Unknown Legend

by soinspiredbyyou

Summary:

Aidan Wilde visits the diner where Elly Conway worked before she made it big with the Argylle book series.

“When you miss someone so bad but all you can do is look from afar and reminisce with a sad smile on your face.”

Notes:

• For Soloh, superheroesandspies (heyrandomreaderhere).

@superheroesandspies made an incredible gifset on tumblr based on my teeny tiny head canon, and it got me cracking on writing it out into a missing moment prior to the film:

Gifset

As far as I can tell, there's a bit of a discrepancy between the real book jacket and the events of the film. This fic presumes that Elly was never actually a waitress and instead immediately began writing in the aftermath of the "skating accident."

Tremendous shoutout to Soloh for her idea for Aidan to look out for Elly the best way he knows how at the end.

Easy listening for this one-shot is Unknown Legend by Neil Young (one of my favorite songs ever). Links below.

Chapter 1

Spotify | YouTube

The bell above the door of the Starlight Diner clinked as Aidan Wilde stepped through it tentatively. He was flying solo these days. It had been ten months since his partner in every meaning of the word had vanished from his life, only to reappear halfway across the country in the form of a shy waitress-turned-debut novelist.

How many times had he instinctively looked to his right to tell her a joke or show off a cool move in a fight? He should have found Rachel there, letting him protect her weaker side. For now, he could only do so from a distance, which brought him to Elly Conway’s former employer.

Aidan could almost envision her days here. Rachel would have attacked the job with gusto, ensuring accurate plates and pleased customers as if they were matters as weighty as the very order of the world. He would have ordered just to watch her float across the floor.

Of course, neither Elly Conway nor Rachel Kylle had ever actually worked at the Starlight Diner. She had been conditioned with memories of the place as part of an entire pseudo-lifetime that she hadn’t lived, either. Aidan’s task was simply to convince the staff and patrons that they remembered her short tenure at the café. It all came down to the power of suggestion.

He put on his dorky glasses and favorite Hawaiian shirt (journalists wore Hawaiian shirts, right? Probably at least the cool ones did) and packed a notepad, pen and tape recorder. It was the perfect cover – a chance to be quoted in a feature for the sleepy suburb’s newspaper about a hometown gal making a splash in the publishing industry would get the locals talking.

“Sure, Honey. Elly and her family are in all the time now that she’s recovered from her…” the matronly restaurant manager leaned in and whispered. “… skating accident. It was such a shame.” She shook her head ruefully. “Come to think of it though, she mostly kept to herself before. I can’t think of a full sentence she would have uttered while she worked here.”

Aidan didn’t bother pondering the identity of the unsuspecting former employee his interview subject was actually thinking of. His mission was simply to plant enough fuzzy details to bolster Elly’s reputation of innocence to interested onlookers, may they be friend or foe.

But then some invented witnesses were more cooperative than others in creating their assisted memories of a familiar face around the diner.

“Oh yeah, I remember her,” the customer with the dented gold wedding band told Aidan around a mouthful of syrup and pancakes. “Listen, off the record, yeah?” He waited for Aidan to hesitantly click “STOP” on his recorder. “She always seemed to want more than a tip, if you know what I mean.” He winked and let out a disgusting laugh, his beer gut joggling in his lap. “Sure wouldn’t have turned down a roll in the sack with that one, eh?”

Later, if you asked Aidan whether he saw what happened, he would tell you that the big oaf had tripped over his own clown shoes on the way to the bathroom. Shame when grown men couldn’t keep their laces tied. Or watch their path for foreign objects like a stranger’s sneakers.

Of course, a major world event would probably come along by tomorrow and usurp the front-page space of this puff piece. The news cycle was cruel that way. Just when Aidan was ready to pack it up for the day, satisfied that none of the regulars of the Starlight would share any dangerous or unsavory outlooks about Elly to any moles from Division, CIA, or even YMCA, the bell of the door jingled again. He turned around and simply forgot what it was to breathe.

In had walked Elly Conway, officially. But the halo of red hair represented only one person to him, and there was no way he would be able to separate them yet, up close.

“Well there she is, Sweetheart!” The woman at the counter called out to him before he could split. Fortunately, Elly hadn’t looked up yet from her putting her things down in a corner booth.

Aidan started packing faster, hoping to escape out of a back door to the joint. If there wasn’t one, he may have to inquire where they wanted one.

He put down an extra twenty on the counter. “Keep the coffee coming for her table.” He swallowed around the lump quickly forming in his throat. “And in about half an hour, send over a piece of chocolate pie.” The corner of his mouth turned up involuntarily. “Extra whip.”

The manager’s brow wrinkled. “Don’t you want a quote from Elly? The light’s good this time of day, maybe you could even get a picture out fron—”

But Aidan was gone. He just wasn’t ready to meet a stranger with Rachel Kylle’s smile. He wasn’t sure he ever would be. But once he hit the back door, he wrapped around through the alley and crossed the street, blending seamlessly into the lunch rush. From the corner he watched for longer than he would admit as Elly tapped away on her laptop, bright yellow but tattered journal laying open in front of her.

Aidan smiled so that he wouldn’t cry, then turned to walk on to another day without her, hoping to God their time apart would be short.

Chapter 2: Seven Turns

Summary:

Another trip to the Starlight Diner in the suburbs of Chicago.

Notable tracks: [1] Seven Turns - The Allman Brothers
[2] The Man Who Can't Be Moved - The Script (if I'm going into my Ghost Whisperer feels y'all are coming with me).

[1] Spotify | YouTube

[2] Spotify | YouTube

The bell above the door of the Starlight Diner clinked as Rachel Kylle stepped through it tentatively, brushing past the man holding it open for her. She hadn’t eaten here since her early writing days, but it was time for a trip down memory lane. It had been ten months since her partner in every meaning of the word had reappeared in her life in the form of a Renaissance painting Jesus, only to show her everything she had been missing in her comparatively quiet life behind a computer.

It was hilarious now to imagine herself making it through even one shift as a waitress. She would never have had the patience for picky customers flippantly trashing the space she labored to keep in order, then handing her their bullshit complaints on a silver platter in return for her efforts.

Aidan Wilde placed a gentle hand low on her back as he let the door drop closed behind him, guiding her to the exact corner booth where Elly Conway had spent countless hours poring over a falsified little yellow notebook full of scribbles and character sketches.

The corner of Rachel’s mouth turned up. She had been sure he would choose seats at the counter, then twist side to side on the stool to the rhythm of whatever ‘dad rock’ song played over the tinny radio behind the cash register.

Finally, finally retired from the all-consuming spy world, Aidan and Rachel were finishing up their informal tour of all the places their unintentional time apart had taken them. The main portion of Aidan’s turn had featured the inside of his cabin safehouse – which had been fine with them, all things said and done. Next, they had packed his old red pickup and split the drive between Telluride and Chicago, flipping the Allman Brothers cassette over more times than she could count.

“As I live and breathe, Elly Conway!” A plump woman stepped out from behind the cash register and advanced on them.

Rachel tensed. She couldn’t pretend it wasn’t a little triggering to be called ‘Elly’ outside of a professional setting, but Marge, the manager of the Starlight, had been good to her when she was tucked into this very booth, firing off query letters to publishing houses. Little had she known at the time that her “father” was in contact with one of the slimier affiliates of a big-name company, negotiating a six-book contract for Elly Conway.

Across the table, Aidan winked and nudged her toe with his. There was no reason to confuse Marge with a seemingly sudden name change.

Rachel swallowed, then managed to find her voice. “Marge, hi.” She couldn’t find the saccharine sweetness of Elly’s voice anymore, didn’t want to. Still, a genuine smile crossed her face to see the woman again.

“How are you, Honey? How’s the family?”

The blood drained from Rachel’s face. Maybe this had been a bad idea. The unease that had been so familiar to her as Elly settled into her chest, until she looked across the table and saw Aidan, chin in his hand, calm as ever. Adoring grin that hadn’t once strayed from her since they walked in. Fuck ‘em.

“Well, they aren’t making me worry about them anymore,” Rachel said confidently. “They’re… retired. And you know, they finally got everything they deserved.”

Marge beamed. “That’s great to hear! I know how much they always believed in you. And look how far you’ve come. I bet you’re so grateful to them.”

Aidan broke into a coughing fit, saving Rachel from trying her best to keep a straight, or even amiable face.

“Oh, here I am carrying on,” Marge walked backward toward the counter. “I’ll get you both started with some water.”

Rachel shook her head. “Shouldn’t have expected the Conway family to stay buried when we’re practically in their backyard.”

Aidan’s chin dipped consideringly. “Maybe not. But at least you’re in control of the narrative, now, Babe.” His fingers drummed against the table to the southern rock anthem playing in the background. “You could knock that cookie-cutter house to the ground, if you want.” His palm slid into hers, gently forcing her hand away from the salt shaker she had been fiddling with.

“Not a bad idea.” She squeezed his thumb, grounding herself back into the present. With Aidan. As long as he would have her. “Probably shouldn’t make any drastic decisions on an empty stomach, though.”

“Fair enough. So what’s good here, Hot Sauce?”

Rachel’s eyes nearly rolled back in her head thinking of all the grease she had downed here. Elly’s laptop had withstood a surprising number of smudgy fingerprints. “You won’t believe the bacon cheeseburgers here until you’ve had one. Mmm and the sweet potato fries.”

A hint of amusement crossed Aidan’s face. “I’ll bet.”

Marge was as quick as ever, earning every cent of the tip Rachel was going to be sure to leave for the establishment she had such mixed feelings about.

“So, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Rachel glanced over to the friend in question. Maybe it was a little weird to bring her two worlds to another collision point this drastic. “This is, um… this is Duane Gregg.” Rachel shrugged minutely, eying Aidan for help.

His eyebrow quirked, but he took it all in stride. “Please, it’s Dickey, to my friends.” He jumped up to shake Marge’s hand in both of his, then surprised her by ducking in to buss her cheek.

Marge uncapped her pen and flipped her notebook open through a girlish giggle that she couldn’t quite cover. “What’ll it be El, the usual?”

Rachel didn’t have to think twice. “Please. And don’t skimp on the avocado.” She forced the same beseeching smile she had only ever used on marks in life-or-death situations before, dimly realizing it was similar to the one Elly had used when genuinely asking for favors.

“I’ll have the same,” Aidan requested, closing the menu he had barely skimmed.

They ate themselves practically sick, leaving behind only clean plates and contentedness. Marge didn’t even ask before she left one disproportionately large slice of chocolate pie in front of them, drowning in whipped cream.

Their groans turned into giggles as they rubbed their full bellies, but they still took turns feeding each other bites of pie until the sun disappeared behind the skyline outside.

Rachel waved as Marge sailed by on quick and light feet for the hundredth time that night. “I think we’re ready for the check, Marge.” It was still Elly’s bank account funding most of their adventures. Rachel figured she would owe them a long time for the rights to her fictional accounts of their lives.

“Oh, you’re all settled up, Sweetheart. Don’t be a stranger, now.”

“Marge! I’m not a starving writer anymore! There’s no reason for you to let me keep eating you out of business!” She had anticipated that the woman would try to turn down money like old times, but it was getting ridiculous.

A wry chuckle escaped the older woman. “Sugar, you never cost this place a cent. All your meals were preordered and cashed out ahead of time over the phone with a very generous tip. Did you never notice that you established a “regular” order without ever asking for it?” Marge shook her head, grinning.

Rachel was speechless. No one had cared for Elly Conway that much, back then, least of all the “parents” who had uprooted and dragged her to unfamiliar territory under the guise of protection. “Who?” she stuttered. She turned to share an incredulous look with Aidan, but he was busy tucking his credit card into his wallet.

“He always said he wanted to remain anonymous.” The most innocently conniving grin snuck across Marge’s face as she looked between Rachel and Aidan. “But I’m starting to think that isn’t the case anymore.” Marge patted Rachel’s hand and directed her own attention to a customer desperately signaling for a refill a few tables away.

“It was you,” Rachel accused. “Years of burgers and coffee would have been enough to put quite a dent in the coffers of a freelance spy, Agent Wilde.”

Aidan had the nerve not to look the least bit sheepish. “Think of it as our reserved date budget. There’s a chance I’ve been here before.” He cleared his throat, face twisting wryly and causing his words to come out of the side of his mouth. “Couldn’t leave Elly unattended anywhere I hadn’t staked out for myself. Besides, I could hardly let you starve. Not on my watch.”

He had her there. Aidan had done most of the cooking and ordering in during their time in the field, while she buried her nose in casework and clues. She tilted her head. Really, she should have guessed it. If roles were reversed, she could never have left him alone, either. And Elly had been embarrassingly unaware when plugged into the Argylle universe. “Were you ever here when I was here?”

“The one and only time I was brave enough to step foot in this place, you came through the door with a sunbeam shining behind you and nearly knocked me down on my ass. It was the first time I had seen you up close, since…” He swallowed, then laid his hand flat on the table, palm up.

Without thought, Rachel added hers and held on tight. But she didn’t need real experience as a waitress to realize they couldn’t table camp all night, despite how at-home she suddenly felt. Good thing she could take that feeling with her anywhere from now on. “Ready, Short Stack?”

Aidan was up first, pulling her into a quick spin and barely noticeable dip. “After you, Sweet Stuff.” He led her out the back door of the diner while Marge shook her head fondly after them.

Earlier, Rachel had been a bit surprised when the closest parking space she could find was a couple of blocks over – Elly had only ever arrived to the diner by public transport – but realized now that she was grateful for the several hundred steps after sitting still for so long.

They crossed the empty street to the ticking of the “WALK” sign, Aidan’s thumb rubbing the inside of her palm. They hit the curb and he stopped in place, tugging her backward. He spun her gently until she was facing back toward the diner. “Hey, look at that.”

The picture window of the diner provided a perfect view of the booth they had just left. She wasn’t usually comfortable with the idea of unseen eyes upon her. Typically they represented an unidentified threat that could hinder her mission or even put her very life in danger – especially if they belonged to someone in the master bedroom down the hall watching her closely while she recovered from a major head trauma.

But looking back into Aidan’s eyes now, she felt the very devotion and protective instinct that had kept his sights trained on her from afar when it was impossible to be as close as he wanted. She could picture him standing right here, stealing desperate glances at her to tide him over for a tortuously unknowable amount of time.

Rachel pulled Aidan in by the collar of his unbuttoned red flannel (Chicago was a bit chilly this time of year for a Hawaiian shirt), locked her arms around the back of his neck, and kissed him under the streetlights.

Notes:

@soinspiredbyyou on tumblr