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Colonel Christofer Ibrahim always seemed to be surrounded by people, and the more times Jill failed to catch him alone, the more irritated she grew. Friday night had left her rankled in ways she did not have the energy nor motivation to sort out, so she channelled that frustration into something that resembled a logical plan. As UNIT-Met liaison, she considered herself to have the right to advise her colleagues on matters of professionalism, and there were two certain colleagues—lord, she hated that word—that were in dire need of a talking-to.
One she had to follow around and sit down for long meetings with and throw saccharine smiles that barely concealed her unadulterated, never-ceasing loathing at this stupid collaboration. The other often shadowed her, advising on the military side of UNIT’s UK operations and overlooking the security of the sparkling glass headquarters in the centre of London. They were rarely apart, and Jill now thought she understood (more than she liked to) why.
On the miraculous, wonderful, simply fabulous Wednesday morning after the pair of them had blatantly shown off their unprofessional entanglements in front of Jill, she found Christofer at the Ops Room kitchenette, brewing a cup of what she had learnt to be absolutely average coffee. His gaze was fixed on a tablet in his hands, fingers tapping a pattern on the case as his eyes flicked down something on the screen.
“Colonel.”
Christofer yelped at a pitch that Jill hadn’t thought to be possible with his accented baritones. She smirked a little as he cleared his throat and assumed his usual demeanour of an unfazed, unflappable soldier. “Detective. What can I do for you?”
“An explanation would be nice,” she said, setting the coffee machine going (she may as well, the coffee wasn’t on her dime at the end of the day). “Care to elaborate what you were up to on Friday?”
To her confusion, he didn’t seem at all perturbed by her question. In fact, his lips twitched in a way that indicated amusement, of all things. “So we’re discussing that, I see. I did wonder when you were going to bring it up; you have a habit of sinking your teeth into everyone’s business sooner or later.”
Jill briefly wondered if he had been the one to come up with the nickname Rottweiler. “Well, you know me, Colonel, I’m all bark and a fair bit of bite too. Have you even stopped to consider how you’re both implicating yourselves?”
“No, I haven’t,” he replied, stirring sugar into his coffee, “because there is nothing that could implicate us.”
“Ah, so the way she was practically hanging off your arm was strictly platonic, yes? Come off it, do I look stupid to you?”
Christofer took a long sip of coffee, dark eyes scrutinising her over the rim of the mug. “I won’t comment on that.”
She gritted her teeth. The memory of Kate’s gaze locking with hers flashed through her mind: cold, pointed… hell, she’d even detected a flash of cockiness in there. She had been making a point, any old idiot could figure that out.
What troubled Jill is that she couldn’t figure out what the point was.
Like any detective worth their salt, however, she had a theory. “I realise Stewart hasn’t exactly been keen on my suggestions for improvement, but to blatantly flaunt a relationship in my face which Geneva would have her head for seems a bit…”
“Oh my god.” He spluttered a laugh, nearly choking on his coffee. “You think that’s what this is about?”
“What else could it be?”
What else indeed, a tiny voice in her head echoed, laced with layers of meaning she tried hard to repress.
He lowered his voice. “For your information, Detective, the Commander has actually been implementing some of your suggestions into UNIT’s investigative personnel structure. Despite the way you two go at each other like feral wolves, she holds more respect for you than you might think. Kate was having a rough night on Friday, and—”
“And I bet you made her forget about her troubles pretty quickly, huh?”
She was, for want of a better word, seething. How this man could carry on lying to her face was beyond her, and she couldn’t look at him without being plagued by the nightmares that haunted the darkness of her room: ochre and pale skin intertwined, blonde hair fanned out across a pillow, a name being uttered in a breathy gasp, a hand splayed across hard planes of muscle…
Christofer ran a hand across his stubbled jaw, sighing. “I don’t make a habit of lying to people, and I’m not going to start now. Kate used me to lash out at you on Friday, and I wasn’t happy about it, but there is nothing going on between us. She’s my best friend and I would follow her to the ends of the earth, and that’s all there is to it. Whether you chose to believe me or not is up to you, but when you find out the truth, you’ll be kicking yourself.”
“The truth? What—”
Before she could interrogate him further, she spotted none other than the Queen of the HQ herself striding towards them in a fitted navy blazer and a red blouse that exposed a hint of collarbone. Jill forced her eyes upwards, secretly glad she didn’t have to salute whenever the Commander swanned into the room with all her regal airs and graces.
She managed a curt nod. “Commander.”
“Detective.” Kate cast her a frosty glare that had become a frequent occurrence over the past few days, dropping the temperature in the room by a stark few degrees each time. “My deepest apologies for interrupting what I hope is a scintillating conversation. It’s nice to see you integrating with my staff.”
Yeah, you’d know all about integrating with your staff, wouldn’t you?
Jill bit her tongue and, breathing out sharply through her nose, replied, “The Colonel and I were simply discussing our plans for the day.”
“I’m sure.” Her eyes slid away, coming to rest on Christofer. “Colonel, as much as I hate to steal you away from your friends—”
Christofer audibly snorted into his coffee.
“—the team up north will be moving out to start the on-field operation, and I’d like you to oversee comms and movement and support them how you can from here. If you’d spare five minutes to come into my office, we’ll go over the strategies again.”
“Of course, ma’am.” His arm snapped up in a crisp salute.
Jill watched as the pair strolled off across the Ops Room and disappeared into her office. The coffee in her mouth turned sour; she resisted the urge to hurl her mug onto the floor like a child having a temper tantrum.
God, she needed to pull herself together.