A Voice in the Dark

Chapter XIII

TITLE: A Voice in the Dark

AUTHOR: Lexie aka lillianschild

FANDOM: Spooks/MI5

RATING: PG13/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.

CHAPTER XIII

ANNABELLE'S FLAT- LONDON- EARLY MORNING

Annabelle got up the next morning to find London covered in snow and with no prospect of seeing the weather improve any time soon.

Stubbornly, refusing to accept the incontestable evidence in front of her eyes, she contacted Heathrow only to have her slim hopes crushed. All London airports had shut down because of the storm and no planes were either landing or taking off; a situation that would continue for at least another forty-eight hours, according to the weather forecast.

As unsavoury as the idea of being stuck in the capital was, hitting the motorway home in such a heavy snowstorm with nil visibility would be suicide, and she still loved life too much to risk it on a rushed decision prompted by heartache.

Sitting down on her comfortable sofa with a glass of white wine and a tray of crackers, cheese, seasoned olives and cured ham she'd bought at her favourite charcuterie, she grabbed the remote and began surfing the channels in search of something to distract her.

In two days' time she'd be on her way back home, away from London. As devastated as she felt, she told herself that this would pass. She needed to put a long distance between herself and these last painful months; she needed a refuge where to lick her wounds and find her emotional equilibrium.

The phone rang all of a sudden, taking her out of her reveries. She fumbled with the remote to mute the old Christmas classic which had been playing largely unwatched and picked up the receiver. The caller was probably Jo, inviting her over to have a drink.

“Hello?” she said, trying to keep her voice light.

“Annabelle?”

It wasn't her former colleague from The Grid but a deep chocolatey voice that oozed masculinity and one whose every nuance she'd have recognised anywhere. Not even the metallic distortion of the phone had managed to disguise the identity of its owner or diminish the allure of its enveloping nature.

“Annabelle,” he repeated.

“Yes,” she whispered shakily, fleetingly trying to put a finger on why hearing his voice over phone had made something flutter at the back of her mind.

“I wasn't sure you'd still be around.”

“All flights in and out of town have been cancelled because of the snowstorm.”

“This is one of those rare times when I'm actually grateful for London's weather... I'd like to see you, Annabelle. There are things I need to say. I...”

“I don't think there's anything left to say between us,” she cut him off. “And even if I were to hear you out, I don't see how that would change anything. I'd never be able to believe a word that came out of your mouth. You did nothing but lie to me. Every time you touched me, every whispered word in the dark was a lie. Your body, your voice and hands said you cared about me when all the time you were lying.I should have known better... I was a fool. After all, wasn't you who told me that everyone lies?”