"A Voice in the Dark" (Lucas/OC; Thriller/Romance- PG13/R) Epilogue
TITLE: A Voice in the Dark
AUTHOR: Lexie aka lillianschild
FANDOM: Spooks/MI5
RATING: PG-13/R
PAIRING: Lucas/OC
SUMMARY: Section D has a traitor in its midst and a mysterious man arrives with what appears to be the key to rid MI5 of the mole. This fic is my own version of Series 7.
Disclaimer: all recognisable characters belong to BBC and Kudos Productions; I'm just playing with them for a little while without making a profit. No infringement's intended.
READ THE BEGINNING HERE
READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE
CHAPTER XV- EPILOGUE
Weeks drifted by and a new year arrived. The persistent thick blanket of snow that used to cover the lawn and the trees visible from the master bedroom was now gone, giving way to the brighter colours of springtime and then to summer and its longer days. The desolation and loneliness of winter was swept away by Annabelle and Lucas' rediscovery of each other and the strengthening of the invisible bond that had miraculously brought them together one fateful night.
Lying naked on the tousled sheets, Annabelle pressed her cheek against the pillow and met his tender gaze with a languid smile. He looked relaxed and younger, almost boyish. And she basked in the warmth of his eyes, feeling her heart overflow with love as his beautiful long-fingered hand moved lazily down her back drawing patterns on her skin she soon recognised as the lines of that Poe's poem he'd recited to her on learning her name.
“It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee.
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
than to love and be loved by me.”
Would their love be doomed like that of Annabel and her lover? Would the world outside this bedroom envious of the happiness and understanding they'd found in each other's arms snatch away from them this little piece of Heaven on earth?
“What's wrong, Anna?”
“Nothing,”
“No more hiding, remember?”
“It's just me being silly,” she replied in a slightly shaky voice.”I have to get ready. Christine's picking me up in half an hour,” she added, sitting up on the bed.
“She can wait,” he stayed her by leaning forward to press a soft kiss on her lips.”Something's been troubling you these past few days. We promised to be true to each other, Golubushka. I want to know. I need to know it isn't because of … me... or anything I might have done... or say,” he urged her, swallowing the lump which had suddenly lodged in his throat. “Having you here... Holding you in my arms every night, a talisman against my worst nightmares, and knowing you'll be there when I wake up... I can't remember the last time I ever felt so at peace... but there are moments when I feel I'm being selfish... that I'm asphyxiating you... I...”
Annabelle felt like the worst of cowards for not being honest with him because her crippling fear of reality putting an end to their beautiful idyll was doing nothing but making her feel miserable and, at the same time, unfairly exacerbating Lucas' insecurity and slowly healing fragility.
“Please... don't say that,” she cupped his face silencing him.”I hate to see you hurt because of my own foolishness. I chose to stay, remember? And there are no regrets. I will never regret loving you. You've done nothing of which you should feel ashamed.”
“Then... what is it?”
“When... when are you going back?” she finally whispered.
“Going back?” he asked with a puzzled frown.
“I mean... “ she continued, biting her lower lip, “to MI-5. I know you've met with Harry and... you've passed your physical exam with flying colours...”
He touched her face, threading his long fingers through her reddish brown hair, “I might have come a long way since the night you met me, but I'm still seeing the service shrinks at Trig.”
Although it wasn't the answer she'd hoped for, it wasn't the final slamming door she'd been dreading. She welcomed the reprieve, aware that the moment would come sooner or later when he'd have to make a decision.
*~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *
TWO MONTHS LATER
The invitation to join Tom and his wife for dinner had been extended in the middle of the week and given Annabelle the perfect excuse to indulge herself with an afternoon in a spa and a little shopping spree. With a mischievous smile Lucas had offered to be her own personal changing-room assistant and even tried to bribe her with a promise to donate to her favourite charity twelve months' worth of his eight years' back payment to enjoy such a privilege.
Even though the prospect of trying on underwear and evening clothes with Lucas doing and undoing buttons, clasps and zips was unquestionably enticing, Annabelle had turned him down with a playful comeback, saying he'd reap the rewards of his patience in the privacy of their room later that evening. Besides, not only did she want to spend some of her own money now that she had cashed in her first cheque as a lecturer at Birkbeck, but she was afraid his charitable acts of late would have him on the dole in no time if unchecked.
Friday evening finally arrived and she made her graceful entry into the Quinns' living-room, flanked by her cordial hostess, to find Christine's good-looking husband already entertaining the man that never failed to make Annabelle's heart quicken and her cheeks blush.
Her thinner chequebook was worth the smouldering look in Lucas' eyes when she took off her coat and unveiled the tasteful figure-hugging backless black dress she was wearing. The classic long evening dress with a discreet slit to tantalise the observer with a glimpse of a lovely shaped leg in high heels, not only complimented the sensuality he'd helped awaken but also showed to advantage the delicate softness of the lady underneath.
Tom and Christine were charming and friendly hosts. Unlike his wife, who was helpless with pots and pans, the former Chief of Section D had revealed himself as a surprisingly talented chef. The discovery had delighted their palate and prompted an engaging conversation during which both men regaled the ladies with stories of first-hand culinary experiences gathered during their gap-year travelling the world on a shoestring before joining the service.
“Happy birthday, mate,” smiled Tom, raising his flute of champagne for a toast as Christine presented Lucas with a gift-wrapped box.
“Birthday?” Annabelle glanced at Lucas, embarrassed at her ignorance.”Why didn't you say anything?”
“Because I didn't want you to spend your first cheque on me. I already have everything I need, Golubushka. It's right here,” he told her, brushing her cheek with his knuckles.
“Birthdays are special,” she replied softly. “They're a beautiful gift.”
There was no need for her to say the words. Everyone in the room knew just how precious celebrating life was and how many late friends and colleagues would never get to blow the candles on a cake or unwrap a carefully picked gift with childish glee ever again.
“Go on. Open it,” she urged him with a smile, chasing away the melancholy mood which had suddenly fallen upon the room.
“Tear the paper!” suggested Christine on seeing Lucas' hands undo the glittering ribbon carefully.
“Don't be so impatient, Chris!” exclaimed Tom. “Let him savour the experience,” he added, looking at Lucas' lady with a complicit smile.
Annabelle felt unbidden tears mist her eyes as she observed Lucas' fingers touch the polished surface of the beautifully carved box with quiet reverence before raising its lid to reveal the real gift lying inside, a replica of a Roman rudius.
“I had it made especially for you. I knew it'd be just the thing for a history buff such as yourself... Magnus made me sweat though. I thought he wouldn't have it ready in time. I met him a few years ago when I was working on a case. He's a wonderful craftsman, but he isn't the most reliable when it comes to deadlines,” explained Tom.
“He's a true artist. It's perfect,” replied Lucas visibly touched, cradling in his slightly shaky hands the exact replica of the wooden sword emperors used to give to a gladiator as a symbol of his freedom from the arena. “Thank you, Tom... and Christine. It's the best birthday present I've ever received,” he finished, glancing up to meet his best friend's eyes.
“Oh, I don't know. The night's still young,” chuckled Quinn with a mischievous smile that put a delightful red hue on Annabelle's cheeks.
“Happy birthday, love!” she murmured, pressing a brief kiss on Lucas' lips.
“Lucas, you've got a call,” said Christine, returning to the room with another bottle of champagne and the cordless phone she'd answered in the kitchen.”Harry,” she added in reply to his puzzled frown.
“Another glass, Annabelle?” offered Tom, uncorking the bubbly.
“No, thanks,”she shook her head, covering her flute with her hand. “You've both been so lovely... I'm sorry...” she added, struggling to keep a hold on her emotions as she overheard snatches of the phone conversation she'd been dreading for months.
“Anna... what's wrong?” asked Christine, placing a comforting hand on her arm.
“Nothing breathing some fresh air won't cure... That and a good night's sleep. I'm afraid I've had a tough day at work today and I'm slightly tipsy.”
“Are you sure that's what it is?” queried the blonde American, shooting a glance at Lucas' back in the opposite side of the room, where he was still conversing with the Head of Section D.
*~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *
She'd walked across the park that separated the main building from the guesthouse and then waited for the front door to close behind her before letting the tears she'd been holding back roll freely down her cheeks.
Navigating the house in the dark she made her way to the bedroom she'd been sharing with Lucas for almost three months now and, without divesting herself of her clothes, she lay down on the duvet in foetal position.
He'd come to the end of the road, made a full recovery. And Annabelle knew she ought to be happy for him and deep inside she was; she loved him too much to wish a life haunted by eternal nightmares upon him. However, the selfish part of her, the one which needed him to need her, was afraid. He might think of her as tough; and yet, she was painfully aware of her insecurities when it came to affairs of the heart.
What would happen now that Harry had communicated Lucas his therapy at Trig was over and that he was ready for active service? For that was what that phone call had been about. Although she hadn't heard her mentor's side of the conversation, she knew Lucas' body language intimately. It had taken one look across the room to learn the truth.
He loved her. She never doubted that. Still, she had seen him work so hard to get where he was now, to earn Harry's trust and acceptance, to regain the place in the world he had lost the moment he stopped believing they would ever break him out of the hellhole he thought would be his final resting place.
He hadn't made any promises and she hadn't asked him for a commitment. Staying had been her choice, one she'd never regret. And yet, he'd known her better than herself.He'd tried to save her the heartbreak, and she had persevered against all odds.
There had been so much loss in both of their lives. They deserved a second chance. They deserved to be happy, but a reactivation was a virtual death warrant, and she wasn't sure she'd ever survive that. Not this time.
“Why did you leave?” he asked softly, spooning her from behind.
She'd been so lost in her own misery that she hadn't heard him come back.
“I'm sorry,” she replied in a quivering voice. “I just... I didn't want to spoil the evening,” she added, hoping the dark would hide the evidence of her tears.
“Christine said you weren't feeling well. “
“It's only a mild headache. I...”
“Anna... “ he said, putting his left arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him, “why did you run away?”
It was foolish to keep making up excuses which belittled both of them. She owed him and them better than that.
“Tom knew, didn't he? That's why he gave you that gift. Your treatment is over and you're going back to The Grid. Harry's call wasn't just him wishing you a happy birthday.”
His warm lips brushed her temple and lingered there for a moment.
“I knew this moment would arrive...” she croaked.
“Why don't you come with me to Thames House tomorrow?” he suggested, tightening his grip on her.
“Is that what you want?”
“We could visit some friends. You might ask Jo and Ros if they'd be willing to put on a bridesmaid gown... while I convince Malcolm to book an appointment at Harry's tailor to have his measures taken for a best man's dinner jacket,” he murmured in her ear. “What do you say, Annabelle,? Will you marry me?”
“Lucas,” she started with a sob.
“Look at me, Golubushka,” he said tenderly. “I'm not going back. I'm not going anywhere.”
“I don't understand.... “
“There are other ways to serve my country. I gave MI5 some of the best years of my life and, in spite of it all, I don't regret it. But what I want is something I would never have or be able to protect as a full-time agent. So what do you say, Golubushka, are you willing to marry a civilian with a nine-to-five job as a security consultant?”
“A security consultant?”
“Tom's offered me a job with him.”
“Oh, Lucas!” she cried, wrapping her arms around him and clinging to him for dear life.
“Does that mean yes to becoming Mrs Lucas North?” he asked with a soft smile.
Overcome by the sudden turn of events, Annabelle couldn't find her voice to give him an answer and, instead, took his beautiful hand in hers and laid her cheek against it.
“I have something for you,” he told her huskily, after pressing a soft kiss on her lips.”Give me your left hand, please.”
She placed her delicate hand in his and felt him slide a ring on her third finger as new tears, this time of happiness, welled up in her eyes.
“I don't want to see you cry any more,” he told her softly, brushing away the moisture with his thumbs.
“I love you so much, Lucas North,” she confessed, leaning against his chest and feeling him encircle her tightly in his arms.
“And I you, Golubushka. I've loved you ever since the moment you stepped into my room like an angel sent from Heaven just to comfort me,” he whispered, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “My little dove,” he breathed into the darkness, “I'm home at last.”
THE END
AUTHOR: Lexie aka lillianschild
FANDOM: Spooks/MI5
RATING: PG-13/R
PAIRING: Lucas/OC
SUMMARY: Section D has a traitor in its midst and a mysterious man arrives with what appears to be the key to rid MI5 of the mole. This fic is my own version of Series 7.
Disclaimer: all recognisable characters belong to BBC and Kudos Productions; I'm just playing with them for a little while without making a profit. No infringement's intended.
READ THE BEGINNING HERE
READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE
CHAPTER XV- EPILOGUE
Weeks drifted by and a new year arrived. The persistent thick blanket of snow that used to cover the lawn and the trees visible from the master bedroom was now gone, giving way to the brighter colours of springtime and then to summer and its longer days. The desolation and loneliness of winter was swept away by Annabelle and Lucas' rediscovery of each other and the strengthening of the invisible bond that had miraculously brought them together one fateful night.
Lying naked on the tousled sheets, Annabelle pressed her cheek against the pillow and met his tender gaze with a languid smile. He looked relaxed and younger, almost boyish. And she basked in the warmth of his eyes, feeling her heart overflow with love as his beautiful long-fingered hand moved lazily down her back drawing patterns on her skin she soon recognised as the lines of that Poe's poem he'd recited to her on learning her name.
“It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee.
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
than to love and be loved by me.”
Would their love be doomed like that of Annabel and her lover? Would the world outside this bedroom envious of the happiness and understanding they'd found in each other's arms snatch away from them this little piece of Heaven on earth?
“What's wrong, Anna?”
“Nothing,”
“No more hiding, remember?”
“It's just me being silly,” she replied in a slightly shaky voice.”I have to get ready. Christine's picking me up in half an hour,” she added, sitting up on the bed.
“She can wait,” he stayed her by leaning forward to press a soft kiss on her lips.”Something's been troubling you these past few days. We promised to be true to each other, Golubushka. I want to know. I need to know it isn't because of … me... or anything I might have done... or say,” he urged her, swallowing the lump which had suddenly lodged in his throat. “Having you here... Holding you in my arms every night, a talisman against my worst nightmares, and knowing you'll be there when I wake up... I can't remember the last time I ever felt so at peace... but there are moments when I feel I'm being selfish... that I'm asphyxiating you... I...”
Annabelle felt like the worst of cowards for not being honest with him because her crippling fear of reality putting an end to their beautiful idyll was doing nothing but making her feel miserable and, at the same time, unfairly exacerbating Lucas' insecurity and slowly healing fragility.
“Please... don't say that,” she cupped his face silencing him.”I hate to see you hurt because of my own foolishness. I chose to stay, remember? And there are no regrets. I will never regret loving you. You've done nothing of which you should feel ashamed.”
“Then... what is it?”
“When... when are you going back?” she finally whispered.
“Going back?” he asked with a puzzled frown.
“I mean... “ she continued, biting her lower lip, “to MI-5. I know you've met with Harry and... you've passed your physical exam with flying colours...”
He touched her face, threading his long fingers through her reddish brown hair, “I might have come a long way since the night you met me, but I'm still seeing the service shrinks at Trig.”
Although it wasn't the answer she'd hoped for, it wasn't the final slamming door she'd been dreading. She welcomed the reprieve, aware that the moment would come sooner or later when he'd have to make a decision.
*~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *
TWO MONTHS LATER
The invitation to join Tom and his wife for dinner had been extended in the middle of the week and given Annabelle the perfect excuse to indulge herself with an afternoon in a spa and a little shopping spree. With a mischievous smile Lucas had offered to be her own personal changing-room assistant and even tried to bribe her with a promise to donate to her favourite charity twelve months' worth of his eight years' back payment to enjoy such a privilege.
Even though the prospect of trying on underwear and evening clothes with Lucas doing and undoing buttons, clasps and zips was unquestionably enticing, Annabelle had turned him down with a playful comeback, saying he'd reap the rewards of his patience in the privacy of their room later that evening. Besides, not only did she want to spend some of her own money now that she had cashed in her first cheque as a lecturer at Birkbeck, but she was afraid his charitable acts of late would have him on the dole in no time if unchecked.
Friday evening finally arrived and she made her graceful entry into the Quinns' living-room, flanked by her cordial hostess, to find Christine's good-looking husband already entertaining the man that never failed to make Annabelle's heart quicken and her cheeks blush.
Her thinner chequebook was worth the smouldering look in Lucas' eyes when she took off her coat and unveiled the tasteful figure-hugging backless black dress she was wearing. The classic long evening dress with a discreet slit to tantalise the observer with a glimpse of a lovely shaped leg in high heels, not only complimented the sensuality he'd helped awaken but also showed to advantage the delicate softness of the lady underneath.
Tom and Christine were charming and friendly hosts. Unlike his wife, who was helpless with pots and pans, the former Chief of Section D had revealed himself as a surprisingly talented chef. The discovery had delighted their palate and prompted an engaging conversation during which both men regaled the ladies with stories of first-hand culinary experiences gathered during their gap-year travelling the world on a shoestring before joining the service.
“Happy birthday, mate,” smiled Tom, raising his flute of champagne for a toast as Christine presented Lucas with a gift-wrapped box.
“Birthday?” Annabelle glanced at Lucas, embarrassed at her ignorance.”Why didn't you say anything?”
“Because I didn't want you to spend your first cheque on me. I already have everything I need, Golubushka. It's right here,” he told her, brushing her cheek with his knuckles.
“Birthdays are special,” she replied softly. “They're a beautiful gift.”
There was no need for her to say the words. Everyone in the room knew just how precious celebrating life was and how many late friends and colleagues would never get to blow the candles on a cake or unwrap a carefully picked gift with childish glee ever again.
“Go on. Open it,” she urged him with a smile, chasing away the melancholy mood which had suddenly fallen upon the room.
“Tear the paper!” suggested Christine on seeing Lucas' hands undo the glittering ribbon carefully.
“Don't be so impatient, Chris!” exclaimed Tom. “Let him savour the experience,” he added, looking at Lucas' lady with a complicit smile.
Annabelle felt unbidden tears mist her eyes as she observed Lucas' fingers touch the polished surface of the beautifully carved box with quiet reverence before raising its lid to reveal the real gift lying inside, a replica of a Roman rudius.
“I had it made especially for you. I knew it'd be just the thing for a history buff such as yourself... Magnus made me sweat though. I thought he wouldn't have it ready in time. I met him a few years ago when I was working on a case. He's a wonderful craftsman, but he isn't the most reliable when it comes to deadlines,” explained Tom.
“He's a true artist. It's perfect,” replied Lucas visibly touched, cradling in his slightly shaky hands the exact replica of the wooden sword emperors used to give to a gladiator as a symbol of his freedom from the arena. “Thank you, Tom... and Christine. It's the best birthday present I've ever received,” he finished, glancing up to meet his best friend's eyes.
“Oh, I don't know. The night's still young,” chuckled Quinn with a mischievous smile that put a delightful red hue on Annabelle's cheeks.
“Happy birthday, love!” she murmured, pressing a brief kiss on Lucas' lips.
“Lucas, you've got a call,” said Christine, returning to the room with another bottle of champagne and the cordless phone she'd answered in the kitchen.”Harry,” she added in reply to his puzzled frown.
“Another glass, Annabelle?” offered Tom, uncorking the bubbly.
“No, thanks,”she shook her head, covering her flute with her hand. “You've both been so lovely... I'm sorry...” she added, struggling to keep a hold on her emotions as she overheard snatches of the phone conversation she'd been dreading for months.
“Anna... what's wrong?” asked Christine, placing a comforting hand on her arm.
“Nothing breathing some fresh air won't cure... That and a good night's sleep. I'm afraid I've had a tough day at work today and I'm slightly tipsy.”
“Are you sure that's what it is?” queried the blonde American, shooting a glance at Lucas' back in the opposite side of the room, where he was still conversing with the Head of Section D.
*~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *~ *
She'd walked across the park that separated the main building from the guesthouse and then waited for the front door to close behind her before letting the tears she'd been holding back roll freely down her cheeks.
Navigating the house in the dark she made her way to the bedroom she'd been sharing with Lucas for almost three months now and, without divesting herself of her clothes, she lay down on the duvet in foetal position.
He'd come to the end of the road, made a full recovery. And Annabelle knew she ought to be happy for him and deep inside she was; she loved him too much to wish a life haunted by eternal nightmares upon him. However, the selfish part of her, the one which needed him to need her, was afraid. He might think of her as tough; and yet, she was painfully aware of her insecurities when it came to affairs of the heart.
What would happen now that Harry had communicated Lucas his therapy at Trig was over and that he was ready for active service? For that was what that phone call had been about. Although she hadn't heard her mentor's side of the conversation, she knew Lucas' body language intimately. It had taken one look across the room to learn the truth.
He loved her. She never doubted that. Still, she had seen him work so hard to get where he was now, to earn Harry's trust and acceptance, to regain the place in the world he had lost the moment he stopped believing they would ever break him out of the hellhole he thought would be his final resting place.
He hadn't made any promises and she hadn't asked him for a commitment. Staying had been her choice, one she'd never regret. And yet, he'd known her better than herself.He'd tried to save her the heartbreak, and she had persevered against all odds.
There had been so much loss in both of their lives. They deserved a second chance. They deserved to be happy, but a reactivation was a virtual death warrant, and she wasn't sure she'd ever survive that. Not this time.
“Why did you leave?” he asked softly, spooning her from behind.
She'd been so lost in her own misery that she hadn't heard him come back.
“I'm sorry,” she replied in a quivering voice. “I just... I didn't want to spoil the evening,” she added, hoping the dark would hide the evidence of her tears.
“Christine said you weren't feeling well. “
“It's only a mild headache. I...”
“Anna... “ he said, putting his left arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him, “why did you run away?”
It was foolish to keep making up excuses which belittled both of them. She owed him and them better than that.
“Tom knew, didn't he? That's why he gave you that gift. Your treatment is over and you're going back to The Grid. Harry's call wasn't just him wishing you a happy birthday.”
His warm lips brushed her temple and lingered there for a moment.
“I knew this moment would arrive...” she croaked.
“Why don't you come with me to Thames House tomorrow?” he suggested, tightening his grip on her.
“Is that what you want?”
“We could visit some friends. You might ask Jo and Ros if they'd be willing to put on a bridesmaid gown... while I convince Malcolm to book an appointment at Harry's tailor to have his measures taken for a best man's dinner jacket,” he murmured in her ear. “What do you say, Annabelle,? Will you marry me?”
“Lucas,” she started with a sob.
“Look at me, Golubushka,” he said tenderly. “I'm not going back. I'm not going anywhere.”
“I don't understand.... “
“There are other ways to serve my country. I gave MI5 some of the best years of my life and, in spite of it all, I don't regret it. But what I want is something I would never have or be able to protect as a full-time agent. So what do you say, Golubushka, are you willing to marry a civilian with a nine-to-five job as a security consultant?”
“A security consultant?”
“Tom's offered me a job with him.”
“Oh, Lucas!” she cried, wrapping her arms around him and clinging to him for dear life.
“Does that mean yes to becoming Mrs Lucas North?” he asked with a soft smile.
Overcome by the sudden turn of events, Annabelle couldn't find her voice to give him an answer and, instead, took his beautiful hand in hers and laid her cheek against it.
“I have something for you,” he told her huskily, after pressing a soft kiss on her lips.”Give me your left hand, please.”
She placed her delicate hand in his and felt him slide a ring on her third finger as new tears, this time of happiness, welled up in her eyes.
“I don't want to see you cry any more,” he told her softly, brushing away the moisture with his thumbs.
“I love you so much, Lucas North,” she confessed, leaning against his chest and feeling him encircle her tightly in his arms.
“And I you, Golubushka. I've loved you ever since the moment you stepped into my room like an angel sent from Heaven just to comfort me,” he whispered, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “My little dove,” he breathed into the darkness, “I'm home at last.”
THE END