AN: This is an idea that just came to me… not as serious or angsty as some things I write, more along the humor lines.
Dear Abby,
I have a problem I bet you've never dealt with… well at least not the particulars. I'm in love with one of my co-workers. Actually, in a way she is my subordinate, but not in the strictest sense… I oversee her work, but we really work together.
I'm sure that sounds completely run of the mill, but we're getting to the good part. Our job is extremely high risk. It's important that we both remain focused on what we're doing, or our lives may be at risk. The general feeling among the rest of my coworkers is that if we were to become involved, it would be a distraction and it would get us killed.
So I keep telling myself… both of us actually… that we can wait. I know that once this project we're working on is through, she plans to leave the company. Then we can be together without it taking away from our work. But then I start to wonder what happens if something happens to her anyway? Like I said, it is a high risk job and there are no guarantees. What if I don't tell her, thinking I'm keeping her safe, and in the end she dies anyway? Then I've never told her, and I'll never have a chance to.
After all that I'm not sure what the question really is. I guess I want to know if I should tell her or if I should be quiet… and part of me wants to know what she wants me to do. What do you think Abby? Would she want me to tell her, or wait until the project's done?
Signed,
I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you.
Dear I'd Have to Kill You,
You have an interesting sense of humor. I could answer your questions, but I think they're best answered by another reader. Read on.
Dear Abby,
I'm in love with my boss. This isn't your regular "secretary falls for the CEO" situation though… he and I work closely together on a dangerous job. If we were to become involved it would really complicate things.
But I find myself wishing we were anyway. I at least want to hear him tell me how he feels… Oh, I know that he feels this too, but it would be nice to hear him say "I think I'm falling in love with you" instead of telling me we have to wait to see each other and how much he wishes we could just go out like normal people.
The last time we talked about it, he ended the conversation with "Next time…" What if there isn't a next time Abby? If something happens to one of us and we hadn't told each other… I don't think I could handle that. At the same time, my logical side tells me to just wait until we're done with this job and we don't have to worry about work. What should I do?
Signed,
I hate my job
Dear I Hate My Job and I'd Have to Kill You,
I don't know the particulars of your situations so I can't give specific advice. However, I do know from listening to you both that you want to have these feelings out in the open. Unless work makes this absolutely and completely out of the question, I would do so before you end up with an ulcer… that could be distracting as well.
bSunday morning/b
Yawning, Vaughn sat down at the kitchen table with his coffee and the Sunday paper. After reading the sports and the comics, he absently flipped through the rest of the paper, stopping when he spotted something in the Living section.
Sending that letter in had been an impulse, an act of frustration. He had needed to tell someone about Sydney, and there just didn't seem to be anyone in his life that he could talk to about it. When he'd tried to tell Weiss, his friend had backed away saying, "I don't want to hear about it. What I don't know, I can't tell Devlin or Dr. Barnett if they ask…" It was a valid point, but it still left him without a confidante.
So he wrote Dear Abby. Never in a million years had he expected to get a reply, but there it was, his letter in black and white in the Sunday paper. Scanning over it quickly to get to the reply, his eyes widened as he read the second letter. iIs that really what she would want?/i he asked himself. iDoes she want it out in the open, no matter what the cost? I have to know./i Picking up the phone, he dialed the number that was as familiar as his own.
"Hello?" her familiar voice replied.
"Joey's Pizza?"
"Wrong number." Hanging up, he grabbed his keys and headed toward the warehouse.
bSydney's place moments earlier/b
Standing in front of the kitchen counter waiting for the coffee to percolate, Sydney perused the Sunday paper. After reading the Target ad and noting that towels were on sale this week, she flipped to the Living section to read Ann Slanders and Dear Gabby… I mean Ann Landers and Dear Abby.
There it was… her letter stared back at her from the paper, begging her attention. But that wasn't all that caught her eye. First she read the other letter, the one from the man whose situation was so similar to hers. Then she read her own and Abby's reply.
iShould I tell him?/i she wondered. iIs the relief we would feel at having our feelings in the open really worth the danger that would come with it?/i Before she had a chance to find the answers to her questions, the phone rang. "Hello?" she asked.
"Joey's Pizza?" Her heart stopped for a moment when she heard that voice, so achingly familiar and yet somehow different this morning.
"Wrong number," she replied automatically and hung up. Grabbing a cup of coffee, she dressed quickly and went out the front door, holding her copy of the paper. She may not completely believe in fate, but his call had answered her question. They were going to talk about this.
bThe warehouse, 20 minutes later/b
He was already there when she arrived, sitting on a wooden crate holding something in his left hand, just out of sight. "Hey," she said. "What's up?"
"Nothing much… There's just something I want to tell you," he replied nervously. Eyeing her, he saw her arch her brow in question, and he went ahead. "Syd, you know how much I value your friendship. You know that I will always be here for you. What you don't know… what I've never told you… is that I'm in love with you."
Her brown eyes pooled with unshed tears which she tried to blink away. One of them slid down her cheek unchecked and he gently wiped it away with his thumb. "I think you share these feelings on some level, but if you don't, if you didn't want this, I completely understand," he said quietly as he waited for her to swallow the lump in her throat and respond.
Looking up at him, she finally managed to utter three little words. "I want this," she said simply. Joy and love flashed in his eyes as he leaned forward to brush his lips against hers.
"I'm glad to hear that," he said softly after he pulled back, wrapping his arms around her. They remained like that for several minutes, content in simply being together. Then something occurred to Sydney and she pulled back slightly so she could look him in the eyes.
"What changed your mind?" she asked. "We've always said later, what made you decide that now was the time?"
He averted his eyes in embarrassment. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he muttered.
"Try me," she challenged.
"Well… I wrote this letter…" He was stopped by her sudden fit of laughter. "You know, this would be easier if you weren't laughing at me," he said tautly.
"I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing at us. It was a letter to Dear Abby, right?"
"How did you…" His eyes widened in comprehension and disbelief. "You're I hate my job?"
"Nice to meet you, 'I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you," she replied mirthfully. This time he shared her laughter at their expense.
"Who'd have thought we both would have written Dear Abby? Or that she would have printed both letters on the same day?" he said in amusement. Then more seriously he continued. "It was actually your letter that convinced me to talk to you. If that woman wanted to hear the words, I thought maybe you did too."
"I did. Knowing is one thing, it means more when you hear it."
"Is that so?" he asked, feigning confusion. "I can't say I know that, at least not from experience."
She giggled again at the look on his face, then took it in her hands and looked in his eyes. "I love you Michael Vaughn. I could not ask for a better handler, partner, friend, or lover. I love you more than I thought was possible." Closing the distance between them, she captured his lips with a short fiery kiss that sealed their emotions.
AN: Ok, I know the ending is weak. Give me a break, it's 2:20 am! Oh, and the Target reference… that's where I work. Towels were on sale last week, oh horror of horrors.