Chapter 1: Dead Yellow Roses
"I found this in the bottom of the desk drawer. And that inside your closet."
Elena was sitting on the couch, looking up at Nate who had just walked in. She had nodded her head to a small pile of old pamphlets and a few golden coins preserved in a Ziploc bag.
Since Elena had moved in with him, Nate had to get used to a new life with another person sharing it with him, but he never regretted being with her. She respected his job and the certain 'requirements' for doing it. But every now and then, Nate would forget to 'include' her in his decisions and, as he had seemed to grow used to, Elena would scold him. Until today, Nate had never suspected he had pushed her too far, usually when she would get mad at him, he'd find a charming way to make it up to her and she'd be back to her happy self, then they'd wake up the next morning in the same bed, engulfed in each other's heat.
But the look in Elena's eyes, something that resembled dry ice—cold, dry, and deadly—told Nate this time, something was terribly wrong.
"You were treasure hunting this entire time weren't you?" Elena's voice mocked the silence with her dead tone.
There wasn't a doubt in her question, so Nate didn't bother to hide it. He had been on a treasure hunt to hunt for Mongolian artifacts for the past two weeks. But he had hoped to avoid confronting Elena about it, since it would involve telling her every detail of his little adventure, including his usual near-death experiences. As a journalist, though, Elena's observancey skills never failed to impress him. But as he stood there, in the middle of the living room of their apartment, staring at his girlfriend, he had nothing to say. It wasn't like he could actually answer her question anyway.
"God!" Elena blew up suddenly, thrusting to her feet, glaring at Nate with hurt, accusing eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Nate sighed, expecting as much. "See, Elena, I knew you'd react badly to this—"
"I'm not reacting 'badly' to what you're thinking." Elena corrected. The tone she used implying her usual characteristic of always having to be right.
"You would have argued if I told you where I was going and what I was doing. I just wanted to avoid a fight with you." Nate countered.
"But it wouldn't have mattered what I said or not, you still would have gone, wouldn't you?" Her light eyebrows rose, knowing him well enough.
Nate nodded, defeated in avoiding the subject.
"Then why not tell me?" Elena asked, her hands on her hips. Nate sensed the anger flaring inside her, but couldn't contain his own as he responded.
"To avoid this conflict! You would have never approved!"
"Hah, Nate!" Elena scoffed with an angry smile. "I'm not mad at the fact that you treasure hunted, or-or smuggled, or shot a person, or anything else you might have done. I'm mad that you didn't tell me."
Nate's anger retreated, his voice sounding normal as he asked, "You're getting mad because I didn't tell you I was in Mongolia? I don't see the point in telling you if you're just going to worry."
"Worry?" Elena repeated, shaking her head before speaking softly, "Nate, I've seen what you can do, I know you're capable, no matter how crazy you are sometimes. But, keeping that from me, that makes me worry."
"How could it possibly have you worry? It's not that bad—" Nate started.
"Because who knows what else your keeping from me?" Elena shouted, desperation making her words almost crack.
"Does it matter?" Nate asked, getting annoyed. He regretted the phrasing of his words after he had said them, but didn't care. At this point, he spoke without thought, not caring if he hurt Elena or not. "Everyone has a past, why would you have to know every detail of mine?"
Elena body gestured in a way that showed she was taken aback, causing her to be sarcastic. "Well, of course how I can I expect you to understand the complexities of a committed relationship, seeing as you don't seem to have experience in one. But I know, Nate, and doing this, is not a good way to show you're ready for one."
Nate had reached his capacity for arguing that night and tried ending it. "Elena, this is stupid. You're overrating. Why would you even care if I didn't tell you I was on a treasure hunt? It's what I do, it shouldn't be surprising."
"Okay, you wanna know why?" Elena's eyes squinted. Nate nodded vigorously in away that can only mean 'duh.' "Because telling me things makes me feel like I'm trusted. When you don't it's like we're strangers. But again, you can't seem to understand that because you lack knowing the complexities of a relationship."
Nate rolled his eyes mentally, becoming frustrated. "Elena, I care about you, but my life is my own."
Elena stared at him incredulously hurt for a few seconds, before suddenly composing herself, cleaning her face of expressions. "Okay." she breathed. "I'm glad you told me."
She walked briskly right past Nate to the stairs leading to the bedroom.
"Elena," Nate called to her back, without turning around, knowing she wouldn't respond.
She walked briskly right past Nate to the stairs leading to the bedroom.
"Elena," Nate called to her back, without turning around, knowing she wouldn't respond.
He heard the door close and breathed deeply.
I guess it's going to have to be the couch for me tonight, Nate thought glumly.
The next morning, Nate woke to the sounds of soft clicking noises.
He got up, stretching his raw sore back, squinting in the early morning light. To the left at the compotator desk, he saw Elena at the desk typing, with the same eerie expressionless face she wore from last night. Realizing the tension in the air, he went to the bathroom to shower. After getting dressed, Nate came downstairs finding Elena still at the desk, but her hands were still. Her eyes staring unblinking at the monitor. Nate leaned against the wall staring at her, though she never peeled her gaze away from the screen.
A moment passed until Nate spoke up in a weak attempt to get them talking again.
"I, uh, have some research to do on the artifact I'm looking for." When he received not a single sign that she had heard him, he continued, "So I'll be back, not sure, uh, exactly where I'm going….might be several different places…"
"Okay," she responded tonelessly, shattering the delicate silence.
"I'll get back when I can—soon," he added to catch her attention. She didn't change.
"Okay," she repeated.
Nate left with an uneasy feeling, though he knew he had a lot of research ahead of him, he wished he could have stayed and fixed things with Elena.
Returning home, Nate struggled as he tried to open the door and hold the yellow roses he had gotten Elena, without distracting either action. He felt weird and uncomfortable with the idea of fixing things up with flowers, but despite Elena's tough, independent attitude, she was still a woman with the kind of heart that melted at nice gestures, at the very least appreciated them. He heard the bolt slide out and opened the door.
"Elena?" He called into the apartment.
When no reply came, he figured she was still upset. Stepping in, he saw a flash of bronze shine off the entry table. A key. Elena's house key. Something cold struck him inside his chest, like a bullet without the heat, causing him to forget the roses as they dropped to the floor.
"Elena?" he tried again, louder this time. But his imaginary echo was his only reply.
Everything in the apartment was eerily still, silent, and clean. He jogged upstairs and busted the door open.
"Elena?" he asked the empty room, motionless in the doorway. The bed was made; the closet doors were open, revealing their new free space and empty hook hangers. Nate wasn't sure if his breathing had quickened from his jog up the stairs, or from the sudden panic trailing his throbbing veins. The place was quiet.
Nate felt numb walking to the edge of the bed and sitting down, putting his face in his hands. He tiredly rubbed his forehead with his palms. It wasn't like what he thought it would be, knowing he had lost someone who was within his grasp before pushing her away. Something hallow inside him, a straight hit to the gut, left him clustered with an assortment of feelings—anger, grief, regret, anxiety—that all seemed to come together and result in a single experience: pain. But it wasn't like a flesh wound or a punch to the face, it was something deeper, internal. It couldn't be healed with bandages or stitches—there was nothing to stop the bleeding.
He knew he could bury the feeling if he tried to, a few beers to assist him. But for now, the feeling was new and fresh, and exhausted him, so he didn't have the effort to do so. Regret repeatedly called him stupid inside his head, knowing what he did to shove her away.
He'd said his life was his own. And now it truly was.
So this is my version of Nate and Elena's break up, or what I think happened anyway. But, tell me what you think, no flames please, unless it's constructive criticism. But I really like this fanfic, so review if you wanna see more 'missing scenes!' COMMENT!