Blacklight S2 (R)

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Emma found herself stood in the dark and abandoned car park of Penny's Pancake Shack, located on the road leading toward D-27. She was leant up against the side of the car they'd ’borrowed’, watching Beth pace back and forth, kicking at the gravel with growing impatience as Ethan sat on the bonnet, his arms folded tightly across his chest, his attention set on the entrance of the car park.

Daddykins was late. Three hours late.

“This is bullshit!” Beth announced, slamming her foot down in her temper. “I'm not staying here all fucking night, Ethan! It's freezing and dark and we’re waiting around like sitting ducks. Tell me again, how do we know this isn't a trap?”
Emma kicked a small stone with the toe of her boot and side glanced toward the silent man. He was brooding, no doubt about that; sulking like a child that didn't get the toy it wanted. According to Ethan, his father was supposed to be meeting them at 11, an hour after the diner closed, yet, with a glance at the digital clock on the cars dashboard, it didn't take a genius to realise he was late.

She sighed, knowing that the truth wasn't going to go down well with the young man. “He's not coming.”
“Good!” Beth groaned in relief, swinging the passenger door open, readying herself to climb in. “Let's get out of here! We passed a club on the outskirts of D-26, we can stop off and have a few drinks.”

The car suddenly jolted, pushed under the force of Ethan's shove as he catapulted himself away from it. “No!” He spat. “We’re not going anywhere until my father gets here.”
“He's not coming. Jesus Christ, Ethan...” Beth slumped against the Emma's shoulder in exasperation. “We’ve been here hours already. Patrols will start soon and I'm not going to be around when it does, so I suggest - “
The hum of hovering wheels cut her off, the sound reaching them a few seconds before a slick, black vehicle pulled into the car park, it's headlights dimmed low, the normal glow encircling the wheels diminished completely. This was one car that didn't want to be seen.

The smile that slowly slid to Ethan's face was a clear indication that Daddy had arrived.

“Here we go,” Beth whispered into Emma's ear as the car pulled up next to them, landing with an eerie silence. When the wheels connected with the ground, the engine shut off, and before the lights clicked off the door was opening, Ethan all too eager to greet the man within.

He took the handle, opening the door wide. “Nice to see you again, Dad.”

There was an admiration in his tone that Emma had never experienced for herself, an undertone of unconditional, parental love. By the way Beth grimaced at her side, she hadn't experienced it either.

A tall, smartly dressed, middle-aged man stepped out, his shinny black shoes the first thing to catch Emma’s eye as they crunched down onto the gravel. The second was the well groomed red hair; it shone through the darkness like a lit flame, vibrant and alive despite his age.
“Ladies,” Ethan began, waving his arm toward them. “I'd like to introduce my father, Malcolm Lowe.”

Malcolm.

Both man stepped in unison into the light illuminating from inside the car - and Emma’s heart stopped cold inside her chest. The face, though aged by time, was unmistakable; the slope of his cheek bones, the thin nose, and stark hazel eyes that she saw every time she looked in a mirror stared back at her. The sight of his face brought up an array of buried and blurry memories, of arguments long past, of smashing glass, smokey, smelly rooms... And the look on the mans face as he'd left her forever.
Emma had begged, she'd gripped her fathers legs with both of her tiny hands and begged him to stay, but the only reply she’d received was a look of contempt and disgust. Then, he'd brushed her away and shut the door, her mothers curses screaming after him.

Malcolm Ward had never returned to D-93.

“It's you,” She found herself saying aloud, stepping closer, her eyes narrowing on the man.
Malcolm Lowe looked to Ethan uncomfortably. “Yes,” he answered in uncertainty. “I apologise for being late. We came across some unexpected road works. May I ask who I'm talking to?”

Beth stepped forward first, her hand outstretched in welcome. “I'm Elizabeth - “
“Emma,” she cut the other woman off, nudging her aside. “Emma Ward.”

Her eyes were fixed to Malcolm's face, waiting for the reaction she so desperately wanted. But there was nothing. No flicker of recognition or change to the stone cold expression at all.
She waited for a long drawn out five seconds before speaking again. “Don't you remember me?”

His dark auburn brows dropped. “No. Have we met before?”
“Emma?” Ethan asked in confusion.
There was no room in her head to think about the young man; no, that would come later. “Yes, we have.” Hazel clashed with hazel. “I'm your daughter.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

“There ain’t no easy way out of this one buddy, but we sure as hell can try.” How did two men, one with a barely mobile right arm, escape a hoard of mindless humans that wanted nothing more than to convert you into a glorified zombie? There was no true answer, but like always, Elijah went with the first option that came to mind.

“Gun and run,” he suggested, sliding a new cartridge into his Magnum.
Darrius scoffed, although he was inching tentatively towards the opening of the alley way. “Sounds like a fuckin’ great plan, and our only option. There’s more to come. We just ‘ave to wait for the right opening—“
“Which is now,” Elijah responded before darting plain out onto the street with his gun cocked.

Suddenly, all twenty pairs of eyes were locked on him, hisses and growls bubbling from their lips as they started, full speed, towards him. One thing Elijah hadn’t particularly realized, nor understood at the time, was how fast they were, a thunderstorm of feet clapping on asphalt immediately growing louder as they neared.

“Fuck!” he hissed, bullets flying from his weapon as he nailed three people in the temple, their bodies subsequently crumpling to the floor. Elijah used the tiny window of opportunity to hastily backpedal into the alley way, twisting on his heel to see Darrius already halfway up the metallic ladder that scaled an abandoned book store.

Elijah was hot on his heels, just as a crowd of citizens flooded into the narrow passage, managing to snag his ankle just before he was able to make it high enough up the metal rungs. Darrius cursed, using his gun to blow the brains of the two people gripping at Elijah’s legs, giving him enough leeway to rapidly make it up to a safe enough distance on the ladder.

“Can they climb?” Elijah questioned, his lungs constricting, ribs on fire.
“No, and you’re lucky as hell, man! What the hell is wrong with you, runnin’ out onto that street like that? Could ‘ave gotten both of our asses killed!” He had helped the blonde agent on top of the roof, the area below them completely clogged with Hoffman’s army.
“Well we can’t just wait around, hoping someone saves us!”

Elijah doubted yelling would help their situation, or help conceal their identities from the rest of the army, but they were skating on thin ice regardless.

“So rushing into plain sight with no inhibition was much better,” Darrius mused, before allowing a string of profanities to escape his lips as he clutched at the sling that held his arm. “We need to play this strategic, Elijah, else we’re dead.”
He let out a ragged breath before the gun was dropping slowly to his side. “What now then?”
“Take ‘em out from up here, where we’re safe. And when the street’s clear, we can get back to the hotel.”

The two men spent the next ten minutes gunning down as much people as possible, their execution quick and efficient. When the sky continued to darken, Darrius took one more surveillance around the area for quick measure before nudging Elijah’s arm. “We have to get goin’ now, before we’re trapped in a real shit storm.”

Four or five bodies trailed along the street, and Elijah quickly took out all of them, lines of sweat rolling down his forehead. The night seemed to grow hotter, their clothes clinging to their forms in a dampened mess. “There’s more?” he sighed, backing away from the roof ledge with a heavy heave of his chest.

“There will be in a few minutes. Let’s go.”

***

The two men had made it down the street with the aide of shadows and darkened areas of obscurity, the hotel soon in plain sight. Darrius had his bad arm wrapped around Elijah’s shoulders, groans of pain escaping his throat mixed in with profanities. Elijah craned his neck to see a long, dark line peaking at the end of the street, and at first he didn’t quite realize until guns, hundreds them, glittered underneath the ominous moonlight, their owners soon becoming visible.

“Christ,” Elijah breathed before gritting his teeth and moving faster. “They’re here. They’re fucking here.”
Darrius followed suit in glancing over his shoulder before he was rapidly ushering them forward, the hotel door within reach.

“OPEN UP!” They yelled in unison, banging on the metal. This managed to attract the rest of the army, bullets immediately pouring around them as they took quick cover on the other side of a line of ridiculously large flower pots. A shower of glass exploded around them, Darrius crying out in pain once he landed rough on his arm.

Elijah quickly rushed over to him, body shielding his as he took out the entire front line, their bodies falling towards the asphalt. This awakened more angry groans, the heavily audible noise of numerous guns reloading, before a blast of light was spilling onto the street, Rylee’s body at the door.

“Get in!” he cried, soon helping the pair into the safety of the hotel before locking and bolting the door several times.

Elijah hardly remained on his feet for long before he was sliding against the wall of the foyer, his breaths coming out in irregular gasps. Blood, dirt and sweat caked his skin, his gun hitting the marble floor with a clatter as his mouth remained slightly ajar. Darrius was adjacent from him, teeth ground together as he removed his sling, red, sticky fluid coating the area around his opened wound.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Rylee murmured before calling out loudly for Lucas. “What the hell happened out there?”

“There’s no time for flight,” Darrius gasped, “We have to fight.”

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Malcolm Lowe let out a uncertain, nervous laugh, showcasing the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. He glanced from Ethan to Emma and back again. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Beth had moved into Emma's side, her hands locking around her wrist in a loose, comforting embrace.

“I don't know,” Ethan answered, his green eyes burning into Emma's face. “If it is, then I have nothing to do with it - and it isn't funny.”

In any other situation, Emma would have told the little shit where to go, might even have punched him in the face for good measure, but right then, with her heart pounding like a war drum in her chest and her attention solely focused on his father, she didn't have the time or the patience to deal with him.

“My mother was Jennifer Ward, of D-93. Twenty-three years ago...”
A flicker of awareness twinkled within his eyes, if only for a second before he forced it away. It was all Emma needed. It was him, no sharp suit or styled hair could disguise him, no matter how much time had passed.

Malcolm's jaw tightened. “I assure you, you have the wrong person.”
“No, I don't!” Her voice broke slightly at the last word, surprising herself. “Why are you pretending? I know it's you, I remember your face so clearly...” Unaware of the movement, her hand reached out, the overpowering urge to touch him, to know that this wasn't another one of her messed up dreams, was driving her forward.

She barely got half way before he was slapping her hand away, his expression shifting into a mask of disgust as he bent his head down at her. “Don't touch me!” He took one step toward her, his tall frame dwarfing her. “My daughter? I don't think so. I never claimed you as mine, not then, not now, not ever! Whatever she told you was a fucking lie. Jennifer was nothing but a rotten, money-grabbing whore, the scum of the earth, out for all she could get. She wasn't happy unless she had a man between her legs.”

Silence fell in the wake of his words, the air filled with shock, confusion and denial.

Ethan choked on the lump in his throat. “W-Who's Jennifer, Dad? What are you talking about?”
Malcolm ignored his son, his gaze still locked onto Emma's face. “You are not my child.”
“Yes, I am.” She breathed out before she could attempt to stop herself. “She talked about you all the time, even though you were never there... She said I looked like you. A-And I do.”
“You look like her!” He screamed, his warm breath blowing over her cheeks. His eyes darted over her features. “I see it now, close up, you're the image of that evil tart. She tried to pawn you off on me when the money got low by telling me I'd gotten her pregnant the first time we'd slept together. We were only nineteen when that happened...then I came back, my wallet dripping with money from my success and she thought I'd be an easy target. Someone to throw her bastard six year old at.”

Emma shook her head slowly, trying to separate the bundling thoughts spinning within her head. “What? No... She was your wife and - ”
“What?!” A booming laugh echoed across the empty car park. “No she wasn't! She was a fanciful fuck when I visited my family every year. One year she was living alone in that hovel she called a home, the next she had a screaming baby. The only woman I ever married was my now wife, Sienna, who holds my surname ’Lowe’, do you not understand how that works?”
His words were patronising and condescending, like he was talking to a child that couldn't count to ten.

Emma's chest felt heavy when she spoke next. “But...she told me you - “
“She told you a lot of things, didn't she? Didn't you ever wonder why I wasn't there, only visiting for a few nights a year?”
“Work.” She answered, swallowing back the emotion swelling with each word inside her.

All traces of humour slid from his face. “I told her never to tell you of me. I paid the fucking bitch a lot of money to make sure we never met again.”

Ethan was pacing, his hands buried in his hair, a string of murmurs passing from his lips. Beth hadn't budged from Emma's side, her hands still locked around her wrist, anchoring them both to the spot.

“So...” She couldn't barley hear her own voice as she spoke, it quivered and shook in ways it never had before. “...you admit you're my father?”
Ethan instantly stopped his pacing, his wide green eyes zoned in onto the back of Malcolm's head. He didn't look like he was breathing as he waited for his father to answer.

Cold, emotionless orbs narrowed and Emma suddenly got a vision of the person she was. Is that the way she looked at people? Uncaring and deadly? How could Elijah stand it? Staring into the bottomless pits of hell on a daily basis.

“I've spent the last twenty-three years of my life cursing the stupidity of my actions. I was young and naive, the last thing in my mind was contraception.”

“No, no, no, no, no!” Ethan slammed his fists down onto the roof of his fathers slick, black car, his whole frame was shaking, his breathing raged. “No! She's your daughter!?”
It was only then that Malcolm finally took his gaze off Emma, turning instead to his enraged son. “I don't see her as such, Ethan. You are my only child. Her mother and I...it was a very long time ago, it was a mistake. She was a mistake.”
“But you knew about her!” The young man was turning a bright shade of red, seen even through the darkness and shadows. “All this time, you knew you had a child out there and - wait. Does Mom know? Does Mom know that you have a bastard child!?”
Malcolm straightened, readjusting the buttons on his suit. “It would have done her no good to know of such a thing.”

As the father and son continued to argue, Emma stumbled backwards, her legs hitting the side of the car as she tried to steady her breathing. Her throat felt like it was closing up, tightening with each shallow breath she took; she could hear her heart beat in her ears and an unnatural chill had taken over her body, seeping into her every pore, working through her muscles and bones and making them physically ache. Only when her hand touched her neck did Emma realise she was shaking as badly as Ethan was.

Everything she'd known, her whole childhood, though as bleak and haunted as it already was, was now nothing but a black void inside her mind, shadowed by lies and deceit.

“It doesn't make sense!” Ethan's voice sounded distant. “Emma is four years older than I am, and you're telling me you only found out she was yours when she was six, when you went to visit her mother for a fuck session... Correct me if I'm wrong, father, but that overlaps. You were married to my mother!”
Malcolm pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ethan...I don't know what to say, it's complicated...”
“No, it's not. You were cheating on my mother with a women from your home district, a women you fathered a child with!”
“Enough, Ethan,” his tone demanded authority as he raised a finger to his son. “You can not make me feel any worse than I already do! I ended it with Jennifer, I loved Sienna, like I still do now - “
“You only ended it because she told you about Emma! She scared you off and you ran, like the coward you are... You know what? I can't hear this any more.”

Ethan spun on his heels and darted off into the darkness, the calls from his father landing on deaf ears.

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Elijah gritted his teeth together, before gripping his gun once more and nodding in Darrius’ direction. They were fucked if they just sat around like rats trapped in a box; besides, Elijah was far from the type to simply wait for something to happen. That shit only got people killed – right now, they had to be in charge of their own fate, and if that meant risking their lives in the process, so be it. If they had managed to live through so many other life-threatening scenarios, why couldn’t they survive then? Elijah would survive for Emma, and that was motivation enough.

“A-Attack?” Rylee stammered, “That’s a suicide mission!” His pitch had lifted by at least an octave, making him sound ten years younger in the process. The commotion had drawn Zia, Ryan, and a curly-haired brunette he had instantly dubbed as Oscar into the small foyer. They were all clutching large guns, Dominic entering from behind them with a crossbow on his right shoulder and a bullet-proof vest cladding his skin.

“What the ‘ell is goin’ on out there?” Dominic questioned, more in amusement than panic.
“Just getting ambushed by a machine gun-wielding army, no big deal,” Elijah responded with a shrug.
Sol was already dashing towards the door, hand resting on the handle, a large, silver HK272 in the other . “We need to charge. There’s no other option.”
“Christ, hasn’t anyone ever told you that charging doesn’t work?” Jenna intervened, dual pistols in her grasp as she paraded into the frenzied scene clad in large combat boots, dark jeans and a stark white tank top.
“Then what do you suggest?” Sol questioned, voice clipped.
“We all take dash to the back while someone opens the hotel door and baits the army long enough for us to grab as much shit as we can and hightail out of here.”

Gradually the rest of the group filed in, a mixture of horror and readiness shrouded across their features as they waited for the plan. Sol scowled but dropped away from the door with a sigh. “Does that sound like a decent enough plan to the rest of you guys?”

“What about Beth, Ethan, Emma?” Elijah piped up. There was no way in hell he was leaving without her; absolutely none.
“I tracked them down – they’re dozens of miles away and in perfect safety. If we can get to them before they leave, that’d be ideal,” Logan responded.
Darrius nodded with a shrug. “There’s no other option.”
“Well, who’s gonna be our bait?” Dominic questioned, bringing to light the topic everyone would have much rather preferred to avoid.

Several excruciating moments of silence transpired before Darrius was stepping forward. “Me.”
“The hell you will!” Zia shouted, anger lacing in her deep brown eyes.
Straightening his back, Elijah swatted the blood from his lips. “No, they need a leader, man. I’ll do it. I’ve been in situations like this before and I—”
“No!” Rylee exclaimed. “What about Emma? She’d hate me if I let you die.”
“I’m not going to die,” Elijah seethed, “I’ve dealt with worse through the military.”

“I’ll do it,” another voice, much softer, interjected. All eleven pairs of eyes simultaneously connected to the curly-haired brunette who had spoken up.
“O-Oscar,” Zia breathed, “you don’t have to do this. There’s always another way.”
His jaw was taut, caramel eyes smoldering underneath the dim lighting. A loud bang shook the building, the windows shivering against the frames that contained it. “I’m the perfect choice; I have no real ties here, no family.”
“No,” Jenna hissed, “You will not fucking do this, Oscar! You do not just get to choose when you want to off yourself.”

“It’s okay,” he responded, the corners of his lips turning upwards into a small smile. “I need to do this. I want to do this. I’ve spent my entire life doubting my significance in this fucked up world, and now I see it. Call me crazy, but I always imagined my life ending in the process of saving others, like those awesome super heroes in the old comics. Let me do this. Please.”

Elijah’s eyes darted across the group before landing on Jenna’s tear-filled eyes. She looked absolutely livid, Zia trying to place a hand on her shoulder before she was abruptly shrugging it off. He remained silent, unsure of what to do or say before Darrius was speaking up, warm eyes connected on Oscar’s.

“Don’t mark yourself off just yet; I, and the rest of the group, will try t’ protect you with ever fiber of our bein’. And I can’t—I can’t properly thank you enough, brother, for all of this. All of what you’re doin’ for us. You’re one of the bravest people we know, and the true definition of a man. May God watch over you.”

Oscar only nodded, gun held tightly to his chest. “You all ready?”

“Two minutes,” Darrius responded, ushering half of the group to raid the hotel of everything they’d need into the necessary holding cubes. In the flurry of bodies rushing throughout the small building, Elijah was left alone with the other man, their eyes briefly connecting.

“The world is fucked. I’m simply escaping,” the man whispered, a playful chuckle escaping from his cracked over lips. “Before—before things get worse. They will.”

Elijah could have responded, he should have, but instead his lips had remained parted until the rest of the group returned with a plethora of duffels on their shoulders, urgency in their eyes. Several more explosions shook the sky, managing to blast off one of the metal slabs that covered the front window, another rainstorm of glass spilling over them. He stood numb for a minute until Darrius was forcibly drawing him backwards behind a sofa, rapidly swatting off the rest of the group towards the vehicle pad.

“We promised him we’d try and protect ‘im,” Darrius whispered, already using his free hand to cock the gun, “and by ‘ell, we’re doin’ it.” He then gave Oscar the go to thrust open the door, and the brunette did as he was told, three lines of soldiers facing him with their weapons cocked. Darrius attempted to lift his weapon, but Elijah knocked it out of his hands, the handgun sliding underneath an end table. Elijah hadn’t thoroughly understood what he had just done until Darrius was screaming at him.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO?!” He shouted, thick veins pulsating in his neck as he attempted to grab Elijah’s gun, only for him to stuff it in his holster.
“We have to go,” he ordered, crawling away from the foyer before padding to his feet. Darrius looked utterly bewildered before Elijah was gripping his bad arm and thrusting him away from the entrance with a yelp of submission from the burlier man.

Darrius looked like he wanted to beat ten shades out of him, but Elijah swiftly ignored him, only guiding him quickly towards the rest of the group stood by the large vehicle, Sol behind the wheel. As Dominic helped tug them both into the RV, Elijah spared a glance at Oscar who was smiling thankfully at him, before stepping fully onto the street and being greeted by a spray of bullets.

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

There was a thick, prominent layer of tension in the air in the wake of Ethan’s departure and for the next few minutes, no-one dared speak, to release the breath they were no doubt holding and break the crippling silence.

Over the years, Emma had thought of all the questions she’d like to ask Malcolm Ward Lowe if she ever saw him again, yet now, face to face with the man and her brain was on shut down.
Shame the same couldn’t be said for him.

“No-one can know of you, you understand that, right?”
Emma blinked through the haze clouding her mind. He was a high paid, married politician, the left hand man of Henry Hoffman, aka the leader of the Triad – it was hardly surprising that he didn’t want the world to know of his past indiscretions.

When she didn’t answer, Malcolm went on. “I have no need to spare your feelings, so I have no regrets in telling you that as far as I’m concerned, we have no ties. You are not to tell anyone of what transpired between your mother and I, or that I am… what I am to you. I don’t want to see your face again and I want you to leave Ethan alone. Leave this group immediately. Leave the fucking country for all I care. I’ll supply you with the funds you need, as long as you promise never to return.”
“You’re disgusting.” Beth seethed, moving to stand between them, her small frame blocking Emma’s view of the man. “She’s your child, your flesh and blood. How can you disregard her so easily? You don’t even know what kind of person she is.”
“I don’t need to know,” He spoke so calmly, so carefree. “I don’t care who she is or what pathetic life she’s led.” It was then that his eyes ghosted to Emma, passing by Beth like she wasn’t there. “Did you hear what I said? Leave and things don’t have to get messy.”

Emma looked to the floor, the lump in her throat making it impossible to utter a word. She was afraid of what would come out if she tried to open her mouth.

“Is that a threat?” Beth barked, hand disappearing into her jacket, fingers seeking the gun that was hidden there. “If you so much as try anything, I’ll rain hell down on you! We all will. You should be thankful that Elijah didn’t come.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard of him…Elijah Walker, yes? My son has spoken of him before. Shame he’s sullying himself in such a way. Be sure to warn him about contraception – we wouldn’t want anymore mistakes in the world.”
“Why you son of a – “ Beth lurched forward, her gun drawn.
Emma snatched her back, drawing her toward the car by the tail of her jacket. “No.” She choked out, shaking her head.

Beth stared back sternly, the heat of her anger evident in her eyes. Emma held her gaze, watching the rage slowly vanish; she didn’t need to say anything else, there were no words to express what she felt, and Beth knew it.
“Come on,” She offered softly, turning her back on Malcolm. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Malcolm Lowe did the same. He slid into his sleek, black car and immediately started the engine, only addressing them through his open window once more before he drove off into the night. “Tell my son I’ll be in touch. And remember what I said.”

The two women watched him drive away until they could no longer see his dim headlights through the thick darkness, the tension in the air going with him.

Cold fingers slid into Emma’s palm. “I have a good idea on what we can do now, Em. I know you don’t drink but… there’s a first time for everything, right?”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Elijah’s thoughts were a flurried mess once he was pulled onto the vehicle, his feet collapsing once more as he closed his dirt-stained eyelids, his chest rising and falling at rapid rates. For a second he thought he’d faint, but he fervently clawed at the edges of reality, trying to splash up to the surface before the dark waters of his subconscious enveloped him. Darrius’ rock-solid clench on his shoulder was enough to break him out of hit, however, the larger man managing to shake him about like a rag doll.

“Why the fuck did you do that?!” He hissed through clenched teeth, his dark brown eyes burning in a hot rage. “Why did you let him die?”
Elijah was vaguely aware of the fact that this made him look horrible, incredibly horrible, and whatever trust Darrius may have allowed himself to give him was slowly dissipating. And unless he justified his reasons, there was nothing stopping the other man from tossing him out the RV. “He wanted to kill himself. He’s been—u…upset for a long time.” Was talking supposed to hurt this fucking much? “H—h—he didn’t want to go on with us. He’s given up.”

Darrius’ eyes softened only slightly, but his hard grip still relented. Elijah knew he’d bruise in the morning. “How the fuck do you know that, man? You don’t even know ‘im!” There was something in the other man that wanted to forgive him, but for some reason, he didn’t allow himself to.
“When you guys left us…alone….he told me.” Elijah winced at the bitter taste of copper on his tongue, another violent cough escaping his throat. “He told me he was fucked whether he died now or later and he…he wanted the easy way out.”

Darrius looked like he wanted to say something else before the RV was viciously wavering in the sky, sending Elijah tumbling into a table, the hard metal catching him right in the center of his forehead. The colors blurred, sounds melding together like cotton balls shoved into his ear canal before he was digging his nails into the floor in an attempt to regain his grounding. Darrius was crying out in pain, from several feet ahead of him, body hunched over his bloody wound, crimson smearing his palm. Jenna and Lucas had tumbled into the space next to the bathroom, Jenna cursing out in anger as she attempted to grasp the toilet and use it as leverage to get to her feet.

At the sudden movement, Elijah’s eyes had slowly widened at the sight of the whole rear of the van blown out, heavy winds flooding the car as they drifted several hundred feet above the town. The army was still in clear sight below, their guns directed at the sky.

“Hold on tight!” Sol shouted from the wheel, attempting to maneuver out of harm’s way.

However, before anyone could truly react, they had all simultaneously watched in horror as a body tumbled towards the vacuum-like hole in the back of the RV, the brunette-haired older man, known as Ralph, screaming out in protest as he was flung out of the van, fingers digging at the edge of hole as he hung on for dear life. Dominic shouted out from his post near the couch, pulling out a glowing blue arrow from his crossbow before jamming it into the floor of the vehicle, unraveling a long piece of chord that was laying around next to the luggage, and tying three, tight knots around the securely buried stick.

“Don’ let go!” Dominic commanded, gripping onto the chord tightly as he began to crawl quickly over to the dangling man.

“Save me! P-Please, HELP!” The man cried, his glasses falling from his nose and into the dark sky that surrounded him.

Darrius had pressed a hand to Elijah’s chest, forcing him back down as the blonde attempted to lend a helping hand. They all knew there was nothing they could do save for depend on Dominic to bring the other man back to safety. And he almost had, fingers quickly tightening around Ralph’s as he began hoisting him back into the vehicle before a loud pop radiated through the sky, no one needing an explanation as to what had just happened.

Ralph had gone limp in his hand, his entire torso obliterated before he was slipping from Dominic’s fingers towards the ground. Zia’s sobs shook the car as Darrius carefully slid next to her side, not a soul in that van uttering a word. Elijah’s jaw tightened, eyes glowering at the ground as he tried to make sense of the fact that they had lost two people in the capacity of five minutes.

Dominic’s lips were parted, his hand still outreached as if Ralph hadn’t fallen, Logan and Rylee reaching to pull him back fully into the car. They had all made sure they were properly tied down at Sol navigated them away from the city, and Hoffman’s army. At some point between seven thirty and seven forty five, he had passed out – whether it was from trauma or his open wounds, he couldn’t figure out.

***

By the time he had awoken, a rag was being pressed to his forehead, cool water soothing his overheated body. Elijah was murmuring to himself softly, Emma’s name catching in the small space before the back of a hand was pressed to his jaw. He suddenly jolted, vision connecting with Zia’s. Her hair was curly and wild, barely held back by a scrunchie as her concerned orbs examined his.

“You passed out,” she mused, her voice flat.
“Where are we? W-Where’s Emma?” Elijah had wildly surveyed the empty van, the chilly air drying the sweat that clung to his skin.
“She'll be returning soon. They’re safe.” He was too exhausted to find the logic in Zia being out here with him while everyone was nowhere to be found. She seemed to easily pick up on his confusion, adding, “They wanted me to wait out here with you until you woke up. We didn’t want to startle you by waking up in a foreign place."
His lips fell open, every muscle in his body to sore for him to properly feel it anymore. Zia instantly extended a hand, slowly helping the agent into an upwards position.
“We found in an abandoned precinct; it’s not much, but it’ll hold us off until the morning. C’mon.”

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

It was official; Emma had fallen from grace. Not that there was much grace to fall from, but whatever morals she did have suddenly seemed insignificant. From the moment she understood what alcohol was, she’d made a silent promise to never touch the stuff.

And now she was drunk.
All promises forgotten.

Three hours after leaving the pancake shake car park, Emma found herself within Red Velvet, a club on the road leading to D-26. She was sat at the bar, with Beth perched on a stool next to her, a glass of god only knows what, in her hand. Whatever it was, it burned its way down her throat and left her feeling blissfully numb. The more she drunk, the better she felt about her pitiful existence.

It was no wonder Elijah had liked it so much. Not that he did anymore…
Emma didn’t give herself time to contemplate the reasons for that, and ordered herself another drink.
She knocked back the bright blue liquid, grimacing as it scorched its way through her system. Each and every drink was making it harder to think straight, to see clearly or focus on what was going on in the crowded club around her.

Emma turned to survey her surroundings – smiling, laughing, and genuinely happy faces were seen in every corner, each of them oblivious to what was going on in the country they lived in. Ignorance truly was bliss. Music pulsed through the speakers, shifting from song to song within a seconds pause.
The second the music started up for the next song, the club erupted, the enthusiasm in their movements escalating to another level. Clearly a favourite.

“Holy shit!” Beth shouted over the lyrics. “I freaking love this song. Ugh. It’s amazing, Em. Like, super, super amazing. I wanna daaaaance. But first, another Brain Teaser.”
Two glasses rose up in front of them, the shimmering blue liquid catching Emma’s eye like a bee to honey.
Beth raised the cocktail to her lips, her eyes closed in exquisite pleasure. “This is the shit, Emma. This, right here.”
Emma held the glass up to her face, inspecting the contents as closely as her foggy eyes would allow her too. “You know, when I first met Eli, I always wondered what he found so appealing about this stuff. He’d get smashed every opportunity he got. Man, he was such an asshole then. Bastard broke my heart twice… or was it three times? Pfft, I can’t remember.”
“He did?” She licked at her lips. “That. Bastard. I’m going to kick him in the man-junk the next time I see him, just you w-wait.”
Emma smirked and lifted the umbrella from her glass, only to pin it in to her hair.

“Speaking of bastards…” Beth started, her unsteady gaze zeroing in on Emma’s face. “You should have let me shoot him, honey, because I would have. Right. In. The. Face.”
She didn’t need to ask who it was she was talking about; Emma already knew.

She swallowed back the Brain Teaser. “It’s strange, y’know? I never thought of my father as a good person, but I did think that we were an official family, no matter how fucked up it was. I thought my parents were married, were Ward’s, but no… I was the result of a dirty little secret.”
“Having a ‘proper’ family isn’t all that, Em.”
“No? I wouldn’t know. Daddy left and Mummy was killed during a sexcapade with some guy I didn’t even know.”
“Hmm…” Beth contemplated that. “Well, okay, I can’t contend with that.”

Of course she couldn’t. What was the worst thing to happen to the prim and proper Elizabeth as she grew up? Daddy had withheld her allowance? Or worse, her mother had spilt wine on the white carpet?
Emma shrugged, grabbing her friend by the sleeve of her jacket. “You like this song, right? Well, let’s dance then.”
“Really?” Beth exclaimed excitedly. “Hell, yeah!”

They bustled their way through the crowd, elbowing toward the dance floor that practically took up one whole half of the club. Bodies bounced to the rhythm of the music, moving to the beat, arms waving and hips swaying, and in her alcohol induced state, Emma found the urge to join them too strong to ignore.

All her inhibitions dissolved amongst the mass of human bodies, disappearing like they’d never been there in the first place. She danced with Beth like she wasn’t on the edge of her sanity, like her heart wasn’t breaking, like they weren’t in the middle of a war with the government. Like there was nothing else to lose.

Elijah.

As she watched Beth be raised up onto the nearest table, Elijah’s face appeared through the fog of Emma’s mind. She had him. She loved him. Just like he loved her…

“Come on, darlin’,” A voice shouted from over her shoulder, hands bracing at her hips. “Your turn.”
She was hoisted up onto the table beside Beth, a string of cheers sounding out when the brunette started to move. Emma barely took a step before she lost her balance, the heel of her boot sliding off the wet table top and sending her sprawling out into the waiting hands of the crowd.

The first thought to enter her mind was about how glittery the ceiling was, an array of lights shone above her, changing as the she was passed from one set of hands to the other.
All too soon, Emma dropped, clumsily falling into a solid pair of arms.

“Emma.” There was no mistaking the stern tone, even in her current state.
She looked up and smiled sweetly. “Hey, Ryan. What brings you here?”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Two more near-death experiences in the capacity of forty eight hours. Perfect. Elijah was beginning to wonder how much his body could take before it broke down all together. With ribs that could have been practically fractured, a digestive system working on an apple and a bottle of water, and painful wounds that littered his skin, maintaining the fantastic physicality that he was used to only grew considerably harder. He led him to question what they were really doing here. This would be their life? Chasing around a diluted leader that was only making situations worse with each coming day? What if they lost more people?

What if he lost…Emma? The thought was incredibly hard to stomach and something he didn’t want resonating in his thoughts. They had made a promise, a promise they both intended on fulfilling some day. And it would require them both being perfectly alive and healthy. They’d make it. They’d all make it.

“We need a new plan,” Darrius huffed with a tired sigh, dragging the back of his palm against darkened eyes. He looked like he was the point of utter exhaustion, slumping against an old, steel desk. They were all half-dead in a way, the burden of loss still heavy on their hearts.

“And what d’ you suggest? We down two men, we lost our base, and we have no choice other than t’ return t’ that club,” Dominic huffed, arms crossed over his chest.
“Suicide mission,” Ryan responded with the firm shake of his head.
“We nearly painted the walls with our blood the last time,” Sol agreed.

Darrius pushed himself off of the desk, a fresh bandage encircling his bicep as he adjusted his sling. “There’s just not enough people. We can’t do this by ourselves! It could have been any fucking one of this night! And who’s to say one of us won’t die again tomorrow? Or the next day? They’re pickin’ us off like mice in a trap and we’re runnin’ right into ‘em. We need to play this game smarter if we’re sticking together. We need to plan each and every fucking move perfectly even if it takes time! We are not losing another member – this stops here; right now. Tomorrow, early in the morning, we’re calling a meeting. Mandatory.”

Zia was warily standing nearby, brown orbs bloodshot. “And it starts with rest. We’ll need to divide ourselves into—”
Rylee simply shook his head. “No shifts tonight. I’ve laced the circumference with heat-sensitive bombs.”
Elijah’s eyes widened. “And how the hell is the rest of the group getting in?” Namely Emma.
“I’ve spoken with Beth half an hour ago and they’re still out, but when they arrive, I’ll activate them.”

After a few more words from the group, everyone had slowly dispersed to one of the plethora of offices that surrounded the relatively sturdy building in hopes of making a temporary bedroom out of them. Before Rylee could pack up, Elijah clutched his wrist lightly, his gaze stern.

“Did Beth tell you what they were doing?” He had already developed an impending case of insomnia over the course of the last few weeks; sleeping without Emma would hardly help that.
His line of vision dropped to the floor, sneaker scuffing against the carpet. “I’m not sure. I heard music in the background so—”
Elijah’s eyes narrowed. “They’re at a club?” Anyone with a fully functional brain could have made the inference. But why? Why the hell would they be out partying when the rest of the group had experienced an event that surpassed traumatic? Elijah had vaguely wondered if the symptoms would return; the symptoms he had dealt with after war. There would be no medication to help him this time, however, and if it were to ever transition from its dormant state, it would require all the power in his being to fight it down.

“Well, I mean, I don’t know—I just—”

Elijah shook his head, jaw taut. “I’m goin’ to bed.” He was absolutely fatigued and the tender muscles in his body practically begged for a break from the stress it had endured all day. He’d deal with Emma when she arrived.

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Emma stumbled through the club doors, one hand locked in Ryan's vice-like grip, the other in Beth's. She was being hustled out of the building like a naughty teenager, Ryan grumbling and cursing at her, while being the subject of Beth's laughter. Any other time, Emma would have scolded them both, but tonight, she found it just as amusing as her friend did.

“Ryan,” Emma said between giggles. “Stop it. You're going too fast. Ryan!”
“I can't believe this,” He grumbled, continuing to tug her away from the club. “What the hell has gotten in to you? You don't drink.”
“There's a first time for everything!” Beth sang.
He ignored her. “It's a good job Rylee sent me after you. I can't begin to imagine what the hell the two of you were doing in that crap hole, partying like frat boys, while the rest of us are running for our lives. Where's Ethan?”

Finally releasing her hold on Emma, Beth bounded into Ryan's path, her attention fixated on his face as she took unsteady steps backwards. “We dunno. He went off in a strop when we met his...Dad.” Anyone with ears could detect the hidden message behind her last word.
“Went off where?”
“We don't know,” Emma answered, tripping over her loose shoelace. “Lassie will come home soon. Don't worry about that. Why didn't Elijah come get me...?”

Ryan's jaw tightened, but the hold he had on her wrist loosened a degree. “He couldn't.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
Beth blew out a deep, dramatic breath. “Why didn't Rylee send him, hmmm? He could have gotten his ass down here and -”
“He's tired, alright?” Ryan snapped out in exasperation.
“Awe, no! Our poor little baby, Elijah, is tired!? I'm sure I don't know what that feels like.”
“Beth, please, just.... Shut up for a second.”
“Excuse me? I don't wanna shut up. Why should I shut up because you told me too? I like the sound of my voice, okay? It's awesome. Fantastic. Out of this freaking world.”

Emma shook her head as the two continued to argue. Elijah wouldn't come to get her because he was tired? That wasn't right. They were all sleep deprived, but since when did something like that stop him from coming to her? Not only that, the idea of sleeping without him -more so if he was out on a mission like she was supposed to be- would be impossible for her; wasn't it the same for him?

She sighed to herself, then silently followed behind Ryan and Beth.

********

Emma sought Elijah out like a heat seeking missile the moment she stepped inside the building, moving from doorway to doorway, searching for the face she so desperately wanted, and needed, to see. Ryan had been cryptic on the trip back, giving nothing away as to why they weren't going back to D-25 and the hotel, something about they weren't in the right state of mind to hear it.

As long as Elijah was unharmed and alive, Emma didn't care about the rest.

When she finally found him in one of the tiny offices, large body spread out across a small, green patchwork coach, she all but ran into the room. Good god, after a whole day apart, Emma missed him, so much that the excitement of seeing him again made her momentarily forget the evenings events.

His eyes were closed, but she was sure he wasn't sleeping.
“Ding, ding,” Her finger tips brushed across his brow. “Emma's back.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Naturally, Elijah hadn’t been able to force himself into a subconscious state. This was probably partially because the couch was extremely uncomfortable mingled with his profound irritation. He tried to push her out of his mind in attempts of it doing something to assuage his sleepless state, but it only made things worse, his anxiousness replacing instead. Was she okay? Safe? Elijah absolutely hated how, even when he was upset with her, the concern almost always outweighed the anger. He’d always care for her wellbeing, whether they were feuding or not.

Which was exactly why it was a bittersweet moment when the redhead was looming over him, brown eyes glittering against the faint moonlight that spilled from the cracked blinds. He felt the annoyance resonate in his chest, although he felt himself instinctively reaching out to slide his fingers along her jaw line, as if to secretly prove to himself she was very much tangible. That it hadn’t been a trauma-induced fantasy. She was. Although his eyebrows instantly furrowed together once she realized she was shifting her weight in a lopsided manner, an uncharacteristic clumsiness that he couldn’t quite fathom.

“Had fun at the club?” he found himself muttering bitterly in spite of his confusion, fingers falling from her cheek with haphazard speed.
"Yes," She caught his hand as it fell away, bringing it back to her face. "But I missed you. Next time, we'll go together, okay?"
Elijah felt completely and utterly baffled, retracting his hand once more. “Do you think this is honestly a fucking joke, Emma? Going out to party while the rest of us were putting our asses on the line? What the hell happened to the ‘business’ you were supposed to be doing? Or was that getting drunk and dancing the night away?” A million other questions and accusations had flooded his mind but he filtered himself to prevent things from going too far.

Emma stared down at his hand, her brows creasing. "I...I.. Have you ever tried a Brain Teaser?"
His lips fell open before closing again. “What? What the hell are you even talking about?” There wasn’t an adequate combination of words to describe how baffled and irritated he was at that very moment, blinking incredulously up at Emma’s hazy orbs.
"It's a drink," She answered simply. "A really nice drink. It makes everything...okay again. I thought you might have tried it."
It felt like she was talking in an entirely different language; one he didn’t understand in the slightest. Was he missing the big picture? Had something happened?

Elijah pushed himself slowly up from the couch so he was in a proper situation before kneading his already throbbing temples tenderly. “What happened tonight, Em?” he inquired warily.
She moved over to sit next to him, tucking her legs underneath her as she relaxed into his shoulder, fingers curling around his bicep. As much as he wanted to force her away and stay upset, the emotions had gradually dissipated from him like a cloud, a tiny breath flitting past his lips.

"We met with Malcolm Lowe, Ethan's father, for information,” she murmured.
“How’d it go?”
"I'm drunk because it went fantastically well."
And just when he thought he felt his annoyance settle, it flared up again. “Well how the hell am I supposed to know? You just waltzed in here at four AM in the fucking morning slammed, asking me what a Brain Teaser was as if that’s actually relevant.” Pausing, he bit down on his tongue, exercising that self-control once more. “Can you stop speaking in damn code?”
Emma dropped her head back and giggled. "Stop being so cranky with me, Elijah. I'm trying to tell you but you keep raising your voice at me."

Elijah knew he’d be exhausted in the morning. “Then, Christ, Emma, tell me.”

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

He was warm and soft and smelled like home. The moment his eyes had locked with her own, Emma felt the rush of comfort wash over her; all she wanted to do was wrap herself around him, or better yet, the other way around. Unfortunately for her, Elijah wasn’t in the mood for touching her very much right now.

Pressing her mouth to his shoulder, Emma took in a deep, unsteady breath. “L-Lijah, please get off my case.” She couldn’t stand hearing that tone from him. Anyone but Elijah and anytime but now.
Being with him again loosened the restraints on her control, began to wear down the solid walls she put up around herself again and again. Emma didn’t want to feel this fragile, it wasn’t who she was, it would never be who she was.

"No," he responded resolutely, "because I've still yet to figure out what the fuck happened tonight. Or were you planning to keep that a secret?"
Emma groaned and pushed away from him, half tumbling off the couch as she did. “All I want you to do is hold me! To touch me and kiss me for fucks sake! Why can’t you do that? But no, you want answers on something that doesn’t even matter.”
Elijah's lips tightened. "Of course it fucking does. The fact that you just left with no word, no explanation, raises red flags. And it seems like everyone in this damn place knows what happened but me! How the hell would you feel if I just walked away without telling you what I was doing? And then be forced to wait until I returned--" he paused, jaw taut "--if I returned."

She righted herself, gripping onto his jean clad thigh for support. Even through the thick fog shrouding her mind, Emma knew he made sense. Okay, so she should have told him where she was going, but Ethan had been so set on keeping it from everyone else…

“I’ll always return to you.” She whispered.
"Sure about that?" he murmured, although his voice had softened.
Emma curled her legs beneath her and braced her hands on his knees. “Sure. And you’ll return to me…right?”
He was still clearly irritated, but nodded nonetheless. "Always."

An abrupt and unexpected wave of emotion popped like a balloon within her chest, releasing the last thing Emma expected to see. A single, cold tear ran down her cheek; the only warning she got before the flood gates opened.

Her body shook with the force of her sobs. “M-Malcolm Lowe… it was him, Elijah. I-I never thought I’d see him again. They weren’t even married. She t-told me they were married. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. The drink made it all go away…”
Elijah's lips parted slightly, before he was drawing Emma as close to his chest as possible, chin resting on the crown of her head. "Who, Em?”
“My father,” She murmured against his neck, her arms wrapping around his waist tightly, locking him to her. “He was never a Ward. He didn’t even know of me until I was six… and that’s when he left. He couldn’t stand the thought of me. As if I didn’t think my childhood was messed up enough…now I know I’m the bastard child of a Politian.”
"You're bigger than this, Em, bigger than him. He doesn't define you, and he never will. He made the fucked up decision to walk out on one hell of a woman, and it's his loss."
“Everything I thought I knew… he was married to Ethan’s mother, all the while he was ‘visiting’ with mine.” Swallowing back the lump in her throat, Emma continued. “He told me I couldn’t be around Ethan, that I had to leave the group or… he said so much, and Ethan ran off. Just…please don’t be angry with me, Elijah. I did a really stupid thing tonight, but I couldn’t stand it if you…if you… too…”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Emma’s explanation had been more than he was…expecting. He had been kept in the dark about what her intentions had been, but never would he have come to the conclusion that it had something to do with her father. There was no way he could relate to what she was saying – in spite of unstable childhood, his parents had done a relatively good job in providing him with a nice home to live in, and he couldn’t fathom going through what she was going through. He almost felt like a jackass for being angry, and seconds later, the harshness in his eyes dissipated.

Elijah wouldn’t say he was sorry; it was common knowledge that whenever someone used the two words to comfort someone else who was in distress, it only made things considerably worse. It wasn’t his fault, and it wasn’t Emma’s either. Malcolm was a terrible person, and passing up a woman as wonderful as Emma was a mistake in his book. If he couldn’t follow through with something in which he had more than helped to create, than he didn’t deserve to be in that person’s life, period.

“He doesn’t get to choose what actions our ‘group’ takes,” Elijah firmly responded, although his arm was curled around her shoulders, massaging, slow, tender circles into the skin there. Then, using his free hand to tilt her jaw upwards, he dragged his lips softly against her temple, murmuring, “I’m not mad, Em. You need sleep. We have no idea what tomorrow will bring.” It was hard to keep track of time anymore; the second you allowed your lids to close was the second morning light spilled into your vision, although the exhaustion still relented.

Emma only moved away from him, however. Arms crossed over her chest, lips pulled down into a reproachful scowl. A narrow line of bluish light spilled across her face, tears pooling around her orbs. "You should be, I'm an idiot. Everything Malcolm said was right... and his stare, those hollow, emotionless eyes. They looked just like mine, Elijah." She shook her head and slammed her eyelids shut. "I don’t know how you do it. Looking at something like that, day after day..."

Several beats transpired, and finally Elijah was moving off of the couch and onto his knees in front of her, fingers sliding up to her eyelids as he gently coaxed them open. Inquisitive cerulean orbs met with deep brown ones, her lips quivering slightly. “Wanna know what I see?” She looked like she was going to speak, but not a sound came out. Elijah continued, “I see a pair of ridiculously gorgeous auburn eyes that burns gold in the sunlight and compliments a fiery, beautiful mane of red hair. I see…compassion, pure kindness, valiancy, intelligence--” he paused before adding with a snicker, “—fury; whenever I piss you off, that is. Although, of course, I still find it incredibly sexy. I see a lot of things, Em, but none of them are negative. Don’t let some asshole knock you down; you’re as close to perfect as anyone could get to the word, and sometimes I still wonder how someone so incredible ended up with me. I don’t care, though. I’m happy; more happy than I ever thought I could be.”

Biting down on his lower lip, he tangled his fingers with hers. “And I don’t think—fuck, I know, I wouldn’t be able to live without you. Because you mean so, so much, and I can’t even begin to explain why.”

[/size][/font]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Emma didn’t sleep that night, only dozing once or twice for an hour or so at a time. There were too many thoughts spinning around her mind, making it difficult to shut her brain off long enough to relax. The drink didn’t help either – it took forever to drain out of her system, leaving behind a sickly, unpleasant feeling in its wake.

At least she now knew what a hangover felt like.

Emma waited until Elijah stirred the following morning to voice her thoughts on the matter. “I am never, ever, ever drinking again.”
They were wrapped around one another on a small, uncomfortable couch. Her fingers hadn’t released his hand for most of the night, only dropping to grip at his tee instead when he’d moved in his sleep.

Elijah yawned. "I'm shocked, Ward. You swore to never indulge in the stuff if I remember our last conversation on the topic properly."
She rubbed tenderly at her temples. “And I have no intention of touching it again. My head is pounding, like I’ve been hit over the head with a goddamn baseball bat. Remind me again… why did you enjoy it so much before?”
"Temporary fulfilment, love. It made all the bad stuff go away, even if just for a night." As he spoke, his fingers drew slow, tantalising circles at the back of her neck.
Emma felt herself relaxing against him once more. “Mmm, pain to cover more pain. It’s all logical when you think about it.”

She looked up into his face, frowning when she spotted the bruises marring his face. In the dim morning light, Emma could see him clearer than she had the night before. Her fingers brushed lightly over the cut at his temple. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you.”

"It's alright," he murmured, "I'm glad you weren't. We lost two members, and I couldn't stand--" he paused, blinking away from her "--even the slimmest chance of you getting hurt."

Emma drew his face close, until the tips of their noses brushed together. She should ask who it was that they lost, but the only person that mattered was with her now, injured but alive. As for anyone else she cared about… Beth had been with her and if it had been Rylee, Elijah would have told her the moment they’d arrived back.

“You should have been with me, then you wouldn’t have been hurt,” Emma frowned at the sight of the bruises continuing down his neck. “This is the first time we’ve done something apart in months. I should have known better. We’re a team, we work best together.” In all things, no matter how big or small they were.
"Don't beat yourself up on it. I'm fine." His fingers gently stroked at her neck as he spoke.

Despite how nice it felt, Emma found herself frowning. “I’ll kill anyone that touches you, so I hope the ones that left these marks are already dead.”
The corners of Elijah's lips turned slightly upwards in a faint smile. "As endearing as the gesture is, love, they're worse than dead; they're fucking possessed by Hoffman's little chips."

And if they breathed, they’d soon be possessed by Emma’s little bullets, as well.

She sighed and changed the subject. “Did Ethan get back before us last night?”
“No – didn’t he come back with you?”
Emma shook her head lightly. “No. The minute he worked everything out, he made a run for it. Just… ran off into the night like an idiot.”
Elijah blew out a long breath. “Holy shit, that means he’s your brother!”
“No,” She physically cringed at the sound of the word. “He’s technically my half-brother, but I refuse to think about that right now.”
But Elijah’s brain had already gone off on a tangent, his nose creasing in thought before he added, “He flirted with you all the time.”
“Elijah…”
“He called you his wife at Venus Hill – that’s messed up.”
“It’s not like he knew,” Emma pointed out dryly. “You can’t tell the others about this, okay? I don’t want anyone other than you to know.”
"Of course. Your secret is safe with me, although I feel extremely sorry for you. No one deserves to be related to such a jackass."

Emma released a low groan and dropped her face into the crook of his neck. “Make that two jackasses.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

***
“What happened a few days ago was a very troubling event for us all,” Darrius began, arm in a fresh new sling as he trailed the length of the small precinct. They were all sat around the large man save for Elijah, who was leaning against a cubicle next to him with a cup of coffee in his hand. It felt like he had been running on the caffeinated drink and walnuts for the last two days. It wasn’t nutritionally optimal, but until they found another food source, they were as good as fucked. “But we have to put it behind us and move forward.”

“Put it behind us?” Jenna hissed, dark hair slung back in a ponytail, a gun secured to the holster of her pants. “Are we animals now? We lost two members, and we haven’t even mourned them. Is this what Hoffman’s turning us into? Have we lost our sense of humanity?”

A long pause ensued before Elijah was setting the cup on the divider. “If it’s fine with everyone, we can hold a small service before we set out East.”

“And what’s East?” Dominic questioned, his blonde hair swept back into a short ponytail. “I feel like all we’ve been doin’ is runnin’. Runnin’ and dyin’.”

“Has a point,” Ryan muttered, arms crossed over his chest as he stood next to Emma. “We need a plan. Something conclusive. Something that’ll work. Not just a game of cat and mouse until we hopefully find the secret to all of our problems. I mean, Ethan’s missing, two people are dead. What’s next? Who’s next?”

“We didn’t go into this asking for immunity,” Elijah responded. “We all knew that maybe there was the possibility that we’d lose our lives. And we lost two members, it’s horrible, but we can’t let it weigh us down. It’ll only make us weaker.”

“I’d at least like to know if I were losing my life for a good cause,” Ryan retorted, “not just because of the disorganization on someone else’s part.”

Elijah’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you trying to put this on me?” He asked incredulously, quickly surveying the room to check if anyone had noticed the accusatory tone in the other man’s voice. There was no way in hell this was his fault, and he wouldn’t take the blame for it.

“Perhaps I’m wrong, but you indirectly agreed on being our leader, the night you practically told Beth to fuck off and let you take the reins. Well, what the hell have you been doing to help the group?”

“Ryan, that’s not fair,” Emma seethed from his side, hazel eyes burning into his. “Everyone has been trying their best here. This isn’t an easy mission. This is the government we’re going against; an extremely large body of people. It’ll take time and sacrifice.”

The dark-haired man returned to brooding, gaze dropping to the floor, although his body was still tense.

“Guys!” Rylee shouted, shooting up from his desk suddenly, hologram in hand. “I’ve found something; holy shit!”
“What is it?” Darrius questioned, a mixture of wariness and mild annoyance shrouding his face.
“Hoffman’s address! Number, zip code, everything.”

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

With their growing numbers, it was getting harder to travel across the country undetected, and without the van, it was near enough impossible. They’d tried in vain to travel in three different vehicles – barely five miles down the road and a cop car had pulled them over, the occupants chip controlled. Then, they’d tried portal jumping. That had lasted all of an hour. Walking had been their only option, which hardly made the trek east an easy one.

In the weeks that followed, they learned more and more about the Triad and what exactly they were doing to the innocent citizens of America. There were very obvious differences between a genuine Triad member and a chipped zombie, not only by the tattoos marking their skin, but by the lack of colour within their eyes. Those with chips had the blackest stare Emma had ever seen, void of all emotion and signs of life.

As they’d passed by D-13, they’d witnessed for themselves how exactly the chips were implanted into their hosts. Women and children had been held down, their screams silenced as a lazar had been aimed and fired into the centre of their foreheads.

By the time the third week rolled around and they were within ten miles of Hoffman’s home address, a decision to split up was made. They couldn’t risk being caught, not when they were as close as they were.
Emma and Elijah remained together, naturally, along with Beth and Rylee. An arrangement that hadn’t gone down so well with Elijah at first.

Now, however, as they trekked through the woodland surrounding Hoffman’s estate, with Rylee guiding the way with the use of his hologram tablet, he did seem to mind his cousin’s presence so much.

With a deep sigh, Beth paused to lean against the nearest tree trunk, her hand caressing her sore ankle. She’d tripped during a scuffle with the Triad a few days before and was still feeling the sting of it now.
Rylee pointed in the direction they needed to go next. “Ugh!” She groaned in exasperation. “We’ve been walking for hours; can’t we stop for five minutes?”
“No,” Elijah barked, striding forward through the thick foliage. “We need to get there first,”
“Why?”
Rylee shrugged. “Because.”

Emma took full advantage of the small break, thankful for the brief breather. Her stomach had been flipping for the past forty-eight hours, giving her the strong urge to throw-up what food she’d managed to eat. She braced her hands onto her hips, a move not missed by her short companion.

As the men moved on, Beth pushed up from the tree, her leg dropping to the floor. “What’s up with you?”
“Don’t know,” Emma shrugged, her fingers moving instinctively to her stomach. “I think I ate something bad.”
“Probably that rice crap that Zia keeps feeding us. It hasn’t been agreeing with me much either. I swear, I’d kill for chocolate right about now. A really big, really fattening bar of hazelnut swirl.”
Emma’s stomach flipped once more, this time sending a wave of bile rising up her throat. “Please, Beth,” She murmured, hand to her mouth. “Stop.”
“Or maybe a bag of chips.”
“Beth…”
“Or both! With peanut butter…” A look of pure ecstasy crossed her features. “Oh, man, yesss.”

The vision of peanut butter was the only thing she needed to send her hurrying off to the closest bush, her insides convulsing as she wrenched up the contents of her stomach.

“Jesus Christ!” From within her sickly haze, Emma felt a cold hand press against her arm. “What was that, Em?”
“I told you,” She groaned. “I think it’s something I’ve eaten. I’m okay, though. That helped.” A little.
“Are you sure?” Beth didn’t sound convinced. “Lemme call Eli back – “
Emma forced herself to straighten. “No, don’t be stupid. I’m fine. It’s past.”