Blacklight S3 (R)

[Ange Keating]

Elijah had successfully rounded up the men he would be using in his top five after a long day of training, giving them the necessary information and meeting time for a friendly competition against Emma’s chosen ladies the following day. He was confident in his group, had put them through hell and back in order to test every strain of their capabilities. And then, out of the goodness of his heart, he had ended the session early in order to allow them the rest they most definitely needed.

And also because he was more than a little eager to return to his loft that night, to a familiar face. Elijah rode the elevator up to the top floor, solely dedicated to the two agents that headlined the agency. It was lavish, large glass windows lining the walls and overlooking a city bathed in advanced technology below.

A rustic aroma greeted him upon stepping through the foyer, sound of a pan sizzling from the kitchen. He followed the scent, crooked smile framing his lips once the redhead came into view. Elijah traipsed up behind her, arms wrapped around waist.

“Home early,” he mused, pressing a feather-light kiss to her collarbone.
She breathed out a sigh. "I'm glad. Does this mean you've chosen your five?"

Elijah glanced down at the pan, a few salmon fillets browning. He hadn’t realized how hungry he felt until that moment, reaching for one of the forks on the counter and sectioning off a piece. “Mhm,” he nodded, popping the fish into his mouth. Elijah hummed in response, pecking her again on the cheek. “Cook for me more often.”

“If I get this kind of attention when I do, then you can bet on it."

Elijah snickered, pulling away so that he shuck his duffel bag off, placing it on the floor. “Gonna go shower—I would offer you a spot but it seems like you’ve cleaned up already.” There was still an air of invitation in his voice, hands grabbing the hem of his shirt and lifting it over his head.

"Since when has that stopped you?"

He paused by the island, tongue against cheek as that shit-eating grin manifested across his features once more before closing the distance between them. “You’re right,” he replied, Emma barely managing to turn off the stove by the time Elijah hoisted her up, their laughter filling the apartment.

____

They’d gone through dinner quickly, tag teaming on the dishes and eventually retiring to bed, Emma’s legs straddling his hips, palms pressed against his chest. “Because I’m such a wonderful girlfriend, I’ll at least give you your happy ending before a world of disappointment tomorrow.” She rutted her hips against his, eliciting a grunt of approval from her husband.

“Hilarious,” Elijah breathed out, hand reaching to squeeze a thigh. “Sorry to disappoint, baby, but my boys will destroy your girls.”

Emma rolled her eyes in response. “If you don’t undress me in five seconds, I won’t even give you the satisfaction.”

Elijah laughed, wrapping his arm around her torso and sliding into a sitting position, hands only making it to the lace trim of her nighties before his phone buzzed on the night stand, casting light on their bodies. Emma groaned in the midst of Elijah’s lips against her chest, gripping at his wrists in protest. “Look at it, might be important.”

At their ranking, they were on duty around the clock. Much to Elijah’s current consternation.

He made a face in the darkness, reaching for his phone and staring at the message on the screen.

‘I fucked up. I’m sorry. I really meant it when I said I wanted to make things right. You’re my brother.’

Elijah paused, muscles tensing. Remiah was a burden he was nowhere near ready to deal with, years of suppressed emotion following his best friend’s death assaulting him all at once. He hadn’t realized he had been staring at his phone for minutes, Emma’s arm on his bicep lulling him out of his stupor.

“Are you okay?”

Elijah refused to deal with this—not right now. Not ever, most likely. What he would deal with? The beautiful, half-naked woman sitting in his lap.

“Yeah, yeah,” he responded. “Just Rylee being stupid.” Elijah smothered any potential protests with kisses, snaking her out of the flimsy silk barrier and tossing it to the side. She placed her hands on his shoulders, urging him to lie back against the mattress. He obliged, vision directed at the ceiling, try to shake all thoughts of Remiah from his mind.

____

“It’s okay,” Emma tried to convince, stroking a hand through his hair. Elijah turned over onto his side, pulling the blanket over his head. He never wanted to forget anything more in his life. “It happens! It’s normal. We’ll—” she leaned next to him. “Try again tomorrow.”

Elijah didn’t say anything, squeezing his eyes shut.

[laura]

Long after Elijah’s light snores sounded, Emma laid awake, her gaze fixated on the darkened windows. At first, her frustration had kept her awake, but once that had passed something else had taken its place – gut churning angst. By his reaction, that had never happened to Elijah before. So why now? Had she done something wrong? Said something to put him off? Emma tried to go over it in her mind and came back with nothing. It was going to be the first time they’d been together since arriving in D-1; shouldn’t he have wanted it as much as she did? Maybe if she’d done that thing that he liked…

The never ending questions were what finally made her rise from the bed. Sleep was coming on and off; by 6am she was sick of trying. Glancing at Elijah’s sleeping form, Emma changed quietly into her gym gear, tying her hair back in one fluid motion. The games between their teams weren’t starting until eleven, so she had more than enough time to take a run and burn off her excess energy. If Elijah couldn’t help her, her Nikes would.

---

Why did every song have to imply or actually contain the word sex?! She tore the buds from her ears, more frustrated than before she’d started and dropped her iPod on to the kitchen counter. Everything was making her angry, her mood darkening by the minute as she stomped around the apartment. She tore the band out of her hair and slammed the bathroom door behind her; even her hair got an irate washing and a string of foulmouthed curses followed when she dropped the soap multiple times.

By 8am, Emma was full out brooding. The eggs were well and truly scrambled for breakfast that morning.

When Elijah finally decided to join her, Emma was past wanting to talk to him. After all, he wasn’t the one that had had trouble sleeping, up all night worrying that she wasn’t attracted to him anymore, that her psychotic best friend was going to lap this up and use it against him. She was going to annihilate him for this.

“Morning,” Elijah muffled, fingers raking through his hair. “You were up early.”

Emma swallowed a mouth full of her angry eggs and shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep.”

His phone beeped from somewhere in his pocket, his body immediately tensing. Elijah ignored it and slid into the stool opposite her, hunched over, head in his hand. “Looking forward to today?”

Her hazel eyes locked with his own, a stone hard determination setting in there. “Yeah, I am. It’s a good thing you slept so well last night.” Because with the mixture of anger, anxiety and lack of sleep, Emma felt fuelled enough to go all day.

Elijah turned to face forward, several beats of silence passing between them. "It wasn't you.”

“No?” She asked curtly, taken slightly off guard. “Do you know how fucking long I’ve been waiting to spend some alone time with you, Elijah? First your mother and now your dead best friend…there is always someone between us.” Emma pushed up from the counter, her gaze searching his expression. “Are you bored with me?”

If he hesitated, or worse, gave her the answer she didn’t want, Emma was entirely sure what she’d do next. She’d given herself completely to this man and if he rejected her now, did what everyone always said he would…

Elijah's brows drew together, incredulous. "What? Why would you even think that?" He rubbed a hand down his jaw, exhaling. "Just because I...couldn't last night doesn't mean I'm not attracted to you. I was probably just exhausted."

What a load of bullshit! He’d been sleep deprived for days, beaten and shot at during the Hoffman takeover, yet he’d still gotten hot under the collar for her. She looked away from him. “I’m never too tired for you.”

Emma gathered up her duffel and tossed it over her shoulder. She didn’t look at him as she left.

---

Beth was in the cafeteria with Rylee when she entered, waving at her across the nearly empty room; it was a normal sight for this time in the morning – too late for the night shift, too early for the day.

“Hi,” Emma dropped her bag at her friend’s feet and dropped into the spot on the sofa beside her.

“Well,” Beth smiled, waving Rylee to grab Emma a coffee. “Someone’s in a bad mood this morning. Let me guess, you were cock blocked by Remiah again?”

Emma glared at her and slid down further into her spot.

[Ange Keating]

The competition had been a close one, tied all the way to the very last challenge, which had involved a virtual stimulation of a heist. His team had come out as triumphant in the end, beating the ladies by a hair, though Elijah couldn’t force himself to be ecstatic over the victory he had so fervently been championing for. Not when Emma wasn’t on his arm, congratulating him in spite of the defeat and teasing about her revenge. In the midst of the celebrations and a flurry of people trying to get their word in, he noticed the red head had disappeared. Elijah clenched his jaw in frustration, starting towards the exit to follow after her.

Except he didn’t get far.

“Yo—man! Wait up! You don’t think you’re getting out of here without celebratory drinks, right?” A hand gripped at his wrist and pulled him backwards, Elijah turning at the assault.

Darrius grinned at him, towel slung over his shoulder.

He waved his hand in response. “Nah, man. Feeling a little tired. Think I’ll catch up on my rest while I can.”

The other man knitted his eyebrows together incredulously. “Walker turning down a drink? In what galaxy?” He rubbed a hand across his jaw, seemingly in thought. “Okay, I’ll tell you what, one drink. That’s all I’m asking.”

Elijah’s vision shot to the exit, several beats of silence passing between them, before exhaling in agreement. “One,” he emphasized, holding up his pointer.

“Alright!” Darrius clapped him on the back. “I’ll get the boys.”


When Darrius had mentioned ‘the boys’, he hadn’t expected Remiah to be one of them. Matter of fact, Elijah had put fervent effort into trying to place some distance between the two of them, believing him to be the sole reason behind Emma’s anger. Ever since his resurrection from the dead, things had taken a turn for the worse—

And Elijah hated feeling like a shitty person for wishing Remiah had actually died overseas all those years ago. He had done his grieving, had kept incredible memories of the times they shared and of his best friend. Now everything felt tainted.

“Cheers to the best damn agent, next to me of course, in this entire damn agency!” Darrius exclaimed, lifting his shot glass and nodding at the newbies. “Stay close to him, fellas. He’s got a lot of great messages to teach.”

“Aye!”
“Cheers!”

Elijah lifted his glass in response, feigning a grin. “Of-fucking-course. Living up to my expectations aren’t easy, but you can sure as hell try.”

They cheered again, the toasting going on for several more moments before everyone dispersed into their little niches. Elijah stuck by the bar with Darrius, glancing over his shoulder at the devil himself playing pool with a few other guys.

“It’s crazy, huh?” Darrius scoffed, reaching for a pretzel. “Having him back after all these years.”

Elijah paused, fixated on the ice cubes in his drink. “Wish he wasn’t here,” he admitted earnestly. “He’s fuckin’ killing my vibe, y’know? He’s trying so hard to smooth over the fact that he let me believe he was dead for a near decade. There’s something bizarre with that—something I can’t trust.” Remiah had every avenue to find Elijah if he wanted to: his home address, his phone number, public records. There was no excuse.

“If it’s any consolation, man, I’m not vibin’ him either. Seems a little off kilter, y’know? Like not quite connected. You’re right to keep him at arm’s length.”

“Yeah?”

“If I were you though, I’d give him a false sense of companionship. Keep him close. Doesn’t seem like the guy you wanna publically cast as your enemy. Who knows? He might be useful to you later on.”

Elijah knocked back the liquor, sniffing. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll try.”

A hand squeezed his shoulder, new voice coming from behind him. “Mind if I cut in?”

Darrius looked up at him before tapping Elijah on the arm. “Gonna try my hand at the dart board.” With that, he left the two of them alone, Remiah pulling up a stool next to him.

“God, remember those stretches of time, in between tours, when we’d spend an entire week going to the club? Occasionally catching some sleep every odd day or so?” Remiah snickered. “That was the life, man. We used to have so much fun together.”

Elijah chuckled, nowhere near convincing but close enough. “It’s almost like we were living out the fratboy lifestyle we never got in college.”

Remiah followed suit, laughing. “Yeah.” Another beat of silence. “I know this is still weird for you, but I’m trying, y’know? You’re my brother—even more than Jacob was.”

They made eye contact at the mention of his brother, mutual understanding passing between them. Elijah had been in the paper for months, had gained national fame over catching the prolific ‘Blacklight Killer’. Remiah had to know.

“Jacob was…problematic. Impulsive. I hadn’t been close to him a day in my life. But you—you’re different, Eli. I love you.”

Elijah swallowed, fingers smoothing against the glass. “Thanks.” He couldn’t bring himself to repeat the words he had effortlessly used in the past, finishing off the rest of his drink. “We should hang out sometime tomorrow. I’ll text you.” It was extending an olive branch at least. He could do that much.

A hint of smile framed Remiah’s face before spreading. “That sounds good.”

Elijah said his goodbyes to the rest of the guys, starting back towards the apartment. He had more important matters to deal with.

[laura]

Emma winced as Connie finished wrapping up her wrist. “A minor strain,” The medic smiled softly. “It should heal up quickly, so don’t panic. I personally think you’ve gotten off lightly.”

Inspecting Connie’s handiwork, her fingertips running over the soft material, Emma asked, “And what makes you say that?”

“You fell off a ladder, Emma. It must have been at least fifteen feet high – I winced when you hit the floor!” She demonstrated by flinching. “It’s strange, though, don’t you think? All five of your girls went up the same ladder before you did and it held firm, but with you it snapped as easily as a twig…”

Everything had been going in her favour until then, her squad neck and neck with Elijah’s; then the group heist had begun, the girls going one after another, Emma last. She’d breezed through it, at least until she’d reached the wooden ladder – she felt it snap under the weight of her, a millisecond before she was tumbling through the air, landing smack onto her side, her arm out defensively in a futile attempt to catch her fall.

“Maybe I’ve gained weight.” Emma shrugged.

Connie laughed good-heartedly. “We both know that’s not true.” When Emma didn’t offer a reply, the medic went on. “Shall I call Elijah? Does he know you’re here?”

Emma shook her head. “No and no, he’s out celebrating his win.”

A noticeable frown tugged at her brows. “Did he know that – “

She cut Connie off. “No, he doesn’t know what happened. When I fell, he overtook me…and then I couldn’t get up that damn thing. Everyone started celebrating, I couldn’t see him, so I left.” The sight of Remiah had been another reason for her departure; as she’d gotten to her feet, her wrist cradled to her chest, she’d caught a glimpse of him smirking at her from the side lines. Triumph written clear across his face.

“Anyway, thanks for this,” Emma pushed up from the chair, “I better go. Got stuff to do.”

Connie waved her off, with orders to come back in a week to see her again. Emma nodded and agreed, hightailing it out of there before Connie asked anymore questions. She didn’t want to admit how hurt she was – and not by the fall. Emma and Elijah hadn’t spoken since that morning and now he’d gone off with his friends like there wasn’t a problem. Without a care. If there was one thing she was used to, it was people not caring; she just didn’t expect it from Elijah too.

Entering the empty apartment, Emma dropped the meds Connie had given her for the pain on to the kitchen counter and got started on dinner. Despite being hurt and angry with him, Emma still found herself cooking with Elijah in mind; it would her way of congratulating him on his win, whether he ate it tonight or not, it would be there for when he eventually got home.

It turned out to be incredibly frustrating to make dinner with only one mobile wrist; cutting up chicken and vegetables had been near impossible. With the ordeal over, Emma left the food to finish cooking and walked through to the living room, making sure to set a timer on her phone for it. She’d barely been lying on the sofa ten minutes, some crappy CSI episode playing on the TV, when she heard the door swoosh open.

The unexpected sound made her dart up, only to find Elijah walking through the doorway, looking perfectly sober. She eyed him suspiciously for a second, until his gaze locked with hers, a smile curving his lips at the sight of her. “Did you forget something?” Emma asked, pushing herself into the sitting position.

He shook out of his jacket and idly draped it onto the back of one of the stools in the kitchen – only to pause. It was when she stood up that Emma saw he was inspecting her pain meds. Elijah held them up. “What’s this for?”

She took them from him with her good hand. “For me.”

“Yes, I got that…where are you hurt? When did that happen?”

His concern would have touched her if they hadn’t gone all day not speaking. “I’m fine. Why are you home so early? I thought you’d be out for most of the night.”

[Ange Keating]

Elijah noticed the fabric wrapped around her wrist, able to make the connection without Emma having to further explain. He wanted to reach out for her, to do something, but the tension was too palpable, any action taken only feeling more tense than anything. He exhaled, hands on his hips. “I wanted to spend the night with you, as planned.” Licking his lips, he added, “How long are we gonna go on like this, Em? You being pissed at me?” Elijah hated arguing, especially if it had spurred from something he hadn’t been able to control, try as he might. It was embarrassing, a concept completely foreign to Elijah up until this point, and her dragging it out, making him remember, only made the situation worse.

“Do you know why I lost today?”

Elijah paused, voice even. There were a lot of ways to answer the question, though anything remotely facetious at this point would blow the argument out of proportion. “Why is that?” He wouldn’t go for the bait, instead allowing her to answer her own question.

"Exactly. You don't even know that. I'm going to be pissed with you for as long as I damn well want to be. Go back out with your friends, Elijah, hell knows you'd rather be there than here."

Impossible. She was impossible. Elijah’s pursed his lips. “Was it because of your wrist?” He nodded towards the bandaging. “Can you stop trying to fucking cast me off?” Pausing, he rubbed a hand over his mouth. “If you have something you want to say to me, say it.” Elijah refused to play this game, to encourage Emma’s passive aggressiveness.

"You don't even know why I have this damn thing on, do you?" Emma shook her head. "Okay, I have one thing. Last night...has that ever happened to you before? With any of the dozens of women you've been with before me?"

Elijah sat down on the edge of the sofa, trying not to let pure frustration get the best of him. “It was a competition! I’m sorry if I missed your injury in the midst of it all.” She knew how he got, knew that his attention remained exclusively on the task at hand when he was working. She was a big girl, anyways—strong and dominant and self-sufficient—she didn’t need him coddling her. “I just—I had a bad night, alright? My mind wasn’t in it. It doesn’t mean I’m not attracted to you, Em. I’ve proven countless times in the past that I am. And you bringing it up again? Making me feel like crap because of it? That’s not fucking fair.”

Emma pushed at his shoulder with her good hand. "Are you fucking kidding me?! 'Oh, I'm sorry, I was too busy getting attention to notice you'. Are you seriously using that on me? I wouldn't have given a shit about anyone until I saw you!" She was seething, her freckled cheeks turning a deep shade of red. "You should feel like crap, it sure makes a change! Everyone, at some point, has made me feel like I'm not good enough for you - like it's strange that you'd actually want to be with me for as long as you have - but never, until last night, have you made me feel that way too." Her expression softened then, hurt flickering across her face. "You were all in...then suddenly you weren't. Something changed."

“I’m sorry, Emma! Jesus Christ! How many times do I have to say it?” He recoiled at the shove, expression completely overrode with rage. “Remiah put me in a shitty mood. It wasn’t you. I mean it.” Elijah hadn’t wanted to put his name out there, but there didn’t seem to be any way he could circumvent it without pissing off Emma more in the process.
"Remiah?" She frowned at his name. "What did he have to do with...wait, your phone...your phone went when we were..." Her expression shifted, suspicion in her eyes. "What did the message say? It was from him right?"

“He just said he missed me…wanted to reconnect. It put me off, y’know? I should have said something about it but I thought I could just…suppress it somehow.”

"Why the hell didn't you tell me that?" Emma let out a groan in frustration. "I don't like what he's doing to you, Elijah. I feel like he's trying to make you in to the man you were back then...the man without me."

Elijah reached for her bandaged hand, squeezing it. “I’m not letting him get to me, Em. Sure, I’ll let him believe we’re fine, but I want nothing to do with him.” He didn’t feel the same way about the other man as he used to, and their relationship was something that would never be able to be revived. It was destroyed, irreparably.

Her fingers entwined with his own. "Just...please don't let him ruin what we've worked so hard for."

Elijah looked up at her earnestly. “I won’t.”

[laura]

“France?”

Landry nodded his head confidently. “France, indeed. I’ve had reports from FFS about numerous suspicious sightings in and around Paris. Triad symbols have even appeared on alley walls…just like they did here.”

Emma lent up against the window, overlooking the bustling city below. Landry had called an urgent meeting not fifteen minutes earlier – it took less than that to get everyone into his office. Sol, who was perched on the edge the desk, turned solemnly to Landry. “What does this mean?”

Leaning back in his chair, Landry looked slowly around the room, his gaze jumping from one face to another, before finally landing on Emma. “I don’t know. I held a brief meeting with the presidents to discuss the possible outcomes,” He sighed. “Neither could agree with the other.”

“What are the options?” Beth chimed in.

Landry rubbed at the small beard growing on his chin. “Simple enough – we help or we don’t. France is calling for it, but do we answer?”

“That’s easy,” Lucas answered from his place at the back of the room. “No.”

Emma glanced over her shoulder to find Lucas. Ever since his twin, Logan, had died in the Hoffman takeover, Lucas had become a recluse; he worked solely alone on his projects, kept himself away from the rest of his department. He was one of the best Medics OBL had to offer, but his lack of people skills didn’t make him very popular.

“No?” Beth echoed. “You expect us just to sit here and do nothing, all the while what happened to us is happening to them? What the fuck, Luc?”

Anger flashed across the young man’s face. “We fought our fight! We paid our prices. We’re done. I’m not about to fly across an ocean to die for a bunch of arrogant, French assholes!”

“But if we’d done our job right, Hoffman would be DEAD!” Beth folded her arms tightly across her chest. “He wouldn’t be free to hurt anymore innocent people. We have to finish what we started.”

“My brother paid the price for this country, for innocent people go carry on living. Wake up, Beth, there’s no such thing as an innocent.”

Her arms dropped to her sides. “The fuck there isn’t! Your brother died for something, Luc – something we were all prepared to die for. Freedom from a tyrant! If he takes over France, what’s stopping him from spreading out across Europe?”

“You’re an idiot.” Lucas growled. “And I won’t be a part of it.”

He stormed from the room, the door sliding shut behind him, leaving the room in an uncomfortable silence.

Landry cleared his throat. “That argument was very similar to the one I heard not an hour ago.”

Emma frowned to herself; she could feel a divide forming in the room at her back. Without looking, she could sense the confusion in the air, the uncertainty in the choice they were about to make.

“I’ve come up with an idea,” Landry spoke in a calm and collected tone as he regarded his agents. “I’ve devised a team of who I think would be best suited to this. You can accept or decline. The team will be sent to Paris within the next three days, where they’ll stay for no more than two months. Whether the problem is resolved or not, the team will be pulled back.”

“And who is in this team?” Elijah asked from beside Emma.