Meet Me Halfway
Author's Note: Title courtesy of The Moody Blues; if you've not heard the song, it's a good one. Set directly after the previous drabble.
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc. etc.
He was drunk. He knew it, and for once in his carefully controlled, disciplined life, he did not care, because in his drunken haze and the rain that was drizzling down all over London, he was sure that just for a moment, he saw a familiar figure standing a little way down the alley. The rain blurred the outlines, but he could never have mistaken that profile, nor the familiar stance. He took half a drunken, stumbling step toward the man, halfway thinking that he if he could just get over there, he might be able to -
Lights. Men pulling him toward the car, fellow MI6 agents who had watched him slowly spiraling out of control. And in the morning, when he had sobered up, he knew with a stab of fresh pain that he would never be able to talk to Alec again, because even if he did see ghosts when he was drunk, ghosts couldn't talk, could they?