After what had been a hellish first day over at the Wilde’s clinic, Graham was finally getting into the swing of things. Despite his first encounter on the job, and an entrance less subtle than the one he’d been planning, he’d eventually managed to convince Alba – or, rather, Niamh, which seemed to be the alias she was going by – that he wasn’t to be feared. Naturally there wasn’t an ounce of sincerity in the way he’d interacted with her, feigning ignorance and acting as though he didn’t have the faintest clue who she was, being that he was nothing but an innocent bystander, a lowly janitor starting a new job. In all honestly, even if he had done something of a double take, and had taken a moment to recognise her past her new haircut, and the subtle changes she’d made to disguise herself, there was no mistaking that he’d found his mark. He only hoped their initial meeting hadn’t put a dent in his plans, but he could only hope she wasn’t still holding something of a grudge for the way he’d blundered in, an injured kitten bundled into his arms. After all, his concern and frantic desire for the cat to be seen to had just about been the only honest moment that the two had shared thus far.
He was slowly settling down, though, and after weeks of shying away from unnecessary conversations, keeping his head down, and making no firm attachments, he’d gotten used to the every day routines that surrounded the clinic. He’d grown used to Todd flitting in and out of rooms, his tiny redhead friend in tow, the two of them always leaving a heap of candy wrappers lying in the trash for Graham to dispose of – he’d even grown used to the way she (Anna, he was sure her name was) often ogled him, and the unmistakable pink tinge of her cheeks whenever he caught her staring. He’s become accustomed to Judy, who spent a large amount of her time at the clinic, sharing her company between Alba – Niamh – and Nick, and on occasion Todd, too. Hunt had spoken very carelessly of Judy Hopper, insisting that Graham needn’t give her a second thought, nor anyone else that worked down at the Cherry Grove station. Hunt was cocky, his arrogance knew no bounds, a trait that shone through when he spoke of others. He was convinced that the likes of Hopper and her coworkers would cause no interference into the case, that she was nothing but a Meter Maid and so wouldn’t have the brain capacity to even fathom the level of secrecy and sincerity that their operation required. Hunt didn’t see her as a threat, but Graham knew better than to underestimate her. She was good at her job, and he was certain she was a whole lot smarter than people perceived her to be.
So, yes, Graham was getting the hang of things. In fact, he’d even gotten used to the presence of–
Graham’s train of thought was immediately broken, as his body collided with someone else’s, and he instantly struck out an arm to steady the stranger. He’d been so deep into his own head, trundling through the woods, barely registering the fact that he’d wandered away from the trail he’d been following, when he’d collided with someone. What had meant to be a relaxing day off, venturing out for a solitary hike and enjoying the peacefulness of Cherry Grove’s nature reserves and hiking trails, had turned into Graham completely losing track of time, completely trapped in his own mind.
Finally lifting his gaze, his hand haphazardly clinging onto the waist of a total stranger – he knew that he frequently underestimated his own size and weight, Scarlett had often told him as such, and so he hadn’t wanted to injure someone, or to imbalance them entirely – he found himself staring up into a very familiar face. In fact, the exact person he’d just been thinking of merely moments before.
“Christ, shite, Farrah,” he muttered, snatching his hand away from the girl once he was certain she was upright.
He winced as her name fell from his lips, his accent completely mutilating an otherwise nice name. Hunt and his buddies had always been very insistent in their mockery of Graham’s accent, noting how even after all these years he’d still clung onto it, never losing that Holywood drawl. They taunted and teased him, tearing him to shreds anytime he couldn’t manage the simple roll of the ‘r’ sound that came with words such as mirror, and now evidently Farrah. His failure to enunciate even some of the more simpler words seems something of a burden to his foster family.
“Sorry 'bout tha’, sweet'eart,” he apologised, exhaling sharply. “Didn'e see ye there, so I didn’t. Ye'ra, got meself all in a tizzy an’ wasn’t watchin’ where a’ was goin’.”
He pursed his lips, awkwardly smiling at the girl, as it dawned on her that his rather erratic apology also happened to be the most words he’d ever uttered to his new coworker.
Farrah’s therapist always liked to hear that her patient was being active. The young woman’s shoulder had stopped seizing up, despite the remnants of shrapnel lodged in there, and her physio instructor credited her energetic schedule for that. There was little time for rest in Farrah Brown’s life what with school and cheerleading practise and her eagerness to be outdoors on a hiking trail. Perhaps if she was a little bit lazier, she would be prone to lying around and letting her shoulder grow stiff. Then her muscle tissue would fall victim to a fierce ache and the internal souvenir she’d unwillingly brought home from Afghanistan would present itself as a bigger problem than it currently was. No, the more she kept moving, the safer (and happier) she would be.
One of her days off found her on a familiar hiking trail that, admittedly, paled in comparison to the ones in Virginia. She knew those mountain paths like the back of her hands, having always traipsed through them as her little legs struggled to keep up with her older brother and her father. It had upped her stamina levels, that constant scurrying up gravel paths and climbing over rocks in an effort to prove that, as tiny as she was, she was just as suited for mountain climbing as Jay and her father were. It had helped her when she turned eighteen and enrolled for training in the Marines, as being a female in a male-dominated company drew some attention that brought with it a negative stigma concerning a young woman’s ability to keep up with the men in her company. But she’d managed just fine.
Her dog tags were cool against her otherwise sweaty neck, but the weight of them as they rested on her chest was familiar and reassuring as she pushed further up the trail. Her pigtails swung from side to side and she clutched onto the straps of her backpack, making sure she watched where she was going as the trail lost its way a little bit and she had to pay attention to the nature-made ruts in the ground instead.
Hopping down from one rock to another required all of her concentration, as she was wrapped in so many layers to ward off the cold weather, that her scarf threatened to obscure her vision. Yanking it down a little, she jumped from the last rock and landed safely on the ground, swivelling around quickly to get back on track when she was greeted with the feeling of a solid body crashing into her.
Admittedly, her first instinct was to panic and a startled gasp crawled its way out of her throat as soon as the stranger gripped onto her waist. It wasn’t a threatening hold, but her mind was a little too fuzzy with fear to instantly be able to make sense of the situation, too busy roaming through her catalogue of training moves from Marine camp. She wanted to remember exactly how to transfer this man’s weight onto her back so she could flip him over her shoulder and onto his own.
But that was soon deemed unnecessary when she heard the man’s accent and she stood up straight at once with a little ‘oh!’ of recognition.
Hearing Graham curse was funny, because it was like hearing a teacher curse. She knew that her co-worker wasn’t a teacher by any means, but he still had that cute fluffy-haired look to him and kept himself to himself most of the time, often muttering an occasional ‘good morning’ to her from behind the rim of his coffee mug while keeping a distance between the two of them that Farrah told herself wasn’t anything personal. Maybe he was just shy? She could be difficult to take at face value after all, especially seeing as she didn’t know when to stop talking sometimes.
“Christ shite, Graham!” she giggled, raising her eyebrows at him as a wide and cheeky grin made itself at home on her face. The sight of him, wide-eyed and apologetic and looking like he had no idea what to do, only made her giggle again.
“You’re totally fine!” she reassured him then giggled once more for good measure. Farrah was a giggler. It drove Violet crazy.
“I didn’t see you either, I was too busy hop-skipping-and-jumping my way down these rocks. Are you hiking? I didn’t know you hiked! I mean, I say that in a way that implies I know a lot about you when I don’t because I definitely haven’t tried to look you up on Facebook or anything like that or anything just to make sure you actually existed or whatever, but anyway, what I mean is you didn’t really seem like the kind to go hiking,” she explained, then widened her eyes when she realised that could be misconstrued as rude. She had been clutching one of her pigtails and smacked the offending braid against her forehead. “No! Sorry! What I mean is, I didn’t know if you were just kind of an indoors guy or… if you were allergic to… trees.”
She trailed off then clamped her mouth shut then spun on the spot and pretended like she was surveying the woods around them.
“So, it’s October,” she announced, pointing a finger skyward as if the shelter of orange leaves above them were a clear indication of the month. Really, she had just hoped it would be a good conversation starter if they both agreed where they stood in the calendar year. As if Graham would nod hastily and say ‘oh, it is October, isn’t it?’ like he hadn’t realised before and Farrah would eagerly nod and her previous blunder would swiftly be forgotten. It was unlikely that would pan out, but she held out hope nevertheless.
