and microwave. Abbie was pretty sure, if Pandora felt she could get away with it, she would have picked something nicer. But it was still nice by Abbie's standards and she was glad that Pandora would often book the same room if it was available.
The food arrived while Ichabod was still in the shower. Abbie set it all up at the table and went to the bedroom. She was used to old Bill, who would get dressed before coming from the showering area to the bedroom.
"Hey, dinner is--oh my God!"
Abbie averted her head and shielded her eyes as all she saw was skin, skin, and more skin. Had she seen it all? Oh god she had seen it all, hadn't she? She chanced a look and a very surprised Ichabod had a shirt held up to his chest, mortified expression on his face.
He was, however, wearing pants. Praise the Lord above. Abbie breathed a sigh of relief and dropped her hands from her face. She shook her head and laughed. "Sorry. I thought I had seen you naked," she said.
"Thankfully, no," he replied softly. "I realized all too late that I dropped my shirt while walking to the bathroom."
Abbie let her eyes roam over him as he pulled the shirt in question on, over his head. She was surprised by his toned physique. He wasn't macho muscular by any means but he was definitely not skin and bones like she had thought. He was fit except for an old, jagged scar that marred his chest.
She cleared her throat and tried not to think about licking that goddamn scar. Abbie pointed over her shoulder as he finished tugging down his shirt. "Dinner is… here… whenever you're ready."
With a heavy sigh, she turned on her heels and walked out of the bedroom. She felt slightly offended. He had no right, whatsoever, to look like that under his clothes!
None.
At all.
Abbie was determined to put it out of her head. That decision lasted about ten seconds after he seated himself on the other end of the sofa, folding his long legs in front of him. He finger combed his damp hair out of his face, showing off the bright blue eyes he hid behind his glasses, before giving her a faint smile and asking for a few packets of duck sauce for his egg rolls.
For the first time Abbie found herself thinking damn, he's handsome.
"Where's your glasses?" Abbie asked.
"Oh, ah… in the bedroom," he replied. "I don't necessarily need them constantly. I find myself needing them mostly during the day when I have to read signs that are at a distance." One hand fluttered aimlessly. "I'm nearsighted. Sorry… I have a tendency to over explain things at times."
"Nothing wrong with trying to make sure the person you're talking to understands what you mean," Abbie said and his eyes lit up.
"Thank you," he said with relief. "My wife used to get absolutely spare with me when I did that."
"Used to?" Abbie asked, chomping down on one of her egg rolls.
"Ah… yes. Another reason I was more than eager to flee England," Ichabod admitted. "I'm a recent divorcee. Haven't yet started dating again. Not even casually."
Abbie chuckled and nodded. "Been there. Well, not the divorce per se. But had a bad break up and still haven't been able to get to the point I want to start dating."
Ichabod preened slightly and held up his can of soda. "To taking time to make sure we're ready to move on."
A smile spread over Abbie's lips and she tapped her own drink against his.
And that was the beginning of their friendship.