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 4
"I'd give my all to have/Just one more night with you/I'd risk my life to feel/Your body next to mine
- Mariah Carey, My All
/
December 24th 2015, 1845
Ian stepped out of their home, tugging on his jacket to straighten it. Off he went to a Christmas party now. The ex-Lucian smiled at the thought. Surprisingly, he genuinely enjoyed the company of his colleagues and found them quite companionable. He'd worked with them for a little over a year now, and was considerably friendly with the five that he worked most frequently with.
They were always teasing him about Amy, who he'd talked about a little before "rushing off to propose to his one true love", as put so adequately by James Chen, a cheerful Chinese man in his late thirties who had instantly taken a liking to Ian the day he had first stepped foot in the office.
He'd picked this company because it seemed quite lax in comparison to others; wouldn't do too much background-digging, wouldn't make a big fuss if he was gone for extended periods of time on "vacation" – more like espionage work - but had told himself that he'd move in three or four months' time. He'd learned not to get attached to people when you were an ex-Cahill hiding from the extended family. Ian smiled grimly.
But his colleagues – no, friends – had slowly weaseled their way into his heart and had somehow found it comfortable.
Sighing, he made his way to the Tube. Ten minutes later, he exited it and walked for a little while longer before stopping at a white building trimmed with olive green. Checking his watch, Ian pressed the button leading to the seventeenth floor before standing back and waiting. 1…2…3… The lift was unbelievably slow. He sighed and shifted his legs, rolling his eyes when the stupid thing paused at the eighth floor for absolutely no reason at all.
Absently, his thoughts shifted to a red-haired, green-eyed Madrigal Leader waiting for him at home. He shook his head and scolded himself sharply: waiting at home? She's Amy bloody Cahill. She doesn't wait for anyone.
He paused. Also, at home?
Nevermind that. The lift opened, and Ian stepped out, heading across the hall to Flat J. Shouts and screams could already be heard from behind the door, and the M16 agent smiled slightly.
He raised his hand and prepared to knock –
"IAN RICHARDS ELLIS, YOU ARE SEVERELY LATE."
Ian winced at the volume and terrible cover name (his initials actually spelled IRE, honestly, what kind of names was that?) assigned to him by the M16. He'd have to remember to tell Amy about it in case she ever had to meet one of his colleagues, which she would probably have to do at some point later on in this deception.
"Good evening, James, and I do believe you are severely drunk. It is, in fact," he told the man, "precisely four minutes past seven. The designated time was seven-fifteen, so I am not late. You are all early," he shouted past James into the living room.
Loud peals of laughter drifted over to him, and Ian smiled while taking his shoes off.
"Ian! Hurry, we're playing this thing called Wii Sports or something of the like, and I'm losing terribly – play for me, would you?" Patricia, a middle-aged woman who had somehow made it her pastime to mother Ian the day he'd stepped into the office, patted him on the back and gave him the remote.
Ian stared at the white thing and then stared at Patricia, before staring back at the remote again. The woman had already moved to the kitchen to help Maybelline with the cooking, and probably to pour herself another glass of wine. Honestly, out of the five colleagues he worked with, three of them were practically alcoholics.
Sighing, Ian sat down on the dusty blue couch. "Evening, Tom."
Tom was the youngest of the group, fresh out of university. He'd joined not long after Ian had, always a cheerful, youthful smile on his face. He was a bit naïve, but he brought lightness to the group.
"Oh – hey, Ian! Did James greet you?"
"Yes, he did. He's rather drunk, isn't he?" Both of them turned to look at said drunken man, who was currently talking to a wall.
"Five pounds says he'll have to go home around nine," said Tom, and Ian looked back at him with a grin on his face.
"I'll take it – I bet he goes home at eleven."
"Oh, you're on!"
They settled into an easy camaraderie, punctuated by loud snorts of laughter covered up quickly courtesy of Grayson, the last person at the party. Grayson was perhaps a few years older than Ian, and had been the last person to become close to him, but Grayson was slow and steady, always there with an awkward compliment if you did things right, or a gruff "it's alright" if you didn't.
The house was soon filled with easygoing conversations, sprinkled with giggles and laughter and warm smiles.
Ian felt at home.
/
"Dan!" Amy shifted around on the sofa, making herself comfortable.
"Hi, Amy!" Dan grinned on the screen, waving a hand. "Nellie! Natalie! We set it up! Come say hi to Amy!"
Footsteps pounded quickly before Natalie's face suddenly appeared on the screen. "Good evening, Amy! How's England?"
Amy smiled. "Hello, Natalie. England's great! Cold, but still awesome."
"AMY!" Nellie appeared onscreen, and Amy found herself looking at all three of them. "Is the food good?"
The Madrigal leader laughed. "It's fine," she replied assuringly, "I haven't really tried anything truly English, but I'm planning to tomorrow."
Just as Dan was about to speak, Natalie cut in over him. "Amy," she said slowly, "that coat behind you. Is it yours?"
Amy froze before turning around to look at the coat on the coat hanger behind her. "What? Oh, that coat," she started awkwardly, "it's – it's not mine! A friend from the Trade centre came over for lunch today, and she left her coat by accident."
Natalie frowned. "But those letters on the pocket, in gold thread – they look like –" she hesitates "- they look like my brother's initials. Ian." Suspicion began to bleed into her voice.
Amy struggled to control her breathing, pasting a brilliant smile on her face when she turned back around. Natalie was right: there were monogrammed initials on the coat pocket, and they said 'I.K'. The redhead said brightly, "Nope, it says 'M.F'."
Great, that looked nothing like 'I.K'.
"Is it Marie's?" Oh, Dan. If only.
Laughing nervously, Amy nodded profusely. Cursing herself internally – she was an absolutely horrible liar – she added, "Yup. Marie Fontaine."
Quickly, Amy shifted against, this time angling herself so that the computer camera pointed to the window. "Anyway, you guys okay there without me?"
Dan made an indignant noise, Nellie looked downright insulted, and even Natalie laughed. "What do you mean by that?" Dan demanded, crossing his arms.
"Dan, the last time you and Natalie were in the house by yourselves, the house was a mess when we came back. I was finding apples in the cereal boxes weeks after that."
"Hey, this time, we have Nellie with us! We're fine."
"Okay then." The conversation came to an abrupt stop after Nellie left to go back to the kitchen.
Amy felt the guilt eating away at her. "Dan, I need to go." Lies. All lies.
"So quickly?"
"Yeah, I just… got stuff to do, y'know. Running a Branch and all that." Amy gave him a weak smile.
"Er.. okay then. Talk later?"
"STOP BOTHERING HER, DAN!" Amy laughed softly when Dan's expression became annoyed. She could see him gearing up for another argument.
"Well, jeez, Miss I'm So Perfect, why don't you ever 'bother your brother'? Hm? Oh, wait! That's because he's not here!"
Natalie looked like she'd taken a punch to the gut. Amy frowned. "Dan. Stop it."
"Fine. I still don't understand why you can't spend Christmas with us."
"I'm busy, okay!" Annoyance overflowed into her voice. Dan and Natalie stared at her.
Amy rubbed a hand over her face. "Sorry – just a bad day. I'll talk to you guys later?"
"Yeah, sure. Bye, Amy." The connection was lost.
Amy slammed the computer screen down. She hated this. She hated herself for ever agreeing.
She needed to tell someone.
/
"Ian?"
The ex-Lucian started suddenly, startled at the sound. "Amy?"
He turned around from locking the door securely to look at the sofa. The room was washed in a blue light, the only sound coming from the television; soft, inaudible mutterings.
She was sitting there.
Her head was tipped back against the headrest of the sofa, eyes closed. The elegant curve of her neck was smooth, enticing… the urge to press a kiss there was overwhelming.
"Why are you still up so late?" asked Ian, moving to sit on the sofa. He left his shoes on the mat in front of the shoe cupboard, feet padding gently against the floor. The sofa sank down when he sat.
Amy didn't answer. Her head lolled slightly to the side, her slender frame leaning towards him. Too slender. The stress and strain of being Branch Leader looked like it was taking a heavy toll on her. Dark smudges under her eyes were more pronounced than he remembered.
Ian checked his watch: it was half-past twelve in the morning, December 25th. It was officially Christmas in England.
Silence wrapped them like a warm blanket. It wasn't uncomfortable. It rarely was with her.
Silence had been his closest friend when he'd first left the Cahills, and it had been a good companion for the two years that he'd hidden away.
The M16 agent sighed, breaking his own train of thought. "Amy?" He prodded her arm cautiously.
"Forget it. I'll tell you in the morning." The words were spoken so softly he might have missed it had she not been so close. Hold on, close?
Looking down, Ian found himself acutely aware of the lack of space between them. Somehow – perhaps when he had been thinking so deeply – the Madrigal Head had moved towards him, most probably because he was warmer than the sofa.
He froze when she sighed and then moved closer to him. Her nose was now buried in the fabric of his shirt, her fingers grasping onto it like a child would. Her crimson hair spilled down, the light emitting from the television catching on it like a star from far away.
His heart pounded, clenching painfully. What a fool he was for picturing them like this every day for the rest of their lives, when they were old and frail and grey-haired with children and grandchildren – the grandest scheme of life.
Growing old with her was a luxury even Ian Kabra could not afford. Especially now, he thought rather dryly.
Still, he couldn't help the tender note creeping into his tone when he whispered, "Good night, Amy Cahill." He moved away, leg slipping from the couch as he tried not to move her as best he could. Ian placed a hand on her cheek, shifting it up the slightest bit to slip a cushion underneath it. This was the second time she'd fallen asleep on his – their – couch, and he found it slightly amusing. There was a perfectly good bed upstairs, and he was willing to give it to her, no argument at all.
He went to bed wishing she were next to him.
/
December 25th 2015, 0930
"Good morning, Ian."
"Hm?" He blinked blearily, raising his head from the pillow and looking towards where the sound had come from.
When he saw what – or rather, who – it was, his heart stopped in his chest.
She was leaning against the doorframe, her hair an absolute mess. The sunlight hit her in just the right way; shades of marigold and fire and sangria tumbling down, looping around and around, little hairs dancing about. Her arms were crossed, with a small smile on her face.
He almost forgot to reply. "Good morning, Amy."
Her tone brightened all of a sudden, and she cried, "It's Christmas!"
Ian winced at the sharp sound but kept smiling nonetheless. "Yes, I suppose it is," he replied, sitting straight up against the headboard while he pulled the white sheets around him. The air was a bit colder than expected.
Grinning, Amy sat down on the bed across him, slipping her legs into the covers. "It's way colder than I expected," she announced, the corners of her mouth lifting again. "Seriously, we're going to need to buy thicker covers than this. There's only one bed, so we're going to have to share, Mr Kabra," she teased.
He struggled to keep the happiness out of his voice when he spoke.
"Of course," he said.
/
Breakfast was an easy affair at first.
Neither of them said a word as they moved around each other to and from the kitchen. Ian raised his mug, drinking his coffee, eating a classic English breakfast. Across him, Amy ate her sandwich while reading the English newspaper. The quiet was disturbed only by the gentle clinking of cutlery on plates, and the quiet flipping of Amy's newspaper.
They both finished in twenty minutes. Borrowing the specific page from Amy, Ian began filling in the crossword with a pen. Amy sighed and put down the newspaper before speaking. "Ian, I need to tell someone about this mission."
He stared at her. "Absolutely not." Ian tried to keep his temper in check. "You and I both agreed that it was for security's sake we'd keep this between us. Now you're trying to convince me to tell someone?"
Amy sat up straighter. "I know I agreed to total secrecy before, but word's going to get around the network eventually that I'm at the Trade Centre because of an issue, but when they check for an issue, the cover's going to be blown completely because there isn't an issue at all!"
Ian rubbed his face with a hand. "Why didn't you bring this up before? What if we have to stop because of this? We've only been here for a few days, Amy!"
"I just want to tell Marie! You know, the director of the Trade Centre? She's one of my closest friends, and I trust her."
"Sure, like I trusted my Lucian advisors. Look where that got me."
"We are not going to argue about that."
"Fine. Let's talk about your friend – Marie. How do we know we can trust her?"
"Because I trust her! All the people around me I check thoroughly. Marie's clean. I promise."
Ian glared at her and set his hands down on the table between them. "Just because she was trustworthy before doesn't mean she's trustworthy now."
Amy returned the angry stare. "I've worked with her for years ever since I took over the position of Madrigal Head. I trust her."
"Alright – let's say Marie's to be trusted. How do we know the rogue isn't working with someone on the inside?"
"I refuse to believe someone on the inside betrayed me." She was going to regret this later, but damn it, she was a twenty-five year old woman with her own pride.
"Now you're just being naïve. This is exactly what almost got you killed during the Clue Hunt."
"Oh, we're going there, now are we?"
Ian didn't say anything for a while, and Amy settled back into her seat, satisfied that she'd won. She began to prepare what she was going to say to Marie, when suddenly he said:
"When we're betrayed and found out, brought to trial and hated by everyone, then I'll say 'I told you so'."
God, she'd forgotten how angry he could make her. Fine, so he made a convincing argument.
She realized suddenly that this was their very first proper argument.
Somehow, the notion didn't sit quite well with her.
She'd fallen out of love with him a while ago, perhaps during the two years he'd been gone. Sure, she was still attracted to him, but she was no longer quite in love with him.
Amy hoped to God she wouldn't do that again.
She didn't want to go through that process a second time.
He would probably break her heart anyway.
/
Amy took a step into the one room she hadn't been in since their arrival. After the argument, they hadn't spoken to each other, but for the job's sake, Amy had swallowed her pride and asked what the room with the closed door was for.
Ian had replied by walking upstairs with Amy following behind him cautiously. Unlocking the door deftly, he'd pushed the door open and walked into it, leaving Amy to go in after him. She looked around, taking it in: equipment of all shapes and sizes were arranged neatly on a few tables, and there was one table that was empty save for a lamp and some pens and papers. Each of the computer screens showed different images: one was their own front door; another was a view she recognized: looking across to the rogue's home; one was of an unlit office room – it was Ian's office, she realized. The last one she didn't recognize but saw rows and rows of what looked like bookshelves.
Ian saw her looking. "The M16 database," he explained. "I snuck in there with faked security clearance and installed a camera."
She turned her head over her shoulder to give him a wry smile. "Lucians will be Lucians."
At that, he cracked a smile, and the awkwardness lingering from their previous disagreement evaporated.
Amy moved to the table holding a neat pile of papers with a photograph of a face paper-clipped to the top of it. "Who's this?"
Ian came up behind her. "That's the rogue," he said, "taken from our window." He took the sheaf of papers from her. "This," he continued, pointing at a second photograph, "is from the M16 database."
"Why can't you just identify him using the M16 database, then?"
"He's a Madrigal, he probably has, at least, some Ekaterina blood in him. I suspect he faked his name to get into it."
"Why didn't you?"
"I didn't have the money or resources. Oh, that reminds me," he added, "I have a cover name given to me by M16. Don't laugh," he warned.
"Is there a reason to?"
"Ian Richards Ellis."
"Oh, that's terrible." Amy tried her best to cover up a giggle that escaped, quickly turning into a snort when he looked slightly annoyed.
"Anyway," she laughed, "we need to run this through the Madrigal database." She pointed at the photograph of the rogue's face.
She paused. "We have a problem."
"Already?"
She ignored him. "I can't run it through the database. I can't do it. It'll flag as me, and someone will see it and find out. We have a crystal clear system for all Branch Leaders," she clarified, "and that means that neither Sinead or Hamilton can do it."
"What kind of system?"
"All my searches can be accessed by other Branch Leaders. It's part of the peace thing we tried, set up after you left."
"Oh, that's bloody brilliant! What kind of system is that?!"
"A good one."
"What if you need to keep something secret, and only you as a Branch Leader can know?"
"That's the point: it prevents conflict. If the other Branch Leaders know that there's a dangerous secret they need to keep to themselves – meaning they can't ask the people below them to do it – they know that the other Branch Leaders will know. Then they won't try to dig past this secret."
"What if it's life-threatening?"
"Then the other Branch Leaders need to know."
"That's ridiculous."
"So it's a little complicated. Maybe a little too trusting, but isn't that what we need?"
"It's a stupid system and you know it."
"We haven't had any problems so far," Amy protested. "It doesn't matter – what does matter is getting someone to run this picture through the database for us."
Ian sighed in frustration. "You're trying to bring this back to Marie, aren't you?"
"Clever boy."
"Why can't you just ask Dan?"
"Absolutely not. I don't want him entangled in this. If what we're doing really gets out and we're both tried for treason, then, at least, Dan won't get in trouble."
When Ian didn't say anything, she turned the conversation back to where she needed it. "So…? Marie it is?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. Marie it is."
Amy grinned. "I'll talk to her tomorrow in person. It might not be safe to do it over the phone."
Ian rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you."
She grinned again, moving past him towards the door. "I can't believe I convinced you, too," she singsonged on the way out.
He couldn't really help the smile on his face.
/
A/N Three thousand four hundred and sixty-five words of actual content, guys. The longest chapter, and probably most plot-heavy. Sort of. I'm trying to move to the plot more quickly, but I'm still establishing characters, reasons – ugh. Planning's the hardest part: I want to give a good surprise, but I discovered a major plot hole and now I have to rewrite the whole actual important parts of the plot. Extra-long chapter because I'm going to have to work on the plan and THEN it'll be exams soon and obviously I won't have time to write.
Didn't send this to Rival Argentica because I wanted to get it to you guys ASAP. Editing is terrible on this chapter, please forgive me!
Also, massive thanks to everyone who reviewed so far. Keep them coming! Great fuel for writing.