Coming back to the agency was daunting. Not more daunting than being in a sinking submarine, or standing three feet away from a bomb, or being the only person to come back from what was supposed to be a simple diplomatic mission. But very close.
Tish Jones—not a fake name, thank you very much—didn't let her apprehension show as she entered the shiny building. Not too shiny. The fourth-shiniest building in the area, and the third-tallest. Impressive, but not opulent, a perfect front for MI6.
She wore her fourth-best shoes and her third-best suit. Impressive, but not showing how scared she truly was. As far as anyone knew, she had merely taken a short leave of absence. Some would think administrative work. Others would think deep cover in some faraway country. In reality, Tish had curled up in her sister's flat—her younger sister's, who worked for a sister agency—for a few weeks, then visited every park and botanical garden in the city to remind herself why she was doing this.
The people.
The world. A too-broad statement, ambitious, but she was saving a part of the world, wasn't she? Even if just a building full of people. It counted.
She smiled and nodded at passing agents. She was good at this. No one knew how long she'd been at MI6 except perhaps Tosh Sato, their tech expert, and Yvonne Hartman, their director. Maybe Ianto Jones—no relation—but that was what happened when an archivist and researcher suddenly became a field agent. He got cocky. He didn't know everything, no matter how he bragged that he did—well. Maybe.
Tish liked him. He always gave her the fun missions.
But she wasn't under any illusions that she'd get a fun one now. She was fine, but no matter how much she'd insist on it, the agency would set her up with a partner and something easy to start with. Smart, when applied to other agents; annoying when applied to her.
"She's ready," Yvonne's personal assistant said when she came upstairs.
"Thanks." Tish smiled and nodded at her. She remembered being a PA. Not fun.
"Tish." There was something predatory about Yvonne's warm smile. That was just the way it was. "You're doing better?"
"You know I am." Just enough false bravado to get by. The rest was real.
"Good." Yvonne indicated one of the two chairs—two chairs?—in front of her desk with a tilt of her head, then took a file and opened it. "Something simple. Brussels. Drug trade. Infiltration, interception—I know you like dressing up."
Tish smiled sheepishly. "Partnered?"
"Nonnegotiable."
"I know." She fought back her disappointment. A partner was just another person to look out for.
Yvonne pushed the file across the top of the desk and pressed a button on its inside edge with a satisfied smile. "Lois Habiba. I've given her your name already. She—ah! Lois, come in."
Lois, dressed similarly to Tish and Yvonne in a sensible suit—with a dark shirt, a hint of individuality, and a necklace peeking out from beneath its collar—came in and took her seat next to Tish.
Yvonne didn't seem fooled by Tish's short glances to the side, but she was amused. That must mean Lois was doing the same. Tish bit back a pleased grin; she liked being looked at.
"Tish, Lois." Yvonne looked between them and kept going when they didn't respond. "You don't need further instruction. Files, departure times, all here."
Tish read the dismissal for what it was and stood in tandem with Lois. She had nothing against the other woman, but it was a comfort to see that she was just as well-trained as she was. Yvonne would have nothing else.
They didn't talk until they were back in the lobby. Being a seasoned agent, Tish didn't have an office in the building; she knew Lois didn't as well, because new agents weren't paired up for such trial runs.
"Coffee?" she asked.
Lois nodded.
Cafes really were the best place for planning. It wasn't suspicious to sit in their corner together and plan. Maybe they were working on a school or work project. Maybe they were on a date. Maybe they had just met and were bonding over literature.
Tish ordered a mocha and was surprised when Lois did, too. She didn't know Lois's reason, but judging by the face she made at the first sip, it was similar—caffeine was overrated and coffee tasted like car exhaust. She cracked a smile and led the way to a table by the window.
She was determined to prove to Lois that she was not fragile. She'd needed a break, yes, but that had been the mature way to handle trauma. Now she was back and more determined than ever.
But there was no judgement in Lois's eyes. Perhaps she was just an exceptional actress.
Perhaps her smile was all for show—they looked like they were on a date, sitting across from each other, a cheap wilting flower in a small vase between them at the center of the table. Perhaps her voice wasn't really that soft and sure. Perhaps she talked to all of her partners like this.
Perhaps.
Perhaps she was just as attracted to Tish as Tish was to her.
It was healthy to get involved with other spies. They understood the emotional turmoil and didn't run for the hills when they saw a nightmare. They didn't push the sharing of confidential information and didn't get snippy when certain things had to come before a relationship; they made the relationship stronger with the mutual understanding and respect.
Tish wanted to laugh at her foolishness. At best, she and Lois would have a nice series of tumbles before the mission was over. This wasn't the type of lighthearted jaunt that led to a relationship, it was Tish's evaluation to go back into the field. She couldn't afford to get distracted.
Not even by the way Lois's tongue darted out to catch a droplet of mocha on the rim of her mug.
This was going to be a challenge.
.oOo.
The end of the week found them in Brussels. Funny, Tish had never been there before. She'd had a heart-stopping chase through the airport a few years ago, but the historic city itself was a sight to behold. She almost wished she had time to sight-see beyond the perimeter checks they'd done before heading to the gala.
She walked up the steps arm-in-arm with Lois, relishing in the looks they were getting. By the end of the night, no one would remember their faces, just their complimentary dresses, the fabric almost melting together when they stood side by side, and their graceful entrance, their classy conversation and easy smiles.
"You're enjoying this," Lois whispered into her ear under the guise of straightening a pin in Tish's hair.
"How can I not?" Tish leaned into the flirty atmosphere and Lois's personal space. "With such a gorgeous woman at my side?"
"Keep that up and we won't see the end of the party."
"Promises, promises."
Lois chuckled but didn't reply. She took a step away—Tish instantly felt cold at the loss—and grabbed two drinks from a passing server.
"Thank you."
"Of course."
Tish's face stayed on Lois but her eyes cased the room. A moment later, Lois did the same. Their eyes met: nothing.
Tish took Lois by the elbow and led her around for a better view, nodding at compliments and greetings. High society was funny that way—the moment you entered it, you became it. No one questioned legitimacy or truth, wanting to fit in so badly that any ruse was accepted.
"What about toupee in the corner?"
Lois scrutinized him. "Sketchy, but cowardly. He can't even network properly. Gold watch, over there?"
"Fake."
"Ooh, you're right."
They exchanged an amused look. MI6 furnished them not only with unquestionable aliases but with the bells and whistles to uphold them.
"Wait—" Tish put a hand on Lois's waist and twirled them around as if showing the architecture of a nearby window. "Over there. Bald, redhead on his arm. So rich he's not showing it off—she's not paying attention to him."
"You think she used him to get in?"
"Look who she's talking to."
The server. They exchanged another look—someone mingling with the help was a dead giveaway. Tish rolled her eyes; she was expecting more of a challenge.
"Yvonne better not have done this on purpose," she mumbled.
A question flashed in Lois's eyes. "It's an evaluation, she's not going to give something too hard."
"She told you?"
"Told me what—wait!"
Much more subtly than anything the redhead, Lois pointed to the waiter. He was walking away with much more than drinks on his tray. An envelope.
"Money?"
"Definitely."
Giggling, they made their way through the ballroom. Just two women, tipsy but too rich to care, with eyes for no one but each other, showing off their wealth as they walked in the way all heiresses had been trained to do since birth.
Once in the hallway, Tish let the ruse drop a little. On guard in a different way, now, she walked slightly behind Lois, keeping an eye on her blindspots. The layout meant they were moving closer and closer to the only place a meetup could be: the library.
"It always is, isn't it?" Lois whispered when they positioned themselves on either side of the door.
Tish shot her a smile. "Ready?"
"Always."
.oOo.
For her first mission in a year, it wasn't that bad. Easy, almost insultingly so. At least she'd gotten to dress up. And they had one more day in Brussels. Lois approached, finally finished handing off the drug ring to their Belgian equivalent.
She was still in her gown. Tish smiled. "Sightseeing?"
"I..." Lois blinked and shook her head. "No, you know what—yes, sightseeing. Do you have an itinerary?"
"I'll look one up. The museum looked good yesterday, though."
"Just waiting for a heist to happen."
"If we'll go, we'll be able to intercept it."
"Tempting."
Tish offered her arm. Just to keep up the ruse; as far as everyone at the gala was aware, they were still just guests. But she was still a bit surprised when Lois took it.
They walked down an opulent hall, heels clicking off the marble floor, dresses hardly rustling as they made their way back to the ballroom.
Lois let Tish enter first, warmly smiling at her. Tish didn't let the courtesy stay up in the air for long, quickly flagging down a server and handing Lois a flute.
She raised hers. "Cheers. To success."
Lois inclined her head.
They drank.
"What did you mean," Tish asked after a second, eyes flitting between Lois's face and the flute in her hand, "about Yvonne? You knew this was an evaluation, what didn't Yvonne tell you?"
"The evaluation. That it was for you."
"Hmm." Tish nodded; spies weren't gossips, it was too easy for the flow to turn back on the person who started it, which always led to strife. "Yes, first time back."
"It's my second."
"Oh." She would never have guessed, with the way Lois hadn't hesitated once during the takedown. "So it's my first time in the field, but it's your first time facing exactly what made you leave?"
"Hmm." Lois took a sip of her drink. "Drug lords. Took some children hostage, we—well, you know how it ends. Dirty trick, from Yvonne."
Bordering on unsafe. What if something had gone wrong?
Tish had always been a touch too trusting. She drank as well. "Sign of trust, is more like it."
"Meddling."
Yeah, she did that. Spies tried not to sleep with each other and yet still did, but far too many relationships had been inspired by Yvonne's partner pairings. None of those relationships were in danger, however.
"What…" Tish tried to sound casual. "What do you think of that?"
"I think Yvonne has good taste."
"Good." Tish laughed, her chest suddenly feeling light. "Good."
"Good."
Lois clinked their almost empty glasses together.
For propriety's sake, they'd stay for another fifteen minutes. And after that? After that, they had a whole city to explore, and on the way, each other as well.