Note: (in this fic Crane is just a modern guy, he isn't from the 1700s. He has dual citizenship and his mother is American, Father is English)
He left her a voicemail around 5 pm on Saturday.
It was Tuesday morning and Abbie felt like a fool as she put her beat up ford truck in park under the street light opposite his house. California was a beautiful place and so was Sherman Oaks, she saw his old supped up beamer in the driveway, even in the middle of the night his 1999 silver BMW 328i shined like newly polished chromed. He loved that car, he spent thousands on that car; he had it since he was 17 when his parents divorced and he moved to the U.S. from the U.K. with his mom. She remembered sitting in his mother's old garage in Sleepy Hollow when they were just mixed up kids sneaking sips of beers on the weekends while he was tinkering with it. Abbie's parents thought she was at band camp rehearsals. She still couldn't play a tune on the clarinet.
Abbie thought of all the reasons she shouldn't be here waiting to talk to him but no matter how much she thought about leaving she could not bring herself to start the engine. What kind of a woman fly's all the way from New York, borrows her step father's car and sneaks over to her besties house. Apparently, she was. They had seen each other through everything, losing friends, losing dads. This would not be anything different. If he said he needed to see her then it had to be really bad. She would be here, help him as much as she could then go back home and start looking for a new career something that didn't involve fetching coffee for assholes and getting bitched at about a paper copier jam.
Abbie played the message once more. Crane's voice sounded quivery and raspy like he had been yelling for a long time and after every few words he sighed, knowing him he was probably twirling a cigarette in between his long fingers as he spoke, what he always did whenever he was really wound up, it was his nervous little habit he hadn't stopped since high school.
They had been married less than 2 years and that bitch had already hurt him.
"Hey Abbie its Crane, how are you, I mean, I know,
I know we haven't spoken in a while. I just I've been going through a lot of shit lately. I mean I just ... so much has happened. I feel like I'm about to lose my mind. Katrina keeps saying she's sorry like that makes up for fucking him like that can even begin to make up for it, she keeps trying to make things ok, but they aren't. I'm sick of pretending, I'm so fucking tired of trying, I'm sick of all of this. I just, I can barely look at her. That's not even the worst of it; she wants me to accept that, I can't even say it out loud. I can't. I'm just, I'm so confused.
I need to see you,
I need someone to talk to and you're the only who gets me.
You're my best friend.
I know I'm being selfish but you're the only one I can talk to about this.
Just, please, if you're not busy, call me back.
Please, I miss you so much."
He sounded like he needed her. She grabbed her phone from the back pocket of her ripped jeans and speed dialed his number. It rang only once and then she heard his voice on the other end. He sounded like he had been waiting on her call, as if hearing her voice was his last and only lifeline. As horrible as his situation was, Abbie was happy that he needed her, it had been so long since anyone needed her, and it felt good to hear the smile in his voice as he said her name.
"Abbie!" He said it like he was surprised and caught off guard like he didn't actually expect her to call him back. His English accent coming through just like it always does when he's really happy or upset.
"Hey, you said you wanted to talk"
"Yeah, I mean I'm sorry I called you out of the blue like that. I wish I was in New York. I wish I could just sit down and tell you everything."
"I'm glad you're not in New York. If you were in New York and I flew all the way out here to California. I would be pretty pissed off about that. "
"You're here!"
"I'm right outside your house. I meant to call you once I got off the plane but...
The phone went dead as she saw a light turn on from the street. She watched as the side door light chased away the darkness as she saw a male form rush towards the painted wooden door, first his head darted out of the side door of his house. She stepped out of the ford truck and began to cross the street. When he saw her face he left the house and she heard the slam of the side door. Crane stood with a lit cigarette in-between his fingers twirling it as he walked towards her. She tried to be calm, to pace her steps as she crossed his lawn but as soon as Crane sprinted towards her, she speed up and before she knew it, she was being crushed in a bear hug and all she could smell was the musky scent of his cologne, the cinnamon chewing gum that was somewhat covering the garlicky pasta he had for dinner and the tobacco from his favorite brand of cigarette, Camels. It was the best thing she had smelled in years. It was smell that comforted her so much that she clung to him just as tightly as he enveloped her. This was home and if he needed her then she would stay as long as he did. This was about him, about his struggle about everything that life had dealt him. It helped her to forget everything that she went through; maybe it was supposed to be this way. Maybe it was just what she needed to be standing here in the wee hours of the morning with her other half, the only man in the world she ever trusted. Maybe things would get better for them both and even if they didn't for this one moment she was home and it was exactly where she wanted to be.
She didn't have to worry about running anymore. She had escaped if only for a little while.
He won't come all the way here, no way he would follow me.
Crane smiled as he looked down on her, he hadn't seen Abbie since he moved out here to California because it's what Katrina wanted.
But seeing her face was like all the weight of the world had been lifted off of his chest. Looking into her eyes he could breathe again.
The sweet little tattoo of a small mermaid on her arm greeted him with the comfort of home.
"Come on, Abbie let's get out of the street"
Once they made it in the house.
He fired up the stove, the smell of bacon enveloping the room.
"You hungry" he called over his shoulder
"I could eat something"
