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Abbie smiled and stretched before letting herself roll over toward… the empty bed. Her smile disappeared as she sat up. What the fuck? Abbie rubbed her face and scowled as she picked up her phone and pulled up the app that let her look at her various surveillance cameras. She clicked the one for the outside.
Crane’s Prius was still in her driveway. She flipped through the various cameras and spotted him in the kitchen, shirtless and making coffee and breakfast. Damn. She couldn’t get over how she had seemingly scored the jackpot. A loveable dork that also apparently worked out regularly. It wasn’t often Abbie found herself in a relationship she actually wanted to be in and Ichabod was steadily ticking all of her favourite boxes.
She was still curious about the scar on his chest. Maybe if she was lucky enough to not ruin this good thing, she might hear the story someday. If only her work didn’t get in the way…
Speaking of which, she thought ruefully as she saw Joe’s number appear on her phone. It wasn’t a number in the conventional sense. It was a call from his encrypted line. Abbie picked up. “What’s up, Joe,” she greeted.
“Abbie. I just got some bad news. Are you sitting down?” His voice was grim. It wasn’t like Joe to be like that. He was normally pretty laid back even on business calls.
“Yeah, I haven’t even got out of bed yet,” Abbie said. “Probably got a few more minutes before Ichabod has breakfast ready.” Joe was quiet a long moment. Abbie shifted uncomfortably. “Joe?”
“Ichabod is a spy for MI6.”
Abbie looked at her phone for a minute then put it back to her ear. “Do what, now?”
“Ichabod is a spy for MI6,” Joe repeated. “You know how I warned you that there was a spy somewhere in ApocalyptiCorp? I just got some news this morning that it’s Ichabod. You got your tablet handy?”
“Yeah,” Abbie said quietly. She reached into her bedside table drawer and pulled out her tablet. The message asking for permission to let Joe send her some files was already on her screen when she unlocked it. She played the first video. It was footage of Ichabod moving through the hotel he was staying at, very clearly talking to himself. Ichabod, in a video time stamped for the night of the party with Bill, fighting two men in a parking garage. Her heart clenched when the next video was from the alley behind Mabie’s, from his clothes she could tell it was last night. He was talking to a person concealed in the shadows, giving them a large manila envelope. “Who was he talking to?”
“The person he met got in a vehicle that went to the British embassy but we don’t know who she was, other than that she was a she,” Joe provided. Abbie stayed quiet. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this right now but… whatever it is you think Ichabod feels for you…”
“It’s probably not real,” Abbie said, barely above a whisper.
“There is a chance he may be working in collaboration with our guys,” Joe said, a little hopefully. “I’ve been trying to get with my contact at MI6 to find out but her line has been busy this morning. You know how we have to keep everything off the books because of who it deals with…”
Abbie stayed silent again.
"I'm sorry, Abbie," Joe said. "I mean, there's a possibility he doesn't know about you. Maybe he thinks you're just the pretty security lady at work. Maybe what you think he feels is real."
"I'm not getting my hopes up," Abbie finally replied.
"Just try not to change up your behaviour. We can't risk him finding out you know," Joe said.
"Okay," Abbie whispered. "Nightingale out."
With that, the line went dead. Abbie felt a wave of emotions pour through her veins. She wanted to laugh, scream, and cry all at the same time. Instead she pulled her kitchen camera up.
Ichabod was leaning against the counter, alternating between scrubbing his fingers through his hair and pinching the bridge of his nose. He did that when he was nervous or upset. She couldn't help but wonder why he was clearly agitated.
I was just a paper pusher that looked over documents for suspicious information. That's what he had said a few months ago when Bill had been about to kill him. That had been real fear in his voice. Abbie knew the difference. I was just an analyst.
Even if Ichabod was actually a spy, he probably was a relatively new one. If there was one thing she had learned about him, it was that he carried his heart in his hands. He wasn't some time-hardened liar.
Abbie fell back against her bed and put a pillow over her face to scream into it. Dammit. Just when she thought she was getting into something proper and pure… it started to slip between her fingers.
She tossed the pillow aside and sighed. Don't change your behaviour, she reminded herself. With one last frustrated sound, Abbie climbed out of bed and pulled on Ichabod's sweater to go down for breakfast.
#
Ichabod was grateful for his eidetic memory this morning. It meant he didn't have to ask Abbie where anything was and he could surprise her with breakfast. He just hoped she liked eggs benedict.
One of many things he hoped to learn about Abbie. She was normally so guarded but he was willing to be patient with her as she learned to trust him with her heart.
"Crane!"
Ichabod jumped in shock at hearing Zoe's voice, knocking several items off the counter in the process. He danced around nervously, hands flicking at his sides as he tried to settle his racing heart. He leaned against the counter and sighed as he scrubbed his fingers through his hair. After a moment he let out a heavy sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"We've been through this, Zoe," he muttered. "A small warning would be most appreciated."
"I didn't have time for a warning. I finally got a response about this Nightingale. Where are you?"
"I'm at Abbie's house, making breakfast," Ichabod replied. He pushed away from the counter and squatted down to pick up the mess of eggs and hollandaise.
"Ah, so that's what all the moaning and groaning last night was," Zoe said flatly. "I thought you were just having nightmares again, since we wasn't getting any video feed."
Ichabod cocked a brow. "Do you mind getting to why you scared the daylights out of me? I'm trying to surprise Abbie with breakfast."
"Nightingale is one of the top undercover agents in the FBI. She's ruthless and deadly," Zoe said. "And she's…"
"Abbie," Ichabod said quietly the same time Zoe did.
"You knew?"
"No. Well… I suspected she was some kind of agent for something," Ichabod said. "I would have been a fool to not think so after what happened last month. I didn't know she was Nightingale. Although it does make perfect sense. "
"Hey… hey… don't shut down on me Crane," Zoe said. "I know that tone. You're shutting down. I need you to stay focused. I just told you Abbie is an undercover agent that is more than capable of killing you without any remorse."
Ichabod fell onto his knees on the floor. Abbie? Kill him without remorse? That, he doubted. She was a woman with many regrets, that much he knew. He had seen her face when she talked about things in her past. "Abbie would never…"
"She's killed several men, Ichabod. Most of them she had been posing as their lover or girlfriend at the time," Zoe said. "I'm still trying to get information though. There's a good chance we might be able to collaborate on this mission. If she's deep undercover, that means she might be doing the same thing we are."
"Does this mean you're pulling me off the mission?" Ichabod asked. "I know you don't permit me to be subjected to a certain level of danger. If she is as dangerous as you say…"
"We're working on getting someone in to replace you, yes," Zoe said quietly. "Director Abner has already put in to have you recalled. So when you get to the hotel, get packed up and get ready to go home. We'll take care of thin
gs on the ApocalyptiCorp front."
Ichabod hung his head and sighed.
"I know you're still trying to process all of this right now," Zoe said carefully. "But until I find out otherwise, you can't trust anything Abbie says or does. There's a good chance she already knows you're a spy."
"Of course," Ichabod said softly.
"Talking to yourself again?"
Ichabod lifted his head as Abbie stepped around the kitchen island. She was wearing his sweater from the night before. He couldn't help but smile at the fact it practically swallowed her.
"Yes," he replied, looking down at the mess that still remained. He couldn't quite bring himself to look her in the eye just yet. "I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed but… my clumsiness has gotten the better of me once more."
"You're usually only like that when you're stressed," Abbie said. "Are you okay?"
"No." When she raised a brow, he took a deep breath. "I… may have to return home to London soon. Well… there's no may about it."
"Is that what finally prompted you to ask me out?" Abbie asked, her tone a little flat. "Ask the girl out, maybe get laid… then oops you forgot to say you were leaving for England soon?"
Ichabod shook his head. "No! Absolutely not. Until this morning I thought everything would be fine but…" He looked up at Abbie, finally meeting her eyes. She looked hurt, angry, and perhaps more than just a little upset. "I would never have asked if I had known…"
He looked down and finished mopping up his mess, missing the look of realization that crossed Abbie's features as details clicked into place and connected in her head. She had arrived at the kitchen door right as he had been asking if he was being pulled off the mission. It hadn't registered at first, but now it made sense:
He was probably just festooned onto the mission with little to no knowledge of what it entailed. It also now made sense why he had insisted he was just a paper pusher… because he was. And now he was being recalled because this was out of his level of experience.
Ichabod lifted his gaze to Abbie's. He had been half afraid he would look up and see a cold, stern return. Instead, Abbie looked… upset. He offered up a wan smile. "I had so many plans," he admitted as his voice caught behind the sudden obstruction in his throat.
Abbie's expression softened. "Did they involve us?" she asked, softly.
Ichabod nodded. "All of them did," he said. "I've wanted to take you out on a proper date since we met."
Abbie looked away. "Why didn't you, then?"
He huffed a laugh. "None of the reasons that held me back seem important enough to mention now." What would she think of him if he admitted that he had just been too much of a coward to ask? That he never thought in a million years, that a woman as beautiful and charming as she would ever reciprocate his feelings.
“Mention them anyway,” Abbie said softly.
“I thought you were too beautiful. Too charming,” he admitted. “I thought perhaps I was mistaking your desire for a friendship with my desire to love you. I never could have fathomed you could possibly want to be with someone like me.”
“Like you?” Abbie asked, a small smile at the corner of her mouth.
“I’m a mess, Abbie,” Ichabod admitted. “I carry spare shirts in my briefcase in case I spill something on myself. I go to science fiction conventions in cosplay. Don’t even get me started on my glasses.” He sighed heavily. “I am deathly afraid of lasers. I’m an--”
“Adorable dork?” Abbie interrupted.
He felt his face flush and he looked down to the floor. “I wouldn’t use those precise words… Essentially, I never asked because I was afraid you would say no and things would become awkward and… I would rather have you as my friend than to see you pull away because you didn’t feel the same. I was a coward.”
He looked up as Abbie moved closer then knelt down in front of him. She put a finger under his chin. “Say that to my face.”
“I was a coward,” Ichabod said quietly.
Abbie shook her head. “Not that. I go on deliveries with you all the time. Believe me, I know that. I mean the part after you thought you were mistaking my desire for friendship.”
“With my desire to love you,” Ichabod repeated.
“We can make this work,” Abbie stated. “I don’t know how, but we can. If you want to?”
Ichabod briefly wondered if he could possibly make something work with a beautiful spy that might possibly be assigned to kill him sooner or later. Zoe might call him a sucker later, but he didn’t care. “I want to.”