Update: 31 May 2014
Basically, I've decided to just go through this chapter, edit a few things, add a few things, just tweak it slightly. I might go through the rest of the story, and I do aim to, but no promises. I'm very bad a setting myself goals.

Summary: A short story based on Amy and Ian's ambiguous relationship, from their family ties, their fragile friendship and alliance, to the spark of romance that is (in my opinion) inevitable.

Setting: Set 1 year after Cahills vs. Vespers; assuming all hostages were released and are now back to their not-so-ordinary lives.

Disclaimer: I do not, and most likely never will, own the 39 clues, the scripted characters, the novel plot lines, etc. Those rights belong to Scholastic and the many lovely authors who've contributed to the series.

"Hello, Love."

It all started with those two simple words. Hello, Love. I didn't know what to do at the time. I was just so damn happy that everything had turned out okay – well, as okay as it can be when you're a Cahill. One year after what we now call "The Vesper Incident", or TVI for short, my family, the people I care about, were finally back to their old selves again. The scars and marks left behind were barely noticeable, even if they were still there, and smiling was something I would permit more often than not. Dan even had a girlfriend – sorry girl friend. Her name, believe it or not, was Natalie Kabra.

The grass was a bright green that stretched on for miles into the distance, Grace's roses stood tall and proud in the light rays of sun, and the sky was looking bluer than ever, speckled with fluffy white clouds here and there. So why, on that lovely spring morning, was I in a bad mood?

Ian Kabra.

Don't get me wrong, though. Ian could be a great friend when he wanted to be, if somewhat distant. But whenever he stayed with us in Grace's recently rebuilt mansion, he locked himself in his room all day, brooding over something ridiculously pathetic – which, admittedly, I knew absolutely nothing about – and only came down for breakfast and the occasional dinner.

This being his usual behaviour, it would seem illogical to be irritated by it. In a way, it was. Just because he'd had one good day didn't mean I should've expected another. But after what had happened…

Ian came down for breakfast, picked up a plate of pancakes from the kitchen, and dumped half of them onto Dan's plate, picking up an apple on his way past. There was nothing unusual about his routine until he sat down at the table. Not in his normal seat, in the far corner, but right in the middle, next to Jonah. It went quiet for a few seconds as everyone watched Ian with obvious surprise. He simply looked around the table, shrugged, and took a bite of his lusciously red apple.

Conversation went back to normal as Jonah's voice, heavy with sleep and lacking enthusiasm, asked, "What we doing today, yo?"

I rolled my eyes. Jonah was usually… normal around us, and hardly ever called us 'dogs' or something, unless he was too tired to realise who he was talking to. "Wake up and lose the gangster, Jonah."

"He stayed up too late last night working on a song."

Again, the table fell silent, all eyes on Ian. He never contributed to the breakfast conversation, and most of us were surprised that he actually knew what someone else was doing. In fact, he rarely spoke to anyone at all.

"What?" He asked, bemused.

"I'm surprised you haven't lost your voice, brother," Natalie said as she sat next to Dan.

He tried to look slightly offended and confused, and seemed to fool everyone else, but I saw right through his façade. He knew exactly what.

"Why don't we just chill?" Hamilton asked, glancing towards Sinead. They'd been spending a lot of time together recently. I think Natalie was waiting for the engagement announcement.

"We could go in the pool?" Dan suggested. "It's a nice day."

Everyone seemed to agree, and silently finished their breakfast. I didn't expect Ian to join in, and I didn't practically feel like swimming anyway, so while everyone else took their plates to Nellie in the kitchen, I picked up my book – which I'd conveniently brought with me to breakfast – and went to sit on the balcony. It overlooked the backyard, so I could see the pool to the left, just out of ear shot of the inevitable shouting and splashing that would soon come, and watch the sun glinting on the lake's surface in the near distance, like a sheet of glass. I was immersed in my book for what felt like just minutes. As I finished a chapter, I looked up. Everyone was already in the pool, splashing around and having fun. It's funny how time flies when you're reading.

I watched my family, a small smile playing on my lips. It's strange how, after everything we've been through, from trying to kill each other in the race for the 39 clues, to TVI, the pressure of worrying and wondering whether everyone was alright, we could all still smile and enjoy life. Even if it was just for a few moments, we could forget everything that had happened and laugh.

We could still love.

I sighed, closing my eyes and biting my lip. Funny how that thought came to mind. It seemed almost comical, and a little desperate, to be honest. I could still like him like that. Almost love him.

"Hello, love," said a voice behind me. I nearly jumped off my chair. It was a silky British accent that could belong to only one person.

Think of the devil, and the devil appears, I thought, not bothering to acknowledge said 'devil'.

Ian sat beside me on the garden bench, looking out into the horizon with a sigh.

"So… How are you?" He asked.

I raised my eyebrow, but answered him anyway. "Good. Really good, actually." After a brief silence, I asked, "How are you?"

"I'm… fine," was all he said.

I scoffed, which caused Ian to shoot me a questioning look.

"What?"

I shook my head. "You know, whenever we talk, you always seem to leave me with more questions than answers. That is, when you actually do talk to me."

"Well… answers are sometimes hard to give if you want to tell the truth," he said, almost sounding wise.

"See what I mean? You did it again."

"Again?"

I nodded. "The questions I've picked up from this minute-long conversation are, 'Why are you suddenly talking to me, and everyone else?' 'How are you really?' and 'What are you hiding from that you can't be honest about?'"

He was silent, contemplating. It was infuriating to sit through. I felt like standing up and leaving before I screamed in frustration.

"I'll give you two questions," he finally said.

I fiddled with the bookmark in my lap. "Okay. How are you really?"

He took a deep breath. "Tired, frustrated, annoyed…." The rest rushed out so fast I don't think he even noticed what he was saying. "Selfish, arrogant, cruel, hopeless, stuck, insensitive, lost. Completely and irrevocably-" He stopped himself, looking down at his feet, which I noticed were bare. I'd never seen Ian with bare feet.

I hesitated before speaking. "You know, you're not really those things. Well, you may be tired, and annoyed, and possibly lost. But 'cruel'? 'Insensitive'? You're not those things. Not anymore."

Ian shook his head like he didn't believe me, and I couldn't help thinking about what he stopped himself saying. 'Completely and irrevocably-' what? What was he going to say?

"You have one more question left," he said quietly.

I couldn't decide what to ask. I had so many questions before he sat down beside me – a good hundred or so. And now? That number's doubled, if not tripled. Finally, I decided to ask the one that I just knew would only leave me more confused.

"What's the truth you're hiding from?"

He sighed, like he was hoping I wouldn't ask that. "That's a pretty broad question. And it's a long truth. You might not like it," he warned.

"You said I had two questions," I reminded him. "I've chosen."

He looked at me, and I was shocked by how much pain and worry his eyes held. Why? What was going on?

I gripped his hand reassuringly, not quite sure how a peaceful, if not strange, morning turned so heavy, so full of the emotions buzzing around like bees. And how our family was still messing about in the pool without noticing the sudden drop in the atmosphere. To me, it felt like a big grey cloud had covered the sun.

He breathed out heavily and squeezed his eyes shut. "I honestly don't know where to start. There's so much to say, so much truth to be told… I'll start by saying sorry. To you. To everyone. I haven't exactly done something horrible in the sense that I betrayed you all or something along those lines. But I've ignored you, all year. I'm supposed to visit you to spend time with you, but instead I've been locking myself away. I've barely even said a word to anyone. I feel like I can't face anyone until the truth is out there, because it feels like it's written all over me, in big, bold letters. You probably thought I just didn't care about you, or I couldn't stand being with you. And I guess, in a way, that's true."

He squeezed my hand and shook his head to clear it. "Let me put that another way. I do care, and that's why I can't stand being around you."

I gave him a questioning look. "So, you ignore us because you care about us and you don't want us to know?" I asked, slightly appalled. "Because your too proud to show that you care or something?"

"No! Of course not! I don't care about everyone – well, I do care about everyone – but… When I say 'you', I mean you. Just you. I care about you."

I let that sink in, my mouth slightly agape. What did he mean when he said he cared about me?

"The truth," Ian continued, "is that I can't stand being around you because of how I feel. I don't want to mess up the peace and happiness this family only just found with my…" He sighed. "I love you, Amy. I've loved you for… quite a while. Some time during the clue hunt, I lost the will to do what Isabel said and I wanted so badly to fix everything between us. I didn't want us to hate each other. I was sick of all the hate and pain and trying to kill everyone else. I still am. And then later, when you called, I said I wasn't coming. I was rude and horrible, all because of my stupid pride. I was in love with a Cahill! Everything I'd been taught my whole life, everything I knew, was the complete opposite of how I felt." He caught his breath for a moment, then smiled, looking up at me. "Love. That's what I started calling you. Love."

I didn't know what to think much less say. My heart was pounding, and I could feel my blood, hot, boiling like liquid fire, crawling under my skin. I fought the urge to flee, to hide in a dark alcove somewhere and bury my face in a book.

But then, I didn't want to run, either, and it was this thought that made my head spin like a merry-go-round.

"I really don't expect you to reciprocate my feelings," Ian said, quietly, almost to himself. "After all, I'm a Kabra. I'm glad you know, though." He gave me a sad smile and stood up, trying to pull apart our tightly entwined fingers. But I stood with him and stepped closer, not letting go.

"Ian…" I started. "I… I can't say I love you. Not yet. But I do have feelings for you. I've tried to ignore them, but… I guess you know that that doesn't seem to work, right?" I took a deep breath, shocked by what I was about to do. "I'm not ready to say I love you," I whispered, letting my voice drift off.

Before I could lose my courage, I closed the distance between us and kissed him. Softly, lightly, but a kiss nonetheless. Butterflies flew frantic circles in my stomach, and it felt good. Really good. I didn't want it to end, but I knew that if I didn't stop to breathe soon, I wouldn't be able to kiss him again. Ever. And although I wasn't quite ready to say that I love him, his lips were really soft and tasted like cinnamon, and he smelt like clove. To experience that feeling, the rush of emotions, again was worth letting go.

I was drawing in deep breaths, staring intently into Ian's eyes, when I heard a loud bang from the kitchen and immediately broke away from his grip with a small jump.

"Are you okay?" he asked, worry lines etching his forehead.

I nodded. "Just scared me."

We stared at each other for a moment longer before I spoke again. "Ian?"

"Yes, love?"

I smiled at the name that was once a maddening phrase but was now a term of endearment. "Can we… not tell anyone? Just for now. I want to have at least one secret that no one else knows. And they'd tease us until we'd torn our hair out."

He laughed. "Let's see how long it can last. I'm betting on 2 weeks before anyone finds out."

I grinned. "Unless you're planning on telling anyone, then I'd say we could last… 8 months."

Ian raised his eyebrows. "You're planning on keeping us a secret for 8 months?"

I nodded and squeezed his hand before final letting it go. As I stepped inside, by book forgotten, I thought things would change. I things would change with Ian. I thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd seem a little less… broken.

That hope quickly turned into frustration once again. Just because I said we'd keep it a secret didn't mean he had to go back into his hermit shell and hide away from the rest of the world. If he'd been hiding from his feelings for me, like he had said, then what was keeping him behind a locked door on the second floor?

"Amy?" Jonah called, waving a hand in front of my face.

"What?" I snapped instinctively, feeling immediately guilty at his stricken expression. I sighed and forced a small smile. "Sorry, Jonah."

"No problem. You just looked like you were trying to glare a hole through the table, that's all."

I looked down at the table, just to check, then glanced around the room. Today, it seemed, all eyes were on me instead of Ian.

"What?" I asked.

They all shook their heads.

Slowly, conversation trickled back into the room, and although I barely paid any attention to what was said, as soon as I heard Ian's name, my head snapped up and my ears perked.

"What was up with Ian yesterday?" Sinead asked. "He actually came down to breakfast, and spent the morning out of his room."

Natalie shrugged. "Maybe he'll come down soon."

"I doubt it," I scoffed, once again glaring a hole through the table. "He never comes down for lunch."

I wallowed in my annoyance once again, barely noticing the still silence that fell after my words.

"Why are you in such a bad mood?" Hamilton asked.

Dan smirked. "No Ian."

"Dan," I scolded. "A lot can change in two years."

Natalie stared at me in a way that said she saw right through me.

"What?" I demanded, my voice sharp.

She considered me for a second, her eyes calculating. She seemed to be studying me, studying my expressions and body language – as she'd been trained to do since the moment she was born. Finally, she asked, "What happened?"

I shook my head. "Nothing happened. I'm… fine." Then I realised I'd repeated what Ian had said to me yesterday. I pushed the thought away.

Laughter flowed through the doorway. Familiar laughter. I looked up and saw Ian leaning against the doorframe, smirking at me. "How are you really?" he mocked.

I crossed my arms and glared, anger bubbling in my chest, which only made him laugh harder. I groaned and rested my face on my arms that were crossed over the table. In the silence – and lack of laughter – I heard the chair beside me scrape on the floor as Ian sat down.

"So... Ian…" Jonah started, not quite sure how to say what was bound to be the next question.

Hamilton beat him to the punch. "Why are you talking to us again? What changed to make you want to socialise?" He tone was clipped, professional, like a therapists', and I fought back an amused smile.

"I was hungry," Ian said simply, and I looked up form my arms to stare at him blankly. He didn't meet my eyes.

Natalie sighed. "Come on, Ian. You haven't even spoken to me! I'm your sister!"

"I was… busy."

"Too busy for your sister?" Natalie asked, exasperated. "And your cousins?" She quickly added.

"Hate to get between another family feud, but you're yelling in my ear," I grumbled.

Ian nudged my shoulder. "Why are you so grumpy?"

I was going to reply with a witty remark when I realised I didn't exactly have a reason to be mad anymore. Ian was here, out of his cave. My annoyance was now unwarranted, which only annoyed me further.

"Probably PMS-ing," Dan announced, as cheery as ever. I couldn't glare at him because that would only confirm his theory.

Natalie, the kind, thoughtful cousin she is, said. "Nope. That was 2 weeks ago."

"Thanks, Nat," I said through my teeth, using the much hated nickname Dan had given her.

"No problem, love," she said back.

My head shot right up. "With Ian, that name's bearable. But two Kabras?" Even to me, my voice sounded harsh, almost vicious. "Call me that again, and I swear-"

"Okay!" Ian cut me off. "No killing my sister, please. Love."

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Cobra."

Jonah started laughing. "What is with you three? Did you all wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

I sighed. "I'm going to the library."

I walked past Nellie on my way out, who gave me a strange look, but I just stormed past, ignoring her.

"Hey, Kiddos. What was that about?" I heard her ask, her voice slowly fading away as I moved further into the mansion.

"Why hasn't she come down yet?" Dan's voice trailed from the dining room, up the stairs, to the open door to my bedroom. "She's probably hungry."

"I'll take her some hot chocolate," Ian offered.

I could feel Dan's confusion. He could sometimes be completely oblivious. "Why you?" He asked.

"To apologise."

I shut the door quietly, hoping they would get the picture. I wasn't hungry. I was tired. Admittedly, I was a little thirsty, but I didn't want to see anyone. I don't know why I was still annoyed. Who would've thought one hour less of sleep could affect you so much?

Someone knocked on the door, assumedly Ian.

"Yes, Ian?" I called.

He opened the door. "How did you know it was me?"

"I can hear you in the kitchen from here, you know."

He looked unconvinced. "Really?"

"With the door open, yes."

Ian smiled a beautiful smile, which I liked a lot more than his signature smirk. He shut the door and handed me a hot mug without a word. We drank in silence, and I savoured the sweet taste. I was thirsty.

After draining the cup, I placed it on my bedside table. Ian did the same before he abruptly pulled me off the bed and into his chest. I sunk into his arms, breathing him in.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he whispered into my hair. After a minute, he kissed me on the head and let me go. I entwined both his hands with mine.

"Me, too. I guess staying up late does that to you," I said, standing on my tiptoes to place a lingering kiss on his lips.

He smirked. "And why, might I ask, were you up late?"

"I was making out with an English man."

He burst out laughing. "Frank, aren't you?"

"Amy, actually. I thought my boyfriend would know that," I laughed.

He grinned and wrapped his arms around my waist. I tangled my hands in his hair and pulled his head down to me. He captured my lips with his and brought me closer to him.

Then someone knocked on the door and we jumped apart, grinning from ear to ear.

"8 months. You're on," Ian whispered, reaching for the door handle. I smiled and picked up our empty mugs.

8 months of secret make-out sessions with my new boyfriend? That I could handle.