I was painting the house with my dad and my aunt over Thanksgiving break. Ichabbie hit me and now here we are. Hope you like it. Happy Saturday, Sleepyheads. :)

Crane woke up to an empty bed. He checked the clock on his cell phone. 11:30a.m. Abbie's phone wasn't on the night stand, but her gun and badge were. Her slippers weren't in her closet when he sat up, nor did her robe hang on the door knob. He removed the covers and walked out the room. She wasn't in the bathroom or his room. Perhaps she was in the kitchen. Only half a cup of coffee was on the counter with a plate of half-eaten toast. He checked everywhere else: the living room, the laundry room, the backyard, the front porch. Where was she?

His fingers twitched, and he paced in the kitchen. Maybe he should call Miss Jenny or Mr. Corbin. But if Abbie was missing, wouldn't they have called him? She didn't have work today. Her car was outside, and her keys sat in a dish on the kitchen table. Did she go for a walk?

"Leftenant?"

No answer. He called louder.

"Leftenant?"

"Down here, Crane."

He stood by the stairs. There was a door under the stairway.

"Leftenant?"

"Yeah."

He put his hand around the knob. Surely that couldn't be where she was? He always thought it was a coat closet or another place for storage. When he opened the door, stairs were before him. They led down somewhere. Why was she down here? A low ceiling with a light was on above him. Being careful not to bump his head, he started walking toward the bottom. On the last step, he saw Abbie painting a wall. A paint can, a tray full of various paint brushes, and her phone sat beside her foot on the floor. She wore sweat pants and a white tank top with her slippers.

"You were worried." She looked at him in his light blue boxers.

He stared at his wiggling toes. "Only a little. I didn't know where you went off to."

She gave him a small smile. "I'm just painting in my basement, Crane."

"Indeed. When were you going to tell me about this basement?"

He checked around. It was a small, square area about the size of a bedroom. It was big enough for one person and a bed.

"I wasn't."

Crane's eyebrows shifted downward. Why wouldn't Abbie want to share this with him? He thought they shared everything.

"Oh, I see."

"It's nothing personal against you, Crane. This is something just for me. It helps me relax."

"Can I assist you in painting, Miss Mills?"

She glanced at him before continuing to paint. "No. I told you already. It's for me."

"What can I do?"

She pointed to a wooden chair across the room. It had a blue plaid blanket on it. He went to the chair and carried it to the spot he wanted it to be before he sat down. When he was comfortable, she passed him another tiny smile before she painted again. Crane put his elbows on his thighs, his hands on his cheeks. He watched her.

No talking occurred. It was just Abbie painting one of her four walls. She stepped back a few times to inspect her work. She hummed songs: "You Are My Sunshine" and "Proud Mary." He rocked side to side when she did. Sometimes one song bled into the other or she would sing a few of the lyrics aloud.

He liked to watch Abbie bite the handle of the paint brush when she checked her progress or balance on one hand and her knees in front of the can to dip her brush into it. He liked when she took the blanket from the chair to wrap around her as she worked. Sometimes it was around her; sometimes it was on the floor. If she needed to paint further up the wall, she tilted her head to the spot she needed to reach, meet eyes with Crane, and pointed to his chair. He stood up and positioned it where she wanted it to go. Then she would stand in the seat. He spotted her to make sure she didn't fall or misplace her foot. She gave the chair back when she was done, but took it again when she needed its assistance. They did this more than once. Crane didn't mind. He was happy to help.

She finally finished the entire wall she worked on. She stepped back to gaze at her painting skills again, nodded her head with her arms folded across her chest. Crane wanted to stand behind her to see what she saw, but he stayed in his seat. This was Abbie's time. But when she glanced at him and held out her hand, he didn't hesitant to be beside her.

"What do you think, Captain?"

"You did excellent, Leftenant."

She nodded her head, kissed his shoulder.

"You're welcome, Miss Mills. It was my pleasure to let you be. It was a rather special moment to share with me. Thank you. Next time, I shall not intrude. Are you relaxed?"

"I am. It was a good start to the morning."

"I am glad." He held her around her waist. "Perhaps, we should do some painting of our own."

Abbie smirked. "What do you have in mind, Mr. Crane?"

"We could paint each other."

She lifted her eyebrows. "Exactly where are we supposed to do that?"

"Perhaps I could demonstrate."

"I guess, Crane."

He kissed her cheek. "Not to worry."

He took the blanket from the floor where Abbie left it and spread it out by the paint can. Once he grabbed Abbie's hands, he pulled her in front of the blanket.

"Would you mind turning around?"

She did. "What is this?"

"You shall see." He placed his fingers at the hem of her tank top. "Would you allow me to remove your article of clothing?"

She pulled the straps down her shoulders. Crane carefully slid the rest of her top down to her hips, exposing her bare back to him. He put both his hands on the side of her waist, pulled her backwards until the blanket was below her feet.

"Would you mind sitting down for me?"

She sat down, brought her knees up to her chest to hold them there. She rested her head on her arms. Crane sat down behind her, crossed his legs, and sat the paint can in his lap. After he put the lid on the floor, he dug through the tray for the right brush, dipped it in the paint, and wiped the excess off on the edge of the can.

"This may be cold."

She nodded, jumped when the tip touched the middle of her back. They were quiet as Crane painted purple letters in cursive on her body. She didn't ask him what he would paint. He needed his moment just like she needed hers.

"My Lovely Lotus," he said when he finished; he put the brush in the tray and put the paint to the side.

"Why a flower?"

He blew on the letters. "One quality a lotus flower represents is strength. Yours is very admiring."

He kissed a spot above the painted words. Abbie dug her fingernails in her biceps, bit her lip.

"The lotus, at times, is forced to grow in some of the most unfavorable lakes and ponds. Your circumstances have also pushed you to bloom into a magnificent lotus. You could have rejected our mission; you could have given up on Miss Jenny, your mother, or Mr. Corbin; you even could have decided against travelling through time to save me." He kissed another spot and rubbed his fingers along the side of her back. "You hold fast in some of the most trying moments, Grace Abigail Mills."

"Can I tell you something?"

"You may disclose to me what you wish, Miss Mills."

"It's not always easy being strong or doing what needs to be done. It can be draining. Sometimes I wish I could've said no to the whole Witness gig and went straight to Quantico." She sighed. "But I can't run from my purpose. I wouldn't want to. Believe it or not, I like this job. A little bit of normal would be great sometimes, you know? But I enjoy what I do."

"I do indeed. Though it is rewarding, I, too, feel quite exhausted fulfilling my Witness duties, but I believe you have more right to be tired than I."

"What do you mean?"

"When Katrina was here, and I sided with her regarding Henry, I left you alone. You had to be strong on your own. I ran off in my moment of grief, which led me to abandon you again. What if our Witness duties weren't over then? Who knows what could have happened to you or what you would have had to endure? Leaving you in Purgatory was also a mistake of mine. I am sincerely sorry you had to weather times by your lonesome, Abbie."

"It's in the past now, Crane. I don't hold any of that against you anymore."

He kissed her back. "I do not want you to ever think that I will abandon you again in my own selfishness and pride, Leftenant. If you are weary, you can give me the weight to carry. You never have to complete this mission by yourself."

She nodded her head as he kissed her skin once more. "Are you finished painting?"

"I am."

She straightened up. They switched places after Crane helped Abbie pull her tank top up. He sat crossed legged with his arms by his side and his hands flat on the blanket.

"Would you like to see it?" he said.

"No." She pulled the paint closer to her and took the same brush Crane did.

"Do you think you won't like it?"

She dipped the brush in the paint, started to draw on his back. "I know I'll like it. It's meant to be felt though. It's kind of like our bond. We can't see it, but we know it's there."

"What does our bond look like, Leftenant?"

Although he always felt it with Abbie, Crane never thought about what their bond actually looked like. What kind of object was it exactly? Was it like a halo, a cord, a rain cloud that followed a person around all day?

"That's a curious question, but the wrong one. As I said, it's there. We feel it."

He didn't know how to articulate those feelings. They weren't harmful. Some were just stronger than others. Sometimes they annoyed him. Others he enjoyed. No medicine could rid them.

"Please enlighten me then."

She chuckled as she continued to paint. "It's that tickle in our chest whenever we make a plan or have the same idea. Or that irritating tingle in our gut when one of us gets hurt. Do you have that odd flutter in your brain when I'm not around? Sometimes I feel a slight prick in my chest when we aren't communicating well or don't see eye to eye on something."

Crane nodded his head. "I know of what you speak."

He was glad Abbie knew how to better describe the feelings of their bond than he could.

"Do you feel that? The tiny vibration in your chest because I'm so close to you?"

He stopped breathing while Abbie stopped painting his back. It was there, a faint feeling. It was as if his phone vibrated on his chest.

She resumed her work. "These feelings appear when it's quiet or when we don't move as much. They're easy to miss sometimes and can be mistaken for something else. You may think something is wrong. When I got them when we first met, I didn't know what they were. Then you mentioned our bond, and I knew. That's what it feels like. I'm not sure what it looks like though. Probably some kind of white, thin wire."

"Perhaps it does. I remember being worried when I felt these sensations myself. I did ask you for some kind of modern medicine, but it didn't work. I just let them be. I thought it was only me."

"It's never only you, Crane."

"No, it isn't, Leftenant. It's the both of us."

They got quiet as Abbie finished her work. Crane felt the brush all across his back and spine. He didn't know what she was doing. It seemed like scribbles. He felt her apply a new coat of paint.

"What does our bond feel like during and after our intimacy with each other?"

She smiled and shook her head. "You already know. You have an eidetic memory."

"Maybe I need some reminding."

"Tell me what you felt last night." She painted in the middle of his back now.

He closed his eyes. "I remember fluttering of some sort."

"Where?"

"It was all over."

"What else?" she said as made her way down his lower back.

"A throb found its way in the pit of my belly. It wasn't painful. It was light and welcoming."

"Go on."

"I do recall humming within the walls of my brain. It was serenity."

"You felt something else, too."

He nodded his head. "A tingle, but it was friendly, energizing. I knew my purpose with you. I knew what I supposed to do. I felt strong."

Abbie stopped painting. "That's our bond."

"Is that your creation?"

She put the brush in the tray, the lid on the paint, and stood up. "Exactly."

Abbie helped Crane stand up. She turned him around, and he felt her breathe up and down his back. He fingers squirmed.

"All done." She stood in front of him, took his hands.

He kissed her forehead. "Thank you for being my canvas."

She kissed his neck, took a bit of his skin between her teeth before releasing it. Her hands ran down his chest. "Thank you."

"We should do this again." He wrapped his arms around her.

Her lips landed on his chest. "We should."

"Should we feel our bond once again?"

"Over and over." She led him up the stairs.

The sensation of their bond magnified as Crane held Abbie closer to him. It was in full force.

"You feel it?" Abbie said.

"Completely."