She stares at the mirror of her hotel room in frustration. DC is her home, yet it feels wrong. The cold feels wrong, the lack of sand in the air is making her twitchy. And to think she hated it when she first went to the middle east. Feels like a lifetime ago now.

She looks jetlagged. Her eyes have puffy purple bags under them, her lips are pale and chapped, like she's been sick. She can't remember the last time she wore makeup. Hell, she can't even remember the last time she so much as glanced twice at a mirror, let alone spend several minutes staring at it. She splashes water on her face, pinches her cheeks to make her look less like a walking corpse, tries to tell herself it's because it's her first day back and everybody is going to be paying attention, but even as she thinks it, it sounds ridiculous. She couldn't give two craps about what everybody thinks of her appearance, the reason she's considering putting on makeup is the same that made her jump out of bed an hour earlier than necessary even though she's just been through a 25 hour flight to get ready: Dan.

She knows it's ridiculous, knows she can't afford to be distracted, not now that her lead looks promising, now that people are giving it credit. Giving her credit. No, she can't afford to get involved now. But some lipstick wouldn't hurt, would it? Jessica would've wanted her to take care of herself, would've pestered her for it, actually. She smirks as she reaches for the vanity bag that the other woman had put together for her birthday one of those years, fishes for something that hasn't expired yet, spots a muted rosé that supposedly flatters her skin color. It will do.


He paces the lobby of the headquarters, resisting the urge to run his hands through his hair in anxiety. Clouds cover the sky, giving the gray morning a dull atmosphere, as it so often happens in this city. The lobby is mostly empty, more agents leaving their night shifts than arriving. He wonders if she is missing the ever present sun of Islamabad. Fishing for his phone, he pretends to be texting for the sake of appearance, knows it is ridiculous, but still can't shake off the feeling that everybody knows he's waiting for her.

It's absurdly early, but if he knows her at all, she will want to prepare, want to be on top of her game when the debriefing starts.
He didn't sleep last night, couldn't even if he tried, not after Jack called saying that he was worried, asking him to keep an eye on her because she had been shot at - intensely shot at - but had refused the psychological evaluation she was entitled to, hopping in a plane back to DC the minute it became clear they wouldn't let her continue her investigation from there. Panic overcame him, the image of her small frame being perforated by bullets much too clear on his head.

On top of that there was the nagging on the back of his mind, the green monster of jealously telling him it wasn't Jack's place to be worried about her, to call asking him to watch over her like she was one of his belongings, as if they both didn't know she would be outraged if she ever found out about that call... unless. Unless he was personally entitled to be worried, unless the time they spent there, only the two of them left from the original group, had led to more than a professional relationship and they were an unit now. It sickened him to the stomach just to think about it, but it enraged him even more to be jealous, like he had any right to be. So what if they hooked up? They were two consenting adults, on a shitty job in that god forsaken place. But even his own logic wasn't enough to quench his irrational desire to punch Jack in the face, put him through one of his persuasive interrogation methods until the man confessed he had touched her in a way Dan himself was never allowed to.

He smirked, shaking his head at the absurdity of his own thoughts, when he spotted a blur of red hair behind some cars in the parking lot, carried by the purposeful walk he knew so well, had stared at a number of times. His steps faltered and he suddenly felt like a deer caught in the headlights, standing there in the middle of the lobby like he had nowhere else to be. He really didn't think this through. Ridiculous.

His heart picked up rhythm when he heard her voice, couldn't quite get what she was saying over the bulletproof glass of the security gate. He turned around to see her arguing with a security guard, couldn't help but smile at that fierce little woman, a force of nature he's fallen in love with. Schooling his features, he walked over to the entrance, addressed the security guard without really acknowledging her presence, said she was to be cleared, her new identification already being made. He noticed from his peripheral vision that she did a double take, gave him a once-over and he suddenly felt really self-conscious about his pressed suit, his tidied up hair.

She looked thinner, he noticed, a little worn out, but her hair and suit were impeccable. She smiled at him and he suddenly felt the urge to run his thumb over her lower lip and that adorable dent in her chin. Oh, this was going to be hell.

"Good to see you in one piece."

"Yeah." She tucked her hair back, her other hand fidgeting with her keys. "Glad to be back." But it didn't looked like she meant it.

They fell into stride toward the elevators, making small chat to wait for its arrival. She seemed stiff, even more so when he touched her back as they were entering the elevator. Soon they were joined by other agents, and then she was being led away to meet the tech team who would be assisting her in the surveillance of her carrier guy. He was left standing there, the old feeling of muted rejection thawing around the edges.


It's nighttime again when his phone chimes, but this time it's her.

"Hey."

"You refilled my bowl of candy."

"How can you be so sure it was me?"

There was a pregnant pause. He could almost feel her pointed stare.

"Ok, I did. They seem to be the only thing you eat, so I didn't want you to starve."

"You don't have to take care of me, you know." Her voice was softer now. It made him brave.

"I know, but I want to."

She remained silent. He decided to push.

"Where are you?"

"In my room."

"Hotel room?"

"Yeah. Didn't get a chance to start looking for an apartment yet."

She had been back for one week already, but he knew better than to remind her.

"Have you eaten dinner?"

"Yeah."

"Liar." She exhaled, he imagine her closed lip smile. "I have some real food in here. Made it myself. You could come by, we'd eat it together."

"Since when do you cook?" It didn't slip by him that she avoided answering his question.

"I'm a man of many talents." He could hear her huff on the other end of the line. "Come on." He hated that it sounded like a plead. The silence stretched.

"Give me thirty minutes."


She shows up at his door, precisely 29 minutes later. He had put the lasagna in the oven, changed shirts and washed his face in the first ten, spending the rest of the time pacing back and forth. Like this was a date. She greeted him with a tight smile and held up a six pack that he took to the fridge while she took off her jacket. He'd never seen her in a tank top before, not even in the blazing pakistanian heat. He found himself entranced by the thin straps that showed so much of her, her collarbones stretching her skin as she freed herself from the arms of the garment.

They ate side by side on his kitchen counter, their bare forearms touching, the longing inside him welling up so much he didn't think he'd have space for food. The muted television showing the late night news casted an almost ethereal glow over her skin, and when she started talking about the case he didn't quite catch the first three sentences. They spinned theory back and forth for hours.

It was just over three when she left, barely having touched her beer. They walked down the stairs together, he insisted on getting her to her cab. "You can never be too careful", he said, even though he knew it was just an excuse to spend as many time with her as he could get. She opened the door to the vehicle and just stood there. His mind conjured up an image of him kissing her goodnight. He just nodded, too scared of doing anything that would push her away, and watched when after a hasty "G'night", she entered the cab and disappeared into the night.

He didn't like this love, it made him stupid.