#the handler x reader

1. only fem or gn reader ! this is a sapphic blog :3

2. i will write for:

elizabeth lail

amy hughes

vanessa shelly/afton

kathryn hahn

agatha harkness

claire debella

doc ock (olivia octavius)

aubrey plaza

rio vidal

cat adams

lenny busker

riley johnson

kate walsh

addison montgomery

the handler

caterina scorsone

amelia shepherd

stana katic

kate beckett

(if you'd like to request any other characters played by different actresses such as; gwendoline christie characters or vera farmiga characters let me know !!)

i write;

smut,

angst,

Come one, come all, and let some bored guy on the internet do his matchmaking mojo on you!!

Baseline info:

if you want a romantic and/or platonic match, your gender pref (if romantic)

your positive and negative personality traits

habits and hobbies

likes and dislikes

Go nuts. The more info you give me, the more accurate I can write you^^ Don't be afraid to gush about yourself.

You can request for a specific group in the show (ie. specifically the Umbrellas, or specifically the s2 cast); or tell me a character/group you don't want to be paired with (ie. if you for some reason HATE the Swede triplet Oscar in particular you can tell me and I'll make a note of it HA)

Heads up, it's gonna be real fucking empty for a while.

𝕄𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕖𝕨 ℝ𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕦𝕚𝕥 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤

Words: 301

There isn't that many EOD members we know of, so this features Prism as well.

Personagem: The Handler/A Gestora

The Umbrella Academy

Imagine | Fanfic

A Gestora e você estão deitadas na cama, conversando sobre o rumo que poderá levar o relacionamento de vocês, e isso inclui a vontade dela de que você fale abertamente sobre isso com os seus irmãos.

— Os meus irmãos me matariam se soubessem de nós. Eu não posso contar.

— Só porque você teve sorte de conseguir um relacionamento, diferente deles? — Handler pergunta em um tom provocativo.

— Sabe bem que não é por isso. — Você diz de imediato, suspirando. — Não é como se eles não tivessem as razões deles.

— Mas e você? Na teoria você deveria estar do lado deles, ou eu estou errada?

— Não está. — Você a encara com cuidado, analisando as suas próximas palavras. — Mas eu não posso simplesmente fingir que não estou sentindo o que estou sentindo. E você... Você tem um lado que eles não conhecem. Mas eu sei que eles não iriam se dar uma chance de conhecer.

Ela te encara com uma expressão gentil, estendendo a mão para acariciar o seu rosto com cuidado. Esse toque sempre te causa arrepios. Na verdade, A Gestora sempre te causa arrepios.

— Não me admira eles não conhecerem, essa minha versão só você possui, querida. E demorou para consegui-la, aliás.

— E por que eu? — Você permite que a sua curiosidade tome conta ao olhá-la fixamente.

— Porque... Porque você é diferente de qualquer outra pessoa que eu já tenha conhecido. E olha que eu já conheci várias em diversas épocas. — Ela brinca por um momento. — Você viu algo em mim; algo bom, mesmo quando eu estava tentando te convencer do contrário.

— Eu realmente enxerguei isso. Está em você.

— Nós duas sabemos que não é bem assim. Eu tenho outros lados, e eu me orgulho deles também. — Ela se aproxima para depositar um beijo demorado em seus lábios. — Só você consegue aflorar esse jeito em mim. Eu não acho que eu lidaria bem tentando ser do mesmo jeito com alguém mais. De qualquer forma, seus irmãos já estão acostumados com isso.

— Eu não quero ver vocês brigando, e eu sei que isso tem chances de acontecer se eu te apresentar a eles como a minha namorada.

A expressão dela muda, fazendo-a suspirar e afastar a mão de seu rosto. Você consegue sentir o frio se fazendo presente na área em que ela deixou de tocar. Evidentemente ela ficou chateada.

— Por que você está comigo, S/N? Porque eu tenho a impressão de que mesmo que você veja o melhor em mim, esse é o meu único lado que você quer enxergar.

— Não diga isso. Não é verdade. — Você a encara com total atenção, logo tratando de se defender.

— Você por acaso aceita bem cada pessoa que eu assassinei? Os planejamentos que fiz da morte de outras? O tipo de equipe com a qual eu trabalho?

Você continua a encarando, mas desta vez em silêncio, sentindo-se encurralada por não saber ao certo o que responder. Afinal, você já tem um posicionamento sobre todas essas atitudes, ainda que esteja apaixonada.

— Vê? Você sabe que não aceita nada disso. — Ela exibe um sorriso irônico.

— Você não sente uma mínima vontade de deixar tudo isso para trás?

— Você ainda não me disse o motivo de estar comigo. — Ela destaca, provavelmente tentando ignorar a pergunta.

Você se aproxima dela mais uma vez, puxando-a para perto e a beijando com desejo. Ela retribui no mesmo instante, trazendo você para mais perto ainda, enquanto ela desliza a língua dentro de sua boca. As duas suspiram, querendo que o contato não termine nunca.

Ficar deitada com ela na cama é uma de suas coisas favoritas, pois ali vocês não têm o dever de serem "inimigas". Você se permite esquecer de tudo, até mesmo do fim do mundo que supostamente pode acontecer a qualquer momento.

— Eu amo você. — Você diz em um sussurro, com os seus olhos abrindo-se aos poucos. — No fundo eu sei que eu não devia ter deixado isso acontecer, você também sabe, mas aconteceu.

Ela te observa com interesse e atenção.

— Eu também amo você, querida.

— E justamente porque eu a amo, eu não irei mentir. Você já deve saber que eu não concordo com essas coisas. Acredite, eu tenho tentado ao máximo entender o seu trabalho e a necessidade dele para que haja equilíbrio, porém...

— Porém aceitar que o fim do mundo está incluso nisso é algo que você não pode compreender.

— Isso com certeza é algo de que eu não sou capaz de entender. — Você confessa.

Ela te encara em silêncio por alguns instantes, com a expressão completamente ilegível. Não dá para imaginar no que ela está pensando e o que sairá de sua boca. De toda forma, o fim do mundo é mesmo algo que habita constantemente a sua mente. Parece egoísta, mas a pior coisa parece ser perder ela.

— Eu não quero perder você. — Ela te pega de surpresa com essa frase, quase como se tivesse sido você mesma a dizer isso. — Eu não quero mais o fim do mundo, mesmo que seja pelo trabalho, pois isso significaria que não teríamos mais a nossa chance.

— Então quer dizer...

— Que podemos explodir aquele lugar de merda e o meu chefe junto. Na verdade, eu acho que poderíamos fritá-lo.

— Precisamos chegar a esse ponto? — Você pergunta com a expressão incrédula ao imaginar em detalhes.

— Querida, você não pode esperar que eu desista de tudo por você se não for com estilo. — Ela arqueia uma sobrancelha, sorrindo maliciosamente.

— Justo.

When The Handler first decides to protect you, it’s for her own needs. She probably thinks you could be useful to her.

Over time, when things don’t go according to her plan, she still finds herself protecting you. Mostly just hiding you away, keeping you safe for when she still thought you’d be needed.

But then she was protecting you for you. She spent time with you periodically, and though she hadn’t realized what was happening, you became more than a means to an end for her.

You were becoming the one person she found herself starting to get close to. And whatever happened she didn’t want to lose you anymore. So her protection, in a way, was still selfish, but with more care behind it.

She’d watch over you as often as was possible for her and felt the need to make sure you were safe. If anyone came close to you she’d be on guard and make them regret it if they bothered or hurt you in any way.

For anon

Ship/Character: The Handler x Reader Fandom: The Umbrella Academy Rating: General Content Warnings: Mentions of Violence, Death, and Threats, Discussion of work relating to The Commission (assassins, assassinations, etc.), and The Handler being mildly creepy.

SPOILER WARNING: Vague spoilers for Season 1 of The Umbrella Academy.

A groan of annoyance and frustration was the first sound that left your chapped lips as your alarm rang in the new day. From the second you awoke discomfort filled your entire being. Your throat and mouth were dry as dirt, and it felt as though every muscle in your body was ripping itself apart. Your head was pounding, and you felt as though you were on fire. Your sleepwear was wet and clammy, sticking to your overheating body like soggy newspaper might stick to the ground. You could barely breathe through your nose on account of how stuffy it was. You rolled over to shut off your alarm, and just that simple movement felt as though it took all your energy. You shut your eyes and sighed deeply. Wonderful. Just wonderful.

You were sick.

You lay there in bed, debating what your next move should be. You always set your alarm two hours before you needed to get to work, giving you plenty of time to prepare for the day. But, in the case of today, it allowed you time to contemplate whether to go into work. You knew you would be risking getting others sick if you did go in. You didn’t do field work so there was no risk of you spreading anything outside, but there were still those you worked with. And if you spread it to them, and they spread it to a field agent… and they spread it to others… you hated the idea of compromising things like that. Even if there was only a small chance that could happen, did you really want to risk it? Not only that but were you even feeling up to going in? Just the thought of it made your stomach churn. Heck, just the thought of trying to get to the bathroom to freshen up for the day was making you feel sick, so how were you supposed to get through an entire day of work? It was better, you thought, to take the day to rest up. Relax. Get better so you could return to work as soon as possible.

With this in mind, you decided it was probably best you took the day off. Sure, you wouldn’t be able to get a paid day off (there were very few benefits to working where you did, and paid sick days were not one of them), but at least you wouldn’t have to worry about your symptoms getting worse, or worry about getting anyone else sick. Plus… you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had any time off. You hadn’t used up any of your sick days before, and it wasn’t like your job afforded you any vacation time. So, you thought, it might be nice to take a day to yourself. Treat yourself while you were recovering.

Having made your decision, you called your supervisor and explained the situation. They told you that they were sad to hear that you were not feeling well. They asked if you knew where you’d gotten the illness from, and you told them you were not sure. They asked if you needed anything, and you told them you were alright but thanked them for their consideration. You did not miss how, during the call, they tried several times to convince you to come into the office regardless of your state. By the time the call had nearly concluded, you had practically had to induce a coughing fit on call just to get them to drop the subject. That seemed to do it though because after sounding like you were going to hack up a lung, your supervisor told you again that they were sorry you were unwell, and that they were wishing you a speedy recovery. And with that, they hung up the phone, leaving you to relax and enjoy – well, as much as you could while being under the weather – your day off.

For the morning and afternoon, you mostly rotated between sleeping, eating, reading, and watching shows that you enjoyed. Your living quarters were not the most spacious, but you did have room for a shelf that housed a considerable collection of DVDs, novels, comics, and some VHS copies of your favorite older films. You shuffled through these, most of the time only half-paying attention to whatever was playing or whatever you were reading. Your headache was still bothering you despite you having taken some Tylenol to ease the pain, and your muscle aches were much the same. Additionally, in spite of your best efforts, the fever that caused your entire body to feel as though it was being cooked on a grill set to the highest possible heat had not broken. You had tried everything. Staying hydrated. Resting. Staying cool. You’d even been using cold and ice packs, but nothing seemed to work. On the rare occasions that the heat of the fever did die down, it was rapidly replaced by an iciness that made you shiver so violently you’d nearly dropped your mug of soup more than once. This meant that you were alternating between shoving off the covers and yanking them back on which left you incredibly frustrated.

One small, small mercy to the situation was that you had stocked up on soup and soft foods, as well as your favorite drinks: both hot and cold ones. You were grateful for this, as the soup was actually helping with your sore throat. Not only that, but it was nice to have some food that you could manage to keep down. The thought of bigger meals or heavy foods was still making your stomach do flips, so you were very thankful to have some easier-to-digest foods in the house. You did make a mental note to yourself though to stock up once you were feeling better. You had already demolished four cans of soup and several bottles of drinks, along with half of a box of teas and a whole box of crackers. You knew that, if you were going to be off a few more days with this illness, you’d probably run through the majority of your supply if not the entirety of it, so you promised yourself that, as soon as you were feeling up to it, you would restock everything you’d eaten or drank while sick.

Overall, the day had been going pretty well. You had assumed that the rest of it would follow the same pattern as the earlier parts did. You had assumed that you would just watch some more television; do some light reading; lug yourself out of bed long enough to make dinner; crawl back to bed and eat said dinner; and then go to bed. That was your plan. Your relaxing, stress-free, uneventful plan for your sick day.

But somewhere along the line, the universe decided to throw a wrench in your plans and decided that relaxing and rest were not in the cards for you. Well, not, at least, in the way you’d originally planned.

It was early evening when the knock came at your door. You had raised an eyebrow at the sound, unsure who it would be. Not many people would know you were taking a sick day. At least, they shouldn’t. You worked in case management, which was a sector that housed the majority of the employees at your workplace. This meant that, unless you were working on a particularly important case, no one would notice if you were not at your station. The higher-ups would, sure, but no one else would. And the higher-ups only cared if it was an unreported absence, which would not be applicable in your case. You’d done your diligence. You’d contacted your supervisor ahead of time and explained the situation to them. So, it couldn’t be that. You supposed one of the people who worked at a desk close to you could have noticed you were missing from work, but you doubted that they would care enough to inquire about it. Probably just think to themselves it was strange and then nothing more than that.

It occurred to you then that it could possibly be one of your friends. Either from the case management sector or one of the other ones. You were surprised they would have heard so quickly that you had taken time off, but supposed it was not unreasonable to assume that one of them had noticed your absence and asked your supervisor about it. That would make sense if it was one of your friends. They were probably just checking in to see whether you were alright, or whether they could get you anything. It was also possible they wanted to play hooky and used the excuse of checking up on you to get out of work early. You knew at least a few of your friends who would do that, and the thought of it made you smile.

“Yes,” you thought to yourself, “that must be it. One of my friends, or maybe a couple of them, heard that I was off sick, and they decided to visit me for one reason or another.” You walked over to the door, couching away as you did. Your hand reached the doorknob, and you began to turn it. “Yes,” you repeated, “it must be one of my friends here. After all, who else would know where I live? Who else would have my personal address and come all the way here to…” you were in the middle of contemplating when you swung the door open. But your thoughts cut off mid-sentence as you saw the figure standing before you on the other side of the door. It was not any of your friends. It wasn’t your supervisor. It wasn’t even one of the higher-ups from case management. No… standing outside your living quarters was one of the highest-ranking members at your workplace… and one of the most terrifying people you knew. A woman who no one – well, one person, but he was the exception – dared to cross. A woman who literally had weapons stashed around her office for no reason other than her own personal amusement. A woman whose smile made you feel like you were about to disappear off the face of the Earth.

Standing in front of you, in the doorway of your home, was The Handler herself… and she was giving you that same “you are about to disappear off the face of the Earth” smile. 

Your stomach dropped and your mouth somehow felt even drier than it had before. You could hear your heart pounding in your chest, and you felt dizzy. The ground suddenly felt a thousand miles away, and you could have sworn the room was spinning. You couldn’t see it, but you knew your eyes were probably extremely wide right now. Your mouth, you also knew, was hanging open. A small part of you thought that this likely looked rude, and that part of you demanded that you pull yourself together. But that part of you was easily ignored by the rest of you, which was rapidly switching between shock, surprise, alarm, fear, panic, and dread.

What was she doing here?! Why was The Handler outside your door? Did someone send her here? Was it that big a deal that you’d taken a day off?! You weren’t working on any important files or cases at the moment! So, it should have been fine that you’d taken the day off! It was fine! Your supervisor had already cleared it and told you to take the day off! If it was going to be a major issue – a “send The Handler herself to the door of your living space” level issue – then your supervisor would not have cleared it, but they had, so why was she here?!?

“Hello there,” she greeted, her voice perky and light. She looked past you into your living quarters, then back to you. “Nice place you got here…” she started before cutting herself off. She didn’t really need to say anything more though. You understood what it was she was getting at.

“W… would you like to come in?” you stammered out. In truth, the last thing you wanted was for The Handler to be in your house, but you also weren’t about to refuse what had so obviously been her inviting herself into your place. She raised an eyebrow at this.

“Well, I can see you weren’t faking it then,” she mused, and you gave her a confused look. She chuckled at this. “Your voice. Came out as barely a whisper,” she explained, and you could tell she was rather amused with this entire situation.

“Wait, she thought I was faking being sick?” you thought to yourself. Suddenly, her appearance at your place made… well… a bit more sense. If either she or someone else in management thought you were trying to fake an illness to play hooky, then it would explain why someone would have come to check on you to see whether you were telling the truth or not. But still… The Handler herself? Why not send someone… well, less important?

Either The Handler had understood your question from the look on your face, had been planning on explaining that very thing, or was psychic (and honestly, it wouldn’t really surprise you if she was, considering how well she was able to read people… and how effective she was at getting into people’s heads), because her grin widened, and she answered the query that had been on your mind.

“Oh, and in case you are wondering, I came to do this little house call for two” and she held up two fingers dramatically “reasons. The first is that we’ve had quite a number of people call in sick recently. A large number of which, upon inspection, turned out to be false. They were all healthy as a horse! Quite the bothersome thing, this whole ordeal. I mean, you can’t exactly have a machine that runs smoothly when all the little cogs seem to just want to pop off their springs and rush off,” she said.

You weren’t sure what to make of this. You had horrible timing, that was for sure. Well, not you, but rather this illness that was plaguing you did. You hadn’t even known that there was an issue with a large number of people calling in sick. If you had, you never would have taken the day off! You needed the rest, sure, but you certainly didn’t need the hassle that was coming with it!

“The second –” continued The Handler, snapping you back to the present moment, “is that… well, to put it simply, I wanted a little get-away from all the drama of… well, recent events,” she told you, and it took everything in you not to gasp aloud in dawning realization at this. So, she was looking for a distraction then. That made sense. That explained it. Both why she’d been the one to check on you, and why she was still here even after figuring out you were, in fact, sick. It was kind of ironic, you thought. Her using the excuse of coming to see if you were playing hooky all so she herself could play hooky, even if only for a little while. It would have been funny if her general presence wasn’t so terrifying.

Without another word, The Handler walked into your home, seemingly accepting your earlier invitation (well, her self-given invitation into your home, but you supposed the specifics didn’t really matter) to enter the place. It was only when she was halfway into your house that you realized how messy the place was. She was kicking away cans and tissues with her blood-red heels and grimacing at the sight of soup cans littering your kitchen. You immediately felt embarrassment filling you, and you raced inside the place, meaning to clean up as much as you could. Even if it was just a little bit here or there, you thought, the least you could do was try and make the place a bit more decent.

That was the idea, at least. But as soon as you had started running, nauseous began to bubble up inside you. You felt your stomach doing flips and could already taste bile and your previously consumed meals coming back up into your throat and to the back of your mouth. Your stomach muscles squeezed and contracted uncontrollably, and you could do nothing to stop the gagging sounds you made as you felt the vomit rising within you. You doubled over, looking helplessly to the bathroom. You weren’t sure you could make it there in time. Not without making the nausea much, much worse, at least. You tried to focus instead on slowing your breathing but it was doing nothing to still the aching of your stomach and the urge to be sick. You shut your eyes, trying to will away the nausea…

And that was when you felt arms lifting you into the air.

Your eyes shot open in shock and the sight you were greeted with was The Handler carrying you bridal-style over to your bedroom. She was walking slowly, ensuring not to stir up your already unsettled stomach any further, but at a pace that meant that you both soon arrived at your bedroom. She gently set you down on the bed and placed a hand on your forehead. You knew without her needing to say anything that you were still burning up, so you weren’t surprised when she opted to put you on top of the covers instead of under them. Without so much as another word, The Handler waltzed her way to your freezer, pulling out several ice packs. She scooped them up and walked back to you, motioning for you to lift up. You furrowed your brow at this.

“It will help with the fever,” she informed you. “You need to put these on any area where you feel extremely warm. We can’t have you overheating. That will just make the fever worse,” she added, and her expression was extremely stern, strict, and serious. You couldn’t quite place why, but it shocked you enough that you did as she said, lifting up and allowing her to rest one ice pack where your neck would be, another near your lower back, and one by your feet. When you actually laid back down, it felt as though you’d just submerged yourself in freezing water, and you had to grit your teeth to keep yourself from cursing. She then handed you two more and instructed you to place them on your forehead and to hold the other one. You did as she said, and despite the initial discomfort you felt as the cold sensation, you were surprised to find that it actually was helping.

She then left again, this time grabbing a glass of water for you along with some Advil and Tylenol from your bathroom. She placed all this on your nightstand and then walked back to the kitchen. She rummaged through the cupboards for a brief while, then through the fridge, and finally through your pantry. You watched as she cleaned up a little as well, tossing litter into your garbage or recycle bin. Finally, when the place was in a condition she deemed acceptable, she stopped and turned back to you.

“Are you feeling up to a sandwich?” she called to you, and you hesitated before shaking your head. Your stomach was still a little bit too unsettled for anything heavier than soup and crackers. And, truth be told, The Handler’s presence in your house, along with the fact that she was staying for so long, wasn’t helping your appetite either. Why was she staying so long? She’d found out what she’d come here to… so why was she still here? “Alright then. Oh! Do you have any cough drops?” she yelled over.

“I think there are some in the bathroom? Bottom counter. Under the sink,” you answered, and she nodded. She walked back to your bathroom, dug through the aforementioned counter, and then let out a little cheer of success, signaling to you that she’d found her prize. She practically skipped over to you, her bright pink, 50’s style dress swishing as she did, and she placed them on the nightstand beside the other items.

“Well, I think that is all we can do for now. I would recommend getting some rest. Plenty of it, in fact. Other than that… do try to actually eat some real food once in a while, alright? The liquid diet thing…” she paused for a moment, grimacing as though recalling a particularly unpleasant memory, before continuing on, “It is not pleasant. And as good as soup and crackers can be when you are sick, it is hardly going to give you all the nutrients you need to help you recover. So, when you’re up for it, do try and eat a full, balanced meal or two, alright?” she instructed. You could only nod as she spoke, still quite unsure why she was doing any of this. She seemed pleased with this though, as she clapped her hands and headed back to the kitchen. “For now though…” she called, “I’ll set out a few things on the counter. That way it is less trouble for you when you do get up to make something.”

And she did just that, pulling out several cans of soups and pairing them with small bundles of crackers that she pulled from a previously unopened box. You tilted your head, curiosity in your eyes as you saw her reaching up to one of the cupboards you barely ever used. She pulled out a large bin of candies and chocolates that you had stashed in there. You had nearly forgotten they were in there until she pulled them down. You watched as she set aside one candy and one chocolate beside each of the soup cans and cracker bundles. You could not help the smile that came upon your face at this, nor the little blush which followed it.

Once The Handler was done in the kitchen, she turned around and made her way back to your bedside. She sat down on the chair beside you, which took you a bit by surprise. You would have expected her to remain standing, as she had the last few times she’d spoken with you since setting you down on the bed. It was a power thing, you’d thought when she’d done it before. Making you feel like you were just that much smaller than her. Never saying it with words, but then, that was never really her way. She was subtle in her exertions of power and control. And that was what you’d assumed she’d been doing. Playing kind and helpful and caring, all while showing you – no, reminding you – that you were under the very watchful eye of The Commission, who had access to you 24/7, and should they catch any sign of you slacking… well… they wouldn’t hesitate to send in the big guns. Case in point – The Handler’s presence.

But her sitting down threw all this off. It didn’t fit with everything you thought was going on. With the rational explanation you had told yourself about why this was all happening. About why she was still here. Why she was helping you while you were sick. If it wasn’t some sort of hidden threat or message from The Commission about staying loyal and not slacking off… then what was it? Was it some other sort of power play? If it was, you couldn’t imagine what her end goal was.

“Penny for your thoughts?” The Handler probed, snapping you back to reality. You realized that you had been just laying there, staring at her with an expression you were sure was one of perplexity and trouble-solving. Your eyes widened and you looked away, embarrassed.

“It’s nothing. I just…” you bit your lip, unsure whether to ask her about your wonderings. Would The Handler become offended by your questioning… you shuddered at this thought. The last thing you needed was to agitate The Handler. With that being said, you were fairly certain that a simple inquiry about her actions would not offend her. At least… you really, really hoped that was the case. She was management at The Commission. It wasn’t exactly a position for those who are… driven by emotion. So, you figured there was a good chance that she wouldn’t become offended, and with this in mind, you decided to go for it and ask. “Why are you doing all of this?” you questioned, before immediately following up with, “It is not as though I don’t appreciate it! I do! Really! But… I just… you didn’t have to do any of this, and I suppose I just don’t really understand why you did.”

“Did you have anyone who would help you out with this?” she responded with, making a vague gesture you took to mean… well… everything related to your illness. The actual illness. The state of the place. The planning for meals. Everything. You opened your mouth, intending to tell her that you did. Of course you did. But…

You realized that that wasn’t really the case. Were there people that cared about you? Yes, of course there was. You had friends at work. Close acquaintances more so, but a decent number of friends. People you enjoyed spending time with. People you would grab lunch with or hang out with outside of office hours. But they weren’t really the type to come visit you when you were sick or help you out while you were under the weather.

And there was nothing wrong with that. But… sometimes… you did wish that you had some who would come over to check up on you, or at least stop by to say they hope you recover soon. A phone call or message or something. The most you got was a quick “Glad to see you back” or “Happy to see you’ve recovered” when you did return to work but… nothing more than that. It wasn’t anything unexpected, of course. You did work at The Commission, and it wasn’t as though it was the most social of workplaces. They didn’t host holiday events or social get-togethers. The closest they had to team-building exercises was simply sending off partners or groups on missions and hoping the pairings or groups worked out for the best. So it wasn’t as though you had a lot of opportunities through work to make those closer connections.

And your job didn’t exactly allow for meetups with people outside The Commission, with the whole “being outside of time” thing. You weren’t a field agent, meaning you never got to leave The Commission facility. So, most people at The Commission didn’t really have a life outside of work – yourself included. You’d never really thought about how lonely a place it was until just now, but it really was quite isolating. And while you had the connections you had, and while you cherished those deeply… there was a part of you that did wish for some closer connections.

“No,” you finally answered aloud, “I don’t.”

“I had a feeling that was the case,” she replied with a nod, “The Commission can be a very… closed off. And while that may work for some… well, it just doesn’t for everyone. Take me for example. I do enjoy a little more socializing than most, so I simply found my way into a position that allowed me to do so,” she explained, and you resisted the urge to shiver. You weren’t surprised this was a perk of being management, but what did cause you to be unsettled was the idea of what she might have done to get the position she now held. And why. If it was anyone else, you’d have just thought it was them climbing the ranks but with her… well… you honestly wouldn’t have put it past her to do something… unspeakable to gain a management role just for the benefits it came with.

“But that was after many, many years. Well, so far as any measurement of time would be concerned if we operated within it. The point is… there were many years when I… wasn’t who I am today. And I remember what it was like to be where you are. To not have several people who would rush to your aid whenever you sneeze a little too loudly,” she said, and she followed it with a laugh. You knew it was meant to be a joke but… but there was something more there. Not in her tone. Not in her expression. But deep within her eyes. There was something… sad. As though she really did know what it felt like to be lonely. Or to want someone there by your side when you are not feeling well. To have that support and comfort.

The Handler was one of the most powerful people in The Commission. She had nearly everyone at her beck and call. All she had to do was snap her fingers, and everyone in the entire room would stiffen, turn to her and await further instructions. She demanded power, compliance, respect, and fear with every click of her heels, flash of her smile, clap of her hands, and word she spoke. But despite all of that, whenever you’d passed by her office or seen her when she was leaving her shifts, she was always alone. The only times she was ever with anyone was if she was acting on behalf of The Commission. Or when she was intimidating someone who had stepped out of line. So while everyone at The Commission might know of her… you pondered whether anyone actually did know her.

And as you gazed upon her face, which still held the smile that you were now certain was false, you could not help but think that that must be an awfully lonely existence. You wondered to yourself whether companionship was something she still wished for. Whether deep down… she wanted the same thing you did. She didn’t have anyone to check up on her when she was sick, did she? No, you thought, probably not. And unlike you… you suspected she didn’t have anyone to share good news with either. Or to talk about exciting things with. Or to just share general information that she had gained and wished to discuss.

As you looked at her, you saw something you never had before. You weren’t sure whether it was actually there. You weren’t sure whether it was just your mind concocting what it was you wanted to see, or rather what you believed you would see. And you supposed that you would never know what the truth of the matter was. Whether what you saw was real, or simply an illusion. You would never ask her, and you knew she would never say, so you supposed the truth of it all would always remain a mystery to you. But…

But in those sparkling, emerald-green eyes you could have sworn you saw the same longing and loneliness you felt in your heart. You saw someone who, though she’d never voice it aloud, wanted companionship. And it made you wonder whether that was part of the reason she had stayed. Had helped you. Not only because she knew what it was like, though you had little doubt she did, but also because… well, because she’d seen it as a chance to be close to someone. To be in their life, if only for a brief moment, in the same way that a friend might. To assist someone while they were ill, just as you would with a close friend. You wondered if, for the short time she had been here with you, whether perhaps… whether it might remind of her a less lonely time. You knew it did for you. And you found yourself hoping – wishing, even – that it did for her too. you sincerely hoped, despite all her ferocity and intimidating nature, that she did have those moments in the past when she felt less alone.

“Thank you. For… all this,” you said with a soft smile upon your face, and she blinked a few times. There was a look of surprise on her face that you were sure few had seen before. You weren’t quite sure why she had reacted that way, but you thought perhaps it was either the sweetness in your smile or the sincerity in your voice. If it was either… it hurt you that such things would shock her, yet it did not surprise you, and that hurt too. However, after taking a moment to collect herself, The Handler offered you a smile back. It was a kind, genuine smile. And you thought to yourself that it was perhaps the most beautiful smile you had ever seen in your life.

“Well, it is my duty to make sure everything and everyone here is in top shape. Faulty cogs, and all that,” she replied. It was a typical Handler response… but the softness of her tone was unmistakable. A silence fell over you both, with neither of you being quite sure what to say next. After a little while though, The Handler broke the silence. “Well, I should be off. I have a few stops to make before I pop back to my office,” she informed you, and you nodded in understanding. Though you were a little disappointed that she could not stay longer (something you had never thought you would feel about The Handler’s presence in your home) you understood that she was likely very busy. Not only that, but you did need to get some rest so that you could make a quick recovery. While your little “bonding” moment with The Handler had been nice, albeit also quite unexpected, you doubted either she or The Commission would be pleased with you taking off too much time, so you really wanted to keep your sick time to one day if you could, to avoid such displeasure from either of the aforementioned parties.

“That is alright. Thank you again for all your help and stuff,” you replied, and this time it was her turn to nod.

“You are most welcome,” she said before standing up and stretching in a manner that was not unlike that of a cat. “Now, get plenty of rest, and don’t forget to eat healthily and take care of yourself. I expect you to be feeling your best when you return to the office,” she sternly instructed. She then turned from you and made her way over to the front door. She opened it, stepped through, paused, and then turned back to face you. She stood there for what felt to you like both only a split-second, and an eternity, and she said nothing. Her eyebrows were furrowed: her expression troubled. As though there was something she wanted – no, needed – to say, but she could not quite find the words. You waited with bated breath for her to speak. For her to tell you whatever it was that she had on her mind…

But she never did.

Instead, she turned back on her heels and simply walked off, kicking the door shut behind her with those crimson heels of hers. You frowned at this, very curious about what it was she was going to say. You pondered it for a moment before sighing in defeat. You could think of so many possible scenarios for what she might have said, but deep down you knew that it was just another thing you would never know. That was just how it worked with her though, you supposed. She was a mystery to you, and you knew that that was how things between you two would always be.

You let out a yawn and decided to cuddle into the covers. You were feeling significantly less feverish now, although you did bring the ice packs with you under the covers just in case. As you got comfortable, you felt your eyelids beginning to droop. You hadn’t realized until now just how tired you were. You supposed it could not hurt to take another nap, and in fact, hoped that it might help hasten your recovery even more. You made a mental note to yourself though to make sure to eat something more than soup and crackers after you woke up. Even if it was just something small.

As you drifted off to sleep, snuggled comfortably in the blankets and already finding your airways much clearer, your thoughts could not help but turn back to The Handler. There were so many questions that you now had racing through your mind. Things you had never thought of before. Things about her. Her past. Who she was. Who she is. You thought about what she had done for you today. Everything she’d done to help you. Had it really been out of a sense of shared loneliness? Empathy for what you were going through? An attempt to gain closeness to someone, if only for a short time? Or was there something else to it? Had she just been bored? It was possible. But… that look in her eyes… on her face… in her stance and demeanor… had you seen it correctly? Had it even been there at all? You sighed and turned over in your bed. You knew these questions, as well as the myriad of others you had, would forever go unasked and unanswered, but you could not help but wonder them still.

But then your troubled expression was replaced by a softer, smiling one when the memory of her smile came to mind. Her real, genuine smile. It had been a beautiful sight. One you thought not many got to see, and you felt strangely grateful that you had been lucky enough to be one of the few that could see it. As though it was some sort of illusive creature that only a few people would ever be able to witness. You thought about how The Handler looked like an entirely different person when she was happy, and found yourself wishing that she would look like that more often at work. Not only because it would make working there much less frightening, though you did think that would help things around the office (and knew it would help you feel significantly more comfortable at work)… but also… because you thought she deserved that too. Well, as much as anyone in management at what was - at the end of the day - an organization that killed people to protect the timeline could deserve happiness and nice things.

Your eyes were fully shut now and remaining so, with you not having the energy to open them any longer. You could feel that sleep was right around the corner, and you did your best to welcome it. you thought to yourself as sleep began to claim you that, should you see The Handler in the office when you returned, you would make a point to wave to her or smile over at her. Something small like that. You knew she probably wouldn’t do anything back, or if she did, it would just be from the side of her she showed at work, not the one you got to see today but… but you wanted to do it. So that maybe… maybe both of you would feel just a tiny bit less lonely. It was just a small thing but… so was a smile. So was a “good morning” or “hello”. So was dropping by to help someone when they were sick. Small things… small things that could make such a huge difference to someone. And the thought of that made you smile, for you hoped that, even if it was just in a small way… that maybe you would be able to brighten her day every so often. Maybe. Just maybe.

And with this plan in mind, you let out one final yawn before you fell fully into the land of dreams. You did not know what tomorrow would bring. You weren’t sure whether your interactions with The Handler today would have any bearing at all on how your relationship with her would be moving forward. You doubted it would… but then… you would have doubted yesterday that today would have gone this way too. So you decided to leave it to fate, or time, or whatever it was that dealt with such things. It was like The Handler was fond of saying, you supposed. Que sera sera. Tomorrow’s you would face whatever tomorrow would bring, but today’s you… would sleep.