To say the ride to the precinct was awkward would be an understatement of epic proportions. Her head was pounding with dehydration, her eyes felt red and gritty and Crane's face was so red she feared he might pass out from the pressure.
Irving was less than thrilled with their late arrival. True to form, he went straight to business, her nor Crane saying much of anything throughout the whole rundown. "Mills, what's this?" he asked her, motioning to his face. "It'll take a lot more than some shades to go incognito around here."
"Sorry. Just tired, late night." she said as she slipped the glasses off. Crane glanced at her from the corner of his eyes without raising his head. Irving looked at them both like he expected one of them to explode, unsure of which one would go first. The elephant in the room grew larger by the second, until it felt like it would suck all the air out of the room, leaving them flattened from the pressure.
"Look, I don't know if there's a problem or what, but we've got horsemen and demons bringing a literal biblical shitflow our way, so whatever's going on, deal with it."
After several hours at her desk, the combination of Morales' prying eyes and Crane's obvious tiptoeing around her had her at the limit. "Crane, the archive, NOW."
Without hesitation, he followed, her quick footsteps clicking hard on the tile floors. Reaching the archive, he stood facing away from her as she shut the door.
"Crane, look. I know you're...embarrassed but I doubt we're gonna get anything accomplished when we aren't even speaking."
"Embarrassed?! Embarrassed is hardly the word I'd use to describe this. No. Horrified maybe." he paused to think. "Mortified. Definitely mortified..." he rambled on. Her head throbbed in time with her pulse, which in Crane's prescence was usually a little faster. She pressed her fingers to her temples, eyes pinched shut.
"Enough. Crane, ENOUGH."
He spun around, startled from his own rambling by the forcefulness of her voice.
"Are you not well?"
"No Crane, I'm not well. My damn head is killing me and I've got Irving and Morales eyeing me all morning and you tiptoeing around me like you'll never be able to look at me again, all the while we're supposed to be stopping the apocolypse. It's just not gonna work."
He shoved his hands into his pockets, head down. "No, I suppose it won't," he said quietly, as he reached for the doorknob.
"Where you goin'?" she asked, his hand hovering at the door. Crane's face was a mashup of embarrassment and confusion and he looked like a frightened puppy who'd just been scolded. It was hard to remember sometimes, that he was out of his element, and alone. It was hard to remember that he wasn't always Mr. Tall, Dark and British, full of intelligent wit and revolutionary hero stories.
She rubbed her hands over her face, a smile starting at her lips. "I'm not talking about us not working, I'm talking about you being so embarrassed about last night that you can't even be around me. What I was saying was, I understand you're embarrassed. And while it may be awkward, it's hardly the worst thing I've ever seen." Far from it...ugh Abbie, hold it together.
A distressed look crossed his face. "While I'm not sure what you mean by the 'worst thing you've seen', it's certainly a terrible insult to you and I deeply regret my actions and any offense you may have taken from it. I'm terribly sorry, what transpired last night was purely my own vile shortcomings as a friend and a husband. Both Katrina and you have every right to be disappointed in me, and I could not fault either of you if you chose to never grace me with your presence again."
Oh god, he was glutton for punishment, torturing himself. He still couldn't even look her in the eye. The look on his face was too much to bear. He was all kinds of tore up about this. He looked like he'd just committed an atrocity beyond words, when in reality all he'd done was sentence her to having erotic wet dreams about fucking him senseless . She laughed, unable to stop herself. When the giggles faded, he looked at her expectantly.
"I'd love to hear all about the humour you find in my disgrace," he quipped.
Tears of amusement threatened to spill from her eyes. "Oh Crane. I'm not offended, or disappointed...or any of that crap. I know this is a whole different century, but believe me, there are worse things that I could've walked in on." Honestly though, she didn't know how much worse it could be. She didn't have a photographic memory like Crane, but damn if she didn't remember everything about him lying in that bed.
Crane looked dumbfounded, his loss for word a rarity that she took full advantage of in the moment.
"But Katrina though, you said came to you last night? What evil boogeyman are we up against now?"
The embarrassment faded from his face as he thought about the message he'd recieved last night. Thoughtfully he looked at her, his fingers ghosting the curve of his chin. "I couldn't hear everything she said towards the end of the dream, but I do remember her saying 'You're on the right path. It's a bridge'."
A/N:OK I wanted it to end on a nice note. You guys have been so kind to me about this story, that started out as a one shot. I'm always so hesitant to post anything but everyone has been so nice I really wanted to finish this somehow. My headcanon, which will probably be proven wrong, is that his wife coming back to life isn't an option, and not only does she not want him to be alone forever, Crane and Abbie's bond is going to get (and needs to be) stronger. Don't kill me. I want them to do the dirty as much as y'all.