Work Text:
He said it was "Empty symbolism," but it was so much more than that. The crisp, white pages, the firm leather encasing it, the ridiculously sharp pencil help in place with a little loop; it showed he paid attention. That even though his mind was riddled with facts of their case, his eyes constantly shifting focus, Jackaby still managed to remember Abigail had wanted a detective's notebook. A small gesture, to some. A mediocre thing to be reading too much into, to most. But to Abigail, the notebook, and the small magnifying glass for that matter, showed the trust Jackaby put in her. The consideration. That even though his mind jumped form one subject to another in a blink of an eye, he managed to scrape up the money to buy her a beautiful notebook, because he knew it meant something to her to have it. It showed in the gentle ridges and bumps of the bird relief; a small print of a rook above her initials: A.R.
Jackaby had berated notebooks, saying that they grew tiresome to keep tabs on, the words got messy and the pencil smudged. Yet, he put his negative feelings towards the blasted things aside, giving one to Abigail in the form of utmost trust. Considering their conversation preceding Jackaby gifting her with the notebook, it was, in a way, almost an invitation, an acceptance, an apology.
Inviting Abigail to stay with Jackaby and work with him, not for him.
Accepting that what Abigail possesses is perfectly ordinary, and that's what makes her extraordinary.
And an apology, for trying to push her away and for not realizing the depths of his trust in her before.
So yes; it may have been just "empty symbolism" to Jackaby, the extraordinary gift-giver, but to Abigail, the ordinary gift-receiver, it was so much more.