AN: this was prompted on twitter, based on a manip by beyourownprince on tumblr (that ffnet won't let me link, sorry!)
"Wait! Marcus..."
"Since when I'm Marcus again?"
He swings around so abruptly she stops in her tracks just behind him and slips on the fresh snow, flailing hands in the air to grab at something - anything - to keep upright and finding the lapels of his coat. She tugs and they both collapse on top of one another on the snow covered concrete parking lot.
This company Christmas party couldn't get any worse, he thinks massaging his forehead where it bumped against hers as he rolls on his back. "What the hell, Abby!"
"I'm sorry," she mumbles beside him, shaking her head as well.
"For what? Knocking me down or reminding everyone what a terrible person I am for following company guidelines?"
She shots him an angry look directly from her moral high ground. "Forty-eight people could lose their job, Kane, you could have helped me prevent it instead of rowing against! And now you just... quit?"
He can't help notice he's Kane again, so little it took. "You know there is no other option, I tried!"
Snow is still falling steadily and he had a glass too many to safely drive, but her little drunken outburst at the canapé table drew more attention than intended and he chose the coward's way out: from the front door, after a half-hearted attempt at placating high spirits with the announcement of his resignation - which only drew more question marks in their future.
"You tried? You quit!"she shouts back, "You are running away, just like Jaha!"
She struggles to get off the ground with her high heels but he doesn't offer any help and just watches her slip again, cursing under her breath, as he stands and brushes off snowflakes from his trousers, mildly amused.
"Maybe," he says calmly, "But that's the only thing I can do because everything else failed."
"There has to be another way," she states through her teeth. She is angry. And beautiful. He's not sure whether the tears she's blinking back are due to her internal turmoil or brought by the cold wind. It doesn't matter. He finally offers his hand and helps her upright and she stumbles against him, gripping the fabric of his coat for leverage.
"Salvation comes at a price," he whispers.
"What does it even mean?"
"That you have a meeting arranged for next week with LexaCorp. And maybe Ark Inc can get a Christmas miracle."
She is silent for a minute, standing close to him under the snow because they're both tipsy and they're both full of things left unsaid on the verge of spilling past their lips. So he watches her, nose reddened by the cold, arms around one another, digesting his words and their meaning, doing the math on pros and cons of losing independence to a higher power maintaining all current employees, or cutting personnel once more to scratch the pot bottom for another year and see where it takes them.
"Can't do it alone," she says quietly, like a secret.
They're definitely tipsy. With snowflakes falling on her hair and eyelashes she looks like a frozen angel, when one of them melts on her lips he's fool enough to brush it away with a kiss.