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justatidalwaveoffeelings · 1 year

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Abby and Towsend talk like adults

There was a loud knocking at her door. She looked at the clock 12am. She thought that maybe if she did answer the person would just give up and go away. Instead the knocking got louder.

She opened it and none other than Edward Townsend was standing there. She wasn't in the mood to deal with him.

"If you keep knocking like that your going to wake the faculty staff. Go to your own bed, Edward."

He walked past her into her suite knocking her on her shoulder as he went.

"Hey, this is my space and you can't just come barging in here and----"

His lips found hers. Strong and soft and sure. She was caught off guard for the smallest of moments. What the hell was wrong with her. She didn't want him like this, she wouldn't just forget. They had their fair share of fights but she wasn't about to get carried away in passion to let this one blow over. She needed clarity. He had told her the story but something was missing.

She put a hand on his chest slowly pushing away. He looked at her like he knew exactly what she was doing.

"Nuh uh. I'm not doing this. You can't just do this. We need to talk. Something I know you're not a fan of but if you want to stay with me your going to get better at it."

He put his hands on his hips and stared at her. "You barely talk with me. Even after I explained and we "made up". Plus you're not exactly the essence of great communication."

She rolled her eyes. Starting to get angry again. She couldn't help herself.

"You have a SON. An 18 year old with a literally terrorist. The woman who has been making it her personal business to torment my family. You think I'm just going to forget that you DIDNT TELL ME?!"

"So much for you being worried about waking the other faculty Abigail."

"Get out"

"No."

"Get the hell out of my face."

"Not until we talk, really talk, I said I was sorry. I don't really know how to get to you right now"

She looked in his deep blue eyes, as serious as ever. She didn't want to forgive him but he kept coming back to her somehow so maybe all of those crazy feelings she has had for him mean something.

She grabbed his arm and yanked him to the tiny couch. She shoved him to one end and she sat on the other. Knees crossed and arms folded.

"When did it start"

"Abby, I already told you,"

"No. When did it start."

"I was young, and foolish, and I thought at one point that I loved her. We worked together briefly, on a CIA/MI6 exchange.

We were handling sensitive materials and she was using me to get my Intel. Not that she ever heard it from me, more like my office.

We slept together on and off for about a year. Towards the end of that year i was suspicious about us and she finally tipped her hat like the crazy woman that she is. It's been over ever since. I really didn't know. You've heard that before though. So what is that your looking for?"

She took it all in. She had heard that before. Why did it feel like she needed something else? Security. She needed security.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were with her?"

He scoffed and dragged his hand down his face.

"Becuase it wasn't my proudest moment and I know how much you hate her and I---didn't want to push you away or lose what I have with you. Although now that you found out this way it's not seemingly hopeful either."

Abby couldn't help herself, she uncrossed her arms and scooted closer.

"Ya it was pretty stupid of you, but I don't think I'm ready to be done. Do you have any other crap things you need to own up to?"

He looked at her and smirked. "Even if there was anything left, you jumped straight into the deep end on the worst things Edward Townsend ever did."

"I believe you. I really care about you but I'm tired of our on and off again thing. This whole back and forth thing is hurting more now a days. I'm sick of it."

"What are you proposing, Abby?"

"I don't know. What am I to you? I thought we were more serious this time Edward. You didn't tell me that you were with her and then we have the added bomb that you fricken procreated with that woman."

"Abby, I'm sorry. I care about you. Seriously. I don't want to loose you over this but I'm getting so tired of having this conversation with you. What is that your looking for from me?"

She looked at him. She couldn't help herself, her eyes started to well and she went to stand. Unfortunately for her, he also stood. He pulled her to him and brought her head down to rest on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her.

She finally spoke.

"It just sucks. You feel so secure and happy and then all over again I don't know if I love you."

His head snaps back.

"Love. You love me?"

"Well I thought so but I'm so confused right now. I don't know what I think."

He looked at her confused?

"You don't know that I love you? More than I've loved someone before?"

She shook her head.

Apparently the weight of what he said washed over him so he threw in a small insult that she also annoyed him like no other too. They sat there for a moment. Both realizing they really were "in love" whatever that meant.

She went to kiss him. She said "I love you".

He smirked "I love you too. We will figure the rest out later."

She laughed a little. "No one can know though, okay?"

He just kissed her again.

#gallagher girls #catherine goode #Edward towsend #Abby Cameron

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justatidalwaveoffeelings · 1 year

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Hello! Can you please make a short scene regarding Zach's pov when he found out Townsend was his dad? Until the part where he asks cam if she knew? Your writing is incredible, I hope you continue it 💗

"Isn't he just like you darling? I think he's just like you"It took a second for the words to register. Zach's head snapped to the woman he called his mother and to the man standing in the doorway. Townsend wasnt looking at Zach, thank goodness, he was staring at Catherine. What did Zach even know about the guy? That he was a senior operative, a talented agent, a crappy teacher, and a stranger. Wow. The great reveal. His mother had always had a little bit of a cruel sense of humor, she was always a little tricky but this? His stomach dipped and he felt a flash of white hot dread. He was going to be sick. Without looking at anyone he pushed through the door past that man. He ran out the front door like he had 1000 times before. He needed space to breath and with one of the biggest bombs in his life being dropped he felt suffocate.He wished his whole life that he had known his dad. When Zach was little he would make up stories about why his father wasn't there for him. They included wild things like being eaten by sharks but Catherine never corrected him. In fact every time Zach brought up his father Catherine said nothing at all. When he got older he really he wasn't sure if his dad was even a good person, clearly Catherine hadn't been the best. Maybe it was for the better he didn't know his dad? Maybe his father was a good person and had died? He met Joe shortly after those thoughts. Joe had given Zach some hope; not every spy was a terrible person and Zach didn't have to be a part of the circle. Zach sat on a stone near the water and took a deep breath of fresh salty air. The wind was blowing and a storm was brewing both physically and metaphorically. Joe told Zach from the beginning that he wasnt his biological father, Joe said that he would be there for Zach. Joe would teach him things and help him out. Zach felt loved by Joe in a way he assumed was fatherly but he believed him when he said that they were not related. Did Joe know that Townsend was his father and just never tell him? It didn't match up with Joe's frank honesty. Did anyone know? He stood and started to walk back and forth on the sand. He could feel the wind kicking up, the dampness starting to settle into his skin. He thought about Townsend. Zach had gotten along with him before this news would have changed that. If he looked at it hard he could only see two options. One Townsend was a far worse operative than he let on or two that he knew and left anyway. What a jerk. Zach had been giving the guy the benefit of the doubt, he didn't mind a little frankness. Maybe he should have listened harder to Cam, Bex and Macey when they said the guy was, as Macey put it, "the most stuck up guy that had ever walked the halls of the Gallagher Academy." In that moment Zach hated him. Hated him for his childhood, his scars and just him. He either knew, or he should have. "Zach" He assumed she would have found him sooner rather than later but he didn't turn. He faced the waves as she walked closer. "Townsend is looking for you"Now that was funny in the cruelest of ways. Sure he was. They would have to wait and see about that. Townsend had years to make up for.

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justatidalwaveoffeelings · 1 year

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Hi do you take story/blurb/scenario request 🥺 new to the gg fandom and saw your writing it was incredible

Wow! I'm flattered. I've never been asked this before! I guess I might if someone had interest in my writing it.🥺💛

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justatidalwaveoffeelings · 1 year

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Wow. This is beyond wonderful.

Hey! Would you guys be interested in this, per chance? A new chapter of Full Circle? Featuring Abby and Matt and a much-needed confession? Yeah? Yes? Here you go! If you're new here, you can read Full Circle from the beginning on ao3.

Chapter Eight

There ain’t many people who can surprise Matt nowadays.

Joe’s the reason Matt learned how to spot a surprise to begin with, because Joe is built from the kind of unpredictability most people never see in a single lifetime. Aside from the overt lessons he passes on, Joe’s also responsible for a subtle series of accidental lessons, each one stacked on top of the last, about what it truly means for Matt to share his life with spies. Loving Joe is an uncertain sort of thing. Loving Joe is a waiting game. For all of the surprises they’ve already lived through together, Matt just knows that Joe has plenty more to come.

Then there’s Abby, whose sole purpose in life seems to be untangling the knot of impulse that sits at the undefined center of her gut. Abby is spontaneity, and instinct, and split-second decisions. Abby is a flight to Paris, just for a fresh croissant. Matt suspects she surprises herself just as much as she surprises him, but he doesn’t mind. It’s the kind of thing that keeps her alive.

On the opposite end of the same spectrum, Rachel’s surprises are quiet, demure acts of depth that he can never anticipate until she’s already got him fully pinned beneath one. She is the master of deliberate, calculated gambits that leave him in absolute awe and to witness Rachel in a moment of fulfilled strategy is to witness an act of God at work.

And now, interestingly, Micheal manages a surprise of his own.

It strikes Matt as clumsy and uncoordinated jab, considering the caliber of surprise he normally stumbles into. There’s too much effort in the words, saturated by a sense of mutilated glee. In Matt’s world, surprises are dangerous, potentially deadly ordeals and his usual company tends to treat them with the appropriate grimness. Not Micheal. There’s a confidence in Michael’s shoulders and a grin at the corner of his mouth, both of which make it all too clear that this world of ridiculous high society picnics is fueled by a twist of shock wielded in just the right way.

The least Matt can do is play along. “Weird,” he says. “It’s just that Rachel never mentioned an engagement. Never mentioned you at all, actually.”

This knocks the grin from Michael’s face, but unfortunately, he regains his composure too quickly for Matt to properly enjoy its loss. “That’s a shame,” he says. “Although it does make sense—she was pretty heartbroken when I called the whole thing off. She always did say she needed me.”

Rachel Cameron has never needed anyone and Matt opens his mouth to say so, but before he can get a word out, there’s another surprise tapping along his shoulder. He turns to find Abby, all done up and beautiful against and early spring evening, and she smiles at him as though she’s not surprised one bit. “I’ve been saving a dance for you,” she says, holding a hand out to him. “This is your chance to ask for it.”

He knows Abby well enough to understand that she knows him right back. She knows his expressions and his gestures. She knows his hometown and his cover legends. Matt has spent years hiding behind piles of phony passports and fabricated paper trails, but even after all of that, Abby can still pull him straight back to the surface of his own skin. There are unspoken words waiting behind her graceful smile and for the first time since Texas, Matt gets the sense that Abby might know him better than he knows himself.

Matt steals one more glance at Michael, but Abby takes his hand in hers. A warm, buzzing excitement stretches through his fingers, his wrist, his arm, and this battle was over before it even began. “Abigail Cameron,” he concedes, “will you dance with me?”

Her shrug is outlined by delight, and a wistful sigh tumbles through her smile. “If you insist,” she says, already starting toward the center of the garden. “I couldn’t stand to disappoint you, Matt.”

This is the kind of confession that comes effortlessly to her, meanwhile Matt’s had the same confession on his mind since that very first day of training and has never been able to dig it out of the stubborn parts of his chest. He adores that about her—adores the way she exists without apprehension or apology. Abigail Cameron might just be the only spy Matt knows who doesn’t have any secrets. Not any that matter, anyway. One look, one conversation, one moment is all it takes to know exactly what she’s about.

She guides him toward a stone dance floor, one earth-eaten paver after another, and Matt gets to thinking about how it’s high time he follow her lead.

The orchestra is well into their set by now, stings warm, and smooth, and easy. With a slow and simple smile, she steadies her stance against his, and after all these years, she’s finally convinced him to dance with her. “If I didn’t know better,” she says, words wrapped in the edge of a whisper, “I’d say you and Micheal were becoming fast friends.”

Her free hand falls to his shoulder, easing it down from a tension he doesn’t recognize until it’s leveraged out of him. He doesn’t remember when his own hands landed along her hips, but he’s there. And she’s there. It’s the two of them, and urgency coils around the core of Matt’s thoughts. “But you do know better.”

She looks up at him with that same smile she always does—a smile he’s always known he would move mountains for. “I know you,” she says. “And from experience, I know what it looks like when you’re about to bash someone’s head into a half-melted ice sculpture.”

He falls into step with her. “That was one time.”

She leads without question. “I remember.”

“My cover was already blown.”

“I remember that, too.”

“I wouldn’t do that here.”

Skepticism is a rare look on Abby. Matt can spot it on Rachel from a mile away, pulled from a constant source of doubt and distrust that sits somewhere inside of her. But Abby ain’t much for doubt and she only wrangles it when she really means it.

Something in Matt’s chest deflates at the certainty of it. “I wouldn’t blow your cover. Not here. Not with these people.” The promise hangs heavier than he intends, because he could have sworn it already went unspoken between them. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Abby just nods, light as ever. “I know you think that.”

She borders on hurtful, now, calling his character into question. He wonders what his pops would have to say about it. What his mama would say. “You really think I would risk your whole life here?”

“I think,” she says, pulling herself closer as the two waltz across flagstone, “that you’ve had a long couple of days, wrapped up in a long couple of weeks, wrapped up in a very long couple of years.” There’s no way Abby could know just how long the past couple of years have been, with missions run in duplicate and triplicate across the globe, tracing down dead end leads and covering every track he’s left behind, from both good guys and bad. But the sisters have always had a way of knowing the things they shouldn’t. “And that you wouldn’t be the first person to lose their cool around Michael.”

They’re in the middle of two dances, now—one set to the sound of strings, and another hiding in the back-and-forth trill of their voices. He’s not sure when he started keeping secrets from Abby. Probably around the same time he started keeping secrets for Joe. Whatever the case, it sends him sidestepping into safer territory. “You’re talking about Rachel?”

She glances up at him, spotting his stumble. “You’re talking about Rachel,” she notices, with that studious glance she usually saves for overseas ambassadors or double-talking senators. “Why are you asking about Michael and Rachel?”

Somehow, this doesn’t seem any safer. “Just business.”

“I see,” she says. “And it doesn’t have anything to do with Micheal mentioning their engagement, does it?”

She really does seem to know everything. “How did you hear that?”

“I didn’t have to,” she says “You just confirmed it.”

Only then does he realize Abby is leading their second dance, too. “One of these days, I’ll stop falling for that trick.”

With two, friendly taps on his shoulder, she cracks a soft smile. “Nice to know it still works on you for now, though.” Then, with a certainty only she could muster, “Don’t waste your time on Michael. He didn’t take anything from the office.”

They’ve made their first full rotation across the floor, and Matt lands right where he started. Over Abby’s shoulder, he can still spot Michael, huffing away at a cigar with a thick, blue ribbon wrapped around its center. “I’m not so sure.”

Abby pops up onto her toes to intercept his eyeline. “Why?” she asks, although it don’t sound like much of a question. “Because you don’t like him?”

He knocks her back town onto her heels. “I like him plenty—I like everyone,” he says. “Why wouldn’t I like him?”

“I can think of at least one reason.”

She lets her hand fall from his shoulder and he’s trained well enough to know that she intends to spin out into the crowd. Matt extends the arm that still holds her, and lets her linger, very briefly, in the beauty of a lavish gown spun into a flourish of fabric. But soon enough, her words catch in his ears, and their two dances finally overlap when he pulls back into his arms. “What do you mean?” he says. “What reason?”

He should already know the answer to this, at least according to the look Abby gives him. She chooses not to dignify his question with an answer, and instead, starts with another all her own. “Why did you tell Rachel you weren’t in Texas?”

It doesn’t seem very fair, that she gets to change the beat, tone, and tempo of their conversation, and all he can do is follow. “Because I wasn’t in Texas.”

“Why are you telling me you weren’t in Texas?

“Because I really, truly, honestly was not in Texas.”

“Really, truly, honestly,” she echoes. “The words of an honest man, if I’ve ever heard them.”

He’s never had this kind of conversation with Abby before, wandering in every direction, looking for a place to land. It used to be that she was safe. It used to be that he could tell her everything, ask her anything, and joke the whole way through. He wonders what must have changed, and then he wonders how he can change it back.

With an effort to settle back into a steady pace, Matt looks down at her and returns to the question at hand. “Why wouldn’t I like Michael?”

Abby allows this, for now. “Because Michael likes Rachel.”

“Why wouldn’t I like people who like Rachel?” he says. “Rachel’s very likable.”

“Lovable, some might even say.”

Something about the words feel less like an observation between friends and more like a trap set for a neighborhood fox, just outside the chicken coop. He keeps his steps cautious when he says, “I reckon some people might, yeah.” When nothing seems to snap shut around his ankle, he goes on. “But what's that got to do with Michael?”

“Not much,” she says, with all the fervor of a foxhound. “But I think it might have everything to do with Rachel.”

And there’s that name again, the only constant throughout the entire conversation. There’s a code a work, and Rachel’s name is the only thing that can decipher it, but he can’t, for the life of him, imagine where Abby wants him to start. He turns this over, and over, and over again in his head, trying to think up some way to work through it before she does, until it becomes plainly obvious that trying to outsmart Abby is never going to work in his favor.

“Alright,” he says instead. “Let’s pretend, just for a second, that I’m a fool from Nebraska who has no idea what you’re talking about.”

She smiles, finally getting her way. “Pretend?” she teases, but she drops this tone in favor of more urgent matters. “I just don’t want you getting distracted by the wrong things, is all—Michael’s harmless. Ever since Daddy got him that job with the NSA, he’s been ridiculously loyal and—”

“Hold on, he works for your dad?”

“He works with my dad,” she corrects, but that hardly seems like an important distinction. “The two of them are together all the time, which is a nightmare for Rachel, but—”

“And he’s in intelligence?”

She pauses. Tilts her head to the side. “What are you really asking me, Matt?”

Matt’s asking a lot, and they both know it. Matt’s asking about motives, and opportunities, and all of the elements of espionage he was taught at Camp Peary. Matt’s asking about Michael, and Rachel, and Michael and Rachel. Matt’s asking about the Circle of Cavan, and the NSA, and he’s wondering if maybe this wasn’t a break-in, so much as it was a mole. Maybe the information was passed along, instead of stolen, and maybe Michael isn’t quite as loyal as he seems.

But Matt doesn’t say any of that. Because Matt can’t say any of that. He just holds a dear friend as they dance to an orchestra that shows no regard for covert conversations held on the dance floor. “Nothing.” And when Abby digs into more of her doubt, he doubles down. “I trust you. I’m not asking anything.”

Another pang of longing buries into the back of Matt’s mind. Abby is one of his closest friends. If there’s such a thing as soulmates, then Abby could be his. He sensed it the first moment he saw her, and the want weighs heavy on him now. When did the secrets start to overwhelm them?

Guilt scrapes at his insides, collecting all of the secrets he can’t share into a dense ball at the base of his gut. It leaves him feeling hollow, until he has no choice but to surrender to the secrets he can share. “Hey, listen,” he starts. “I’ve got to tell you something.”

Abby knows Matt. She knows his voice and his patterns. She knows his heart and his soul. When something shatters in her eyes, he understands that she knows this about him too—the deep dark secret that he thought he hid so well. She lets her chin fall. Shakes her head. “Matt, you don’t—”

“Just—” The words stop in his throat out of habit, forced down for so long that he’s not quite sure how to get them up. “I know you already know, but I just need to say it, okay? You’ve gotta let me say it, while I’ve still got the guts to.”

There’s a newfound rigidity to her, as she braces for impact. Years, upon years, upon years of something unspoken, now finally finding its way to the surface. Matt brings a finger to her chin, and lifts it so that her eyes meet his. “I love you.”

And, of course, she says, “I know.”

It doesn’t feel like it should. It doesn’t feel like his world melts and it doesn’t feel like Han and Leia on Cloud City. It doesn’t feel like anything. Nothing changes about Matt and Abby in that moment, because Matt and Abby have always operated under the knowledge that Matt is hopelessly and helplessly enamored by her.

“I planned it that way,” Abby goes on. “I always plan it that way.”

“This could be different,” Matt offers.

But Abby just shakes her head. “I’ve had this conversation with a thousand different guys in a thousand different ways,” she says. “I make people like me, because it’s easier to use them when I need to. I promise, you’re not in love with me.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

“Abby,” he says. “I am.”

“No,” she says right back. “You’re really, really not. And I think you’re going to be awfully surprised when you figure out who you are in love with.”

Matt’s not surprised by much, nowadays, so he starts to pull from his own reserves of doubt. For so long, there's been a tension in her presence, radiating from a sense of want—wanting her approval, wanting her adoration, wanting her to notice him in the way no one else does. But in an instant, it all evaporates, and she's gone and thrown another question into the mix.

But before he can ask it, Joe’s in his ear. “Nebraska,” he says, interrupting for the first time all evening. “Our friend is on the move.”

Matt knows Joe. He knows the cadence to his words. He knows the way urgency always sounds like anger. When Matt looks over toward the doors of the mansion, he already knows what he's going to find. With the worst timing in the world, he leaves Abby behind to follow Michael into the mansion.

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justatidalwaveoffeelings · 1 year

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NOVEMBER 19TH

Sometime after united we spy- Joe and Rachel facing Matt's birthday without him. Sad fluff. I hope yall like it!

The knock at the door was quick and concise. Before Rachel had a chance to answer Joe stepped into her office. It had been a busy day at the Gallagher academy. Rachel had been trying to get a head count on how many girls would be staying over the brief break for Thanksgiving and Joe was cooking up the hardest semester final he could think of. He kept telling her that he had "a reputation to uphold of being the scariest teacher."

If they were being honest it was just a distraction. They had barely spoken since they had awoken that morning, it was a quick check-in, a quick kiss and off to work. Neither of them had to much to say on days like this.

"How are you doing?" Joe asked her.

How was she doing? She shuffled some paperwork on her desk and gave a brisk "I'm fine, Joe."

She didn't want to talk about it right then. She had things she wanted to do before she mentally checked out for the day. She needed at least another two hours of the work day.

"So, you don't want to talk about it"? He asked with a small smile.

"I've got things to do here. It's not easy to run an entire school. I don't know if you've ever heard anyone say it's easy being married to one of your teachers because let me tell you it's not!" It's--

"It's harder to run away from feeling things when best friend and husband makes you think about them?" He cut her a look that said he knew that she was distracting herself, and that it was ok.

He sat down at the desk in front of her. Watching her, waiting.

"I'm not running, I've got other things to think about why is that not okay?!"

He suddenly looked tired. "It's totally fine. I dont want to make you feel anything, I just wanted to check in on you. See if we could eat dinner, just the two of us? On days like today it's normally something we do."

She didn't respond right away. She didn't want to tear up or talk about it. She had to make sure that 41, 42? Girls had guidance, food and warm beds to stay in. Matt wouldn't want her to brush them off.

"I know. I know. I just..... I just need to do this, ok?" She sounded upset. They locked eyes for what felt like way too long.

He stood up slowly and told her that he was going to be upstairs in their little staff quaters apparement. That when she was done he'd hope she'd join him. He walked over, kissed her on the top of the head and walked out of her office without another word.

She felt terrible. The second Joe left she felt like she screwed up, and badly. Yes, he was checking on her but not 3 minutes had passed when she realized that he might have needed her. Not only was she being plagued by her first husband's death but she was also very concerned that she had hurt her now husband. She looked back down at her paperwork and suddenly felt tears prick her eyes. She had been so focused on avoiding her own feelings about Matt's birthday that she had inadvertently shut out everyone else.

As she started to lock her office door she called Abby. She got her voice-mail. Not a huge surprise to Rachel but she left a message anyways. She hoped, gosh, she couldn't believe she was even thinking this, that Agent Towsend was with her. She wasnt sure how much sympathy he would lend but she was certain that he loved her. As long as Abby wasn't alone today.

She didn't knock on their door, she just stepped into the small living space that she and Joe now shared.

The lights were on and there was a wonderful smell coming from the tiny kitchen. She called out "Joseph?" There was no response. She walked through the tiny living room kitchen combo and opened the door to their bedroom.

He was sitting at the small desk in the corner with the desk lamp on. He had a bunch of papers spread out and he was reading. Both his journal and Matthew's. He didn't look up as he said

"so you decided to join me finally? That was barely 10 minutes, your normally more stubborn than that."

She couldn't take it anymore. She teared up and sat on the edge of the bed. Hearing her sit he turned around to face her. She was still staring at the baseboard when she spoke.

"I'm so sorry. I should have just told you that I'm upset and that I'm not doing well. I miss him so much. I.... I just... I really miss him and to add to that I was so flippant about how you were feeling. I didn't even think"...She started to choke on her tears and before she knew it she was just crying.

Joe moved from the desk and sat beside her on the bed. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. They sat like that for a few minutes until Rachel's tears started to subside.

"I'm so sorry, Joe"

He backed away a little bit to look her in the eye.

"It's ok, Rach"

"No, it really isn't. I know you miss him too and what's worse is you take it in a personal way cause..."

He became serious and removed his arms from around her waist.

"Because I what? Was involved in pulling him into this. Because the wrong guy went to Rome that day?"

She looked at him squarely, saw the tears just behind his eyes that she knew he wouldn't let fall. She reached out and put her hand on his jaw. Tilting it down to really look at her.

"Because you think it's somehow your fault"

He lightly sniffed and started to stand but she was expecting this maneuver and was quick to pull him to her.

He was a little stiff so she continued,

"We have been over this before, wise guy. I know the entire story start to finish. In no way shape or form do I think you're responsible. Abby doesn't think it's your fault. Cammie doesn't think it's your fault. I love you. I know you. I dont want you to carry it with you all the time.

I also know, she said with a small laugh, that I have said all of this before in greater detail and you're still too stubborn to listen."

He whispered a barely audible "I know. On days like today....."

"Ya days like today can really suck but I have you. Thank you, by the way."

"For being miserable with you? Ya, ok there Ace."

He was starting to tease. That's good.

"I love you, Joe."

"I love you more".

She couldn't help herself. So she said "actually you know what I might love more than you? Whatever it is your cooking right now. I haven't eaten since breakfast and that smells amazing."

"It's a casserole and chocolate cake"

"I was so smart to remarry a man that could cook. Chocolate cake, huh? Matthew's favorite."

He chuckled as he kissed her softly. When he kissed her like that, they could forget what day it was just for a minute.

The timer went off for whatever was in the oven. Joe went to the kitchen and Rachel walked to the desk. She cleaned up the pile of papers. She put the journals in the top drawer and she looked at the photo on their desk. Matt, Joe, Abby and Rachel, holding a very tiny Cameron. She smiled softly.

Wait. Cammie.

"Joe, I didn't reach out to cammie today."

"I'm sure it's fine hon, she's in Prague with Zach. They are working. They'll keep eachother safe. He'll distact her."

"I know, but I wanted to say something to her. Its too late in Prague now."

He looked at her half amused and half guilty.

"Would now be a good time or a bad time to admit I used the dead drop saying that I hoped she was doing ok, we love her, that we both missed Matt too and that he would be really too proud of her?"

"Wait. You did?"

"Ya, you were so quiet about it all day that I wrote to her and signed both our names. I hope that's ok."

She laughed "ya, thats more than ok. Thank you"

The rest of their night was spent peacefully. Each switching between being reminiscent of the good things and shaken up by the loss. That's how November 19th normally passed.

As they laid in bed, Joe started playing with her hair she couldn't help but thinking that today was hard but that it was nothing compared to the days when they spent them apart. At least they still had each other to lean on and to miss Matthew together. November 20th was always a much easier day for both of them she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

#joe/rachel #gallagher girls #matt morgan #poor kids #sad day #fluff

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justatidalwaveoffeelings · 2 years

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In my mind Abby has an older middle name, after her grandmother or something. Its such a closely gaurded secret. She barely acknowledges the fact that she has a middle inital. It isn't until they get married that Edward figured out what it was. I bet he LOVES to call her Abigial Constance Cameron (or whatever older name you choose to insert).

#abigail cameron #edward townsend #ally carter #gallagher girls

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justatidalwaveoffeelings · 3 years

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Thanksgiving GG Style

Rachel: The Host™. Has spent the last two days frantically running around the cabin trying to clean up old dishes, dirty clothes, various lethal weapons, dusty cabinets, and confidential files. Emailed Madam Dabney to ask what kind of decorations she should use for their table. May or may not have borrowed a dress from the Gallagher Academy spy closet to wear.

Joe Solomon: Has kept Rachel from the brink of three mental breakdowns so far and prevented the house from burning down when she attempted to cook a sweet potato casserole. Spent all night checking on the security measures over the entire property (some habits never die). Was yelled at by Rachel for trying to wear the same flannel he wore all week to the dinner.

Cammie: Slept in and had to get ready in one hour. Almost burnt her hair off when she attempted to curl it before it was dry. How the hell does she manage to make a simple skirt and blouse look so good? She doesn’t tell anyone that Macey helped choose her outfit. Makes Zach stop by Starbucks on the drive down so that she can be fully awake before arriving at the house.

Zach: Was up at 5:30 AM sharp. Probably ran like 10 miles and caught a criminal before getting ready. Thought about waking Cammie up but was happy she was finally sleeping the whole night through and decided to let her rest. Watched the news while emptying the dishwasher. Rolled up his sleeves past his elbows because “he didn’t want to get food on them” but gave a sly wink at Cammie from across the table as she drooled slightly.

Bex: Got in from a mission at one in the morning and fell asleep on the couch. Woke up to Liz calling her phone to make sure she was remembering to bring the rolls. “Of course! I got them on my counter right here– no I did not just wake up!” (They were definitely not on her counter) Wore a casual yet classy all black outfit that turned heads when she sprinted into the grocery store and snatched the last pack of crescent rolls before a Karen could reach it.

Liz: Had her outfit planned two days in advance, her food prepared a week in advance, and an itinerary for the day on hand almost a month ago. Was in charge of all of the desserts. Ever since her first failed attempts while she was in the Academy, she had mastered the art of baking. Almost dropped all the pies down the stairs while getting to her car because she thought she should call Bex to make sure she got what she needed (she didn’t believe her one bit though).

Macey: The best dressed (of course). Almost used her laser lipstick instead of the regular one though. Her louboutins were a little out of place in the rustic cabin but it was clear she was perfectly at peace there. At one point was found standing out by the lake thinking about all the things that had happened since she had first woken up in this house. Got a call after dinner asking her to go on a mission the next day– “Is it somewhere warm? Sign me up.”

Preston: Excited little golden retriever ™. He was invited to a family holiday with all his friends!! It was the best day of his life (besides that one time he got to kiss Macey on the train). Still a little twinge of sadness as he tries to forget about why he isn’t spending it with his regular family, but Macey quickly distracts him with a kiss. “We’re your new family now!” Insists they listen to Christmas music for the entire drive so they can get “in the holiday mood.” Macey acts annoyed but soon joins in.

Abby: Is running late (definitely has nothing to do with Townsend getting in the shower with her–) Takes a call with a North Korean informant while casually putting on her makeup. Downs two cups of coffee before heading out the door. Texts Rachel to let her know that they are on their way and that they are sorry for being late. O shit! We forgot the napkins–

Townsend: Remembered the napkins. Just decided not to tell Abby he grabbed them so she could panic the rest of the way to the cabin. Usually hates holidays and large gatherings, but for the first time is excited okay with going. Made a green bean casserole that is surprisingly good considering he hasn’t cooked real food for three months. Offers to help Joe carve the Turkey. May or may not have been the one to start the game of knife throwing after dinner.

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justatidalwaveoffeelings · 3 years

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Literally my favorite way to kill time is reading this story.

Full Circle: 1982

If you missed it, Full Circle: 1982 has officially reached its end! Enjoy as an old friend stumbles back into Matthew Morgan's life, in a story that features Chicago baseball, unspoken love, and a whole lot of hope.

The smoothest reading experience will be on Ao3, but each chapter is also listed below. Enjoy! I definitely did!

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen

I don't know when 1984 will be coming out, but we'll take a decent break through the holidays. Stay tuned to my tumblr or my Instagram to see when that update is announced. Thanks for reading!

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justatidalwaveoffeelings · 3 years

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Love this answer. Not that I don't love all of them but I'm loving what you are doing with Rachel.

I've read in the past that Joe Solomon is your favorite character. I was curious now we are getting deeper into Full Circle, is he still your favorite? Do characters grow on you through your writing?

Great question! The truth about Joe Solomon is that I think he's always going to be my favorite character. Sometimes I forget, but the moment I reread the books, that man brings me to tears each and every time. The depth! The drama! The subtle humor! He's too much for me.

I will say, perhaps predictably, that as we get further into Full Circle, Matthew Morgan has grown on me quite a bit. I write about that boy for a reason—and that reason is that I adore him and his kind nature. But I love him for different reasons than I love Joe. I love Matt because he's mine, and I've made him just the way I want him. I love Joe because he informed my taste in characters. Matt is my soul, but Joe's the reason I have a soul in the first place.

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justatidalwaveoffeelings · 3 years

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🔪❤😵

I think my mind hates me because I reread OTGSY yesterday and I started thinking. So the girls (+ Zach, Abby, and Townsend) get back from Rome right before they go on Thanksgiving Break. So what if the day they found Matthew’s grave was also his birthday since his birthday was in late November. (Pretty sure his birthday is November 19th) It’d be kinda poetic too that they find his body on the day that celebrates his life. I’m sorry for this my brain like to imagine things that hurt me more.

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justatidalwaveoffeelings · 3 years

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Hi! Thanks for waiting. My life is picking up the pace this season, but I am bound and determined to get 1982 wrapped up. Please enjoy a chapter with exactly two lines of dialogue, and a whole lot of hope. If you're new here, you can read Full Circle from the beginning on Ao3. Enjoy!

Chapter Twelve

There’s a raw, anxious tension built into the very bones of surveillance.

It’s a slow, creeping curiosity that carves into all five senses and demands his full attention. It’s a silent, uncertain plea for all things need-to-know, simultaneously cautious and urgent. The inherent risk sends his heart racing and leaves him with a bitter, rusty taste in his mouth. His foot taps. His mind pricks. The more time he spends watching his mark, the more it seems his mark watches him right back.

This particular brand of stress comes with the territory of espionage—and it comes with Matt’s territory, especially. These days, he spends more time in Moscow than he does in the States, and most of that time is spent practicing surveillance, countersurveillance, or some hybrid combination of the two. He starts every day with a tail. Most of the time, he ends the evening with one, too. One wrong move exposes every covert intention, and the KGB don’t take too kindly to that sort of thing, so Matt’s gotten real good at laying low. He never had much of a choice.

But Matt’s not in Russia, he’s in Georgetown. And he’s not tailing Russian officials, he’s tailing Joe.

In their early days together, the girls told Matt that he had a natural talent for going unnoticed. He prays they’re right, because if anyone is likely to spot him, it’s Joe. Of course it’s Joe. Even with the rain and even under the cover of nightfall, Joe can pick Matt straight out of the shadows.

As he settles into the driver seat of an idling Impala, he asks himself which would be worse—facing the KGB or facing Joseph Solomon. He ultimately lands on the KGB, but he has to think about it.

Raindrops pitter and patter against the steel roof of his car as a wind blows freshly scarlet maple leaves down to the shimmering cobblestone. Moscow has already seen two snowstorms this season, but Georgetown is still a few weeks out from its first. Temperatures have only just started to drop below sixty overnight, so he leaves the key in the ignition for now, if only for the heat. The headlights and the radio, however, don’t make the cut.

There’s still plenty of life to the city, even at this hour. In the distance, a main avenue bustles with late-night diners and students leaving their evening classes. Matt finds himself tucked away on a quieter street just around the corner, wedged between a rusted pickup and a crooked parking job. Strangers shield themselves as they walk past him through the scattered storms. Red, white, and blue waves resolute from nearly every doorway in sight. The second-story window of a nearby brownstone flickers alight, casting gold into each round drop.

Matt’s breath catches. His attention halts. A familiar sense of spycraft creeps up his shoulders and clutches at him, holding him in place, as the hollow house sparks into movement.

He found the street name circled in a takeout menu, hanging from their front door after he returned from his latest trip to Leningrad. He pieced together the street numbers from a series of four overheard phone calls, whispered over the course of a week through a code that came to him like second nature. Georgetown was a lucky guess, leftover from his search in Manhattan, and he still hasn’t been able to pin down a rendezvous time—but it all leads him here. All the sleuthing, and sneaking, and spying. Every night, he parks in the same spot, watching the same row of houses, hoping that his hunch is wrong.

He’s still not sure if this particular brownstone is a safehouse or a permanent address. It could be a mark’s house, but he won’t let himself imagine what fate awaits those living within. All he knows for certain is that it’s Joe’s address, in one way or another. The rest is all mixed up between his mind and his heart, until he’s lost all semblance of fact, fiction, and prayer.

The flash of a lamp is the first sign of life he’s seen since he started this unofficial op, and he can’t decide whether it fills him with relief or further dread. Both, maybe. Relief that he isn’t wrong. Dread that he might be right. The two exist together, despite having every reason not to.

It’s instinct to scoot down in his seat, although he doesn’t get far. His legs get tangled up beside the brake pedal and his chest is still well above the steering wheel. He has to count on the darkness for cover, hiding his silhouette from any onlookers. He’s always been better in a crowd, but lightning shatters across the skies and there’s no one to share the sidewalks with in this weather. He’s on his own for this one. He has to be.

He didn’t see anyone go into the brownstone, but he waits patiently for someone to come out. As the minutes tick across the corner of his radio, he debates whether or not he should leave the car running. The noise of a settling engine may call attention, but every other car on the street is already parked. Does he risk the movement, or does he try his best to stay out of mind? If it is Joe in there, he’s likely to notice either way. Joe notices everything.

God, he hopes to the high heavens that it ain’t Joe.

He twists the key out of the ignition and gives in to the rolling taps of the growing rain. The digital clock stays aglow for another few minutes, but it clicks off after too much time has passed, tired of waiting. And waiting. And waiting some more. No one ever warned him about the waiting, and all of the silence that fills it.

But all of that escapes him the instant the front door opens. His shoulders tense and his eyes widen. His breaths give up on him as someone walks down wet, stone steps—but it isn’t Joe. Maybe he should be thankful that it isn’t Joe, except that he does recognize the agent. She has a familiar face, framed by brilliant red curls, as she waltzes down the stoop.

She’s graceful, and quick, and every bit as careful as she was below Wrigley Field. She risks a glance over her shoulder, as though she can feel Matt’s eyes on her, and he freezes. He outwaits her. Caught up in the storm, she must decide it's safe. She throws her hood over her hair and takes off toward the town, leaving the light on behind her.

If he wants to spare his soul, he could drive off now. He could sit with the satisfaction of knowing that Joe didn’t show—and pin it all on this mystery woman. He could report on the agency mole with confidence and pride, knowing that his dear friend held up under investigation, and never stumbled into any sustainable proof. He could do that, and he could save himself a whole lot of heartbreak.

But Matt knows better. He looks up toward the golden window and knows, without a doubt, that it is speaking to someone. It’s a signal, aimed at an agent far smarter than he is, so he waits for the message to reveal itself.

The cool air seeps through the glass of the windows, creeping up his fingertips first, then chipping into his shoulders, his nose, and the rosy red tips of his ears. Before long, he can start to see his breath, so he cracks a window to save his windshield from fogging. To save his cover from the cold. He swears the years get colder, the more they pass him by.

An hour passes. Then two. He glances at his watch and decides there will be no pass tonight. He’ll head home and lean into a steaming hot shower, then study his case file for Tula. He should be studying. He should be home. There is so much more he could be doing.

His keys are already scratching against the ignition when he spots the umbrella.

It’s one of two dozen black umbrellas to pass him this evening. There’s nothing special or unusual about it—which is exactly what gives him pause. Something in the indistinguishable stride sends a shiver shredding down Matt’s goosebumped spine, and his chest bloats with all of the hope that he’s horribly and hilariously mistaken.

He wants this man to be one in the crowd. He wants this man to continue down the red brick sidewalk, and he wants to go home to see Joe without a drop of rain on him. He wants to be a terrible, talentless spy and he wants to be paranoid. He wants to be foolish. Any of it is better than being right.

The man with the black umbrella climbs the staircase of the mysterious brownstone. When he reaches the top, he pulls his umbrella down, and Matt’s heart drops into his gut as hope gives way to damning evidence.

The first time he met Joe, they were wearing Army greens while Drill Sergeants screamed at them, and Matt was scared.

The second time he met Joe, they were caught in a crowd of prayer while Joe bled out in Italian streets, and Matt was scared then, too.

Watching his partner walk through the door of an unsanctioned safehouse, Matt knows that there will be a third time they meet. It’ll come after all of the accusations. It’ll come after all of the lies have come to light. But it will come soon, and it will be the scariest meeting yet. Matt ain’t certain about a lot of things at this moment, but he knows at least that much.

But it won’t come tonight. Tonight is for watching, and waiting, and trying to understand. Tonight is his last shot at proving Joe’s innocence. Tonight, he’s still allowed to hope.

Joe doesn’t take nearly as long as the girl did, which is a shame. Matt would have happily taken those extra minutes in ignorant bliss, but he doesn’t get that chance. It’s not long at all before the window light flickers back off—message received. Dead drop successful.

When he leaves, Joe doesn’t look over his shoulder. He doesn’t miss a single step. He’s an absolute professional as he takes off in the same direction he came. The man with the black umbrella takes on a seamless stride, then vanishes into the bustle of the busier streets.

Matt finds himself waiting once more, because it’s in his training. Because he’s well practiced in the art of surveillance. Because he needs to steal these few bittersweet seconds to calm himself. His own heat begins to thaw him from the inside out and he’s angry. Angry at Joe. Angry at himself. Angry at the shriveled-up shred of trust they once shared. Angry at the agency, and at the world, and at God himself.

A righteous fury lands in the palm of his hands as he slams them into the top of his steering wheel. Once. Twice. Three, four, five times. “Dammit, Joe.”

The car throws his own voice back at him, and it stuffs up his throat. Settles in his jaw. His eyes begin to sting, but he bites the tears back and starts the car. “Dammit Joe,” he says again. “How am I supposed to help you now?”

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justatidalwaveoffeelings · 3 years

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*Headcannon* This has been in my head for awhile so here it is. Sorry for any mistakes. I'm still by no means a writer. Just a serious fangirl for this series.

FAR FROM HOME

Matt at least at one point in his career calls Rachel when he's not supposed to(maybe more). He's probably somewhere really far away, off with Joe chasing down the circle. It just hits him that he's off with his best freind and that his wife and baby are faaarrrr away. It starts to nag him but he pushes off the feeling until they get to the hotel. Joe is in the room next door and as far Matt can tell even JOE fell asleep faster than he did. Matt just starts to feel sick to his gut so he picks up his burner phone and he calls her. It rings for so long it goes to voicemail. Panic starts to rise in his throat. What time is it at home? He doesn't know. He NEEDS her to pick up the phone. He calls again. Hello? He clearly woke her up and he feels bad for that but the second that he hears her voice he starts to cry. In relief? Sadness? He doesn't know its all just too much right now. He tells her that he has never missed her this much on a mission. Hes longing to come home. To lie next to her in bed. To check on baby Cameron. That he misses Cammie. He hasn't missed any mile stones right? He wants to he home. He wants to help Joe, he loves Joe- his brother. It's worth it but that doesn't mean it isn't catching up with him. Man he really wants to be home.

Rachel was definitely super worried about him. It's only been a week and he's never been so upset on the job that he called her. He must be tired. She heard him out, comforts him, tells him he's loved, that she misses him as well. She also tries to persuade him to hang up. Hes a spy, he should know better. That he'll be ok, he should go talk to Joe. Matt is firm that he needs to be talking with HER. He doesn't want to wake up Joe and disrupt the very few hours of sleep he'll get tonight. Please Rach. Please just stay on the phone. So she does, against her better judgment she let's him stay on the line. She tells him to at least lie back down and relax. They will just talk some more. Matt eventually just falls asleep listening to her voice. Tears still on his pillow.

Once Rachel is sure that he's out, she calls Joe. Basically asks him, so you were up right? Of course he was. He couldn't hear Rachel's side of the conversation but he heard Matt. Joe knew that he was off, hurting. He asked Rachel if he should do something further? They both knew not to wake him up. It would do Matt more harm than good to know that Joe was woken up by his crying. Joe promised Rachel not to let him do anything too stupid. So long as he could keep him together for a few more days. For all the things that Matthew Morgan does for Joe, he can return the favor until they get home sometime next week.

When Rachel and Abby went to pick them up at Langly, Matt just about cried all over again. Rachel had expected it and didn't mind holding him a little longer than usual. He was just relieved to see her and hold her and Cammie. He'd snap out of it eventually. He was still a tough farm boy but he had a soft spot for her and his little girl. He needed to go put in for a sick week ASAP. He was so tired and homesick-neither like he had ever felt before. Joe did a good job distracting little baby Cammie and Abby just looked at her little crew like they were crazy.

Later that week Joe came to the Morgan household for dinner. Over the dinner table Matt caught Joe and Rachel having some conversation with their eyes. When he got the chance Matt grilled Joe and begged him not to tell anyone. He just knew that Joe knew. He and Rachel kept giving eachother a "Matt's good right?" kind of look. Joe promised it was a way to personal not to mention pathetic thing for him to pass on. Matt had nothing to worry about. He knew that it was going to be ok. He had Joe, and Rachel and Abby and Cammie. Matt was certian that these would be his people till they died.

#gallagher girls #matt morgan #rachel cameron #abigail cameron #joe solomon #farm boy #far away #cammie morgan #matthew morgan #ok im done

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