Title: London Burns
Spoilers: 6x17
Warnings: no
Notes: Before you read the story, I have to apologize for my English! This fanfiction was written in Italian first, and then translated. I hope I did a good job, but you know... I'm Italian and even if I can speak English, I'm sure I've made mistakes. The story took inspiration from an Italian song played by Negramaro, called "Londra Brucia", which in fact means London Burns. Well... I hope you like it! :)

I'm following you on the streets of the city.
Six months have passed since when you are gone.
I thought I'd forget you, I thought it would be easy to bury the pile of memories that still binds me to you under a mountain of work commitments.
I thought I could take advantage of your absence loving Jack even more, if I only had addressed to him the feelings I felt for you.
But it wasn't enough. All my efforts were eventually vain.
That's why I'm here and I follow you from a distance, being careful to hide from you.
I watch you from afar. You haven't changed that much.
If it were not for your dark eyes so sad, as if the light that shined on them had been absorbed by a big black hole. You give distracted glances at what surrounds you, without noticing me.
I'm always behind you, but maybe your thoughts are so bulky that they don't allow you to see me.
I don't know, but I keep on following you.

When I think back to everything that happened, I feel guilty. Guilty for not understanding that you had a problem, guilty for not being able to make you trust me.
Maybe so I could have avoided your escape. We could have faced all this together, without having to live so far away. Because the truth is that a man, apparently strong and indestructible, needs someone who can scratch his armor with patience, method and devotion. Just like you did.
You, who have followed me, who have waited for me. You helped me.
You have broken my metal shell, you made my wounded and embittered heart beat again.
And now, everything seems to be absurd.
It seems absurd to seek the meaning of things, following you through this unfamiliar city, when the only thing that gives meaning to everything, well…that's you, Emily.

I wish I could hate you, I wish I could vent my anger and my frustration against you. I wish I'd never met you, I wish I'd never loved you.
Because it hurts as hell now! And..is this the way that love must be? Must it hurt?
If only I was watching a normal woman, a stranger with long black hair and a chiseled physique… if only I could emotionally detach myself from you, then I would be free.
Free from this sense of anxiety that weighs on my heart, free to be able to fall in love again. I look at you, I think of when you were mine.
I just can't look away. The rest of the city is invisible, it vanishes around us as if there were nothing else but you. As if my only purpose was to follow you until you stop.

Passers-by, traffic, nervous taxi drivers and all the landscape suddenly catch fire, becoming just a background full of ashes, heavy and leaden.
You speed up a bit and I do it too. Without giving any sign of warning, you suddenly stop and turn in my direction.
When your black eyes meet mine, my battered and patched heart starts its run towards you. it doesn't want to understand that you will turn and pretend not to notice me.
Pretend that I'm any passer in any gloomy day in London.
My heart still believes, and forever will.
It deludes itself that you will make it beat faster, but it..it doesn't know the same Emily I know. The Emily who will escape forever and a day, so she won't ever hurt her family.
You are tired, baby. I can see that. Even if months have passed. I could never forget your eyes looking tired but still proud.
I am sure you can see the same in me.
You turn around and keep on walking.
Maybe I will follow you for a while.

«Emily» I whisper, without really pronouncing your name as I would like to do.
I'm afraid you'll run away, without giving me the opportunity to caress your black hair, that I adored so much.
I never thought I'd get to this point: chasing through London, when I know full well that you'll never stop.
You can travel all over the land, but until you have fought your demons, there will be no place for me.
For me and for anyone else.
I feel like I'm getting mad, I feel like in a dead end. I accelerate my march along, I almost start to run after you. You've seen me, you've watched me. You know I'm here, and I'm here for you.
It makes no sense hiding now.
You are only a few feet from me, you pretend indifference, but you sensed my figure behind your back.
I know that, because your neck muscles are stretched, I can see them despite the heavy coat you wear.

I firmly grab your sleeve with one hand, forcing you to stop.
You turn around, your face is hard. You don't smile, you don't show a sign of weakness.
You are Emily. The same Emily that six months ago has vanished into thin air in order to protect us all from the wrath of Ian Doyle.
«Aaron…» your voice is a feeble whisper.
How I miss you Emily. I'd tell you, if only your eyes wouldn't beg me to get out of there.
Your eyes suddenly melt. They are tired, but in a different way. They're tired of running, of hiding from me.
I weave your fingers with mine, and I hold strong.
How I miss you, Emily.
«I don't give up. I won't. » I am well aware that these are not the words you want to hear.
«Yes , you will, because you know that we have no choice. Now please, go. Go back home, there's nothing you can do for me. »
Your grip becomes firmer around my fingers, my heartbeat accelerates.
You suddenly slip away. You gently caress my face, and a minute later you're surrounded by the crowd, which now burns, becoming ardent.
Your look, I'll recognize it among thousand: I'll carry you home, Emily. It's a promise.