My Goodness im soo nervous posting this..first its graceland; i love the show but i never thought i'd get a muse to write..and its a Mabby ficlet..
In all honesty i couldn't decide who to ship mike with xD Every episode its something else, and well, i still haven't figured out where i stand...besides, the Abby/Mike area here is kinda collecting dust..i don't like that..

My bestfriend/sis/beta hasn't seen this..i blame her internet..had to post, Anywhoo,



"does everyone in this house has a gun? who are you?"

He spun again in his rotating chair, watching the world blur into a mass of colors, before focusing again.

He took a deep breathe, trying to reform a line of intertwining thoughts. His blue eyes racked the desk before him, stacks of papers perfectly aligned, labeled and ready for the next meeting.

"abbs come on, you know who I am,"

"do I? 'cause I really don't feel like it, "

He uncapped his pen, bringing his notebook to him, stopping inches before the paper.

What was the case again?

"you're over reacting"


He was finally here. Here being in DC, on the fast track to his childhood dream. finally here. No roadblocks, no abrupt detours, but a long wide one way street for him to walk on.

He had a purpose. He knew who he was.

"who are you, mike? call me if you ever figure that out, okay?"

That final conversation with her replayed in his mind, over, and over, and over again. Those where the words that opened doors and windows he didn't know existed in him. For those are the last words she uttered to him, pressing her lips to his, before walking out of his diluted life.

But she was here, near.

From the moment the plane touched down he was whisked away into the whirlpool of work. till this very moment, he had done a very good job with not fighting against the current. Closing in all thoughts of Graceland. Including, all thoughts of Abby, the summer fling that he fell hard for.

He spent most his time either working, or thinking of working.

He was so busy that he forgot he fell for her. He was so busy that he forgot she was here. On the east coast.

In DC with him.

The thought of her proximity to him stirred the familiar feeling from the pit of his stomach.

"who are you, mike? call me if you ever figure that out, okay?"

He could still hear her uttering those words to him.

He could still see the betrayal she had in her eyes.

He could almost smell the distinct scent of her shampoo, a blur of a black dress, perfect on her.

Big brown eyes, long brown hair, coral lips curled in a-

His eyes snapped open, blinking rapidly.

Mike Warren did not daydream.

He pursed his lips, recapping the pen and placing it neatly on top of the open note book.

He spun in his chair again, coherent thoughts lost.

He whipped his phone out from his jacket that currently hung on the back of his seat, feeling its weight in his hands before his fingers dialed the familiar number, without even realizing that he pressed call, his stomach sank as he brought the phone up to his ear, unable to press the red flashing button.

Familiar butterflies fluttered in his stomach increased with every dial.

Half of him, more prominent part of him wanted to hear her soft understanding voice. The part that wanted to finally see her for real.

The smaller half of him, silently prayed that she changed her phone number. that she somehow lost it, that a stranger would answer. What if she was too busy with her studies? What if she was working right now? What if she was seeing some one? What if she was already over him?

That last thought twisted ice daggers into his spine.


His eyes flew open, breathe caught in his throat.


. . .