A/N: Abbie needs to reconcile the new turn in their relationship with the fact that Crane is married.
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Abbie's eyes fluttered open. She lay still, checking to see if she were truly awake and that the past twenty-four hours were not a dream. She breathed in the scent of sex and Crane and the cup of peppermint tea gone cold on the night table. Her muscles were stiff and she was agreeably sore in all the right places – post-coital pussy hangover, as Jenny would call it. Crane was literally wrapped around her, holding her to him with all four of his long limbs, like a kid cuddling a Teddy bear. His cock was hot against the small of her back. She stretched gently, careful not to wake him. She squinted in the morning light, trying to guess the time.
"It is one quarter of the hour past eight," mumbled Crane.
"You're awake," said Abbie.
"Mmm. Somewhat."
Crane tightened his arms around her, shifting his hips as his erection grew. Abbie chuckled and gently pushed him away with her elbow. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. He trailed a finger down her spine and rubbed his hand on her flank. She looked over her shoulder at him. He looked like a Renaissance artist's model laying there amongst the crumpled white sheets in the golden morning light, his tousled hair framing his face.
"Come here," he murmured.
"Oh, no. I'm done. I can't go another round."
Abbie slipped off the bed and out of his reach. The only reason they'd stopped making love the night before was because she'd accidentally kneed him in the balls. It was his own fault. He shouldn't have been flipping her around like a rag doll.
Crane leaned back on the pillows and folded his arms under his head, watching her as she walked around to his side of the bed and picked up her phone from the night table.
"Besides, it looks like your soldier defected to the Redcoats," said Abbie, scrolling through her text messages.
Crane glanced down at his erection. "Having had my chest sliced open, I believe I can endure a bit of chaffing."
"I'm happy for you but I need some recovery time from my sex injuries." She held up her phone. "It's Irving. He had an incident in Central Park of all places. Something to do with Macey."
Crane sat up, his body tense. "Was the child harmed?"
"I think he would've called if she was. He only sent a text asking us to come in."
The dark look passed from Crane's eyes but he was still angry. He got out of bed. He looked down at Abbie. "An unpleasant reminder of the lengths to which Moloch will go to thwart our efforts," he said.
"I don't know, Crane. Moloch's been quiet lately. Henry says we shouldn't hear much more from him until after the Solstice. I think that demon yesterday was a last stone to throw at us before Moloch hibernates or whatever he does."
"Are you suggesting it was someone – some thing – else?"
Abbie shrugged. "I guess we'll find out."
Crane took a step back from her and squared his shoulders. "There's work to do," he said.
Abbie stopped him with a hand on his chest. "We need to talk," she said.
"We will," he said. He leaned down and kissed her lips. "I promise you." He stepped around her and strode into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
xxxxxx
Crane was quiet during the drive to the office, gazing out of the window and answering questions in monosyllables. Throughout the day, Crane was his usual polite self, though from time to time, Abbie had caught him staring at her with a small frown.
She had not expected him to act like her lover, especially not at work. Morales had strutted around the squad room loudly alluding to the nature of their relationship, even though Abbie had asked him to be discreet. She got very angry and nearly broke it off because of it. But she wanted Crane to be different with her now- how, she did not know.
Technically, they were having an affair. Abbie winced at the thought. She'd wanted to talk about Katrina that morning but now, she wasn't so sure.
Crane spent a great deal of time talking quietly with Irving, even taking lunch with him, shut in Irving's office. He'd barely spoken to Abbie, coming out of the office only to hand her a list of items to research in the Archive then spending the rest of his time sitting across the table from her with his nose in a crumbling tome.
By the end of the day, Abbie came to believe that she – they – had made a huge mistake. She'd had to change her panty shield twice, each time guiltily flushing it down the toilet as if destroying evidence. Nevermind that Crane was married. It was goddamn Apocalypse Now. She and Crane was what stood between Revelations and the rest of humanity. Getting sexually involved with a co-worker was a bad idea but getting sexually involved with your fellow crusader was a Very Bad Idea.
"Jesus, Mills. You always have the worst fucking timing," she mumbled to herself.
Abbie glanced around then ducked into the old wood-paneled telephone booth next to the restroom. She pulled her phone from her back pocket and called her sister.
"Hey," said Jenny, by way of greeting.
"Hey," said Abbie.
There was a long pause at the other end of the line.
"Oh. My. Fucking. Dog," chuckled Jenny.
Abbie closed the booth's folding door. "Shut up, Tink," she grumbled. She should've known that Jenny would guess the reason for her call.
"I totally called it. It was only a matter of time," Jenny crowed gleefully.
"I didn't plan it. It just happened."
"What? Crane left his dick out and you fell on it? Bullshit. You guys have been fucking since you first laid eyes on each other."
"No we haven't. Last night was the first time."
"Not literally, dummy. Do you have any idea what it's like being in a room with the two of you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Wake up, Abbs."
"Shit," sighed Abbie. "Can anyone tell?"
"Duh, yeah. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife. Why do you think Morales is being such big asshole? A bigger asshole, actually. I don't like him. He just needs to go fu-."
"Jenny!"
"Okay, okay. What happens now?"
"I'm asking you."
Jenny started to laugh. "Oh my God. I have to pull over," she guffawed. "You're asking me for relationship advice. Oh, man. I can't breathe!"
"I'm hanging up, now," said Abbie.
"Wait, wait, wait. I'm done. I'm done," said Jenny. She started giggling again.
"God damn it, Jenny."
"I'm done for real," Jenny snickered. She took a deep breath and blew it out in a whoosh. "Here's what I think," she said. "Talk to Crane. There is so much what the fuck going on now. Think about it. A headless horseman, for fuck's sake. I think God will give you a pass for taking comfort where you find it."
"Crane is married."
"To a woman who is sort of dead."
"Crane doesn't believe that. He thinks he can save her. And frankly, I couldn't live with myself if we didn't try."
"You need to get over that, noble one."
"I can't. He loves her. I don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering if we could've rescued her. And I don't want to be some consolation prize."
"Hmm," said Jenny. "My guess is that Crane won't be quite so gaga if he actually rescues ol' Witchy Witcherson. There's too much that's ... convenient about her. How she and Crane came to be together. Shit, everything about her screams "Don't trust me"."
"Well - ."
"Listen, Detective. If you had a suspect in the fishbowl who had a bunch of convenient alibis and gave you the old "I lied to protect my husband" crap, what would you think?"
"I'd investigate."
"And if it didn't add up?"
"I'd throw her ass in jail."
"There you go."
"It doesn't matter what I think. It's Crane who believes it."
"Obviously, not that much since you did the humpty dance."
Abbie sighed loudly.
"All right, all right," said Jenny. "How does it actually feel?"
"Like the very best thing that ever happened to me. And like I messed up the very best thing that ever happened to me."
"It's not like Crane had nothing to do with it. If you fucked up, he fucked up even worse, since he believes he's still married."
Abbie was quiet for a long time.
"Abbie?"
"I'm still here."
"Ultimately, you have to do what you think is right but you guys could have seven more years of this shit. Let go of the guilt. You see what you have now and you embrace what's in front of you."
"And if a year from now we somehow rescue Katrina?"
"Heartbreak is a part of life, sis. It's better to have loved and lost than to - ."
"Don't even."
"Climb every moooountain/ford every streeeeeam -."
Abbie started laughing. "Stooooop! You are insane."
"Why yes. Yes, I am."
"I gotta go," said Abbie. "Thanks, Tinkerbell."
"You haven't called me Tinkerbell since we were in grammer school."
"I know, honey. I'll make it up to you."
"Save the world and we'll call it even."
They were silent for a long moment, content to just listen to each other breathe.
"So. How was it?" asked Jenny.
"Cra-mazing."
"Was I right about his -."
"Better than right."
"Do guys from the 18th century - ?"
"This one does. A lot. And well."
"Listen to you, Chocolate Thunder," chuckled Jenny. "Uh, oh. I gotta get back on the road. There's a state trooper coming up. I've got some er, cargo that isn't exactly illegal but I don't need the attention. Love you!"
"Drive carefully," said Abbie.
"I will. And just so you know, if it were me, witch wife or not, I would've been hittin' that every chance I got."
"Girl, he comes a lot. I've had to change my panty shield twice today and the day aint over yet."
"Oh my God! Oh my God! TMI! TMI," shrieked Jenny.
Abbie laughed and hung up on Jenny making gagging sounds. She sat in the phone booth for a few minutes, enjoying the solitude. Her sister told her to do what she thought was right. Abbie didn't know what was right, anymore.
"All my bridges burned/by my flaming heart," she whispered.
She exited the booth to curious stares. She walked slowly back to the Archive.
xxxxxx
Abbie frowned and drummed her fingers on her knees. Crane was in Irving's office again.
She pushed back from the massive old desk and headed toward a file cabinet. She decided that she was too tired to open a musty book or look at another old map. And she was starting to feel like she was waiting for Crane to tell her what to do next. Abbie tried to conjure up some righteous indignation but all she came up with was resigned sadness.
She climbed the steep library staircase to the second level of the Archive. She stared out of one of the colossal round windows. The sunset was an angry slash of red wavering above the horizon.
She didn't know Crane was there until she saw his hand grip the railing next to her.
"Lieutenant."
Here it comes, thought Abbie. He was back to calling her "Lieutenant." She felt his courtly formality close between them like elevator doors. She rested her forehead against the cold glass.
He stood so close that his breath feathered against her ear. He smelled of warm wool and coffee.
"Crane," she sighed.
"I owe you an apology," he said quietly.
"I'm sorry, too," she said.
"I failed to -. I beg your pardon? Why are you apologizing to me?"
She turned to face him. "Because I -." She stopped, confused. "Why are you apologizing to me?"
"You requested a turkey sandwich for luncheon and I neglected to bring it to you."
Abbie blinked up at him.
"It pains me that you went hungry due to my negligence."
Crane placed his other hand on the rail, trapping her within the circle of his arms. He bent his head until he was inches from her face. "Allow me to make amends for my inexcusable transgression."
"Crane -."
"I locked the door," he murmured, brushing her lips with his.
"That'll keep out all the people who never come down here."
Crane trailed his lips down the side of her neck. "Better and better," he said, nipping her lightly with his teeth.
"But everyone on the street can see us," said Abbie, pointing over her shoulder with her thumb.
Crane straightened and folded his hands behind his back but he didn't move away.
"Far be it from me to besmirch your reputation."
Abbie looked up at him from beneath her raised brows. Crane colored a little then grinned and shrugged with a tilt of his head.
"I think you take my meaning, Lieutenant," he said.
"So, you're back to calling me Leff Tennant?"
"I find I rather like calling you Leff Tennant. While you have proved yourself more than capable, a female with rank is still a novel concept in my mind. It is also." Crane's eyes dropped to her mouth. "What is the word? Sexy?"
"Maybe," said Abbie. She stared down at her feet. "We need to talk," she whispered but then said nothing.
"Look at me, Abbie," Crane said softly.
When she didn't comply, he held her face between his hands and gently lifted her bent head. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers.
"We are at war," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "And during a war, when you cross a bridge, you burn it behind you.
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