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It was well into the evening at the PNWS offices that most of the staff had gone home several hours ago. Even Nic, who had stayed taking care of some last minute editing for next week’s episode, had gone by Alex’s office a while ago offering to give Dr. Strand a ride back to his hotel. He had politely declined and continued working on the stacks of books and papers crowding the table. So, it is a bit surprising to Alex when she glances at wrist watch and learns it is only 10.13 pm (she knows it is nowhere near a respectable time to still be working, but she tells herself she’s just compensating for all the hours she didn’t work during her two week leave).
She blinks a few times at the sudden too bright glow of her laptop screen, stretches and glances at Strand, sitting opposite her, skimming through what looks like printed scans of an old manuscript and taking quick notes on a pad with his expensive looking fountain pen. He seems better, healthier. He is still wears jeans and flannel, but he has trimmed the beard and it looks like he got a haircut not long before she came back from her forced vacation. She thinks the bags under his eyes look a little lighter and she no longer has to coax him out from dark conspiracies and demonic apocalypses to go get something to eat.
It’s good, she knows he’s getting better and she probably looks much better too. But whenever her eyes catches his, she sees something dark, unhinged. Something so alien from the cool blue eyes she grew accustomed to. A chill runs through her and she doubts he’ll ever get through this, she doubts they’ll ever get past all of it.
The sound of something dropping and rolling on the table brings her back from her thoughts. She sees Strand reach his hand out to prevent his pen from rolling off the table, but not fast enough. Alex catches it before it knocks on the corner of her laptop and stretches it out to Strand without a word.
He mumbles his thanks and reaches for it without lifting his eyes from his reading. Just when he is about to close his fingers around it, Alex moves her hand an inch to the left. A little confused, thinking he’d miscalculated, Strand lifts his eyes this time and reaches once more for the pen. Mischief glints in Alex’s eye as she moves her arm in the opposite direction.
Strand frowns and she suppresses a giggle.
“Alex”, he doesn’t need to say anything else as he extends his arm across the table with his palm up, impatient.
“Sorry”, Alex says lifting her arms in defeat. She places the pen on Strand’s hand only to lift it the instant before he closes his hand. Strand sighs in that way he always does when confronted with ‘undeniable proof of the existence of the paranormal’. She knows she should know better than to start these kind of games with how tense things have been after she eavesdropped on Strand and Amalia’s conversation and proceeded to disseminate whatever potentially sensitive information it contained all over the internet. But she really can’t help herself and the laugh she had been holding escapes from her.
“Alex”, he says in a sharp, clipped timbre that might’ve worked on a child or a terrified intern. It does nothing but encourage her.
“Richard”, she imitates his tone mockingly and she can see the storm brewing in his eyes and the way his jaw clenches under the beard. Something in the back of her brain tells her she should drop the pen on the table and run as fast and far away as her legs will take her from the ticking bomb that is Richard Strand, but she ignores the warning and dives head first into what she’s sure is going to end horribly.
“Stop this”, Strand glares at her and Alex returns his stare unblinking. They both know there is not a pen or pencil in her office that Strand might use while she keeps his hostage. He could find one in the adjacent offices, but she doubts he’ll ransack the place just because she decided to tease him a little. She hopes that is not his course of action.
“Alex. Give me my pen back”, Strand takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. He sighs again, louder this time. “Please”
Alex rolls the pen on the table between her fingers while feigns interest in whatever her laptop’s screen is showing. She is pretending to have forgotten him and the pen, but Strand knows that is not the case by the smirk she is wearing. He waits a few beats and when he thinks he has an opportunity, he lunges forward aiming to trap Alex’s had (and his pen underneath it) with his own.
He realizes he underestimated Alex’s reflexes when his hand lands flat on the table with a loud sound. She laughs at his perplexed face and the pout that flashes across his features before he composes himself.
“Alex, I need the pen back. Don’t be childish”. They are both now standing up on opposite sides of the table.
“Umm… no” Alex takes a finger to her chin and taps lightly a few times, pretending to consider his words, before answering him.
Strand drops his head and mumbles under his breath and Alex isn’t sure if he’s cursing in a long dead language or something much worse. He takes a deep breath and walks around the table in her direction.
Alex is frozen for a moment. In her mind, an outburst was a lot more likely than Strand actually chasing her around the room to wrestle a pen out of her. She realizes he is now two quick steps away from her and makes to get away from him, but he stands in front of her and blocks her. She’s trapped between Strand’s tall frame and a corner of the room.
Strand takes a step forward and speaks slowly in a low voice. “Give. Me. The. Pen. Back”
His eyes bore into hers and if Alex is being honest, she is the farthest thing from intimidated. Strand is close enough for her to smell his cologne and see the little dark specks of color in his eyes, even in the dim light of the room.
She really doesn’t know why she closes the distance between them, stands on the tips of her toes and cranes her head upward determined to kiss him. She sees Strand’s face change from barely contained frustration, to confusion, to slight alarm.
He remains still while she places her hands on his chest for balance, but fails to reach his lips.
“You’re so fucking tall”” she huffs a laugh and he joins her.
The whole situation seems so absurd and that is maybe why Strand cups Alex’s face in his hands and leans down to press their lips together. His lips are a little chapped, but she melts into it. With his free hand, Strand takes the pen from Alex and slips it in his pocket. She laughs and he bites gently into her lower lip, turning her giggling into a soft moan that seeps into his mouth.