AN: Not Safe For Work.
Chapter Twenty-One
When you were here before I couldn't look you in the eye. You're just like an angel. Your skin makes me cry. You float like a feather in a beautiful world. I wish I was special. You're so very special. But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here. Creep ~ Radiohead
Mike heard Abby's high heels click as she walked down the hall towards his apartment. He opened the door before she could knock. Abby reached out and wrapped her arms around him. Mike inhaled deeply, letting her presence wash over him before reverently returning her embrace. They lingered there; neither of them knew how long. Their heartbeats synced.
She pulled back just enough to look at his face, "Have you eaten anything?" Mike shook his head silently.
"We should probably remedy that," Abby began to slip out of his grip. Mike caught her gently by her wrists.
He cleared his throat. "I think we should talk first," Mike said.
"Ok," she agreed. Abby led him into the living room. They settled on his couch. He angled to face her. Mike opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't make a sound come out. He drew in a deep breath.
"It's all right, take your time," Abby coaxed, "We have all night."
"I really hate my job sometimes," Mike mumbled.
"What happened?" she inquired.
"I got a reminder of how screwed up I became while working undercover," his shoulders fell.
Abby fought the instinct to reach out and rub his back. His lack of eye contact wasn't lost on her. This had to be hard enough on him. She wouldn't break his concentration with a touch.
"Since I was ten, all I ever wanted to be was a FBI agent," he deflated, "Maybe that was a mistake."
"The FBI doesn't live up to your expectations?" Abby questioned.
"I think it's me who hasn't lived up to mine," Mike replied, "I was the top of my class at Quantico- I was supposed to be this rising star and then..." He huffed.
"You turned it around this far you can make it to the head of the FBI," she encouraged.
"I had to do a sting today," he rubbed his forehead.
"Did you get your guy?" she asked.
"Kind of- it's a stepping stone arrest or at least we hope so," Mike shrugged, "He was a drug dealer."
"So you went in pretending to buy drugs," she helped him along.
"It was the same stuff I used to use," he confessed. Mike took a beat waiting for her to say something.
"You got addicted," Abby read between the lines.
"Yeah, to pain meds," his eye's drifted.
"That's why you didn't want pain medication when Nathan stitched you up," she said. They let the information settle for a few minutes.
"What happened?" Abby inquired, "You're not the kind of guy just to start one day out of the blue."
"I got shot in an unsanctioned op," he explained.
Abby inhaled trying to make sense of the all information, "So you got addicted recovering form that?" The explanation seemed a little too simple to her.
"It all started with one more pill, just one more pill," Mike hung his head.
"Is that the whole story?" Abby questioned.
Mike decided to start from the beginning. "We were working this human trafficking case," he continued."One of the women we were trying to get out, Lena, she ended up murdered." His shoulders fell.
"I couldn't let the case get jacked up so I burned the body." Mike's voice audibly cracked. His eyes were rimmed with tears.
"You covered up a murder," Abby tilted her head. Her tone was nonjudgmental, but almost questioning.
"I'm not going to make any excuses, I did what I did and I can't take it back," Mike replied.
"Something tells me you would if you could," she soothed.
He blew out a breath. "Flash-forward to the op- I was going into a compound to catch this detective I was investigating. I got shot- I started bleeding everywhere."
Abby's brown eyes grew wide. "How did you get help?" she asked.
"Briggs and Paige got me admitted to a hospital under an assumed name," Mike answered, "While I was there Paige found out I covered up Lena's murder and sent the guy I was investigating to the hospital with my cover information."
"You're sure she sent him?" Abby inquired.
"Yeah." He fidgeted noticeably, but pressed on. "I'm lying there in the bed, no one else around and he waltzes in and I couldn't move- I couldn't even call for help. I could only watch him put my monitor on his finger then squeeze my oxygen tube, cutting off my air. I suffocated."
Her jaw dropped. His words hit her in the chest like a two by four, knocking her breath out from her lungs.
"I technically died," he added.
"Oh, my," Abby gasped. Her chest tightened.
"Briggs, the guy I told you about," Mike licked his lips.
She thought for a moment, "I think I remember- the brother you never had."
He tipped his head, "Well, a lot of things have changed, but he's the guy. He found me and I got resuscitated."
Abby reached out and stroked his knee. "Thank God," she pronounced.
"What happened to the guy who tried to kill you?" she asked.
"Sid is dead. Johnny shot him," Mike answered.
"Good," Abby pronounced. She would never wish death on anyone, but something innately protective didn't want the man to cause Mike anymore pain. "Wait a minute, I thought you said that you and Paige got together for a while," she frowned.
Mike nodded. "Paige had gotten attached to Lena and she felt betrayed. I didn't tell her what happened," he explained.
"I get her being angry, even reporting you, but sending some manic after you? When she knew you couldn't defend yourself from him? That crosses a line," Abby crossed her arms over her chest, her first show of anger at all, "Why the hell isn't she in jail?!"
"It's complicated," he said.
"No, it's not- it's called conspiracy to commit murder," she asserted.
"We are getting off topic here," Mike raked his hand through his hair.
"Ok." Abby closed her eyes and counted to ten. She'd have some very choice words to say to Paige if she ever ran into the blonde again. He paused until she was looking at him.
"It's not a sympathy play," Mike insisted.
"I know you're not playing me; I asked for the full story," she said.
"It's not a pretty one," his shoulders shagged.
"Sounds like you went through a lot of trauma," Abby remarked.
"I didn't tell you all that to take the heat off of me," Mike contended.
"Will you do something for me?" she requested.
"Anything," he promised without hesitation.
"Stop beating yourself up," Abby entreated.
"That's easier said than…"
"Promise," she insisted.
"Promise," Mike repeated.
"I'm not trying to minimize what you did, but I can empathize with your pain. All the guilt and trauma you went through, I'm not surprised it made you turn to something to make the pain go away."
"Doesn't work," he acknowledged.
"Live and learn," she replied.
"And screw everything up," Mike muttered.
"You got caught up in some screwed up stuff. I guess that's the nature of undercover work," Abby conceded.
"Another one of the main proposes of transferring back to DC was to get out of that network: no vice cases for me, no drug contacts," Mike revealed.
"To lessen chances of a relapse," she reasoned.
"If I start using again it… If anyone in charge knew I got addicted in the first place," he rubbed his forehead.
"You'd lose your job?" Abby deduced.
"The FBI has strict drug policies," Mike nodded, "I hoped I would have more to lose than that though."
"Mike..."
"I know I can't…" he fumbled for the rest of the sentence, "I can't use drugs and be with you."
"Thanks for not making me say that," Abby replied.
"I have been clean for almost a year," he assured her. "I just need you to know I came…" His voice became too thick to continue.
Mike lifted eyes wounded and pleading eyes to her. Half expecting her to walk out the door on him again. Her head, the logical side of Abby was screaming for her to get out, but her emotions were stronger. She ached for him. In that moment, Abby knew. She knew exactly who had her heart had chosen.
Abby leaned forward, quickly closing the space between them. The movement almost startled Mike, but he recovered by the time she pressed her lips to his and kissed him. Hard. She wrapped her arms around his neck and straddled him. Mike cupped both her shoulders in his hands, simultaneously urging her closer and angling to deepen the kiss. Abby's hands became restless. Mike leaned forward to allow them access to his back. She tugged his shirt out of his pants. He raised his arms and allowed her to pull it off over his head. Abby tossed the cotton garment aside.
Mike kissed down her neck as his fingers began to unbutton her blouse. His lips traveled down each inch of skin as revealed. "Your room," she urged.
He grinned. She stood and tugged him up by the hand. Abby let Mike take the lead as he took her through living room and up the stairs to his loft bedroom. Once at the side of his bed he turned to her. Abby grabbed his belt before he could reach for it. She unbuckled it and pulled it out of the pant loops. Abby dropped it from her hands and it landed on the floor. Mike kicked off his jeans and boxers. He reached around Abby and unsnapped her bra. Mike disposed of it over his shoulder. Soon the rest of Abby's clothing joined the rest of Mike's on the floor.
Their lips locked as they came down onto the bed. Their legs tangled together. Skin pressed against skin. They couldn't get close enough. He adjusted their positions and eased himself into her. They rocked together, slowly at first then let their pace build. Soon they fell into a natural rhythm like no time at all had passed between them.
Charlie swiped the screen on her tablet to look at the next page of Yuri's file.
A knock on the door stopped her from starting to reread it. "Just a minute." She set the tablet on her coffee table and got up.
Charlie went to the door and opened it. She found Vincent leaning on the outer door frame. The two just looked at each other for a moment. "Peace offering," he lifted a white paper bag.
"A peace offering for what?" Charlie raised an eyebrow.
"I have no idea, but I got the distinct impression you are mad at me," Rossabi replied. She stared straight at him. "That's what I thought," he slid his hands into his pocket.
Charlie snatched the bag away from him. It crinkled as she opened it and inspected the contents. "Can you tell me what I did?" Vincent inquired.
"You're an investigator. Figure it out," Charlie challenged.
"Do I get to come in or do I have to go to my room and think about it?" Rossabi quipped.
Charlie gave him the side eye before pulling out a cannoli from the bag. "For future reference I prefer churros," she turned so he could enter.
"Duly noted," Vincent stepped inside. Charlie closed the door behind him and took another bite of the desert.
"We didn't see all that much of each other at work- I was with Mike most of the day," Rossabi reasoned out loud, "And you started seeming off when he left." They went further into the condo. Charlie reclaimed her seat on the couch and finished the first cannoli while he sat in an easy chair to her right.
"I know you read his file. Did he tell you why he transferred?" she inquired.
"Yes," Vincent replied.
"Then why put him through that?" Charlie questioned.
"We did our jobs. Sure, he was a little reluctant at first, but we got it done," Rossabi put his hands on his hips.
"Reluctant? He told you he didn't want to do the sting?" she raised an eyebrow.
"Not in those words," he shook his head.
"He told you his limit…" Charlie began.
"It's not like I twisted the guy's arm," Vincent protested.
"You should have called me," she asserted.
"Why?" he frowned.
"I would have handled it," Charlie answered.
"Mike and I had it under control," Rossabi protested.
"Mike is more than another agent to me- he's my brother. I care about his mental health," she explained.
"Mike was fine the last time I saw him," Vincent insisted.
"I've know the guy for three years and he wasn't fine. Mike was playing fine- he's good at it," Charlie asserted.
"Are you sure you aren't over reaching just a little?" Rossabi motioned with his fingers.
"How much undercover experience have you had?" she questioned.
"I've been a handler for undercovers, but never gone deep," he answered.
"The undercover lifestyle can drive you insane," Charlie muttered.
"I've heard stories," Vincent nodded.
"If the mind games weren't bad enough Mike has been stabbed, sent to prison undercover, and later tortured- hell, I lost track of the number of times he nearly bought it," Charlie sighed.
"Tough guy," Rossabi remarked.
"He took a demotion because he had had it with the craziness and wanted out as fast as possible," she informed her boyfriend.
"Yeah, I noticed that when I read his file," Vincent bit the inside of her cheek.
"Can't say I blame him, I'm not the same girl that I was when I started," Charlie sighed.
"I went off the rails when I lost my baby," she admitted.
"You lost a baby?" Vincent moved from the recliner to the coffee table in front of Charlie.
"I had a pretty brutal miscarriage while I was assigned to Graceland," she nodded.
Rossabi locked eyes with her, "I'm sorry."
"Maybe if I had my peanut I would have left sooner," Charlie said.
"Have you talked to anyone about it?" Vincent questioned.
She let out a harsh laugh. Rossabi crossed his arms over his chest. "Would you see a shrink?" Charlie challenged. He tilted his head. Vincent was about to give a response when she spoke again. "Mike and I have each other and Johnny- that's good enough," Charlie pronounced. She reached over to her end table and picked up a framed photo. Charlie handed over to Vincent. "It was our last bonfire before Mike and I left," she explained as he looked it over. In the photograph both she and Mike were laying their heads on Johnny's shoulders. Vincent gave it back to her.
Rossabi placed his hands on her knees. "I'd like to be on that list of people you talk to," he requested.
"We're already working on it," she said. Vincent moved to the couch. He guided her to recline on his shoulder and wrapped his arm around her.
"This talking thing goes both ways you know," Charlie reminded him. Vincent laid his cheek on her hair. "When you're ready," she snuggled into him.
The lovers laid under the covers in the bed facing each other. A lamppost at the corner of the street bathed them in plenty of light through his window. Mike couldn't take his eyes off of Abby. He drew his hand up her arm. Her skin felt like silk under his fingers. This had to be some sort of dream.
Abby scooted closer to him. She took hold of the bicep of the arm he was using to support his head.
"Now that's what I call breaking in the bed," he smirked.
Abby raised an eyebrow, "Do you expect me to believe you haven't brought at least one girl home before this?"
"I haven't been with anyone since Charlie and I moved back," Mike assured her.
"How long have you been in DC exactly?" she quipped.
Mike snickered.
"I believe this is actually the first time we've made love in your bed," Abby giggled. They ended up at her place mostly when in California.
"Right. It was a rule no one without a badge could come up to the second floor of the house," Mike revealed. Breaking that rule cost him.
"I understand."
His eye dimmed for a moment. "I understand if you want to forget this happened…"
Abby's brow furrowed, "Why would I want that?"
"Neither of us had planned this," he replied.
"No," she agreed, "But I have no regrets."
"Things aren't exactly settled, are they?" Mike sighed.
"I think I've made my choice pretty clear," Abby took his face in her hands. She locked eyes with him. "I choose you, Mike."
His heart beat faster in his ears. He almost couldn't believe the words that fell from her mouth. Abby smiled in confirmation.
"Even after everything I…" Mike trailed off as his mind was too busy processing to form a coherent thought.
Abby brought herself up and kissed him. She rested her forehead against his. "I don't need you to be picture perfect, that's not real," she asserted, "I want you flaws and all."
Mike wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her body flush to him. A heated kiss ensued. It was time to celebrate.