The kitchen was suddenly filled with motion and noise. The stove was turned off, the kettle placed in the sink, and a dishcloth almost applied to the wet but scalding stovetop before Nancy caught herself. The din of hurried action competed with what Zoe had to grudgingly admit as some very inventive swearing, before all the commotion ceased just as abruptly as it had begun.
"Hoped what?"
"The professional first," and here again Zoe had to cut across indignant interruptions. The girl was impetuous, and this would have to be tempered if she was to have a future with the agency.
"Like I said, it's always the professional first. Between fellow agents, between friends, between family, and between lovers, it's always business first. We defend the United States in a time when our enemies are many and varied, when technology has provided the potential for individuals to inflict the harm once reserved to armies, when a terrorist group no one has heard from for twenty years can reactivate without warning, and threaten every democracy with the fear of a chemical coup-de-tat. The work always comes first.
"I know it's not the most ringing endorsement you've ever heard for a job offer, but it's honest. And honestly? We need you. Your mother thought there was some pattern, some greater scheme to Revenant's seemingly unrelated activities. Unfortunately, we now know the person to which she had confided all her suspicions was a traitor, so whatever she found is likely long-gone. We need someone who can find it again."
Nancy was stunned by this onslaught. She had never seen the fun-loving Bridget or the quieter Zoe so intense, so deathly serious, not even when death had been a real possibility.
"I…I'm not my mom. Just because I look like her, knew her, loved her…it doesn't mean I can just magic up whatever she knew. She died when I was four!"
Zoe chose her next words very carefully. A wrong move here, and everything could go pear-shaped—everything.
"I'm not asking that of you, no one is. You have talents in your own right—astounding ones, actually. I can personally say you are the most promising potential recruit I have seen in years. We want you for you, Nancy, but you need to understand… I can't tell you what you would be giving up—no one can, not until you've lived it. I—"
"You sound almost as if you don't want me to take the job," Nancy spoke as she dropped into a chair. She had finally mustered the energy to move after the unexpected direction the conversation had taken. She worried absently at the old cloth still in her hands.
"I do want you to take the job. In fact, I—we need you to take it. But you need to go into this with no illusions. Spying isn't the glamorous adventure you read about in books or see on TV. Aside from the danger, it eats at the everyday parts of life, the little things that most people take completely for granted—and not least of all relationships."
That was as close as she was going to come to the personal while the professional was still on the table. Right now, she was a completely different person than the one that had fallen for Nancy Drew the girl. She was a cold, calculating agent, intent on securing Nancy Drew the asset. This compartmentalization of her life no longer presented a problem. It was drilled into them from day one, the ability to don or doff emotions like they were clothes. That didn't make the things she felt any less real. Sometimes, they just had to be put away for a time.
It should have been second-nature to Zoe, but she was having trouble today. Nancy, her Nancy looked lost, overwhelmed. She knew now was the time to move in, seal the deal, emphasize the opportunities, the potential to meet people just like her, maybe even hint at the chance for revenge if all else failed. But all she wanted to do was comfort her, her Nancy.
Suddenly in need of a way to hide her own indecision, she jerkily stood from the table. Approaching the sink and the still-warm kettle, she shot Nancy a smile over her shoulder.
"How about that tea, then?"
It was amazing how ordinary this was, how natural it felt to move around a kitchen she had never been in to make tea for a girl she'd never shared a drink with. It should have felt strange, maybe even intrusive. Instead it felt comfortable, familiar, like she had done it a hundred times. Finding strength in the routine of brewing tea, pouring milk, and fetching sugar, all under the dazed direction of her host, Zoe had relaxed by the time she had finished putting together a tray and had resumed her seat at the table.
Nancy, meanwhile, had used the time it took Zoe to prepare the tea to do some quick but serious thinking. She knew she was good at what she did—solving puzzles, breaking codes, finding patterns—but was she prepared to lead the kind of life Zoe had described? On the other hand, what else could she do? Maybe become a police officer or a private detective, but those had always seemed so boring. She'd put off this decision as long as she could, taking advantage of her father's support to complete degrees in classics, history, and art history while occasionally gallivanting off to exotic locations to investigate difficult cases. Lately she'd been conscious of both the shortening list of interesting majors and the dwindling of her father's patience.
There were obvious benefits to the arrangement. It solved so many problems, and she was dedicated to the fight against Revenant and people like them. But it had to be a very lonely life, one full of missed holidays, empty apartments, and cold beds. Could she live with such a cold existence, keeping who she was from everyone except those closest to her, and disappointing even them most of the time?
Nancy squared her shoulders and lifted her head to meet Zoe's eyes. It looked like it was time to make a decision, and it would all come down to her next question.
"Why else did you come here?"
Zoe carefully returned her half-empty cup to its saucer, distinctly grateful to see that her hands were steady. It had a lovely floral pattern, she noted absently, picked out in a vibrant Prussian blue and giving the impression of twining up and around the cup when the two were aligned correctly. She gave the cup a precise quarter-turn, completing the illusion, and studied the pleasing result as she prepared her response. It wouldn't do at all to rush what came next.
"I came because I wanted to. Because I've wanted to for three months, hoping every day that I would get the chance. Because I wanted to talk to you, and not about the professional, not about plots or Revenant or jobs. Just about little things, who we are beyond the work, if there even is anything to talk about… I came because I wanted to."
Nancy had a small smile on her face by the time Zoe finished her nervous ramble. An incredibly cute smile, that part of her mind that had become concerned with all things Nancy supplied. She blushed as though the girl across from her could have somehow overheard. Her stray fancies where banished a moment later.
"So…?"
The smile was wider, but Zoe didn't follow.
"So, what?"
"So, what are these things you want to talk about?"
It was said with a flirty smirk, but it threw Zoe. What did she want to talk about? It had been years since she had done this, the nature of the job proving true, and she wasn't sure now that she remembered how to, not for real. 'I want to kiss you so badly I might die' didn't seem quite right, somehow.
Nancy read the slight signs of panic and decided to take pity. She'd already got her answer, even if Zoe hadn't mentioned a relationship directly. She hadn't made it to where she was today without being able to read between the lines.
"How about we start small. For instance, we could tell each other our favorite colors?"
It was almost childishly simple, but at Zoe's eager nod, Nancy felt it had been a good choice.
"Well, you're looking at mine," Nancy said, as it became clear that Zoe was still a bit flummoxed. Hopefully, this little bit of sharing would put her back at ease. Responding to the questioning look she received, Nancy continued.
"The teacups, Prussian blue. It…it was my mother's favorite, the reason she bought this tea service in the first place. It's really too fancy to go with the rest of our dishes, and mom was usually very practical, but in this case she indulged in a bit of an extravagance. Most parents would keep it well out of the reach of children, but when I was little, we used to have tea parties with it, and it made me feel ever so grown up. And I did drop a cup once, but luckily it only cracked—there, look, it's the one you're holding now—" and indeed there was a fine line marring the perfectly-smooth surface, Zoe saw, as she ran an almost reverential finger along it. "Anyway, I guess you could say some of my happiest childhood memories are colored Prussian blue."
Zoe was deeply touched by Nancy trusting her with something so personal, and obviously precious. She felt she could do no less than offer the same, even if it went against her instincts as a trained operative.
"Maybe not such a small thing to start with. Thank you, that was beautiful."
Sparks shot up both their arms as Zoe laid her hand on top of Nancy's slightly smaller one. Both blushed, and Nancy giggled, but Zoe pushed ahead and carefully intertwined Nancy's fingers with her own. Their hands fit well, she reflected, focusing on the rightness of the feeling as she began her answer.
"Mine would have to be deep green, green so dark it's almost black. When I was a child growing up in Massachusetts, there was a forest behind our house I used to play in. It was impossibly old, primeval, and the trees had grown impossibly tall, creating a solid canopy tens of feet in the air. The leaves were so thick that almost no light got through, and the permanent twilight gave the place a magical feeling. It was still and muffled, but to a small child, it seemed that faeries and goblins were hiding, just out of sight.
"I spent countless hours exploring that wood. It covered acres and I ventured much farther than my parents knew. In summer I started each and every day by picking ripe pears from the tree in the garden and setting off to explore. I never did find any faeries, but those are still some of the happiest memories I have."
Nancy gave her hand a squeeze as the tale drew to a close. Zoe had been honest with her, too, and it was this more than anything that made up her mind.
"Thank you for that. So…"
"You've said that."
"I have."
"And?"
"And…are you ever going to kiss me?"
Zoe's control finally broke, and she leaned forward eagerly. Their lips met—finally!—softly and hesitantly, growing firmer and fuller with the passing seconds. It was everything Nancy had imagined her first kiss to be. Her whole world narrowed to the feel of full flesh against her mouth, teasing and teaching all at once, coaxing and commanding. It was freeing, what she was feeling—a physical confirmation of who she truly was. Her blood surged and her heart leapt and she knew, finally, where she belonged.
As for Zoe, if it wasn't her first kiss, it was still her first kiss with Nancy. She grinned against the lips under hers, which were unpracticed but enthusiastic, just like their owner—in other words, perfect.
Both women pulled back, gazing at each other with cheeks flushed and eyes gleaming, their lips curving into the secret but euphoric smiles of two people newly in love. Finally, Nancy spoke.
You've sold me—I'll take the job."
