Authors Note: Sorry for the delay, I can't really upload anything right now, is being strange. I had to get creative to get these posted, and I, for a variety of reasons, won't be able to replicate that creativity again, so I don't know when or if (lets hope not) there will be another post. With that...
WARNING: I changed this to an M rating for a reason, so if you're a kid please hit the back button. This chapter gets a little dark, and a little graphic, so please heed the warning if you too young.
The rest of the car ride to Emily's apartment was in biting silence, both feeling like if they spoke they'd be thrust back a year, and fall into that argument again. And Emily's foot was back on the gas without mercy. Neither wanted to got back there, neither wanted to hear what the other said to them, and feel that hurt again. They remained in that hostile silence until they reached Emily's apartment building, and when they rode up in the elevator, Emily finally breaking when they actually got into her apartment.
"You can stay here tonight," she said walking through the hallway passed the living room and kitchen, and pointing the first door they came to. "The bathroom is at the end of the hall, there's clean towels in the closest in there, and help yourself to the kitchen."
He didn't get a chance to thank her, as she hurried into her own room, closing the door tightly behind her. Matt shook his head trying to process the layout she'd just pointed out. Sighing he grabbed his toiletries and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. This would be interesting, being that they both burned with aggression and resentment directed point blank at each other.
Then he saw a small bottle in a basket in the corner of the counter. The itty bitty, bottle read L'heure Bleu, a name he'd never forget, and that you couldn't find in the states. He figured that out two years ago when he went searching for it for Emily's birthday, as it was her favorite. Every clerk he talked to had looked at him blankly when he said the name, until one pimply-faced teen finally told him to try the internet. He'd pulled an all-nighter and finally ended up on Ebay, where he found about eight different varieties of the stuff. One seller had actually carried the pure perfume, no eau de whatevers, and he bought the stuff in a heartbeat.
Now he held the tiny bottle in his hand and breathed in the scent that had become so well know to him. He momentarily drifted back in time, where he could imagine them together. He could almost hear them laughing, feel her body pressed against his, and taste her lips. Then he shook himself; he couldn't go there. That was dangerous territory. He quickly hurried from the bathroom, knowing he wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight.
Emily meanwhile, had sunk to the floor as soon as she closed the door, her mind racing. A man that she'd never stopped loving was staying in her apartment for the night, sleeping across the hall, using her shower. Her brained yelled at her to keep those thoughts away, that she couldn't afford them, not after everything that happened between them. She sat on the floor her mind chasing her thoughts in pointless circles, until she heard the door across the hall shut. Then she got up to brush her own teeth, almost squeezing Neosporin on her tooth brush in her distraction.
After narrowly missing having to poison control, she crawled into her bed and shut the light off. Sleep wouldn't be coming soon, she knew that, but she figured she was better off laying restlessly in bed, lest she cause herself more damage. Of course that knowledge didn't make sleep come any easier. Flipping from her side, to her back, to her stomach, to her other side, nothing was working, and it was beginning to get late. She gave in and let her mind go where it wanted to, back to Matt, back to L.A., and back into his arms, finally drifting off.
Two hours later, she was woken by a thud and a poorly masked curse, and at first she startled, wondering who was in her apartment. Then she remembered why she hadn't gotten to sleep until two hours before, judging by her clock that taunted her with red letters blazing in the dark: 3:37. Grudgingly, she crawled out of bed and left her bedroom, flicking on the hall light to find Matt in her kitchen, holding an empty glass, and clutching his arm, hissing in pain.
"It's three thirty in the morning, what are you doing?" She demanded.
"I uh, needed a drink," he stumbled, raising the glass as his proof.
"What did you do to your arm?"
"I walked into the fridge, slammed my arm into the handle," he answered sheepishly.
"Let me see it." She walked up and took his arm from him, pushing his t-shirt sleeve up slightly.
"It's fine, I'm just going to have a bruise."
She nodded and left his arm drop, "next time turn the light on."
"I didn't want to wake you," he defended.
"That worked so well," she said sarcastically.
"Sorry…do you have any aspirin or Tylenol or something?" he asked wincing slightly.
"Yeah, let me get it." She nodded sympathetically, and left to go to the bathroom, coming back moments later with a bottle of Advil. She felt suddenly nervous being near him, now that she was fully awake, and evidently Matt felt the same, because he dropped the bottle after clumsily trying to take it from her hand.
They both leaned down to pick up the bottle, though he got to it first. They seemingly hadn't realized how close they'd gotten to each other, because as they went to stand, Emily's hip rubbed against Matt. They looked unsteadily at each other, fire radiating through both from just that touch. That was it that was all it took.
He dropped the pill bottle and grabbed her, pushing her up against the nearby wall, and capturing her mouth in an angry kiss. After a stunned minute she reciprocated, bother pushing all, the not only love they had for each other, but also the fear, pain, and anger. It wasn't the passionate and loving kisses they used to share, but one that was predatory and hostile.
"We can't go here," Emily breathed out, after they'd broken the kiss and Matt had moved to her neck.
"No, we can't," he answered in between kisses.
"We should stop," she told him, even as she directed his lips back to her mouth.
"We can't do this," he agreed, running his hands under her shirt, along her abdomen.
"We have to stop," she said the same time her hand reached into his boxers.
Matt moaned into her mouth, as they both began struggling to remove clothing. He ran his hands under her camisole before pulling over her head, and allowing her to do the same with his t-shirt; buttons wouldn't have survived them. Teasing him again, Emily worked his boxers down roughly, and Matt reciprocated, yanking her shorts down just as harshly, stopping only a moment to excite her with his hand, before her underwear followed.
He grabbed her wrists and slammed them behind her against the wall, before kissing her neck, and beginning to thrust into her. Emily moaned loudly, in pleasure, in pain, who knew at that point. Dropping her arms, Matt braced himself against he wall with his arms, continuing to thrust violently, while she wrapped her arms around him, digging her nails into his back, and holding firmly to him, as her back slammed against the wall.
Matt gasped at the contact her nails made in his flesh. As their rhythm increased, Emily gripped him tighter, smashing her mouth against his, in a furious kiss. The speed of their thrusting increased rapidly, until their bodies shook and quivered with all the force of their simultaneous orgasm. He moaned loudly at the release, as she emitted a primal scream of satisfaction.
Then they rested against the wall, still wrapped tightly around each other, hearts beating rapidly, breathing ragged and irregular, and bodies shimmering with sweat. After a few moments of letting their beating heats slow, they pulled away from the wall, and made their way to his bedroom, since it was closest. They climbed into the bed, and Matt did what he'd done so many times before, he rolled onto his side facing her, and wrapped an arm over her waist. Emily played her part, just as he had, also turning on her side, scooting closer to him, and pulling his arm tighter around her, and holding in with her own. Ignoring everything they shouldn't be, their exhausted bodies turned their minds off, and allowed them to drift into sleep.
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The next morning Matt awoke to find Emily already in the shower, and the clothes he torn off last night in a pile by the bed. He hurriedly got them on, his mind racing with what they'd done last night. He hissed in pain as he pulled the shirt over his head, and it made contact with the gauges from Emily's nails. He had never had sex like that before, and he could never have imagined sex like that with Emily. Making love would have certainly been a misnomer for last night; it felt closer to hate.
Emily was thinking almost the exact same thing as she showered, the purpling bruises on her arms and soreness between her thighs forcing her thoughts back there, even as she tried to push them away. What were they thinking last night? What demons had possessed their bodies? That wasn't them, at least not the them she remembered. The teased each other, took their time, enjoyed the feel of each other's bodies so close; last night was fast, enraged and anything but loving.
They didn't look at each other as they made coffee, but slipped back into the morning routine they'd come to know so well in L.A. Neither made a move to talk, all morning, even as they collected their guns and phones, tossed on light jackets and headed out the door. And neither chose to question when Matt walked out without his carry-on, they both knew he wouldn't be checking in to the hotel tonight either.
"Hey Emily, and this must be Agent Flannery from L.A." Mark Bronson greeted his partner and her companion.
"Agent Mark Bronson, Agent Matt Flannery," Emily gestured between them, in a less than stellar introduction.
"Nice to meet you," Matt shook his hand politely.
"Likewise, you worked with Emily before?"
"Uh yeah, for a couple of years…so I've been told Larry Baker is back?"
"Yeah, he was spotted at a diner outside the city two days ago, and at a rest stop further from the city the day before that, so we're pretty sure he's working his way to the city."
"I was told you guys heard he was planning something up here?"
"That's true, his mother's neighbor says she heard her arguing with him on the phone, said the mother told him not to make the same mistake twice, and not to hurt anybody." Mark had been watching the pair closely when they came in, and he watched ever closer now. There was a thick fog of tension surrounding them, and they were obviously avoiding looking at each other. He caught sight of Emily's bruised wrists, and his protective instincts reared, did this guy do that? Is that why she left L.A.?
"Alright, why don't you guys show me what you have, maybe we can at least get ready for him," Matt suggested, studying Mark as hard has Mark had studied him. He could tell the other man knew something was up, especially when his gaze lingered on Emily's wrists.
"Sure, let's go to the conference room." Mark smiled. He'd talk with Emily later.
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Later came around lunch time, when they came up for air after studying everything both Sacramento and L.A. had collected on the guy, and reliving Matt's negotiation with him. After they'd pointed Matt in the direction of the bathroom, Mark pulled Emily back into the conference room.
"Emily, did he do this?" he asked, lifting her wrists.
"Leave it alone, Mark." She really didn't feel like explaining last night, she barely understood it.
"No, not if he's hurting you," he warned her.
"He's not."
"I don't believe you. Is that why you left L.A., to get away from him?"
"He wasn't abusing me, I swear."
He looked at her doubtfully.
"You aren't going to drop this are you?"
"No, men who beat their wives, girlfriends, whatever, get my blood boiling. I should call the Sacramento PD, and let them take care of him, but I almost want the satisfaction." Emily was surprised by how angry her partner was by what he thought was going on.
"Okay, first please just calm down a minute. There's no need to call the police. Matt never hurt me, not physically anyway. We were dating while I was in L.A., it didn't end well. We said everything we could think of to hurt each other, that is why I left. I was hurt and angry," she explained, praying he would calm down.
"Then where did these bruises come from?" he demanded.
"Rough sex, Mark. That's it."
"Did he force you?" He asked, clearly troubled by the thought.
"Of course not! Matt would never do that!" She hissed at him, appalled that he'd ever consider that possibility.
"Relax, I was just making sure. You can't really blame me, Emily; he's here less than a day, and you come in with bruises. What am I supposed to think?"
"I don't know, but god Mark, not that. You might have considered giving him the benefit of a doubt though, before jumping to conclusions," she suggested, still clearly upset by the implication.
"Alright, I'm sorry…did you say it ended badly between you?" He asked, a thought suddenly popping into his head.
"Yes, we waged World War III all by ourselves, why?"
"He was here for what three hours before you slept with him?" He asked, making a clear judgment.
"Not you business, Mark." She was even angrier now.
"Why did you defend him so quickly?"
"What do you mean? You all but accused him of abusing and raping me, why wouldn't I defend him?" Now she was confused as well as rapidly loosing her patience with her partner's little inquisition.
Mark studied her for a moment before asking quietly, "You're still in love with him, aren't you?"
Emily said nothing, just glared at him before turning and walking out the conference room door. Mark had no right to attack Matt the way he did, regardless of whether or not she was still in love with him. Or at least that is what Emily kept telling herself. She was furious he dragged her in there and interrogated her on her personal life. He was her work partner, not even really a friend. Emily had made sure to avoid becoming personally involved with her coworkers as soon as she arrived in Sacramento. Not only had it hurt to leave Matt, but it hurt to leave the rest of the people she'd become close to.
"Oh, thank God!" Matt proclaimed upon landing back in the CNU and seeing Emily.
"Everything alright?" She asked curiously.
"I got lost," he told her sheepishly, turning toward the floor.
Emily struggled not to smile at him; that was so…Matt. She also tried not to think about what Mark had called her on.
"Hey? You okay?" Matt asked seeing her face suddenly change to a sullen expression.
"Yeah, fine…just tired," she didn't quite lie.
"Right, makes sense," Matt commented awkwardly. There it was, one little string of words to trigger memories of the night before, and remind them that they hadn't magically stepped back three years. Too bad, they had been 'them' for that brief exchange; it came so easily. Now they clammed up and turned away from each other again, resuming their awkward hostility for the rest of the day.