Blacklight S2 (R)

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Elijah’s lips separated slightly as he witnessed the scene before him, a near mirror image of the woman he loved, more than a decade ago. Her red hair touched her chin in beautiful, unruly tufts, her eyes, in spite of carrying bags, the most brilliant hazel he had ever seen. Her skin was smooth, not a touch of prepubescent acne causing a blemish, arms and legs slightly toned from labor. Elijah stole a glance at Emma, surprised to see the shame on her face and instantly he felt like wrapping her in his arms and forcing her to look at him. A TechHead kept a restrictive hand on his shoulder however, muttering something about the beams being dangerous to anyone who wasn’t dressed accordingly.

His gaze instantly shot to the source of another voice though, a short, slender man with brown hair and a thick overall covering his body .
“I would,” Elijah snapped before letting out a breath.
Did people seriously still gang up on her? After she had proven time after time she had more talent in her left pinky than all of the scrubs in this building? Well, except him of course.
“What are you seeing?” he swore he could have heard the little shit mutter.
“I see a ridiculously gorgeous teenage girl hidden beneath scars that should have never been placed on her.” Scars that would have never happened had he been there, Elijah thought.

Emma finally gazed at him, an indescribable look welling in her orbs before it vanished and she was clearing her throat.
Landry quickly intervened, “Anyways, back to the subject at hand please. It’s important we get this process done as quickly and as easily as possible.”
Elijah felt another retort building in his chest, but he refrained.

The following hour whizzed by relatively quickly. The TechHeads changed her ripped and torn clothes into a rose-colored sweater over denim shorts. Her hair was sleeker, the brilliant stubbornness of her once wild curls forced into a cookie-cutter straight bob. Elijah almost felt like he was looking at a glorified pinup doll, one caked with makeup and made to look like society’s fantasy of the ‘perfect woman’. Hell, Elijah had been that boy; the one that would fawn over some supermodel on a magazine cover or the television. And now, more than ever he was realizing just how unaware he was – that people like Emma, who didn’t have to be covered in make up or spray painted to look decent, were out there.

She was beautiful, damn it, scars and all, and he would run over anyone that tried to convince him otherwise.

“Something wrong, Elijah?” Landry questioned as they stood several yards off as the lab crew worked with Emma.
“I just…don’t think there was anything wrong with her in the first place,” he shrugged, “there isn’t anything wrong with her.”
The older man smiled sheepishly. “That makes the two of us. You just have to understand we’re trying to target the epitome of someone who believes in the fake garbage media sells.”
He nodded sharply although he couldn't have possibly disagreed more, “I figured.”

[/size][/blockquote]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

She clipped the bracelet tightly around her wrist, looked to the hologram and thought ’walk’. Without blinking, the girl stepped off the platform and slowly walked forward, turning and stopping only when Emma thought differently.
How surreal.
“Everything is sorted and ready for action.” Zach announced, clapping his hands on a job well done.

Emma stopped as the hologram neared Elijah and she couldn’t fight off the commands suddenly bombarding through her skull. The made up teenager looked up into his face and gave him a sweet, innocent smile, “How do I look, big guy?”
She looked downright perfect. The picture of the innocence and beauty, all wrapped up in one neat little package. Emma couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how she would have been if her life, her parents, had been different. Would she be the image of sweetness and light like the hologram before her was?

Elijah’s gaze flickered over to where Emma was standing, then back at the hologram. "Young," he teased.
“Not beautiful?” She asked, her head slightly cocked to one side, making her straight, short hair fall across her chin.
"I'd feel like a creep if I said yes, but of course.”
Anything was beautiful compared the image it had been before.
The hologram smiled once more, a gentle curve of her lips, before Emma pressed the button on her bracelet, making it vanish. “Shame it’s not the real thing.” She mused, moving into the place where the girl had been.
Elijah wrapped his arms around her waist with a smirk. "Now I can do this."
Without leaving her the time to ask what he was talking about, Elijah meshed his mouth up against her own, planting a deep kiss on her lips.

“You don’t care?” She whispered against his mouth. “About that. I was one of those girls, from the slums of my city, a complete mess.” And she’d been one of the luckier ones. Some of the other girls in her neighbourhood had either been raped or murdered by the time they were sixteen.
"I never cared, Em," he murmured. "So what? We all have skeletons in our closet. Doesn't mean it defines who you are."
“It didn’t repulse you, even a little bit? I was gross back then, even I know that.”
Elijah rolled his eyes, "No you weren't."
“Did you not see the same girl the rest of us did?”
He pretended to think about it. "Unless my vision suddenly got really bad, then I'm pretty sure I did."

He was telling the truth, too. Elijah wasn’t disgusted by the image he’d seen, as much as Emma had figured otherwise. Again and again she continued to underestimate her man.
She kissed him once more, wrapping her arms around his neck to keep him close. “I love you,” Emma breathed, only loud enough for him to hear.

“Are we quite finished here?” Landry groaned, breaking his silence with a frustrated sigh. “Emma needs to get online as soon as possible and attract some unwanted attention.”
“It looks as though she’s already getting that, right here,” Zach drawled, “I wondered what the allure was; now I know.”
“You think just because you’re the agency’s genius it means that I can’t brain you with your own fucking computer?” Elijah snapped over at the TechHead.
“Please, Elijah, no brains over the lab floors,” Landry sighed, stepping through the doors. “They just cleaned them.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Elijah was positive he had lost all circulation in his lower half from stooping in that goddamn artificial bush for so long. Even though staying still for ridiculously long periods of time was a skill any soldier was forced to acquire in the military he had long since lost his discipline, occasionally rearranging his body into a more comfortable position.

“Christ, who knew a pedophile would take so long to grab a piece of young ass. You'd think he'd be picking it up like hot cakes,” Elijah muttered, adjusting his stabilizer so it was momentarily pointed towards the ground. They were several yards away from the café, a lone street lamp illuminating the glass entrance, only a handful or so of souls sparsely scattered on the inside, some gloomily stirring their umpteenth cup of Joe, others gradually getting through the daily chronicle.
Emma shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe he doesn't like redheads."
“Who the hell doesn’t like redheads? They’re the sexiest chicks on Earth.”
A smirk spread out across her lips, "That's your opinion."
Elijah furrowed his eyebrows together, “That’s everyone’s opinion, dear.”

She rolled her eyes, quipped with a witty response before the sound of hollow footsteps, a mere crunching together of loosened rocks only barely above one’s average tolerance for sound, interrupted the once quiet scene. Their vision simultaneously zoned in on a tall, stocky figure (slender enough to be a woman, but with the muscle tone of a young man, making it incredibly hard to tell) with its fingers shoved into the depths of its light khaki trousers.

Elijah peaked through the dark green vines before glancing at Emma. They then simultaneously counted down until Emma was giving him a sharp nod and pressing the button on her bracelet.
Her human form soon crumpled, not even close to reaching the asphalt before he extended his arm, drawing her to his body and laying her as softly as humanely possible on the ground next to his crouched feet until he could properly transport her to the van.

Elijah pushed in the ear bud, spreading apart the underbrush ever so slightly once more as Emma’s hologram crossed her arms over her chest, eyes feigning with innocence even he believed, as the masked figure approached her, face obscured by the hood of its jacket.

“Excuse me,” the deep voice breathed, giving away its gender in a heartbeat, “I’m Lanie’s father. She’s in the car. Would you like to meet her?”

Elijah forced back the scoff that wanted to escape – did girls seriously believe this shit? Because it made sense Lanie was suddenly so shy that she sent her ‘father’ out to escort a friend she had just met into a car heading god knows where.

Emma put up a believable performance though even twirling the ends of her straightened hair, teeth biting on her lower lip. “She’s in the car?”

The man pulled down his hood, a tiny grin spreading across his clean-shaven jaw. “Yes,” he responded easily, even draping a comforting arm around her shoulder and pointing at a little girl waving in the sedan.

“Okay,” she finally agreed with a soft nod, following the lanky man across the narrow street.

Elijah waited several seconds until the two disappeared into the car before sending his artillery into a small cube, grabbing Emma’s limp body, and dashing towards the small van parked just behind another building.

Go time.

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Emma made a point of looking over her shoulder to the back seat. “Where’s Lanie?”
Like Lanie even existed.
“I lied, I know,” He smiled modestly. “She’s not feeling very well today, so I left her at home. She’s excited to meet you, though.”
“Oh, I told my Mum and Dad that I wouldn’t be long…”
“Don’t worry,” Long, skinny fingers touched at her bare knee briefly. “I’ll get you home on time.”
Solid holograms – it was a blessing that she couldn’t feel anything that touched her. Since Emma was only there in mind, she couldn’t feel anything that she touched either.

They drove for no longer than five to ten minutes down quiet back streets of lower quarter, entering the down and dirty slums of the city, before they stopped on a dark, run down residential area.
Emma looked out the car window and grimaced up at the house; the windows were blacked out, the walls thick with dirt and grime, the wood of the door was old and cracked with age. Well, didn’t this place look like a fun fair?

She turned back to the man and asked in a small whisper, “This is your house?”
His dark gaze narrowed, a hint of menace entering his stare. “Yes. Come on, let’s go warm up inside.”
Gods only knew what he meant by that; Emma was suddenly overcome with relief that she wasn’t ‘really’ there. This guy unnerved her more than anyone ever had – and she’d met her fair share of nut jobs through the years.
To think four girls had been lured in with this routine made her feel both sick and furious; the poor, naïve things were still missing too.

As she followed behind him up the overgrown garden path, Emma found herself eyeing the house with a new found suspicion. Were the girls inside the house? Landry suspected as much. Elijah did too.

The door creaked open, capturing her attention.
He stood at the entrance, nothing but darkness behind him, like a void of nothingness waiting to swallow her whole. “Aren’t you coming in?”
“I don’t think I should…” She made sure to bite down onto her bottom lip once more, forcing his burning gaze to her mouth. “Maybe you should tell Lanie I’ll meet another time.”
“No.” His hand darted out, locking around her wrist. Emma wouldn’t have known he’d done it if she hadn’t been looking directly at him. “You’re coming in. Now.”

Within a blink of an eye, she found herself tugged into the darkness of the house, the thick black washing over her as he hustled her through one room to another.
“What are you doing?! Let go!” Doors opened and closed, stairs creaked beneath her feet as he forced her down them, his breathing heavy in her ear, growing with every step and passing moment. “Where are you taking me?! Let go!”
“Shut your fucking mouth, you little slut!” A light flickered out, dimly illuminating the room.

The basement, in fact.
Instantly her eyes were drawn to the four young and equally terrified girls in the corner of the room, huddled against one another like they were one another’s life lines. One of them was naked, apart from a thin cardigan wrapped around as much of her body as it possibly could. There was no guessing what the sick bastard had done to that one, and the other three didn’t look much better.

“Welcome to your new home, baby,” Ghostly pale fingers ran along the length of her jaw. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

The van crept several yards behind the car that held Emma’s hologram, and with every block they turned down, things only seemed to grow more and more archaic. It was if someone had taken a chunk of Earth from at least fifty years ago and placed it amongst a region such technologically ahead. Elijah almost felt like it deserved a place in a museum, the dark and nearly crumbling wooden houses lining the street. Who used wood to build houses anymore? Save for the architects that loved vintage design, everyone had transitioned to hard metals (after scientists in a lab at Switzerland figured out how to create the coveted material from scratch) to build practically every building and crevice of the city, both Underground and up.

Elijah waited several moments after they had made it into the house to reach under the seat and grab his own guns, Emma’s body peacefully slumped in the back. Landry had warned them to keep her host body as safe as possible, for if that were to be destroyed, Emma would be locked in the body of a hologram forever; that, or go through massive amounts of surgery and research to be placed in a completely new one, which he completely refused to think about 'cause, how the hell could he go without his red head? Wouldn't be the same.
Elijah had kept the car locked and parked half a block away under the deepest of shadows, not a shred of light illuminating the vehicle.

He kept his movements light, swiftly dashing across the street and to the house in which they had entered. The door was locked, as expected. Because the guy didn’t want any nosy neighbor interrupting his play date, hm? Elijah shook his head, a low whistle escaping his lips before he was removing a device from his pocket (compliments of the FBI), pressing it to the door handle and waiting for the light to blink green, the chambers unlocking. Usually it took much longer to auto-pick a lock, but his house was fit for the late 90s, if even that.

Elijah wrinkled his nose upon entering the infrastructure. It smelt like sex and drugs…and stale Thai food. What the hell had gone on in here? The boards creaked underneath his boots, the foyer resembling that of a Victorian parlor – dark oak with matching furniture that looked like it hadn’t been dusted in years, maybe more. A clock ticked solemnly from the corner, a picture of a cat with wide, plastic eyes blinking at him with each second gone by, his tale pointing at ten o’ clock PM. Elijah raised his brows.
The entire room seemed to have held that theme – pictures of different species of the felis coating the walls.

Cat fetish?

Letting out a tiny grunt, he searched the room, eventually coming across a door, short enough to force him to bend his body forward just to enter. Elijah descended the stair case, feeling like it would give out underneath his weight before reaching the cellar.

As expected, the man had his grimy lips on Emma’s neck, fingers reaching up her shirt as the other girls watched in horror, huddled in the corner. One, the smallest, had noticed the new presence, gray eyes meeting his with a type of emptiness that chilled him to the core. She blinked once, then twice, but her lips did not move. It was almost as if she was trying to convince herself he seized to exist.

Elijah nodded softly in her direction before zoning in on the creep, lifting his tranquilizer and pointing it at just the right angle to keep everyone else out of harm’s way. Then, pulling the trigger softly, the dart whizzed through the air, catching him in the throat and causing him to stumble back in bewilderment.

“Rnggg….rngghhh,” he breathed, before crumpling to the floor.

Elijah rushed to the center of the room, rolling the criminal over and cuffing his wrists behind his back. One of the girls gasped softly, but nothing else. He reached into his pocket, notifying the police for pickup.

“A—are we free?” a tiny voice asked, and it was the little one.
Elijah exchanged a glance with Emma’s hologram before nodding gravely. “Yes.”

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Emma jolted up with a gasp as breath rushed into her lungs, reigniting life back into her body. She’d waited to bail on her hologram until the cops had arrived, afraid to leave the frightened teenagers alone, especially with another man, even if he was the one to rescue them.

Pushing herself up onto her knees, her head spinning, Emma forced her numb body to move stiffly around the back of the van. Her thoughts were dishevelled, scattered around her mind in disarray. That was the first time she’d tried something like that and it was certainly the last; hell, Emma could barely keep a straight thought in her head.
She groaned and pressed her palm to her forehead. Landry had warned her not to stay in the hologram too long, since it wasn’t the healthiest thing for a brain to be doing. Elijah hadn’t arrived a moment too soon as far as she or her pounding brains were concerned.

Those poor girls had clearly thought the same thing.
When the police had arrived, the looks that had streaked across each and every one of their faces would be forever branded in Emma’s mind. Relief, denial, doubt, fear and happiness, all mixed into one emotion.

The doors of the van slid open about twenty minutes later; she already knew who it was without having to look up. “My head is killing me.” Emma groaned, dropping her head back against the side of the van. “Remind me never to do that hologram crap again.”
Elijah smirked, "At least it's over, eh?"
“Hmm,” She peeked at him through her lashes. “Are the girls okay?”
"They've been safely returned to their families," he assured. "Hopefully they can get the help they need."
“The sick bastard – if there’s one execution I won’t mind seeing, it’s his. Hopefully, Henry Hoffman will do that right at least.”
Elijah climbed into the van and slid the door shut behind him, sealing them away from the flashing police lights and sirens outside. “The decision day for whether or not that’s going to be approved is the 13th June – ironically, it’s also a Friday. Like that wasn’t done on purpose.”

Emma laughed lightly at that, earning her a frown. “What?”
“So that’s going to be the day that decides whether or not our new mayor can kill people he believes to be criminals? It really is suiting.” April 13th had never been anything special to Emma; she’d quickly learned from a young age that it was just another day, like all the others.
As Elijah climbed into the front of the van, Emma following close behind him, his thoughtful frown remained on his face. “Why? What else is happening on the 13th?”
Emma shrugged, “Nothing special.”
“No? Then why am I getting the impression that something is…?” He shot her a side glance before pulling out into the street.
Keeping her expression calm and unfazed, Emma looked out the window, the flashing lights from the police cars gradually fading away into the background. “I was born on that day.”
"Oh you're older than me? Damn."
“What’s wrong with that?”
"Who wants to be the youngest?" Elijah arched his brow with a smirk.
“You’re my toyboy. Nothing wrong with that.”
"Toyboy? Damn, you make me sound so...cheap," he teased with a snicker.
Emma turned away from the window. “You love it, so don’t pretend otherwise.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Two weeks later.

“Stoooop, I’m trying to sleep,” Emma groaned against her pillow as Elijah draped an arm around her torso, nibbling on her lobe playfully. Their mornings usually panned out this way, one bothering the other with small gestures depending on who woke up first. Much to his surprise, he had been the first one up on a quiet Saturday morning, and Em was definitely paying the price of his boredom.
“Don’t you think it’s too late for sleep?” Elijah teased, fingers trailing along the waist band of her boy shorts.
“I swear you have the libido of a horny prepubescent boy.”
“And that’s a problem, because? Just admit you’re as addicted as I am, Emma Ward,” he murmured in her ear with a grin.
"Addicted, hmm?" She laughed lightly. "What to? Sex or me?"
“Sex. Unless you’re as vain as I am, which if that’s the case—“ he feathered kisses along the nape of her neck “—we’re much more alike than we thought.”

A buzz from the nightstand interrupted their mindless banter, a small groan of disapproval escaping his throat before he rolled over, reached for his cell phone and raised his brows at the caller ID. Mom was calling again?

Clicking the ‘receive’ button, he pressed the phone to his ear, murmuring, “Hello?”
“Did you just wake up?” she quickly responded before adding, “You sound tired.”
“Well it’s—“ he glanced at the clock on the television stand “—ten o’ clock in the morning, normal people don’t call until noon at least.”
“Screw the courtesy, I’m your mother. Anyways, your father’s birthday is coming up and we’re throwing him a party. I’d love it if you could perhaps spend the week and take some time off of work. Lord knows the last time you’ve visited.”
“I--mom, I’m busy and dad has always been the type to not give a shit about parties and—“
“I’m sorry if I did not insinuate properly the fact that you have no option. You’re our only son and we hardly see you! It’s not like your job is sunshines and rainbows either. Who knows what’ll happen in a year, or a month, or hell, a week? We need to spend time as a family and if I have to haul your ass from D-79, I swear to God I will.”

Elijah rolled his eyes, falling backwards against the pillow as Emma twisted her fingers around his dog tag, mouthing: ‘Is that your mother?’ He nodded, hand resting in his hair before muttering, “Alright, fine. How soon?”
“Is it possible to catch a plane for Monday night?” she questioned.
“Christ! You didn’t think to alert me a week in advance? Landry’ll bite my head off for requesting comp time so short notice.”
“I would have, but your father forgot to shoot you a call and now I’m cleaning up his clusterfuck. Just, check with your boss and get back to me tonight. I’ll need to know so I can prepare your room.”
He sighed again before muttering, "Alright."
“Talk later.”

With that the phone went dead, Elijah soon resting it back on the nightstand before exchanging a look with Emma.
“What did she want?” she murmured, gripping his hand lightly.
“My dad’s birthday is coming up and she’s arranging this family get-together.”
Her face darkened, hazel eyes shooting to the bed linens. “Oh. When are you returning?”
Elijah furrowed his brows. “Don’t you mean when are we returning?”
“N-No, Elijah, don’t feel you have to take me. You really don’t—“
He pressed a finger to her lips. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I am. We’re all in, remember? And that includes being my partner in crime for horrific family get-togethers, unfortunately.”

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Landry was anything but impressed by their spontaneous holiday time – he’d protested until he was blue in the face, well, at least until Emma had pulled out the ‘I don’t have a family of my own to visit’ card. Then he hadn’t had a choice.

They’d caught the first plane out of D-79 and landed in D-37 just after six that afternoon, tired and jet-lagged from the journey. They caught a cab from the airport to Elijah’s family home and the drive there did little to settle Emma’s nerves.

She was about to meet her boyfriends parents for the first time, and it would be the first time he’d be bringing home a girl for them to meet, too. Neither of them had any idea what to expect or what the hell they were getting themselves in to – but even she knew (with her lack of experience) that this was a big deal.
“Maybe you should have told them I was coming too,” Emma murmured, leaning into his side.
Elijah shrugged, "They'll be fine."
“What if they’re not? I kind of feel like I’m intruding and we haven’t even gotten there yet.”
He shifted until he was completely facing her, hand resting on her knee. "You won't be intruding. I promise, alright? They'd love to meet you."
Emma shook her head, “We’ll see.”

There had only been one occasion in the past when Emma had spoken to Trista and it hadn’t exactly gone well. She’d gotten the overwhelming feeling of instantly being disliked by the woman, if only because she’d thought Emma was one more of his bed buddies…
She bit down onto her bottom lip hard, suddenly remembering what the two of them had spoken about. “I may have told your mother that we were never going to be anything but work partners,” Emma burst out, cutting through the silence of the car.
Elijah snickered. "Guess she's in for the surprise of her life then, eh? And as adorable as your nervousness is, relax."
“I was angry and upset,” She sighed, slouching back into the seat. “You’d just left me hanging in the kitchen and then she called and… yea, that’s not going to go in my favour is it?”
Her stomach was in knots, getting progressively worse with each passing residential house. Oh, lovely, they lived in the suburbs! She’d fit in perfectly.

When Elijah tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers attentively stroking at her cheek, she felt some of the tension seep out from her body. When had there ever been a time that Emma had felt this nervous, about anything in life? It just didn’t happen.
Being with Elijah was turning her inside out.
"You'll be fine. She just takes a bit to warm up."

The cab came to a stop outside a large modern two-story house. It was a typical suburban home, complete with the neat garden and picket fence. Trees and bushes outlined the large property, dividing them from their smaller neighbours.

Elijah suddenly opened her door, his outstretched hand encouraging her out. “Home sweet home.”
She slipped her fingers into his grasp and climbed from the cab. “Wow, you were…brought up here?”
It was miles and miles away from the house she’d lived in as a child.
Elijah opened his mouth, only to be cut off by a happy shriek filling the air. “Elijah?!”
He visibly cringed as his mother came bounding down the pathway. “Here we go.”

Just as he turned to embrace his mother, a tall, dark haired man stepped out onto the porch, his build matching Elijah’s nearly flawlessly. A broad smile beamed across his aging face as he too made his way down the path.

The cab pulled away, leaving Emma and the suitcases stood at the edge of the curb, watching the small family greet one another. There was an undeniable love between them, unconditional and unwavering.
She couldn’t help but feel a small pang of jealousy.

The man was the first one to acknowledge her presence. He stepped away from the fussing mother and son and blinked at her in what she thought was… disbelief, confusion? She wasn’t quite sure.
“Hello…” He smiled at her, unsure of whether it was the right thing to do or not. “Who might you be?”
Emma cleared her throat, “Hi, I’m…um…I’m Emma.”
At the sound of her voice, Trista looked at her, a frown tugging at her brows. “Erm, why is your partner from work here, Elijah?”
Elijah moved to Emma’s side. "Because my partner is also my girlfriend. Mom, meet Emma. Emma...mom."

Trista gasped, while his father(?) gaped, his eyes wide, his mouth forming the perfect ‘O’. “Did he just say…?”
“The G-word?” Trista asked, “Yes.”
“Well, damn. It actually happened! I told you it would!” With a shake of his head, all traces of shock vanished, replaced with a wide (very Elijah styled) grin. “Hello, Emma! My, aren’t you a beauty? It’s amazing to meet you! Eli, get the cases while I show your girl the house.”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah#|#picture:17}

The way they were acting towards the ‘amazing’ prospect of Elijah Walker actually having a stable girlfriend merited a tiny smirk from him. Christ, you’d think they were about to alert the town to throw a grand parade in his honor. Eh, he couldn’t blame them though. It was obvious that before Emma he was far from the commitment type and now he was bringing a chick home? Even he found it hard to believe.

Trista ambled over to her son after Randy escorted Emma inside, a manicured brow shooting up in a way similar to his. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“About her? The fact that you actually have a girlfriend now?”
Elijah grabbed the bags, shrugging nonchalantly. “Well now you know.”
“That’s not funny, Elijah,” she quipped. “I’m your mother. I’m supposed to know these things in advance.”
“C’mon, you have to set an extra plate at the dinner table. So what? At least I’m not being ‘promiscuous’ as you’ve said a million times.”

She rolled her eyes. “I suppose I’ll prepare an extra room for your girlfriend.”
“An extra room?” Elijah questioned abruptly, making it up the porch steps.
“Yes, an extra room. It shouldn’t matter unless she’s simply a glorified fuck buddy? Which in that case I’d have more of an easier time believing. Although I’m not sure why on God’s earth you’d bring her here. You were never close to the women you slept with.”
Elijah’s eyes widened slightly. “W-what? No! She’s my actual, real, in for the long-term, girlfriend. That’s it.”

“Lord,” she muttered before pulling open the doors and guiding him in.
Elijah would never understand his mother; she was the type of woman to say something and mean something else. No wonder it drove the old man crazy.

The parlor was a welcoming eggshell, family pictures coating the wall and fancy antique items lining the tables. A large staircase wound up into the second floor, carefully-polished with a fancy rug at the beginning. How could Elijah ever forget a house like this? The source of his childhood. He sharply remembered sneaking out the French doors that led to the pool whenever his mother barred off the window to his room, to prevent him from 'hooking up'.

Elijah wasn’t wealthy by any means, but his mother had made sure they weren’t lower class, either. The quaint home held about seven rooms and five bathrooms, along with a grand kitchen and living room.

“Your father’s brother came in with his step-wife and son just this morning. They went out to grab some ingredients for tonight’s dinner but they’ll be returning shortly. You do remember Rylee, right?”

Elijah tilted his head backwards before letting out a groan. The little shit. Of course. After Uncle Sawyer’s divorce, he had quickly remarried to some young Kindergarten teacher, Vivian, bringing along her annoying son. They hadn’t been given a lot of time to get to know each other, and as far as Elijah was concerned, it was better off that way. The kid was just hopeless and a complete pain in the ass.
Being forced to baby sit him every Saturday when he was a teenager was hell, and something he didn’t want to revisit.

“Be nice!” she scolded. “You don’t have to like the kid, but at least pretend. It’s called your mask sweetheart; it’s one of the greatest natural defenses in life so utilize it. You don't know how many times I've wanted to punch someones face in. But you know what I did? I tilted my jaw, smiled as proudly as I could, and continued on with my way as if they were simply an insignificant blip on my radar. Of course I'm not asking you to treat family that way, but you know what I mean."
Elijah snickered. "Thanks for the advice."
She stepped in front of him, moving up the stairs before abruptly stopping, reaching to pinch his cheek, and adding, "Plus, just thank your lucky stars you’ve taken to my side of the family more.”

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

His fathers name was Randy. Freaking. Randy! It was the same name she’d given Elijah on their first mission together, for a joke. That was all kinds of messed up.
But Emma liked him. Randy had all the nice qualities Elijah did too – he smiled and laughed a lot, his eyes wrinkling with each and every one. He instantly made her feel comfortable and at ease with just a single look.

Trista on the other hand…

As Emma followed Elijah up the wide stairs, ready to pass out on his bed, she appeared out of nowhere, her arm snapping out across the doorway after her son passed through it, but just in time to stop Emma from doing the same.
“I don’t think so.”
Emma frowned down at the woman’s outstretched arm. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re not staying in here.”
“But…isn’t this Elijah’s room?” She looked through the doorway to Elijah in confusion.
Trista let out an aggravated sigh. “Yes, this is Elijah’s room, I’m glad you noticed that. But it isn’t your room. Your room is down there.” One polished finger nail pointed to the bend at the end of the hall. “End of the hall and to the right. I wasn’t expecting anyone other than my son, so the bed isn’t made.”
Oh-kay. “Oh, that’s alright. I honestly don’t mind sharing with Elijah; in fact I’d prefer it.” Once again, Emma made a move to enter the room, only to be blocked by the woman’s whole body this time.
Glowering blue eyes locked on to hers. “You’re confused. I wasn’t asking you to use another room, I was, in fact, telling you. You’re a guest in my home and you must respect my rules. I don’t want sleeping with Eli under my roof, in any kind of sense.”
“We wouldn’t-“
Trista raised a hand to silence her. “End of the hall and to the right.”

Emma’s jaw set sternly. This was ridiculous – they slept in the same bed back at home, they lived together for peat sake! She wasn’t one of those cheap sluts that littered his past.
“Your case is already in there.”
Elijah rested a hand on his mother's shoulder. "Chill out, okay? She's not like that. You should be worrying about me, not her."
“Who said I’m not worrying about you?”
Why did Emma get a double meaning from that question?

Without saying another word, Emma turned on her heels and walked down the long hall, passing plush bedrooms as she went, she passed by two that already had cases in them (were others staying too?); but when she reached the door Trista had directed her too, she was hardly surprised to find it was neither big or plush. In fact, as Emma pushed open the door, she was sure she’d been given a closest to stay in, not a bedroom.
A small, bare single bed was pushed up against the wall, there was no furniture -not even a wardrobe for her to store any clothes in- and the walls were covered in a deep blue stripped wallpaper. She was amazed to see the room had a window; and with curtains on them!
Her case was placed on the bottom of the bed.

“Here you go,” Trista strolled into the boxy room, her arms holding a bundle of bed sheets. “You can make a bed, right?”
“Yes,” Emma took the sheets from her. “Thank you.”
Before Emma could so much as turn away, the woman asked, “Why are you here?” Wow. Someone wasn’t wasting time were they?
“Elijah asked me to come.” She stated calmly, dropping the contents in her arms onto the bed.
“You told me you weren’t like that with him. You lied.”
“That wasn’t a lie, not at the time. We weren’t together then.”
“And how long have you been with him?” She cocked one curved brow.
Emma mentally counted in her mind. “A little over four months.”
“What?!” Trista choked out. “Well, fuck, he’s actually gone and done it, but why…you? Hmm. Curious. Actually gone and gotten himself a girlfriend and of all the girls he’s been with, well, just wow, I wonder if…” She trailed out of the room then, continuing to mumble as she went.

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

It was typical his mother take on the role of joy kill; she had kept a familiar trend all throughout his teenage life. But did a door ever stop him? She could put them on two separate ends of the house all she wanted and that wouldn’t prevent a damn thing. If anything, a few illegal late night rendezvous were quite the hot adventure, if he did say so himself. Keeping the noise level modest? Well that would take some effort.

Elijah shoved his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans, examining his old room with an amused smile. It was almost as if he had been sucked into a time machine back to the adolescent days of his teenager years. Christ, the posters hadn’t even moved! He had practically worshipped Yvette Glukhov, a Russian swimsuit model since puberty, and her old magazine ads adorned the dark red walls. The last he had heard of her was an exposé on her years of drug abuse leading to anorexia. Needless to say, yeah, his walls needed some updating.

He moved over to his old nightstand, tugging open the draw to see a scraggly old composition book he seldom took notes in, along with a pencil, his high school photo ID and a bunch of other memorabilia. Elijah lifted one of his now-aged textbooks (the last remnants of paper ever used before it became a rarity due to the advancement of holograms and computer systems) in awe, flipping through the thin sheets before smirking at page 137, a sparkling plastic wrapper placed neatly in the crevice.

Elijah always had a crafty way about hiding protection. Thankfully, there was no need any more for shoving it into random pages in a textbook his mother would most likely never look in.

He had made it to his old comic book collection before the silence of his room was interrupted by the door abruptly banging open, the epitome of all things aggravating packed into the plump stature of a 5’7” man-child with a curly fro and the same baby face, save for stubble.

“Elijah! My man! It’s been so long!” He exclaimed.
“Thank god for that, eh?”
Rylee laughed as if it was the funniest joke known to man. “You’re funny. You always were. We used to have the best times, huh? Remember when Lauren Graham invited you to her sweet sixteen but you were babysitting me at the time and took me with you?”
“And then you cried as soon as we got there because the ‘big kids party’ was too big for you and I had to take you home before your step-mother went batshit on me again.” And miss out on seven minutes in heaven with fucking Lauren Graham. Yep, he remembered crystal clear.
"Yeah, but then we went home and played video games until midnight!"
"Because I was wasted and bored."
"Wasted?"
"Drunk."
He opened his mouth before closing it. "Wait, what? You were drunk? I just thought you decided to talk weird and laugh at all my jokes because I was hilarious."
"Nah, buddy."
"So that's why you disappeared for fifteen minutes?"
"Mhm."
"I-I'm not sure how I feel. Was our entire relationship a lie?"

"Well," Elijah stood up, ambling over to him before glancing up at the ceiling for several seconds and shrugging, "Yeah."

With that, he slid past him, looking to find Emma before dinner.

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

Emma had just finished making her bed when Elijah strolled in, a light frown masking his expression as he glanced around the bare room.
“Why are you in this room?” He asked.
“Because your mom put me in here,” Emma shrugged. “Since I’m not allowed to sleep in your room with you, I don’t have much of a choice.”
Realisation crossed over his expression, “Ahh, Rylee and his parents have the others…”
“Who’s Rylee?” Might explain who the other suitcases belonged to.
"My step-cousin. Hence, bonded by marriage and not blood."
“Nice of you to point that out,” Emma chuckled lightly. “Don’t you get on?”
"Not really. He's annoying as hell. Always has been, always will be."
“How old is he?”
“Twenty-two,” Elijah said with a sigh. “Shall we go get some food? I’m hungry as hell.”
Emma slipped her hand into his and nodded eagerly; anything to get out of the cramped bedroom she currently found herself in.

Elijah’s family filled the large kitchen, all talking happily to one another as Trista and another woman prepared the food. Randy was sat at the island, an older version of him sat opposite, with a younger man sat to his side. Emma took a wild guess that that was in fact, Rylee.
“Elijah, my boy!”
“Hey, uncle Sawyer.”
The exchange caught the attention of everyone else, earning him a greeting from his auntie (?) as well, who Elijah regarded as ‘Vivian’. Rylee, on the other hand, darted off his stool, stumbling on a loose shoe lace – he bypassed his cousin completely to get to her.
He reached out one eager hand into the small space between them. “Hi. Hi, I’m Rylee. Are you…Emma?”
He was oddly cute, in a full-on, clumsy kind of way. “I am.”
Rylee snapped at her hand when she offered it, gripping it tightly between his fingers. “That’s brilliant! Man, and you’re Elijah’s girlfriend? He never has girlfriends! Apart from you, of course. You’re his first girlfriend, Uncle Randy told me. Do you work in the FBI, as well? Holy hell…” He breathed out a low whistle. “…that’s so hot.”
“Rylee.” Vivian chastised. “You’re crowding her.”

He blinked, only now aware that he was nearly standing on top of her. Rylee hastily put some much needed space between them, much to Emma’s relief.
Randy moved across to the last stool, making room for the two of them to join them at the island. “Trista’s gone all out on the dinner tonight. I hope you like home made fried chicken, Emma.”
Situating herself between Elijah and his father, she nodded. “I’m not picky; plus I love chicken, so that sounds amazing.”
“It’s a good thing Sawyer went to the supermarket,” Trista spoke up from her spot near the oven. “I had to call him to get extra chicken. I was preparing dinner for six, not seven.”
Randy visibly tensed beside her.
Elijah shot her look. "The more the merrier."
“If there isn’t enough, she can have mine!” Rylee volunteered, nudging his father out of the seat directly opposite Emma and taking it himself. “We could share.”
“It’s alright,” Sawyer laughed. “There’s plenty to go around now. So, Emma, tell us about yourself. We’re excited to hear all about Eli’s girl.”

Trista finally raised her head to look at them. “Yes. We are. All we know is that you work at the agency with him. How old are you?”
“Where are you from, Emma?” Randy.
“How long have you been with the agency?” Sawyer.
“Was it love at first sight?” Vivian.
“Can you kill a man with nothing but a flick of your wrist?!” Rylee. “I bet you can!”

Questions. How Emma loved answering questions.
She cleared her throat, “Um… yes, Rylee, I could. No, it was definitely not love at first sight, in fact it was the complete opposite.” Elijah smirked beside her. “I’ve been with the agency for ten years and I’m twenty-eight.” Soon to be twenty-nine – but they didn’t need to know that. They were there for Randy’s birthday, not hers. “And I’m from D-93.”

A daunting silence overtook the kitchen at her final words, the kind that instantly made her feel uneasy.
Trista and Vivian exchanged a look of pure horror, only making her feel more uncomfortable. That couldn’t be good, could it? She could feel the shift in the air around them; gone were the happy, smiling feelings that were there before.

“Well…” Randy breathed, breaking the silence. “I’ve never met anyone from the end districts.”
“I’ve heard it’s... nice down there,” Sawyer coughed.
“I’ll bet its great,” Rylee offered, smiling.
“What the hell are you all talking about?” Trista dropped a spoon into the sink before turning to face them. “It’s an absolute hell hole down there! Are you actually telling me you’re from one of the ten Scum Districts from this country?”
“Jesus Christ, Trista…” Randy sighed, shaking his head.
“Don’t ‘Trista’ me, Randy!” She snapped, moving to stand beside her son. “You know what kind of people live down there! It’s where the filth of the country are kept and our son is in a relationship with one.”
“Emma isn’t filth!” Elijah snapped, all the patience he appeared to have suddenly disappearing.
“Did you even know where she was from?” Trista asked. “Oh, god! Have you slept with her?! Please, please, please, Eli, tell me you haven’t! Gods only know what you could catch!”
“This isn’t embarrassing at all…” Rylee breathed. “Why would he catch something from her?”
“The Scum Districts are filled with prostitutes, drug addicts, drunks, and mad men, Ry. There are all kinds of diseases down there.” Vivian answered quietly.
“I don’t have a disease.” Emma murmured, resting her hands on her lap. Could there ever be a situation as terrible as this one was?
“My boy is in his first relationship and it’s with a fucking Scum Dweller!”
“I am not a Scum Dweller!” Emma’s fingers knotted together. “I was born there, that’s all. I left when I was sixteen.”
“What are your parents? Drug dealers? Addicts? What?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but stopped. How could she answer that? My mother was a drunken, drunk taking whore, who beat me black and blue every day for sixteen years? She’s dead now. Murdered in our home. As for my father, he doesn’t want anything to do with me. I don’t even know where he is.
Trista would have a field day with that one!
When she failed to speak, Trista took her silence as the answer.
She turned to Elijah, disregarding Emma entirely. “Why would you do this to me? Bring someone like this in to my home? Are you trying to break my heart?”

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

What the hell was happening? Elijah found his fingers tightening subconsciously around his fork as he stabbed at the potatoes, trying to keep quiet for as long as humanely possible until his mother had taken things entirely too far, forcing him to speak up.
His father, though, had cut him to the chase.

“For Christ sake, Trista, there is nothing wrong with the girl! She’s beautiful, successful, and smart. Who cares where she’s from?” His father narrowed her eyes at the woman, something else bubbling in his brown orbs.
Trista’s eyes narrowed into slits, dropping the pan of fried chicken on the stove top as she removed her apron. “Of course you’d take her side. I wouldn’t expect anything different.”
“Take her side? You don’t chew someone out for absolutely no reason! You should be thankful our son is settling down.”
“That doesn’t involve lowering his standards.”

“Lowering my standards?” Elijah placed his fork on the plate.
“Yes, lowering your standards!” she bellowed.
“Did you guys know a pig’s orgasm lasts for thirty minutes?” Rylee exclaimed.

The whole kitchen paused, sixteen pairs of eyes on the younger man.

“Sorry, I was trying to make everyone happy again.”

“I’d rather have you go screw some more of your whores than settle for less!” Trista continued on with a brief disapproving eye roll at his step cousin.
“Will you relax, Trista? It’s like I don’t even know you anymore!”
Her lips pressed into a line. “You think I give a shit? Things haven’t been the same between us in a long time, Randy.”
“Well—“
“I love her!” Elijah blurted.

Silence.

His eyes darted about the kitchen, the faces of seven other people dropping in complete awe. He swallowed awkwardly before adding more firmly, “I love her. And I mean it.”
Trista let out a hard sigh before muttering, “I need Jack and a cigarette.” With that, she left her post at the stove before exiting the kitchen, the strain leaving with her, although silence still ensued.

Vivian ran her finger along the rim of her wine glass, eyes downcast, while his father stood up from his stool, hot on his wife’s trail.

“Anyone want ice cream? I could run and get ice cream,” Rylee offered.

Emma tucked a strand of bright red hair behind her ear before soundlessly getting up from her own seat. Elijah bit his lip, letting out a soft curse.

“Wait, Emma,” he tried to reach for her hand but she hugged her side. “Emma!”

“If there’s any family in the world that can screw up a dinner in three minutes or less, it’s the Walkers,” Uncle Sawyer whispered under his breath, wrapping an arm around his wife.
“I suppose I’ll pack away dinner. I have a feeling no one will be eating for awhile,” he heard Vivian mumble to herself before moving over to the pantry.

This was his fault. Completely. Elijah should have known his mother would be a bitch about absolutely everything. And he had exposed an unwilling Emma to the vicious woman – hurt her feelings. He felt pain build up in his chest as he stood from the stool.

He had to fix things.

[/blockquote][/size]

[laura]

{name:Emma#|#picture:18}

A Scum Dweller? Filth? The bottle of the standards barrel? Had she suddenly stepped through a portal to the past and met her mother again? Trista’s words were so hauntingly familiar that throughout her rant Emma could have sworn her voice had changed, becoming one with Jennifer Ward.
Even now, thirteen years after the woman’s death, she could still hear the slurred words crystal clear inside her mind.
”You’re nothing but a worthless mound of skin and bone, taking up space. Move! Dear gods, how did someone like me have someone as vile as you?! Red hair like the devil and eyes nearly as black. You’re going to be alone forever, I hope you know that. No-one will ever love you, desire you… want to fuck you. Naww, don’t you like that word, you little troll? Why would they when they can always have someone better?”

Closing the bedroom door behind her, Emma silently dropped down onto the small, single bed, the hard mattress like wood against her back. Coming here was a mistake; one big, fat, giant mistake. She’d let herself believe, if only for a short time, that meeting Elijah’s family would… what? Emma wasn’t even entirely sure. Fill in the gaps in her life? The ones left behind with a lack of a family of her own?
Like they’d welcome her with open arms.
She wanted to laugh at how ridiculous the idea actually was.

Before the laugh could so much as form in her throat, however, the door creaked open. Even through the darkness Emma knew who it was; she could tell Elijah anywhere, lights or no lights.
"Em, I'm so sorry that happened." He murmured lightly, reaching the bed.
It shifted under his weight as he perched himself on the edge, his hips brushing against her own. “Please don’t be upset.”
She felt the warmth of his finger tips brush across her temple, pushing away a stray lock of hair from her face. Nothing ever went smoothly for them, did it?

“I think I should go home, Elijah,” She said softly, lacing her fingers through his. “They clearly only want you here, not me. I can get a flight out in the morning.” And even though leaving him would kill her, she’d do it. She’d have to.
Elijah pulled her close to him. "Don't. She's just being difficult right now. She'll get better."
Was there a ‘worse’?
“She accused me of having a disease. I’ve been called some things throughout the years, but that… never that.”
"She told me she was impregnated by the devil for the first fifteen years of my life. She has a fucked up way of getting her feelings across. Don't worry, love."
And to think Emma thought she was the only one with a nut job for a mother. There was no wonder Elijah had become so unemotionally involved with everyone and everything around him.

She sighed, earning her a brush of a kiss to her knuckles. “You told them you loved me.”
"I meant it," he murmured.
A hint of a smile captured her lips, “I know you love me, big guy, I just didn’t expect you to tell them.”
"Well, have to stand up for my girl, don't I?"
Emma did laugh then, unable to control the spark of happiness she felt in her chest at his words. With her free hand, she trailed her finger tips across his jaw line, the light stubble tickling at her skin. “I think you may have given her a heart attack when you said it. All her hopes of you falling for a Miss Perfect Suburban Girl turned to dust before her eyes.”
"That's why it's her hopes and not mine," he responded, a tiny grin pulling at the corners of his lips.

Elijah nodded at her and she happily manoeuvred to make room for him, situating them in a position she often found herself in at home. Elijah’s wide frame easily took up the small bed and with Emma tightly tucked into his side, laying mostly across his chest, there wasn’t much room to lay any other way.

“God damn this bed is uncomfortable,” He grimaced, fidgeting awkwardly beneath her cheek.
Her fingers toyed with his dog tags. “I know. I’ll probably just end up sleeping on the floor for the whole week; it’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable.”
“The hell you will.” There one minute, gone the next. Elijah slipped out from the bed with a speed she didn’t know he had.
“Where are you…?”
Emma trailed off when he vanished into the dark hallway, and for a split second the thought actually occurred to her that he wasn’t going to come back.

That was, until his grinning face once again appeared around the door.
“Come on, love,” He whispered, quickly walking to the bed and scooping her up into his arms. “Let’s go to bed.”
Emma glanced over his shoulder at the retreating room. “But I’m sleeping-“
“The hell you are. You think I’m going to sleep on my own when you’re just down the hall? Fuck no. Plus, you’ll much prefer my bed – it’s soft…and bouncy.”

Emma muffled a giggle into his shoulder. “Pervert.”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t love it, Em.”
The bedroom door made a tiny, distinguished click behind them.

[/blockquote][/font]

[Ange Keating]

{name:Elijah #|#picture:17}

Elijah wrapped an arm comfortingly around Emma’s shoulder, circling the tiny freckles that littered her arm with a content smile. The blinds to his room were cracked open slightly, casting a light across his burgundy comforter. He allowed his lids to flutter closed, nestling his chin into the hair on the crown of her head, sleep beginning to overwhelm his body once more. Elijah would have described it as the perfect morning.

Until the door banged open.

Elijah bolted upwards, startled eyes widening as Emma popped up with him, a gasp escaping her lips before she clawed for the sheets, concealing her bra.

“What the hell?!” Elijah’s vision wildly zoned in on the heavy twenty-two year old, his curls springing from his scalp in a disheveled way, shirt sloppily thrown over khaki cargoes. Christ, did he dress in the dark?
“I’m sorry!” Rylee exclaimed. “Aunt Trista told me to wake you up, although I didn’t expect the presence of your…girlfriend.” He smirked wildly before shooting Emma the most obvious wink possible, only warranting an irritated eye roll
Emma simply furrowed her eyebrows together, fingers still tugging at the blanket as she muttered, “Knocking would have been nice.”

Rylee wiggled his eyebrows. “I regret nothing.”
Elijah clenched his pillow, threatening to throw it at him.
“Alright, easy!” He raised his hands in surrender. “Aunt Trista said she had some announcement and would like everyone to report downstairs.”
"Oh god," Emma sighed. "This can only mean one thing - I'm about to get kicked out, aren't I?"
“If she does that, I’m going with you,” Elijah sighed, already climbing out of bed and tugging on his shirt.

His mother had done some pretty horrible things in her life, but would she honestly kick out the only girl he had shown consistent interest in? She was the same woman who had chastised him for years without end about not settling down, and now she honestly wanted to get on his case for absolutely no reason? Elijah was beginning to believe she didn’t want to be pleased.

“No—“
“Ehem! I’M WAITING!” His mother shouted from the bottom floor, the soft clinging of glass following.

Elijah and Emma exchanged a look before joining Rylee at the door and descending down the steps. Everyone sat at the kitchen table, a hot plate of eggs, bacon, pancakes, and toast shrouding the lace spread on heaping platters. She had even prepared two full jars of freshly-made jam, a specialty she only made when she was in an exceedingly good mood.

Was the zombie apocalypse nearing?

And holy hell, was his eyes playing tricks on him? Was the older woman’s lips actually curled into a smile? A full blown smile, all pearly whites clearly visible? Elijah swallowed a lot more roughly than necessary, automatically feeling Emma’s equal surprise from his side.

“Hello you two,” she greeted, absolutely beaming. “Sit down, sit down! Breakfast is still hot!”
“Em – Trista makes the best jelly,” Randy pointed out, his eyes glimmering at his wife as if they hadn’t proclaimed a crisis in their marriage less than twenty four hours ago. Uncle Sawyer nodded his head in response, spreading the sticky sugar on his toast and taking a monstrous bite.

Rylee moved past the couple, sliding into a chair next to the grand windows and stabbing his mound of eggs with a fork.

Once everyone was settled (although Emma was still slow to sit down, shock not leaving her system just yet), she removed her apron, holding a glass of water up gracefully. “I thoroughly apologize for my behavior, Emma, dear. It was completely immature and uncalled for. I wasn’t acting like a lady, and you didn’t deserve that. I’d also like to apologize to you, sweetheart, I’m very proud you’ve finally found someone in which you’d like to spend the rest of your life with. Marriage comes with its ups and downs and moments where you feel like you just want to pack up your bags and flee to Mexico with your very attractive Latin gardener.”

Everyone's eyes simultaneously widened.

She cleared her throat, touching her chest lightly, “But you get through it, eventually. Even if it’s years and years down the line. You two are just like Randy and I too. It’s sweet; endearing, almost…But, anyways, I’m going off on a tangent, excuse me. I really wanted to announce that I’m throwing a block party tonight – a celebration of my son and his wonderful girlfriend, Emma. It’s short notice, I know, but trust me when I say it’ll be a night you both will never forget.”

Elijah wrapped an arm around Emma, murmuring an, “I told you so,” before pressing a warm kiss to her cheek. “I-I don’t know what to say, mom. Thank you.”

She simply grinned once more, lifting her glass higher. “Cheers!”

“Cheers,” they all said in unison.

[/size][/blockquote]