Blacklight - R [COMPLETED]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Emma despised Christmas week in the Underground. There were days for this, and days for that, all of which were more pointless than the last. Gift exchange was one she hated more than the rest; a day before Christmas Eve and the big ol’ Christmas ball.
Every one was all so jolly as they exchanged brightly wrapped presents and promises of not to open them until the big day. Pfft. They’d barely leave the room before they ripped the packaging open and criticised the contents.

Emma was sat on one of the back sofas of the communal room, away from the crowds, and flicked through one of the many out-of-date magazines.
When Elijah came into the room, he zoned in on her almost instantly. “Wow,” He smirked, “This isn’t like you to be sat on your own, away from all the fun.”
They hadn’t spoken of their veranda antics, neither had they repeated it.
Emma wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about either of those things.
Elijah dropped down next to her, his long legs outstretched in front of him and his arms spread out over the back of the sofa, his right one tucked neatly behind her.
Without looking up from the magazine, Emma said, “A memo came for you this morning; you have a parcel in the mail room.”
"For me?" Elijah asked in confusion.
She looked up at him then, “Probably from your family, since it is Christmas in two days.”
He shrugged. "Maybe. But alright."
“Aren’t you going to visit them over the holidays? I thought you said you visit them this time of year.”
"Occasionally," he replied before shifting slightly toward her. "Don't you have family to visit?"
“No.” She answered simply. Even if Emma’s parents were still in her life, they wouldn’t have sent her anything and she sure as hell wouldn’t have visited them.

Elijah was about to open his mouth and reply, when they were joined by unexpected (and unwanted) company.
Amanda stopped just in front of them, her eyes locked solely onto Elijah. “Hey,” She smiled down sweetly at him, before positioning the bottle of whisky she held onto the table at her side, a neat red bow tied around its neck. “I bought you a present for Christmas…and to say sorry for what I did.”
Emma raised a thoughtful brow at the bottle. This was interesting – and wasn’t the bow cute?
"What makes you think I'd ever forgive you?" Elijah retorted, not even looking in her direction. Instead, his eyes locked onto Emma’s lap.
“It’s just a peace offering, Elijah. I know you like whisky.”
Elijah bent forward and took the bottle. "I'm not accepting your apology."
“But you’ll accept the whisky?” She asked, hopefully.
"Yeah, but that's it. Don't think we're friends, or anything."
The blonde giggled happily, “No, of course not.” Her happy demeanour soon vanished, however, when she suddenly seemed aware of Emma’s presence. “It’s not for her, though. Just you.”

Emma sneered to herself. Like she’d drink anything that blonde demon gave out to anyone.
"I can do whatever the hell I want with my liquor," Elijah quipped. "It is mine, right?"
“Yes, but it was my gift to you, Elijah, honey. Not the ginger ninja there.”
Elijah finally looked at her. "I'm not your 'honey', and if it's my gift, you no longer have a say. Ready to go, Emma?"

Flickering her magazine closed, Emma pushed to her feet with him and caught the blonde’s eye. “I hope you have a real merry Christmas, Amanda. Didn’t forget the ask for birth control, did you?”
Amanda sniggered, “Didn’t you get a present this year, Emma? Oh, you didn’t? That makes a change, doesn’t it? I mean, so many people like you, I’m surprised you’re not drowning in gifts. Maybe next year, yea?”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Unfortunately the day of the ball had come faster than both Emma and Elijah had anticipated, the whole building practically bathing in Christmas cheer. Egg Nog was served regularly in the communal room and dozens of presents were being shipped from all over to agents in the mailing sector. Elijah had received a card from his parents with a few twenties in it, the bottle of whiskey from Amanda, and a few other things from people he had regularly exchanged friendly conversation with. But today, he had a plan of his own, a tiny box hidden in his right hand.

They hadn’t spoken about what had happened on the veranda, but Elijah wasn’t the type of person to bring up old news – they had both enjoyed each other’s company, so what? There was nothing wrong with two lonely people, sharing their loneliness. At least in his mind there wasn’t. And if Emma was ever up to doing something like that again, Elijah would gladly oblige.

It had been around six-thirty AM by the time he was creeping slowly down the hallway, this being the earliest he had ever woken up. Elijah had to surprise Emma though, and that was only possible if he woke up before her. So, with one hand on her room door, he slowly twisted it open, to see her body sprawled across the bed rather recklessly, her bed sheet hanging off the mattress. So she was a messy sleeper, eh? Elijah snickered at the thought.

Pressing a hand to her shoulder, he shook her slightly. “Wake up, sleeping beauty.”
Emma groaned and rolled away from him. "Shhhh."
“You do realize it’s Christmas Eve, right?”
“And?" She murmured.
“I have very important news for you, and I feel you’ll need to stand for this.” It was hard to keep a straight face as he looked Emma dead in the eye.
Emma sighed, "Do I have to?"
“Of course you have to! What kind of question is that?”

She let out another groan in protest, before swinging her legs off the mattress and climbing to her feet.
Elijah wanted to laugh, but remained entirely serious, as he used his free hand to grip hers, getting down on one knee as he looked up into her eyes. “Emma, I’ve felt a…special way about you for a very long time, two months approximately, and I was wondering if you’d do me the honors of giving me your hand in…” he grabbed the box, popping it open to reveal the ring she had used on their first mission together, except it had been turned into a necklace, “…going to the ball with me.” Christ, he felt like he was in middle school again, and even then, girls had asked him, rather than vice versa.

Eh, but Elijah figured if he was asking her to accompany him to the dance, he’d do it with a bang.

Emma looked at him in bewilderment, “What? You want me to go to the ball…with you?”
“Yeah, I know you said it wasn’t your thing, but I figured why not.” Elijah would have added: ‘And you don’t really have a choice because regardless, we’re going,’ but he figured he’d keep on this gentleman-ly façade until she said yes.
She narrowed her eyes on him suspiciously, "Why?"
“God forbid anyone actually propose to you,” he murmured, before looking up at her again. “What do you mean why? Because I want to? Because I don’t want to go alone?”
Emma's gaze traveled down to the box, "And you got me a...Christmas present?"
“You act like this is all so hard to believe,” Elijah mused. “But yes, I did. And are you going to put it on, or leave me hanging here?” He still remained kneeling on the floor, waiting for her to take the small thing out of its dark container, resting on a sheet of cotton.
"I've never had one before," Emma admitted. Then, she turned her back to him and lifted up her hair. "Will you put it on for me? I can never work the catches."

Elijah nodded, getting up from his knee before gently lifting the glimmering necklace from its place in the box and draping it around her neck, finally locking the latch. Then, he leaned in close, lips grazing her ear as he whispered, “It looks good on you.”

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Could things possibly get any more bizarre?
Firstly, Emma had shared a moment so serial with her partner that she still thought of it to the present day, and now he was giving Emma her first Christmas present and asking her to the Christmas Ball. A ball she despised every year without fail, and one she normally avoided like it was the plague.
Yet, this year was full of surprises.
Emma had found herself running three blocks to the nearest dress shop, an hour after Elijah had asked her, searching for something to wear. Unfortunately, most of the dresses in the store had already been bought by the rest of the female inhabitants of the building, leaving her with little choice. Not that Emma was picky; she was the furthest away from being girly and precise, so she’d settled for a knee long green and black dress.
It was going to be the one and only dress she owned.

By six that evening, Emma was stood by the apartment door, ready and waiting to go. She’d left her hair loose, and her new silver necklace hung delicately around her neck. Emma carefully played with the ring, twisting it around her fingers and-
Curiously, she looked down at the size of the ring around her finger. It was the larger of the two, which meant that Elijah had given her his ring. So, where was hers?

With that thought, Elijah’s bedroom door opened and he stepped out into the hall, dressed smartly in a black suit and white shirt. He was frowning to herself as he tried in vein to do his tie up.
“Well, well, well,” Emma nodded in appreciation, “You look good in a suit.”
Understatement of the century. The man was handsome in practically everything he wore, but something about seeing Elijah in a smart suit made Emma’s insides quiver.
Elijah grinned at her. "You don't look bad yourself."
Emma shrugged and walked to meet him half way. She took the dark red silk material out of his fingers and tied in neatly for him. “There you go.”
“Why thank you, sweetheart. I can’t believe you were ready before me.”
“That’s because you take ridiculously long to get dressed, you woman.” Emma teased, “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
“Don’t sound too excited now, will you? Control yourself, Emma.”

With a roll of her eyes, Emma stepped out into the hallway and started to the lifts, Elijah close at her back.
“Hmm, have I ever told you how sexy I think your legs are?” His voice asked behind her. “I’m almost drooling seeing them in heels.”
She reached back to slap his arm, “Shut up.”
“Why?” He asked, laughing. “They're like a stairway to heaven…and I know exactly what waits for me at the top; that ass that I can’t stop dreaming about.”

She knew his flirting was only for fun, so then, why was her body suddenly reacting to it? It hadn’t before. At least, until their veranda kiss.

The Ball was located in the west side of the building, near the buildings gardens, yet the whole place was alight with cheer and merriment. The music could be heard the moment they exited the lift, echoing up from the large double doors that were no doubt open.

They were barely out of the lift before Leroy suddenly appeared, his blonde hair dishevelled and his tie loose.
“Emma,” He breathed, catching the couple’s attention as he jogged toward them. “Listen, I’m so, so, sorry for what happened last week. I’ve been trying to catch you, but Jacob’s been riding my ass about it, and then Landry Johnson did too. I almost got fired. I swear, I never meant to hurt you, or scare you.”
Emma waved a dismissive hand; she didn’t want to be around the rookie, despite his apology.
But it wasn’t the answer her wanted. Leroy reached out and grabbed her wrist, forcing her to stop and listen. “Emma, please. Amanda told me you liked me and I’ve been crushing on you since I met you…I just thought that you wanted the same things as I did. As I still do.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Elijah wouldn’t ignore when a girl looked sexy, so Emma wasn’t the exception. Especially when she chose such a dress that hugged each and every curve, accentuating her—
His thoughts were cut short at the sight of Leroy, looking a hot fucking mess in a disheveled wing-tip blouse and trousers, blonde hair slicked back. With all the words flying from that boy's mouth in under a minute, Elijah thought he'd receive slight whiplash.

“Crushing doesn’t constitute as surprise sex in the bathroom,” Elijah pointed out, just to feel Emma’s nails dig into his wrist. He winced, before pulling away. Elijah had no idea why she was trying to defend people like Jacob and Leroy, who had both hurt her in one way or another. But the kid did seem genuine in his apologies, orbs smoldering with raw guilt as he looked into Emma’s eyes.

“I don’t know where you got the notion I liked you, Leroy, but I accept your apology,” she responded with a small sigh.
“Is it because you’re with him?” he questioned, a hint of suspicion on his tone.
Elijah rolled his eyes, finding it incredibly hard to stay civil for long. “Yeah, yeah we are, kid. So, find someone else to smash your junk against.”

He guided Emma along, until they were out of ear shot. “You can thank me later.” Poor guy was reaching for the stars trying to get with her; he honestly wondered how Amanda had convinced him she held the slightest shred of interest. Elijah wasn’t the one to delve too much into petty drama though, simply shrugging it off.

Eventually they made it into the ballroom, a lavish enclosure with holographic snowflakes fluttering about the room, a balcony on the second floor, and a kitchen serving food from a small holiday-inspired menu. Tables hung around the western wall, a few agents speckled along them, and a newly-added platform for the band stood at the very front.

Usually Elijah would have scoped the floor for a girl worthy of his attention, but he oddly found himself having a hell of a good time messing around with Emma at a table in the back as he swigged on a beer.

“I would love to see you dance someday,” he declared, while watching the floor pulsate with life. For people that were intended to have sticks up their asses twenty four seven, they were getting pretty down.
“Not gonna happen,” she responded, just as quickly, taking a sip from her soda.
“You can’t dance?”
“I choose not to.”
“Would you dance for me?”
“Not even for you.”
“What if we were alone and you were taking your clothes off at the same time?”
“Then you would wake up and realize it was all just a lovely dream.”

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Of course, Elijah wasn’t about to let her just sit there for the rest of the night. He got up, stretched himself out and held his hand out to her, “Up you get, Emma, sweetheart.”
She looked at his hand like it was a foreign creature, “I am not dancing, Elijah. If you want to dance so much why don’t you go find a girl that’s already on the dance floor?”
He hadn’t so much as looked at a woman all night, well, apart from her, but that hardly counted.
Sighing, he dropped once again into his seat. “Fine.”
Emma blinked at him. “What are doing?”
"I like it here," Elijah responded simply. "With you."

An unexpected waved of guilt assailed her. Elijah wanted to dance, to have fun, but (for some unknown reason) he wanted to stay with her, too. Yet, because of her reservations, she was stopping him. That wasn’t fair.
Emma delicately fingered the silver chain around her neck.
Ugh.

She sighed inwardly and darted up, “Okay, come on…before I change my mind.”
Good god, what was Emma letting herself in for?! This wasn’t her at all, she didn’t dance.
He raised his brows, a wide grin spreading across his lips. "Alright."
In the blink of an eye, Elijah was on his feet once more, his hand wrapped around hers as he dragged her into the mist of dancing bodies. They fitted into a spot near the glass doors leading out into the gardens below, away from the main crowd.

Elijah instantly got into the tempo of the music, his movements smooth and precise. Emma recognised the song – just in time for it to end. The next song began in a slow and harmonic rhythm, the lights dimmed around the hall and couples instantly came together in intimate embraces.
For a moment, Emma and Elijah could only stare at each other, unsure of what to do next.

With a slight shrug of his shoulders, Elijah stepped into her, his hands coming to rest on her hips, but not before he lifted one of her arms and urged it around his shoulders.
Emma’s hand hooked onto his shoulders; he was too tall for her hands to meet around his neck, something she’d quickly tried to do in vain.
They gently began to sway together.
“So…this is dancing?” Emma asked, squeezing his shoulders.
“Not real dancing,” He smirked, “This is more of a couple’s thing…”
Her auburn brows rose up, “Have you ever slow danced with anyone before?”
"Not since junior prom, no," Elijah admitted with a sheepish smile. "Have you?"
“Really?” She grinned, “You’re asking me that?”
He was the only man she could stand touching her, a fact Emma still hadn’t really acknowledged.
Elijah chuckled. "I'm guessing no."
“You guessed right.”

Elijah stepped closer and bowed his head. The man was so freakishly tall.
“I think you’re a good dancer.” He murmured.
She shook her head, “How can you say that? We’re just swaying on the spot.”
“Well, then you’re good at swaying on the spot.”
A hint of a smile moved across her lips, “You’re not too bad yourself.”

One hand lifted from its place on her hip to brush gently across her jaw. The tingle came back with an almighty force, leaving her momentarily stunned once more.
“I like that,” He said, his blue eyes burning into hers. “You have a…really nice smile, Emma. You should do it more.”
“I will,” She found herself saying, “When I have something to smile about.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

After a few more minutes on the floor, they returned to the back tables, the music livening up once more as agents continued to sway to the pulsating beats. It didn’t take long for the party to disinterest him though, finishing another beer before glancing at Emma with a mischievous smile.
“What?” She raised her brows at him.
“You can’t tell me you’re having a good time.”
Emma shrugged. “I never have a good time at these types of things. Why?”
“Then let’s get outta here,” Elijah suggested nonchalantly.
“And where do you suggest we go?” Emma questioned, although she was already sliding out of her chair.
“The garden?”
“Mm, why the garden?”

----

Elijah backed her gently against a stone wall, her arms draped around his neck as he crushed his lips to hers, hands already wrapping around her sides. She gripped his tie whenever he drifted too far, tiny groans of heightened pleasure escaping her lips whenever his fingers skated over the right spots. Both of them were far from giving a damn if anyone saw, the heat of the moment overriding any chill that hung in the air that night due to winter.

“Better than the party?” He breathed in her ear, that tiny chuckle sounding afterwards.
“Do you have to ask?” She replied, fingers fisted in his hair once again by the time they somehow wandered into the grass, finding a nice dark spot the lights from the building didn’t touch.

Elijah was the first on the ground, Emma crawling on top as she closed the gap between them once more, his fingers already playing with the zipper on her dress. Were they actually doing this? In the goddamn grass outside of a Christmas party? Or was this Emma’s elaborate way of driving him unbelievably crazy?

It was working.

He circled his arms around her waist, carefully rotating their bodies so he was on top, hips gyrating against hers as he dragged his lips along her neck, nibbling on as much skin as he could. Apparently Elijah found another sweet spot, for a soft gasp left her throat, nails digging into his back with added force.
Elijah quickly paused to loosen his own tie, surprised with how eager he was. His moves were usually slow and calculating – teasing for as long as he could before the girl just about lost it. But now? Elijah couldn’t get his clothes off fast enough.

Well that was until the garden was suddenly rinsed in darkness, every outlet in the building cutting off. Holy he--

They widened their eyes at each other simultaneously, the use of words not necessary for the abrupt realization that hit them like a dart.

Elijah stiffened.

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Everything was abruptly happening at once. One moment there was unbelievable kissing, the kind that Emma felt all the way to the tips of her toes, then there was the smell of grass and cologne and the weight of a body on top of hers, hips moving and hands roaming, and oh, there had been pleasure. So much of it.
Her body was practically on fire below Elijah; and Emma almost combusted when he tugged harshly at his tie, pulling it off and over his head without a second of hesitation.
Her fuzzy brain couldn’t connect the dots. Why was he taking his clothes off…?

Then, realisation dawned.
The way he was moving over her, his (and hers) erratic breathing, the pure look of wanting etched into his face. Emma couldn’t decide which shocked her more, where things were rapidly heading, or that someone, especially Elijah, was looking at her that way.

As he started at the top buttons of his shirt, she reached out and attentively touched the tips of her fingers across his cheek. Emma quickly found that she liked that look from him; butterflies erupted in the pit of her stomach, and that was certainly a sensation she wasn’t accustomed to.

Emma was getting her fill of that look, when it unexpectedly vanished, darkness shrouding them.
Two heart beats later and the screaming began.

The mood they’d worked up evaporated as they untangled themselves from one another and pushed to their feet.
Emma rearranged her dress, “The lights…” She breathed as she looked up at the tall, dark building.

Grabbing her hand, Elijah forced her forward and into a run toward the glass doors they hadn’t long walked out of, Doors that were now locked from the inside.
The screams echoed through the glass.
“Fuck!” Elijah growled, trying to force the doors.
A wave of panicked women slammed up against the glass, their cries for help muffled but clear. “Help!”
“We need to get inside!” She exclaimed. “The bastards turned the power off again. What if they’re-!?”
“She’s dead!” One of the women behind the glass screamed, pounding on the door, her tears staining her face. The others were quick to follow.

“That’s it,” With quick thinking on her side, Emma pulled one of her heels off and shouted at them to back off from the door. “These things have got to be good for something.”
With that, Emma slammed the hard heel of her shoe into the glass.
The first hit sent out a ripple of cracks across one half of the door. The second shattered it completely, sending the shards of glass in every direction.

After a steady stream of panicked people forced their way through the door, Elijah and Emma forced their way in.
They were separated immediately by the hustle of bustle of the blind crowd, the deafening sound of shouts and screams making impossible for them to hear each other should they call.
She tried anyway. “Elijah!”
He had a hold of her – so, why the hell did he let go?!
Emma pushed her way deeper through the crowd. “Eli-“

Her heel hit something slippery on the hard laminated floor of the ballroom, sending her face first downward. The drop left her breathless - and not in the way Elijah had not a few minutes before – and she knew that whatever she’d slipped in, she was now lying in, too. Emma could feel it beneath her hands as she tried to pushed herself up, it clung to her skin and her dress…and the smell. She knew that smell.

Then, with a burst of colour, the lights came back on, banishing away the fear and the darkness.
And Emma found herself looking into a pair of familiar eyes. Only now, the flirty sparkle was gone, leaving behind a dull, glassy grey.
“Leroy.” She murmured.

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Everything felt like it was going in slow motion – from nearly hitting second base with Emma, to the lights abruptly shutting off, causing absolute horror to ripple through the agency. By the time they had rushed inside, agents were screaming and crying and trying to find a way out, not wanting to become another lost case in an unknown killer’s hit list. Elijah had been trained to keep calm in situations with high levels of distress though, quickly moving out of the way as a river of people flooded by him, all trying to slip through the empty frame Emma had shattered with her heel.

Which speaking of—

Elijah hadn’t noticed he had run off without her, his eyes frantically searching the room once light had touched it once more, her body sprawled across a corpse automatically catching his attention. With widened eyes, he rushed to her side, not aware of who’s blood she was laying in until his eyes connected with the familiar gray, lips dropping slightly in a frown. Again, death was something he had grown used to, but the kid definitely didn’t deserve having his life ended so soon. Shame; he was the only one of Amanda’s idiot brigade Elijah could somewhat stand, regardless of his mistakes.

“Are you okay?” he murmured, stooping by Emma’s side and extending a hand. This time, she took it, albeit still shaken up.
“I’m fine,” Emma breathed.
Elijah briefly scanned the room to see six lifeless bodies coating the floor with their blood, and with brief evaluation, it was obvious they had been pierced by what looked like a powerful lead bullet. The tiny piece of metal held enough power to completely blow someone’s face off, strong enough to get the job done in one easy shot.

Elijah rarely felt unsettled, but the thought of the murderer being so close that they could get clear, accurate shots, only meant that said person had managed to get into the building once again.
And he thought things had finally settled. He nearly felt ignorant for believing the fact the murders abruptly stopping was mere coincidence. Apparently he or she had planned their attack when no one was expecting it, only stirring the pot to instill a similar fear in the government’s sole source of protection.

It was only anticipated Landry had called the two agents to his office immediately, and for the first time since Elijah had arrived, he sensed genuine fear in the older man’s tone.

___

“I’m at a blank,” Landry announced with a distressed sigh as he glanced out the window. “We checked every security camera in the building, and not a single suspicious figure entered into the registry.”
"This guy is like a ghost, until the lights go out that is..." Emma frowned. "We're the most secure building in the city, and yet someone is picking our people off one by one."
“He got in again, had to have. We’re surrounded by a dome and yet the corpse’s have bullet wounds from within close range,” Elijah murmured. “Maybe it’s a rebel – taking out the country’s biggest branch of protection is practically like gnawing away at someone’s immune system. Once they break the defense, they’re practically on the inside and can seize control easily.”
Landry squeezed the palms of his hands together. “If we can analyze a pattern out of the people he kills, maybe we could predict who’s next and discreetly follow him or her until the lights cut off again.”
"Is there a pattern?" Emma asked, "It seems like random hits to me."
“Couldn’t agree more,” Elijah responded. “I mean, it just doesn’t seem to correlate to me. Bonny James, a MedHead, then Janet Smith, a chef, then Thomas Parker, a guard, Kerry Hill, a freaking mechanic, and then Leroy? Whoever’s causing this simply wants to cause a reaction – a state of panic, so our efforts are focused on this, rather than other detrimental issues.”

Landry seemed to be startled they were agreeing on something but continuing nonetheless,“Well, bottom line is we can’t allow this to happen again. Either we take action, or risk another agent, coupled with the dozens that have resigned already. I’ll have a special group monitor every movement inside the agency like a hawk. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll be forced to take serious action.”

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Within the hour, severe security precautions were instantly put into effect. Lifts were put on lock down, only accessible with a coded card, available from one of the many guards littering the hallways. Everyone had locked themselves away, and as soon as they were done with their two hour long meeting with Landry, that’s just what Emma and Elijah did too. It was close to 1AM when they walked through the apartment doors, completely drained.

They both moved toward the kitchen, where Elijah slumped against island and Emma deep cleansed her hands. There were still spots of blood on her arms and wrists from earlier, despite the fact she’d washed them in the bathroom in Landry’s office.
“This has never happened before,” Emma murmured, her back to him. “I’ve been here ten years, and no-one has ever been killed in this building up until now.”
Elijah let out a tired sigh. "Well whoever the killer is, they're fucking ruthless."
“How many is this now…nine? Nine members of staff are now in the grave, all thanks to this murderer who we can’t figure out. What the hell are all the brains of the agency doing? Sitting around and twiddling their thumbs? They should have figured this out by now, or at least got a lead.”
Since when had Forensics dragged their heels on anything? Technology has come on leaps and bounds in the last few centuries and the team in D-79 were amongst the best in the business. They could get a figure print from just about anything, whether gloves had been worn or not.

"Well now it's up to us," Elijah replied. "And this person doesn't seem like they want it to be easy."
Emma turned to him slowly, a frown creasing her brows. “None of this is adding up. How can we catch a ghost, Elijah?”
"Eh, the answer will come eventually," he responded simply, grinning slightly.

With a roll of her eyes, she dropped down on to the counter opposite him. “You’d think I’d be scared…knowing that there’s a killer on the loose, but I’m not.” Mainly because Emma had never been afraid of dying, after all, what would she lose in death? She had no family, no-one that loved her, no-one that would mourn her.
"Guess that makes the two of us," Elijah responded with a wink.
She told herself that that wink had no effect on her. None whatsoever.

Emma shrugged, “Mmm, apart from that…I guess I kind of had an okay night.”
His dark brows rose high, "Okay? Don't you mean fantastic?"
“I’d hardly say that. One thing is, this is the second time I’ve gone out with you, and the second outfit I’ve ruined. If I carry on the way I’m going I’ll have no clothes left at all.” She spared a glance down to her blood stained dress and sighed. She actually liked it, too.
Elijah smirked, the spark in his eye evident. "If we had a few more minutes, your outfit would probably be a little more...destroyed."
“Really?” She asked, standing up straight. “I don’t think the blood could have damaged it anymore that it already did, a few extra minutes or not.”
Elijah let out a genuine laugh, looking at her incredulously. "Are you joking? I meant in the garden, sweetheart, right before I tore your dress off."

Heat bombarded her face, his announcement catching her off guard.

Emma quickly turned away, but not before Elijah got a full look at her.
He reached across the counter and caught her wrist. “Hold up, sweetheart. Are you…blushing?!”
“No,” She clipped, trying to veil her cheeks with her hair. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Elijah pulled at her gently, trying to force her to look at him once more. “Come on, Emma, let me see.”
“There’s nothing to see.”
“Yes, there is!” He was hanging over the counter now, reaching his other hand out to reach her face. “Emma…”
“Stop it!” Despite her best efforts, Emma was grinning as she batted him away.

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Elijah snickered, shooting a smug grin in her direction. They had messed around a bit more before he decided to spare her for the night and tread off to the bathroom to wash away the dry blood that clumped around under his nails and skin. The sight of the red liquid seldom bothered him, and he viewed it as another simple casualty that came with the job.
After stepping out of the shower, he took the time to brush his teeth, the glitter of his dog tags catching in the light, an extra rectangle of metal adorning his chest with the identification number of Remiah Fisher. Elijah was surprised with the surge of emotions that shot through him, his chest sore, before he slid a plain gray t-shirt over his frame, the metal still cool and heavy against his skin.

__


There were tall tales that some men and women went crazy while deployed in the military, being confined in a tiny room with about eight cots each, the air conditioning only working when you were lucky or cast in tents outside, trying to fend away vicious mosquitoes or other natural elements. Although living arrangements were hardly the worst part; because no one truly cared whether they were sleeping on a hard mattress or in dung when you were only allowed two calls to your family per week– the ones you loved, whether this involved a wife, children, husband, parents, grandparents, or others – for no more than ten minutes each time.

Some people didn’t even make it past training – unable to remain halfway sane when a drill sergeant screamed in your ear various orders to be completed efficiently and manifest your original way of thinking into that of the military’s standard at four AM in the morning. They made the tasks particularly hard so they could carefully shave off the individuals that didn’t have the heart to stay afloat so they didn’t have to waste money paying for their expenses.

Elijah was never bothered by those things though – Remiah was. It was hard to watch his friend make the painful transition from regular guy to a stern soldier, and even when they had been deployed to the Middle East, limited contact with his parents, brother in particular, had slowly began wearing at his ‘tough guy’ demeanor, and Elijah had been one of the only ones to acknowledge it.

“I think I’m discharging after my contract is up,” Remiah said one day after they had cruised through Aqaba in a Golan Armored Vehicle in hopes of settling the Arab-Israeli religious conflict that had still continued to rage, even today. A lot had changed in America, but the Middle East was still progressing gradually.
Elijah held the bottle of fresh water he was to use to brush his teeth, glancing at his best friend with an amused expression. “You think no one saw that coming? You’re emotions are too involved to ever survive for long in the military.” Even though he often showed his friend tough love, he couldn't fathom life in the military without Remiah and the discussions they always seemed to have. Whether Elijah was aware of it or not, Remiah was probably the most significant reason he hadn't gone insane carrying around heavy weapons twenty four seven, clad in equally as thick uniforms, the fear of always wondering if tomorrow would be his last, or working fifteen hours per day in the blazing sun, guns and grenades constantly blasting.

He pitied him – there was no doubt the man would suffer severe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Remiah scowled at Elijah, although he was perfectly aware it was true.
“When does your contract end?” He asked, only indulging the conversation to distract himself from the unbearable heat that consumed the small unit.
“Two weeks,” he responded simply. “Hopefully they go by quickly.”

Elijah shrugged, unknowing of the fact his best friend would die the following day.

All because of him.



Elijah shot up from the bed, sweat coating his skin as he glanced around at the room to see it wasn’t the small concrete buildings of Jordan, not a single mortar or machine gun going off outside of the thin walls. He gripped the dog tag tighter than necessary, chest still heaving as he got out of bed and stooped on the floor to wildly search the few bags he had left unpacked.

Suddenly, his mother’s advice came to mind once he dumped the two circular pills into the palm of his hand, swallowing quickly. Elijah’s breathing was still labored by the time he treaded out towards the kitchen, quickly turning on the pipe and attempting to cool his sweltering skin.

The thought of that dream creeping on him so suddenly after going away for five years troubled Elijah more than anyone could ever know.

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Emma dreamed of Leroy that night; his handsome, innocent face looking at her in wonder, just like he’d done at the pool side when he’d first seen her.
She stirred from her sleep, unnerved and unusually cold. It was rare that Emma dreamed at all, and even rarer that she felt some kind of…guilt. She’d brushed his apology off as though it meant nothing to her, and honestly, at the time, it hadn’t; Emma had been angry at the boy for revealing her weaknesses.
And now he was dead, murdered by a killer that was close to invisible.

Running her fingers through her hair, she pushed up from her bed with a tired sigh and grabbing her empty glass from her bed stand, headed for the kitchen.
The last thing she expected to find was Elijah hunched over the sink, the cold tap slowly trickling into his palm.

Emma silently approached him, her bare feet not making a whisper on the tiled floor. “Elijah…?” Carefully, she placed her hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
Even over the thin material of his t-shirt, she could feel his hot and sweaty skin beneath it; it instantly warmed her cold palm.
He glanced back at her incredulously as if he hadn't expected her to be there. "Just...a bad dream."
His voice sounded weak and listless, matching his pale face and dark eyes. Instantly, Emma had the overwhelming need to comfort him, to make that look go away.
Yet, how the hell was she supposed to do that? It wasn’t like she had comforting experience.

Instead of over-thinking it, Emma took in a light breath and just went with what her brain and body told her to do.

Her hand slid gradually down the length of his back. What was she supposed to say to soothe him? There had to be a suitable place to start. “Do…do you wanna talk about it?” Yea, that was good.
Elijah looked at her for a moment, opening his mouth to say something, but changing his mind last minute. "O-Okay."
A soft smile curved at the corners of her lips as she tucked her arm beneath him to reach the sink. Emma filled her glass and offered it up to him, “Here, drink this. It’ll clear your head and help you sleep.”
“I don’t want to sleep again,” Elijah breathed, shaking his head. “Water won’t help me the way I need it to.”
“You need to sleep, Elijah,” She scolded him softly, “Tomorrow is going to be a long day, especially with Landry riding our asses about Ghost.” Her new nickname for the invisible, lurking killer within the building.
He took the glass from her, “I don’t need sleep to do my job properly.”
“Yes, you do. I do, and if I do…”
“I’m not you.”

She sighed once more. Okay, so his dream had clearly spooked him enough that he didn’t want to go back to bed – unfortunately, Emma couldn’t have that. There was no way she was going to go back to bed, knowing he was walking around the apartment, haunted by something in his head. She was all too familiar with that little gem.
Gripping at his arm, she turned on her heels and dragged him from the dark kitchen and back towards his room.
“Emma…what are you doing? I told you I didn’t-“
“We’re going to talk about your dream,” She interjected.
“In my room?” Emma could practically hear his raised eyebrows.
“Yes, in your room. It’s too cold in the kitchen and I’m not ready to go back to bed yet.”
And if his bed was half as warm as he was, Emma was in for a treat. There was still a layer of goosebumps marring her bare arms and legs and the chill in the air wasn’t helping that. A typical December evening, if ever she knew one.
Which, Emma thought suddenly, wasn’t it technically Christmas Day?

She watched as he crawled in beneath the thick duvet before sliding in to the spot beside him, sitting on top of the deliciously warm looking covers instead. Getting into bed with him would have been a huge invasion of space, and Emma was there for comfort him, not make things worse.
Tucking her legs up to her chest, Emma positioned herself to look down at him. “So, come on, what was the dream about?” She paused briefly, before saying, “Merry Christmas by the way.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Elijah would have never opened up to any normal person; he liked keeping a safe distance from his nearly nonexistent emotions, and his trials in the military were something he hardly enjoyed telling other people about. But for some completely shocking reason, he found himself agreeing to her offer of talking, just talking, nope, not pretending to talk and then fucking, just…talking. And then he realized -- Emma wasn't a normal person.
Elijah felt his stomach slosh again, wincing by the time they were in his room, Emma crawling on top of the duvet once he was under it.
In spite of dreading a conversation that revolved around his insecurities, he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion when she opted out of getting under with him – Elijah didn’t bite, well, not now, anyways, so why was she being so timid?

“I’ll tell you once you get your ass under here,” he muttered, pulling the blanket down from under Emma and dragging her beneath the duvet with him. If she honestly thought she was invading some sort of privacy by laying under the covers with him, obviously she didn’t fully remember them practically undressing each other on the lawn yesterday, or Elijah getting a complete view of her backside a few days prior. Needless to say, privacy was nearly imaginary between the two of them.
“Thanks,” Elijah added once she had gotten beneath the duvet, although her body was still a safe distance away. He hadn’t even realized it was early Christmas morning, not like it mattered much to him anyways. His parents might give him a call, but besides that, it was like any other regular day. "You too."

After several seconds of silence, Emma murmured, “So what about the dream?”
Elijah had been hoping if they laid like that long enough, she would have forgotten. But even he had the urge to tell her absolutely everything, to give someone the burden of his pain, just for a few minutes.

And that’s exactly what he did – from start to finish, he explained how every day was a blessing during deployment, and how they had to stay in their heavy uniforms twenty four seven, carrying guns more than six pounds each. He went on with a grimace about the days they had to ride through the hot sun, cocking machine guns, to mortars, and grenades, and settling city-wide disputes that left horrendous blood baths afterwards. He also spoke about how people went insane from lack of communication with their families and the outside world, and how you were forced into silence for hours upon hours of the day, and the four minute showers with at least a dozen other men, and the bottles of fresh water they used to brush their teeth because water irrigation in the Middle East was putrid.

Elijah had eradicated the part about Remiah’s death, however, far from ready to ever retell the story. His parents had tried for years to get him to talk about it, to clarify the sudden death of his best friend, but he never could.

After the story, Emma had been hesitant to reach out and touch his jaw, but he gripped her hand, leaving it there with a tiny sigh. Even though he would never admit it aloud, he enjoyed her company.

“Do you have dreams like this…often?” she whispered.
“Not really,” Elijah admitted. “It came back today, all of a sudden. And I guess it just shook me up.”

Emma paused, eyes dropping from his as it fixated on something else. “Well, if you ever want to talk about something, just…knock, okay?”

Elijah never thought he would have heard such a phrase leave her throat.

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Life in the military sounded ruthless, and that was in Emma’s books. She was well acquainted with a hard life. But there was a sadness in his eyes that was undeniable.

Turning onto her side, Emma tucked her arm beneath the pillow and asked him, “So, did you leave because of those reasons?”
"Nah. It never bothered me. I guess...when my contract was up I decided I wanted to do something else with my life," Elijah responded, although his eyes held another answer.
“Like what?” She asked, watching him carefully. “It sounds to me like you were running away from something.”
Elijah's jaw slightly tightened. "I just decided that the military didn't hold its original appeal anymore."

“Elijah, I’m not laying here for you to lie to me. I’m trying to help – but if you don’t want to tell me I may as well go…” Emma grumbled, pushing up onto her elbows. The last thing she wanted to do was leave the comfortable warmth of Elijah’s bed – well, if there was one thing she thought she’d never say, it was that.
"Why does it matter?" Elijah hissed back, grabbing her wrist lightly. "I feel better."
Her gaze lingered on the hand locked around her wrist. Why, oh why, did it feel so good when he touched her?

Slowly, she slid back down, her head once again coming to rest against the pillow. “I know what it’s like to be haunted by the past,” Emma whispered. “They say that it helps to share, so…I figure that, offering you something that I’ve never had would be a good start.”
What the hell was going on with her?! Since when did Emma care about anyone?
Since he kissed me on the veranda, she thought to herself. That day had changed a lot; some of which she still wasn’t sure about.

"Tell me about your past," he murmured. "Tell me something about yourself no one else knows."
A frown creased at her brows. Well, she’d certainly walked into that one, hadn’t she?
“There are lots that people don’t know; it’s hard to choose just one.”
"Well, start with your childhood then," he prompted.
“That’s where all the secrets are.”
Emma took in a deep breath and locked her eyes to the ceiling above her. “I didn’t have a childhood, so to say. My parents didn’t…want me.” The words sent a unwanted wave through her stomach, but she carried on none the less. “My father left when I was six. He was cheating on my Mother for years, I think, before he finally left her for someone else. So, my mother took her hatred out on me instead. That’s where my scars are from.”
It made her nervous, telling him the truth, things that no-one else would ever know about her. Emma would never forgive herself if he treated her differently.

Elijah touched a scar on her shoulder softly. "That's why you have a hard time letting people in?"
The feel of his fingers over her marked skin almost made her lose her trail of thought. “She did that when I was seven, with a kitchen knife,” She didn’t want to answer his question directly, so instead, Emma delved deeper. “After telling me I looked like the devil. Thankfully, she was drunk and missed my throat.”
The devil, by her mothers definition, was her father. The older she’d gotten the more she’d taken on his physical attributes; from his red hair, to his hazel eyes and pale skin.
“Fuck, Emma…”
“Jennifer was drunk a lot, hell, she was even drunk when she died.”
Elijah thought on that for a moment, before saying, “And that’s why you don’t drink either.”
“Mhmm. It’s no wonder I’m so fucked up, right?”

______________


A distant buzzing roused Emma from her sleep, echoing at the back of her subconscious.
She groaned and snuggled deeper into the heat surrounding her. The warmth and comfort Emma felt at that moment was foreign, but holy hell, did it feel amazing.

A small sigh of breath blew out across her face, bringing her back to awareness with a bang.

Her eyes shot open, all traces of sleep erupting in a cloud of smoke, to find Elijah directly in front of her, meeting her half way in the middle of the large double bed.
Only when Emma tried to move did she notice that at some point during their sleep, they’d wrapped themselves around one another, legs entwined beneath the covers, foreheads close to touching, one of his arms were tucked beneath her pillow, while the other draped over her hips and Emma’s arms were tucked up between them, her hands fisted against his chest.
Their bodies had come together like magnets, like it was the most natural thing to do.

Emma swallowed tightly and carefully untangled herself from him and his bed. Her first night sleeping with someone, and it had been the best sleep of her life.
The buzzing that had woken her suddenly came back to her attention - it was a much needed distraction.

Jogging through the apartment to the living room, Emma quickly slapped the ‘answer’ button on the panel against the wall – and came face to face with an older blonde woman, sitting in a plush leather chair.
“Um…hello?”
The blonde blinked at her, lingering on her messy hair before surveying her face. “I’m Trista Walker, and you are?”
Walker…? Oh, shit, this wasn’t…
“I’m Emma Ward.”
“Lovely. Is my son there, please?” Her tone was less than amused.
“He’s still in bed…shall I get him for you?”
At the mention of the word ‘bed’, the woman’s face turned to stone, a fire in her eyes that would have burned through Emma if they’d been face-to-face. “If you would.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Elijah was wiping the grog away from his eyes by the time Emma shook his back softly, vision blurred as he locked on her face in bewilderment.
“What?”
“Your mother wants you,” she responded simply.
“My mom? What…huh?” He instantly remembered it was Christmas morning though, and it had become a near ritual for the woman to call.

Elijah eventually found the energy to climb to his feet, stalking down the hallway and into the living room before the hologram on the wall with the blonde-haired woman greeted him, dark blue eyes drilling him with reprimand. What did he do now?

“Son,” she greeted, her lips taut.
“Mom,” he responded, approaching the panel uncertainly. Her calls around this time of year usually consisted with a simple ‘Merry Christmas’ before inquiring about his life, and how he was doing. All the basic shit. But that greeting unsettled him – she hadn’t started a conversation that way since senior year when she figured out he had been sleeping with Xavier’s mother.
“I should have known your lifestyle would never change, even with age.”

Elijah let out a surprised cough, although it wasn’t because he didn’t agree with her, because quite frankly, there was very little he could hide from his mom, but…what tipped her off all of a sudden?

And then it hit him. Emma.

Letting his eyes widen, he dropped his jaw, trying to piece together the right words to convince her that the woman she had run into wasn’t one of his booty calls. “Oh—Oh! Her? Mom—it’s not like that, I swear. I mean, we slept together—”
She popped her mouth open with an appalled gasp.
“I mean we didn’t sleep together; damn it! I mean, we unintentionally fell asleep in the same bed, simultaneously, not touching.” Elijah pressed his lips together, letting out a silent curse. There was no way in hell she’d believe him. Not with his extensive track record.

“Her hair looked a little rough for you to not be doing anything, Elijah Beckham Walker. I’m surprised I don’t have a grandchild by now! Or maybe I’ve unintentionally run into one at the supermarket; lord knows how many women you’ve screwed.”
Elijah pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do not have a child. And that’s how people look in the morning, mom! She’s my partner, my business partner, meaning, the relationship between us is entirely professional. Okay?”
“Don’t speak to me like I’m a child, Elijah. Just because your twenty nine years old doesn’t mean I can’t still punish you!”

Elijah raised his brows, suddenly glad Emma was nowhere to be found.

“We didn’t do anything,” he muttered, glancing up at the ceiling briefly, wishing he wasn’t in this situation at the current moment.
“ We didn’t do anything was your famous line for when we caught a different girl in your room each week when you were younger. We didn’t do anything was your excuse when I find a condom wrapper in your car as soon as we bought it for you. We didn’t do anything was exactly what you told your father and I when we found you cleaning Ms. Parker’s pool always took a detour inside of her house! Do you understand why I don’t believe you right now, Elijah? But you know, it is your private life, and whatever diseases or consequences you suffer from it will be entirely to your discretion—“ she paused, tears filling her eyes as she dabbed it with a napkin. Elijah sighed. “—but for Chrissakes! I’m your mother Elijah! Excuse me for caring about you. You don’t find mother’s like me anymore, who’s so invested into the lives of their only son even if they--they are...a manwhore! I…I—“

“Stop!” Elijah exclaimed, rubbing his temples. “I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation, to be honest. It never came up before. I’m actually really busy right now, so—“
“There you go again! Another excuse—“
“I’ll call you back, okay? Merry Christmas, mom. Love you.”

He pressed the button on the panel.

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Emma stood silently in the hallway, just out of sight of the arguing mother and son, and listened.
Oh, man, he’d slept with soooo many women – even his mother thought he was a manwhore, for peat sake. Girls in his room, in his new car, while he was supposed to be cleaning a pool, good grief.
Emma rubbed at her bare arms. He probably made every woman feel the way she did when he touched her (surprisingly, that didn’t settle well with her), hell, even she’d almost fallen into the trap last night in the gardens. She needed to push up those walls again, to save herself from Elijah’s appeal.

When he turned the monitor off, Emma walked down the rest of the hallway. “Did I get you in trouble?”
He let out a deep sigh, “It wasn’t your fault.”
“She thought I was one of your many women, didn’t she?” Was there a sharp sting in her tone?
Elijah looked over at her, picking up her tone as well. “No…well…maybe.”
“I didn’t realise I looked like a whore in the mornings.” Oh, yes, there was definitely a change in her attitude. Her walls were back up, solidly.
It was a stupid mistake to fall asleep with him last night; a first and a last on Emma’s behalf.
Elijah shot her a sheepish smile. "My mother's always been ridiculously protective."

She walked past him as she headed to her own room. “I trust you won’t tell anyone about what I told you last night.”
A look of shock masked his face. “Do you think I’d do that to you?”
“I’m going to have a shower. Sorry, again, for answering the phone to your mother. It won’t happen again.”
“Emma…” He tried to reach out to grab her wrist, but she raised her arm and avoided his touch. “Did she say something to you? She didn’t mean it, Emma, she just gets upset when she thinks I’m-“
“She didn’t say anything to me, Elijah.”
“Then…what’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“Don’t call me that,” Emma suddenly snapped. “Don’t call me what you’ve called all those women you’ve fucked! I’m not your sweetheart.”

Leaving him stood there, confused and alone, Emma strode off into the bedroom, Trista Walker’s words spinning around her head as she went.

________________


This wasn’t how Emma wanted to spend her day. Not one little bit. In fact, all Emma had wanted to do was watch a few movies alone and pig out on junk food – but no, Landry had to have other ideas, didn’t he?

An hour ago, Jacob had called them, giving them their next assignment. Some guy was going around, extorting people on the holidays, and they had to catch him out in the act. A typical, boring Christmas job.
Now, Emma and Elijah were sat in their black audi, opposite the bustling market street, in complete and utter silence.

Emma was still brewing over the conversation she’d heard between him and his mother.
And Elijah was making ridiculous small talk.
He pointed to the nearest sweet stall, “I used to love those things when I was a kid.”
“Mhmm.”
“My Dad used to buy them for me every Saturday. Have you tried them?”
“No.”
“After we catch this guy, I’m definitely going to go get some and then you can try it.”
“Hmm.”
“My mom said they’d rot my teeth, but just look now-“ He grinned at her. “Nothing but pearly whites.”
“Was that before or after she caught you sleeping with the woman who’s pool you were supposed to be cleaning?” Emma asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
Elijah sighed and dropped his head back against the seat. “Jesus, Emma…”
“Last night, in the garden, you would have fucked me, like one of those dirty skanks that you’re soooo used to and then what? How did you treat all those women that your mom was talking about?”
Elijah snickered. "I've said this so many times, but goddamn, Emma. It's called having fun. You seemed to be enjoying yourself, so why does it matter if you were treated like the others?"
Walls. Up.
“It matters to me,” She murmured. “But clearly, a man like you wouldn’t understand that.”
"Why did you let me go so far then?"

Her jaw tightened. “You make me feel things when you touch me. I shouldn’t have let it get that far, and I certainly won’t let it happen again.”
Elijah glanced at her, his eyes softening. "I didn't mean it like that. I was just curious."
“You smirk and laugh at me like I’m some kind of fucking joke,” She glared out the window. “I told you about my mother last night and for a quick second it felt like…you understood me. But you don’t. You have absolutely no idea. Now, shut up, don’t speak to me, and let’s catch this son of a bitch so I can go home already.”

[/blockquote][/font]