Story Title: Between the Floors

Rating: M

Genre: Other, a Real Person fic

Story Summary: All relationships start somewhere, this one starts in an elevator. Jackson Rathbone meets shy fan Emily when they get trapped in an elevator and her arm gets fractured.

Disclaimer: If you recognise it, it isn't mine. I do not know Jackson Rathbone and this story is completely fictional. If it causes any offence it will be removed upon request.

Authors Note: Thank you to Project Team Beta for all their hard work in getting this chapter up to par.


Chapter One

The thunderstorm that covered the city was growing louder and louder making the music from my iPod seem quieter and quieter. As I'd been walking I'd had to progressively turn it up so that now, when I had finally reached the hotel, it was playing on maximum volume. Noise control wasn't my only complaint for the moment; I'd had to walk back to the hotel in the storm and by the time I'd got to the elevator in the hotel lobby I was soaking wet.

Damn rain. Why did it only ever rain when I didn't have an umbrella or some form of waterproof jacket? As I stepped inside the elevator I noticed another figure, a man, stood over by the controls. I pushed down my hood to find that a few strands of hair that had been left unprotected plastered themselves to the side of my face. Oh yes, very attractive.

"Which floor?" The stranger asked politely, his finger hovering over the buttons. There was a southern twang to the stranger's voice. I could barely hear him over the sound of 'The Drums' who were blaring from my headphones so I quickly turned the device off before answering.

"Fourteenth please," I answered. I paused for a moment before looking up at him, knowing that there would only be an awkward silence as I am terrible at conversing with strangers. As I glanced up I recognized the man immediately. It was Jackson Rathbone; one of the actors from the cast of the Twilight movies. Naturally, I turned into a nervous wreck and became completely unable to do anything but stare at my shoes. Part of me wanted to ask for an autograph while a more dominant part of me decided to focus on not embarrassing myself. God knows the poor guy's got enough girls screaming in his face, he didn't need me doing it in an elevator.

We ascended in a comfortable silence for about thirty seconds until the elevator suddenly slammed violently to a halt, sending me flying into Jackson. Although he managed to grab onto me, he couldn't keep us both upright meaning that we both toppled to the floor with Jackson landing on top of me. My wrist made a painful crunching noise as we landed on the limb with it twisted behind my back. White hot pain flashed up my arm, bringing tears to my eyes.

"Sorry," Jackson mumbled getting off me and walking up to the emergency controls. He hadn't realized how much pain I was in as he hadn't made eye contact, the awkwardness of being on top of me prompting him to keep his gaze downcast. "Hello? Urm...we're stuck in this elevator."

"The technician has been called, please wait for assistance," said an automated machine. Great, very helpful. I pulled myself into a sitting position and leant up against the wall opposite the doors, cradling my arm against my chest, hoping to sooth some of the immense pain. The main light had gone off as the elevator stopped, leaving the tiny room lit only by the gleam of the buttons on the panel and the emergency lighting which gave the room an eerie orange glow. The numbers above the elevator doors showed that we were trapped in between floors.

"Are you all right?" Jackson asked, sitting down next to me. I nodded even though the tears were threatening to spill over and flood the elevator. I would not cry. "I'm Jackson."

"I'm Emily and I'm fine, thank you," I lied through my teeth, my voice choked with tears. I glanced up at Jackson who was looking at me, concerned. I looked back down and sniffed unappealingly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Are you sure you're okay?" Jackson eyed the arm that I was rather obviously cradling. Feeling somehow ashamed of my injury, I blushed and tried to tuck my bad arm inside my thin jacket, despite the fact that there were no outward signs of injury.

"Yeah, don't worry about it." I chewed my lip, wanting a distraction. "How long do you reckon we'll be stuck in here?"

"No idea, my money's on an hour though." He flashed me a smile that made his eyes light up.

"Ten says an hour and a half."

"Deal." I offered him my good hand and we shook on our 'bet'.

"So where were you off to before getting stuck?" I questioned, knowing that there was little else to do other than talk. I wasn't sure Jackson would want to get to know me but I certainly wouldn't mind getting to know him a little better.

"Just back to my room, I've got a show tonight with my band. What about you?" Jackson turned his body to face me and looked directly into my eyes, giving me his full attention.

"Honestly?" I asked. Jackson nodded. "I was going up to my room to get changed to go see your show."

I blushed at my admittance. Now completely unable to maintain eye contact I inspected my shoes for scuff marks. Actually I really did need to go shoe shopping sometime soon, they looked a disgrace.

"Ah, so I'm stuck in an elevator with a crazed fan?" Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jackson smirk at me, causing me to blush further.

"I'm afraid so. This is probably my fault you know, I've got terrible luck, I'm always getting stuck in elevators." Although it was true about my bad luck, I was mostly bringing it up to move the conversation away from the topic of me being one of his fans.

"These things happen." He shrugged easily.

"I know I just wish they'd stop happening to me." I shifted slightly, pulling my hurt arm further towards me, holding it up with my other arm. I winced slightly as pains shot through me but covered it up as quickly as I was able.

"We should probably try to sling that up or something until we get out." Jackson didn't miss a trick. Maybe it had something to do with being an actor and knew acting when it happened, or maybe he was just observant to body language in general.

"I don't really have anything to use. I guess I could use my jacket but I'd have to somehow get it off first…" I trailed off into a mumble, thinking about the heat. It really was oddly cold; I was stuck in a tiny box with another person and only a small vent in the ceiling, surely it should be hot.

"Here." I looked back over to Jackson who had taken off his brown leather jacket and was holding it out to me. I took it in one hand before looking blankly at him. I'd previously used a shirt to sling up my own arm when playing hospital as a kid but that had been held together with tape and wasn't exactly very good at supporting weight.

"Er...can you help me?" I asked timidly. Jackson nodded and shuffled on his knees towards me, obviously unsure of how he was supposed to help. I gave him instructions which he followed whilst trying to be as gentle as possible. When I was sufficiently tied up he sat back, admiring his work. "Thank you."

"How bad is the pain?" Jackson looked genuinely upset at the thought of my being in pain.

I gave a one shouldered shrug before my verbal reply. "It's not bad, don't worry about it."

"And how much are you downplaying the pain?" Although his tone wasn't serious I knew that Jackson was expecting a truthful answer.

"Quite a lot." Once again I found myself looking at my shoes. I had now shown myself to be a lying fan-girl with a low pain threshold. Some first impression I made. I took a deep breath before adjusting my 'sling'. The pain was unbearable however some small part of my mind managed to register the fact that Jackson's jacket smelt good. Insanely good.

"I wish there was something I coul…."

"Stop." I cut him off. "There's nothing you can do, you've given me your jacket even though you were wearing it, that's enough. Don't worry."

Jackson nodded unhappily before striking up another conversation. "So, you sound British, am I right?"

"Yeah, I'm English. From a county called Cheshire but I've moved to Liverpool recently for university." I paused, trying to think of what to say to keep the conversation alive. My life was pretty mundane and I didn't want to bore the poor man.

"Yeah? What's your major?" Jackson enquired with a smile, his body turned towards mine.

"Er we don't really major. Well I suppose we major in either one or two chosen subjects but we don't have any general education. I do a combined degree in Business Marketing and Psychology." I knew that our education system was different to the American one that Jackson would be familiar with, but unfortunately I didn't know enough about theirs to draw a comparison for him.

"So you want to analyse my brain to figure out the best way to sell me something?" Jackson teased.

"Something like that," I replied, unable to keep myself from smiling back at the attractive man beside me.

"So aside from my band, what type of music are you into?" He grinned cheekily. Relaxing, I began to realize that Jackson really did want to talk to me. I began to try and conjure up interesting, and non fangirly questions to ask him back.

"Well 'Best Friend' by The Drums was playing when I came in but that's just my song of the day. I'll literally listen to anything. Marilyn Manson, Justin Bieber, Beethoven, you name it and I'll love it." I replied honestly.

"Justin Bieber! Oh that's just wrong."

"Wrong, yes. Catchy, also yes. Go on then, what's the single most cringe worthy song you have?"

Jackson looked at me, a sheepish smile on his face, and just as he opened his mouth to reply I made the mistake of shifting my position ever so slightly. The pain made me whimper, a scarcely audible sound, however it was enough of a noise to derail Jackson's thoughts and stop him from talking. For the third or maybe forth time since entering the elevator tears filled my eyes, only now I was unable to hold them back. I'd never been good with pain but this was a joke. How much could one potential fracture hurt?

In an attempt to hide the tears, which were now slipping down my cheeks, I bowed my head and turned myself away from Jackson.

"Oh hey, hey come on darlin' there's no need to hide from me." He curled one arm across my hunched shoulders as his other hand moved to my face. He softly nudged my chin, tilting my head up to encourage eye contact with him. "Please don't cry."

"Sorry." I blubbered "I'm not very good with pain."

Jackson tightened his grip around my shoulder briefly, giving me a quick squeeze before using his free hand to dry my tears. "No need to be sorry. We'll be out of here soon enough and then I can get you to a hospital."

Of their own accord, my eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "You don't have to take me. Plus you've got a show to put on! No one will know or care if I'm not there but they'll certainly notice your absence!"

"Well, true but I don't feel right just leaving you wandering around injured."

"I'm in a city, not a jungle. I won't die if you leave me; I'll just Google the nearest hospital and walk there." I was nowhere near as confident as I sounded. Injured in a totally new city, with little money and no one to turn to if my situation got worse was not going to be fun but I refused to burden Jackson with my presence any longer.

"Walk?" He asked, confused. "Why don't you take a cab, it'll be quicker!"

"And more expensive! You try living off a student loan. I'm down to the point where I have to choose between a taxi ride and my dinner and I'm hungry now, let alone after three hours sat in the hospital."

"I'll pay." His simple statement shocked me. I looked up at him, staring at his face trying to figure out his ulterior motive. I understood wanting to be a gentleman, offering to walk a girl you wanted home at night to look good and play the knight in shining armour. But I wasn't someone he had a thing for, I was a total stranger. He had no reason to spend money on me. I could only hope that everyone I met would be this kind to a complete stranger like me.

"You don't have to do that."

"I know." Our eyes locked, each trying to stare the other one into submission. No winner was found however as the normal lights flickered back on, the elevator shuddered down half a floor and the doors were slowly prised open.

Jackson stood up, reaching back down to offer his hand to assist me. I grasped his hand tightly, allowing him to pull me up. My hand felt ridiculously small in his. In fact, now that we were stood side by side, all of me felt small, although that wasn't unusual. At five foot one and a half (yes, the half inch is important) I could just about reach the top shelf in my parents' kitchen.

On the other side of the door was a rather worried looking mechanic of some form and another man I recognized but couldn't name.

"Hey Marty, I'll be up in five." Jackson said smoothly as he walked out of the elevator, tugging me along with him. Marty nodded and wandered off down the hallway in the general direction of the stairs.

"Erm...here's your jacket," I mumbled, nerves having suddenly returned to me. I reached up to untie my jacket made sling but was stopped.

"No you keep it, it's probably best that you don't move you arm around a whole lot." Jackson rummaged around in his pocket and pulled out a few bank notes. "Here, for a cab."

"No I couldn't possibly…" I began. Jackson pressed the notes into the palm of my hand and I automatically curled my fingers around them to stop them from falling.

"Please darlin'." His eyes pleaded with me and I found myself unable to utter a single sound. I nodded dumbly instead. "Sorry I can't come with you. Goodbye Emily, it was nice meeting you."

And with that he followed Marty down the hallway. I didn't take much notice of his comment, assuming that he would claim that he thought it nice to meet many people. He was famous after all, and in an odd sense it was part of his job to be kind to strangers.


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