Disappointment settles in my stomach, unexpected and unwelcome. We've been talking for hours, but it feels like minutes.
I gather my belongings. My laptop case, badge, half-empty coffee cup. "Thanks for the questions. About Prague. Most people don't dig that deep into technical analysis."
"Most people don't brief like you do." Micah stands when I do, moving with that same controlled grace I noticed earlier. "Clear, logical, no unnecessary qualifiers. You trust your conclusions."
"Because the data supports them."
"Exactly." His expression shifts. Respect, maybe, or recognition of a kindred spirit. "There's an interagency taskforce meeting next month. Counterterrorism coordination, probably similar format to today's briefing. You'll be there?"
My throat tightens.
"Probably. Harper usually sends me to those."
"Good." Micah's almost-smile becomes an actual smile, brief but genuine. "Looking forward to your next analysis, Ms. Andrews."
"Sarah."
"Sarah." The way he says my name sends heat up my spine that has no place in an NSA cafeteria. "I'm Micah."
I already know—he introduced himself earlier. But hearing him offer his first name again feels significant, a small permission granted.
"See you next month, Micah."
"Count on it."
I watch him walk away. He moves easily, awareness of surroundings evident even in a secure federal building. He's someone who's spent time in places where letting your guard down gets you killed.
When I finally return to my desk in the signals analysis division, I can't focus on the intercept reports waiting for review. My brain keeps replaying conversations, analyzing patterns in speech and body language the way I normally analyze encrypted communications.
Micah Hawthorne works for CIA Special Activities Division. A man abandoned by his mother, shaped by his father's classified work, who carries expectations of people leaving like armor against disappointment. He asked if I'd be at next month's meeting with the kind of intensity that suggested the answer mattered.
Except I'm already calculating whether weeks are enough time to forget the way his eyes tracked me during that briefing, or the ease of our conversation. They're probably not.
My phone buzzes with a calendar reminder for tomorrow's briefing on signals intercepts from Balkan trafficking networks. Work continues in its endless cycle of intelligence gathering and analysis and threat assessment. This is what I do, what I'm good at—seeing patterns, making connections, building cases from fragments of intercepted data.
I'm just not usually the subject of someone else's attention the way Micah watched me today. The next taskforce meeting is four weeks away.
I tell myself I'm not counting down. But days later I catch myself glancing at my calendar during a routine briefing on Russian encryption protocols. It's still weeks away. The next afternoon, while cross-referencing shell companies with known terrorist financing networks, my mind drifts. It's getting closer.
By week's end, I've developed a new habit. Checking my calendar isn't about upcoming briefings anymore. It's about calculating how many days until I see him again, and I'm simultaneously annoyed at myself for caring and unable to stop.
Harper notices during our weekly one-on-one review session.
"You're distracted," he says, closing the folder containing my latest analysis on European trafficking operations. "Everything alright?"
"Fine." I straighten in my chair, forcing professional focus. "Just working through some complex pattern recognition on the Istanbul intercepts."
"Mmm." Harper's been in intelligence long enough to recognize deflection when he hears it, but he doesn't push. "Good work on the Prague assessment, by the way. CIA found it particularly insightful."
My pulse jumps before I can control it. "They did?"
"Hawthorne specifically requested follow-up materials." Harper pulls out another file. "He's running an op that intersects with our communication networks. Wants to coordinate with you on signal patterns in the Balkans."
Professional coordination. Operational necessity. Nothing more.
"Of course. I can prepare an updated brief."
"He'll be at next month's taskforce meeting. You two can coordinate then." Harper slides the file across his desk. "In the meantime, focus on the Istanbul node. Something's happening there. Traffic patterns shifted recently."
