SCATTERED AMONG THE STARS
They're 26 and 25 years old when their paths cross again. Ian dropped below the radar and became an M16 agent while Amy became the Madrigal Branch Leader. When he discovers a rogue Madrigal stealing files from the M16, he seeks Amy out for her help. "So, Amy Cahill, will you marry me?"
Rated T for swearing and potentially hinted adult content later on.
CHAPTER 3
"We accept the love we think we deserve."
- Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower
/
The taxi ride to the apartment was unbearably awkward.
The full truth of what they were doing – or rather, what they were going to do – hit Amy like a truck as she settled down in the cab. They were lying to their branches (well, she was, it didn't matter for Ian) because nobody would have let them go if they knew.
They might have, but the whole point of this mission would have been all but blown to hell: the most important part was that the mole in the Madrigal Branch didn't know about this. As far as anybody knew, Amy Cahill, the responsible Madrigal Leader, was going to go check on a database for the Cahills' cover company.
She'd done this before, which was why it wouldn't seem suspicious at all. But if somebody actually thought to check…
They would be screwed before anything could be done. Amy would be denounced a traitor to her branch for helping an outcast Cahill – and a Lucian at that – and Ian, well. Ian would just be labelled as the kind of person to never trust; to never care for, because he was a monster without a heart or soul.
It made Amy sick just to think about it. She turned her head ever so slightly to watch her counterpart. The former Lucian in question was currently staring out of a window, hand resting gently on a smooth leather briefcase. The morning light caught on his features, sunbeams melting into his skin. His gaze stretched far; she had no idea what he was staring at, but there was a faraway look plastered on his face that told her she shouldn't disturb him.
He looked at peace.
She wondered how long it had been since he'd felt that way.
/
"Well," Ian announced, "this is your home for the next month at least."
Amy dragged her suitcase out of the taxi trunk and glared at him. "Home sweet home, right?" she grumbled.
He laughed. They were both severely jetlagged (it was a bright and early 9 am in London compared to the 4 am it was in Boston back home right then) but the soft chuckle that came from Ian surprised her.
It made him younger. Smile lines so obviously out of practice crinkled perfectly in place, and his gaze became lighter, erasing him of the weight of the world. Dark smudges under his eyes lessened for just a moment.
So she told him. She'd never been one for hiding truths when they needed to be said. "You should laugh more," Amy threw over her shoulder as she entered the house. "Makes you look less like a seventy-year-old grandpa."
"A seventy-year-old grandpa?!"
Everything felt so familiar Amy could've laughed and cried at the same time. "Come on, grandpa," she teased. "Stop hobbling. Do you need help with that suitcase?"
"Wha- no! Amy!" he exclaimed exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in the air. "Honestly, is this what living with you for the next month or more going to be like? Because if so, honestly just –"
The door slammed in his face, and the loud click! of the lock being turned reached him easily.
"Amy, I have the keys!"
Silence.
He dug a hand into his pocket. It came up empty.
"Amy!"
/
The silence that greeted Amy was comforting. It wasn't the kind that weighed heavily on one's shoulders. It was the kind that made you feel at home.
Amy set foot on the large carpet covering part of the living room floor. She sighed happily, rubbing the remaining sleep from her eyes. The carpet felt soft to the touch and had a high enough pile for her toes to grapple onto it comfortably.
Mumbling something unintelligible, Amy stretched her back and groaned, hitting lightly at the source of pain. She hated flying more than three hours at a time. I'll just lie down for one moment, she thought drowsily. One moment…
She was out like a light in a second.
/
"AMY!"
Ian wanted to scream. There was no response to anything he did because, for God's sake, Amy had locked him out in his own house.
It was their house now, but Ian ignored that slight change in word choice and hammered again on the door. "AMY! Open the door!"
He couldn't be this loud. Amy's move-in was supposed to be subtle. They had to put on a convincing show of the traditional loving couple.
Ian rested his head on the door. It wouldn't be too hard on his end.
He lifted his head. Come on, Ian, a voice goaded, it looks too odd. Hurry up and get inside!
Taking a lock pick out of his luggage, Ian swiftly opened the door, nervously checking if anybody was watching. He grabbed his luggage and pulled it in behind him, slamming the door as soon as man and luggage were in.
"Amy?"
No answer. His heart clenched in his chest.
He pushed his own paranoid fears to the back of his mind. She was probably listening to music or something. Nothing to worry about.
Still, he couldn't help it when he slowly picked up his walking speed, eventually full-out running when he reached the living room.
The vise-like grip on his heart released as he took a deep breath. She'd fallen asleep on the floor, next to the coffee table. Her body was contorted in a funny position to accommodate the large coffee table. It definitely wasn't comfortable.
He could've left her there. He could've walked straight back to his bedroom – their bedroom – and waited it out. Tomorrow, life with normalcy would begin.
He didn't. He picked her up, bending down to settle her in his arms, and moved her onto the neighbouring couch. Pushing a pillow behind her, he grabbed a blanket with another arm and wrapped it gently around her.
Look at him. The damaged helping the undamaged, he thought bitterly. You don't deserve her. Not after what you've done. Not after you ran like the coward you are, leaving Natalie and everyone else behind. You miserable coward.
Ian blinked away tears that had begun to form, swallowing a sob that threatened to rise up and out of his throat. He'd hold on to this memory for as long as he could, and then a bit longer than that.
Oh, but God, did it hurt.
/
Amy woke up staring at a blank ceiling.
She stayed on the couch for a little while longer, shifting around until she finally got up, stretching as far as she could. She'd forgotten how good a nap could feel. Blearily, Amy, stumbled to the edge of the carpet, stepping gingerly onto the tiled floor. The cool floor was a shock, and curling her toes to walk, the Madrigal made her way to the stairs and peered up.
A small window allowed light to filter through, illuminating the wooden staircase. Amy checked her watch: it was 2 pm – she'd slept for almost four hours – and way past lunchtime.
She began walking up the staircase, running a hand over the smooth oak wood. It was beautifully intricate; endlessly perfect lines running across a dark umber surface that only accentuated the markings.
"Ian?"
She looked around. There were three rooms; one was open, the other she assumed was a bathroom. The third was tucked away in the corner of her vision, quiet and unassuming. Filing away a mental reminder to take a look at that later, she moved quickly across the floor to the room with the open door.
Ian was there, on the bed, lying down with his hands on the back of his head. The light moved and hit him then; Amy was reminded of how many girls had earned themselves a broken heart from this particular Kabra. Just like in the taxi, his expression was peaceful and relaxed. His long limbs stretched across the bed, legs almost – but not quite – reaching the end.
She must have stood like that for a while: staring, and then memorizing. Amy closed her eyes and leaned her head against the bed frame. The only sound came from Ian's steady breathing. She opened her eyes and walked over to the window, pulling the curtains shut. Light was still able to pass through, but only faintly.
Amy was acutely aware of everything in the room as she moved across the room and sat down next to the sleeping Lucian. The metronome of his breathing; the gentle creak of the bed when she shifted slightly; her own breathing, too loud for comfort. She was going to wake him up if she carried on like this. He wasn't a Lucian and an M16 agent for nothing.
In fact, he was probably awake and laughing silently at her this very instant. Scowling straightaway, she brushed imaginary dust off her lap before standing with a rather loud groan of the bed springs. Cringing, she made to move toward the door when a hoarse voice stopped her.
"Afternoon."
"Afternoon." She hated the way her voice rose an octave in panic.
A long silence ensued. They had a lot of those, didn't' they? She still hadn't looked at him, instead staring at her salvation – also known as stairs – in front of her.
Finally, he broke the awkwardness.
"How do you feel about Vietnamese?"
/
"So, this is where the great Ian Kabra fine-dines every night."
"Shut up," he growled, trying desperately to get the young waiter's attention. "It's Christmas Eve. This is one of the last places still open."
She smirked at him then, and shot back cheekily, "Maybe we should have started later."
Ian turned a glare on her. "Excuse me!" he hollered.
Over the hustle and bustle of the tiny Vietnamese restaurant, it was almost impossible to hear the person next to you, let alone the lone waiter four tables away.
Amy couldn't help it. She let out a small laugh, then quickly covered her mouth to hide her smile.
"What? What is it? Why are you laughing?"
"Nothing," she said quickly. "Just… I never imagined you like this. Human. Normal. "
Ian ignored the painfully happy feeling that bloomed in his heart when she said, "I quite like you like this."
He couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze, but he couldn't bring himself to stop smiling, either.
/
A/N Sorry this took so long! (P.S. I'm going to have another terribly busy month ahead of me, so don't expect an update soon – although again, when do I ever update quickly?)
I know this chapter was a bit shorter, but I thought you guys shouldn't have to wait any longer. Would you prefer shorter but quicker updates or longer chapters that take a longer time to update?
Thought RivalArgentica deserved a break and a surprise :).