"It's fun to enjoy the mystery…" Christmas Special #2 (Ava version) (Patreon)

At the Agency Christmas Party. Christmas Eve. Late Evening.

“This is pointless,” Ava states with a groan.

“The party?” I ask.

She clasps her hands behind her back with a shake of her head. “This is merely an excuse for people to act without propriety. This ‘party’ will inevitably run out of control.”

“You mean people are only here wanting to enjoy themselves?” I gasp, glancing to her with a smile I can’t hide. “Oh no! The horror of it.”

She arches a brow. “Are you mocking me?”

I pinch my fingers almost together. “Just a little bit.”

A breath of a laugh escapes her which makes my body sing with happiness. Her amusement fades, but the quiet, poignant moment between us doesn’t. Her lips part, and I hold my breath, my gaze captured by the slight motion.

She clears her throat and straightens herself out. “Do you require some form of libation?”

“Are you asking me if I want a drink?”

She turns to me with a pleading gaze. “Please, give me a task.”

I chuckle. “Alright. Then I would love a drink, thank you.”

Relief rolls across her features. “I shall return shortly.”

I nod, offering her a small wave as she takes off through the crowd, making barely concealed grimaces at the people who try to get her to join in with any kind of merriment.

Turning my gaze back to the room, it’s hard to escape how the common room at the Facility has gone from a cosy, homey space to looking like it’s been vomited on by a bunch of Christmas fairies. A thought which flitters across my mind and has me wondering if they actually exist….

But the crowd seem to be enjoying it as they bustle and jostle for space around the room, avoiding the huge Christmas tree set up in the centre, dripping with an assortment of baubles—both modern and vintage—and tall enough that the tip bends against the ceiling.

“I swear they choose a bigger one every year,” someone comments from beside me.

I swing my head around, greeted by a strikingly beautiful face I don’t recognise, so I try to school my surprise into a smile. “With the amount of power most people here have, I bet they could just make the room fit it instead.”

The woman lets out a cheery laugh, and for some reason, I can’t help but join in. It’s a tinkling sound which manages to block out the corny Christmas tunes blasting away all around us.

She meets my gaze again, the lights of the tree sparkling like stars in her midnight black eyes. Our attention holds for a moment longer than needed before she turns to look up at the top of the tree. As she does, her short waves of dark hair skim the tops of her glimmer-highlighted cheekbones.

“It’s a shame the rest of my comrades aren’t here to see it tonight,” she states, sliding her hands into her pockets. The rich fabric of the tailored navy pinstripe suit barely rustles at the motion.

“Comrades?” I ask, glancing about the crowd. “Are you part of a team?”

She shakes her head. “No. I’m a Tactical Agent. I work alone.” Her gaze dances slowly down and then drags back up the length of my body before her lips slide into a dazzling smile. “Though I have been known to partner up. For the right person, of course.”

A flash of heat sizzles beneath my skin. “Is that so?”

Wait…am I flirting with this woman?

I roll my lips together at the thought, unable to glance away from the stranger.

At least until another, much stronger presence, draws my focus away like a magnetic pull.

“Dal-rae,” Ava greets the woman with a stiff nod. “It has been a while.”

Dal-rae’s bright smile barely flinches as she turns it on Ava instead. “So it has.”

The two remain locked in some kind of silent conversation until I clear my throat.

“Is that my drink?” I ask, glancing to where Ava’s grip is so tight around the glass tumbler that a small crack has formed. Thankfully the liquid remains inside.

“Ah yes,” she stumbles, shoving the glass towards me. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

“Well, I won’t hog your attention all evening. As much as I wish I could,” Dal-rae interrupts as she turns the full focus of her charm back on me. It’s difficult to be even slightly immune. “It was good to meet you—”

I open my mouth to give my name when she holds up a hand. “No. I’d rather not know yet. It’s fun to enjoy the mystery.” She then bobs a final nod of goodbye at Ava and saunters back into the crowd.

Ava and I stare after her for a moment, look at each other…and then quickly at the floor.

“It seems you were pleased for her attention,” she finally says after the awkwardly drawn-out silence.

“Is that bad?” I ask, staring down into my drink.

“No.”

“Then why do you make it sound like a problem?” I scoff as I look to her with wide eyes. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

It was intended as a joke. Or a challenge, maybe. I didn’t seriously expect an answer.

Especially not the one she gives.

“Yes.”

My drink almost drops from my hand as shock freezes me in place. “What?”

She stares ahead at the tree, her neck muscles taut as though fighting with herself not to look at me. “You think I do not wish I could be so free with you?” She swallows hard and now dares to meet my gaze. “That I could be the one to make you smile in such a way?”

My breath stutters in my chest. “Then why don’t you? Flirtation is harmless.”

“Not for me,” she replies. “Especially not with you.” Her lips flicker into a hollow smile. “And I don’t believe mere flirtation is what either of us wishes.”

If there is music around us, I don’t hear it. If there are other people near us, I don’t see them. But the palpable, heated tension which prickles in the air around us I do feel. I feel it with so much intensity it makes my heart want to burst.

She’s right. Flirtation is fun, but what I feel for Ava—what I really feel—is something so deep it’s almost terrifying. And it is wholly consuming.

“What is it you wish?” I breathe out.

The sadness in her smile lifts as she reaches out to cup my cheek, her thumb brushing along my jaw. “I wish for you,” the softness in her eyes ices over, “to be happy. I wish for you to be happy.”

Her hand falls away, and all of a sudden, the room whirls back into my reality, my head spinning with the force of it, my body almost sore from the impact of it.

A cheer erupts from the buffet table where people are clanking glasses together and wishing each other a good holiday.

As our hands hang loose at our sides, the back of Ava’s fingers brush against mine.

“Merry Christmas, Detective,” she whispers. And when her fingers steady to remain against mine, my frantic pulse calms to a steady, peaceful rhythm.

I smile. “Merry Christmas, Ava.”