AN: Hello Everyone! So this is the first fanfiction I have written AND published in a good while, but the idea's been gnawing at me for days. This has also been an excellent distraction from all of the other editing I need to get done, fighting fire with fire?

Normally Abigail would be nervous about starting a new job anyway. This was pretty common, and considering the year she had had, completely rationalized. However it was by no means helped with the fact that her non disclosure agreement mentioned treason.

That bit was terrifying. But a job, a very well paying one at that, as an assistant to a British diplomat, was worth it. More importantly, it was a step in the right direction. Abigail had passed the interview with flying colors she thought, with a man she was almost positive was M15, and now it was time to meet her boss. She hadn't expected to be directed down three winding corridors to a back office in Westminster. When she finally reached the door she paused.

Arthur Kirkland. This was followed by an entire string of letters that part of Abigail recognized various knighthood orders. The other part of her saw the paper tacked to the door just below the plaque.

Enter on Pain of Death.

"Well, he has great handwriting." She muttered, before giving herself a glance in the reflection of her phone. Not a hair out of place in her bun, no threads loose on her suit jacket or skirt, not dirt on her flats and no runs in her hose. Most importantly though, no panicked calls from Thomas. All was well, hopefully it stayed that way. Abigail opened the door cautiously, the room beyond was empty and she saw what she was sure was her future work space. She also heard the opening riff to Anarchy in the UK from beyond the door behind the small desk. How ironic. She slipped the letter of introduction from her purse and setting the bag on the desk. Then she knocked.

The music immediately cut out, there was a shuffle of papers and a squeak of a chair. Two seconds later the door was ripped open and Abigail was face to face with a very angry blonde man wearing a suit and a set of eyebrows so comically large that she wondered if they were real.

"Can't any of you blighters read?" He yelled. Abigail held her ground, refusing every tingling instinct she had to run away, not even allowing herself to take a step back. Instead she thrust her arm forward depositing the letter into his open, angry hand. She didn't trust herself to speak, it was either going to come out sarcastic or terrified and there was no reason for her to lose the job this quickly. Mr. Kirkland snatched the letter and scanned it briefly before relaxing and looking somewhat embarrassed. "Oh," He coughed awkwardly into his hand and straightened his tie. "My apologies Miss, I forgot you started today." His voice was odd, It reminded her of a bbc announcer from thirty years ago but the man couldn't have been much older than her.

"No harm done Mister Kirkland." She said forcing an easy smile on to her face. Kirkland frowned at her accent.

"Preston?"

"Abigail actually, that should have been in the letter." She said, the joke was too good to pass up, Kirkland however remained stony faced. So now it was her turn to cough awkwardly. "Abigail Clarke, sir, sorry about the intrusion." She held out her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

He shook her hand, "Arthur Kirkland, Likewise" He didn't smile back. "I think you have a box that you can get started with, Robert." He paused there for a moment and his entire body sighed in something like resignation. "Robert should have left a note on the computer about how the filing system works." He turned and shoved a box of files into Abigails arms. "I have work to do so do try not to bother me too much Miss Clarke." And then he shut the door in her face.

The nerve Abigail thought, pursing her lips and setting the box on her desk.

On the other side of the door England turned back on his music. I miss Robert already.

The work was easy, like easy enough to make Abigail wonder why there had been such a fuss. Robert, her predecessor she assumed, had indeed left a note inside one of the file cabinets about how this mess of a system worked.

By the time 5 o'clock rolled around she was packing up her stuff and the room behind her was silent. She debated whether to tell that she was leaving or not and finally decided to knock.

"What?" Well atleast he didn't sound nearly as pissy now. Abigail poked her head into the room. It was much cleaner than the snippet she had seen earlier. No papers on the floor. or desk really. There were three boxes though. One red, one green and one.. black. Abigail frowned slightly confused. "What is it?" Kirkland asked again. Abigail snapped out of her thoughts. He had one hand over the receiver on his phone and was looking at her impatiently.

"Sorry, I'm headed out, do you want me to take those boxes with me?" She asked. He shook his head.

"I'll get them, see you tomorrow Miss Clarke." He said. Abigail nodded.

"See you tomorrow Mr. Kirkland." She said before carefully shutting the door and quickly exiting the office into the maze of corridors, trying to figure out exactly what her boss did that could possibly involve three different colors of boxes.

On the train back to her flat Abigail checked her texts, only one from Thomas.

'What is for dinner?' Abigail text back

'Take away, hw done?'

'Yes' came the reply a minute later. She nodded, she didn't know why she even asked, if it wasn't for the fact that he couldn't reach the higher cabinets or talk to anyone besides family, Thomas was more competent than she was. He had had to be.

After a brief stop at the curry place she entered their flat just a bit after 6:30. Thomas was sitting on the couch engrossed in a book that looked suspiciously like her old copy of Artemis Fowl.

"Hello." She said making her way to their dinky kitchen. There wasn't a reply for a bit so she continued. "How was school?" after another pause she turned to see if the whiteboard was out. It wasn't, Thomas took a deep breath and then in a small voice he didn't use very often he said:

"Fine, I brought the post in, Thought about calling you but I thought your phone might be off." He said. Abigail smiled and breathed an internal sigh of relief. Talking was a very good sign.

"Thank you. It probably was but I'll get you the extension number for emergencies. Thomas nodded, talking done for the day and took his food back to his place on the couch. After eating Abigail opened up her laptop to search for their offices extension. Only to not find it. Actually... now that she thought of it there hadn't been a room number on the door. That was not normal. "On second thought I'll just leave my phone on. Can't find the number." There was the sound of a cap being taken off and a few squeaks. She looked over and saw Thomas's whiteboard with his neat block print.

Ok he had written. Abigail forced a smile and nodded back, but as soon as Thomas had turned she frowned. Some days she just wanted her brother from before the accident back.

Outside it was pouring, and on his walk home England contemplated a question that had plagued him since his days as Rome's province.

'Am I in a bad mood because the weather is horrible or is the weather horrible because I'm in a bad mood?' Of course it wasn't like the mood was unwarranted. Between hosting the next world meeting, Robert's retirement and the possible leak in their identities he had plenty to worry about.

Germany had been the one to call him, apparently some online message board had found a tale about a captain terrorizing spanish and french ships for centuries, then paired it with a picture of him from Churchill's war room that he didn't even remember having been taken, along with a still from the london opening ceremonies of him sitting with the royal family. Because in the end it was always him. You're a pirate captain for a few centuries and no one ever lets you forget it.

At least that had a chance of keeping the next meeting on track. He wasn't too worried about it though. They had had scares before but nothing had ever come of it. The scares kept them on their toes though.

He unlocked his door and thought briefly about his new P.A., Abigail Clarke hadn't been his first choice but he supposed that she would have to do. Arthur had to wonder how long it would take her to figure out what he was. The rule was that you didn't tell anyone outright that you were a personification, except your boss to prevent misunderstandings. Many people simply didn't have a clue what you meant when you said that you were a personification, that is, if they believed you in the first place.

In the end the information was guarded with all the strength of a teenagers keg party. There were roughly six people that he had personally told, not including most of the royal family and the bosses of other nations. However he was also ninety percent sure that his eighty year old next door neighbor also knew. It had taken Robert two months to finally figure it out, when he had let it slip that he had seen one of the lost episodes of Doctor Who.

He pet the most recent cat, Liz, after setting down his briefcase.

"Until then it looks like I'm on my own for most things, eh Liz?" he asked the cat. The cat meowed and overhead the fairies giggled. He frowned slightly, "What is it?"

"Minty's in your bushes again." England then decided with a clap of thunder, that the rain was keeping pace with his mood, not the other way around.

Alright so that was fun, hopefully I have the next chapter up soon and I hope you liked it.

As you may be able to tell I am not british and quite honestly have no idea exactly how the government works beyond some frantic Google/wiki -ing and several half remembered documentary's.

So if something is wrong or I some phrasing is off let me know! I'd be happy to hear from you, which of course leads into the great fanfiction writers prayer

Rate and review. Please.