"I don't understand you, sometimes."
Like a tigress defending her cub, Jess cursed him for what he'd done; but there was also pity in her voice, sympathy. Matt Anderson was, and would remain, a puzzle she was unable to solve, for he would not let her. He wouldn't let any of them. Look what had happened, with Emily. Look at the happiness he'd had an ever-so-brief taste of, before striking the source of it down to the ground. He'd trampled it – her – beneath his feet. For her own good, he told himself. For the good of the whole damn world.
He had to give Becker credit for resting beside him. He knew the captain didn't approve of what had happened, either – but for some reason, Becker believed in him. He wasn't sure what he'd done to ever earn that trust, but he was grateful for it. "Come on." e got a brief tap on the shoulder. "Work to be done."
[..]
She'd walked out (had felt like running) of the ARC building, knowing she would not return there ever again. A part of her – the rebellious side Henry so despised – wanted to show up again the next day, every single cell of her screaming out the words 'I will not be kicked out', but her emotions stood in the way, overriding everything else : she could not bear the thought of staying, knowing Matt did not want her there. Did not want her, period.
When Lester had explained to her what'd happened, what Matt had asked him to do, she had not wanted to believe him. After all, Matt had been the one to keep her safe from being locked up in the ARC the minute she'd arrived; he'd been the one to rescue her when she'd been abducted. And she was so sure there had been something between them, she'd felt it in her heart. Hadn't he?
It started to rain. Emily raised her eyes to the sky and attempted to stare the raindrops down. They splashed against her face and into her eyes; and she was forced to blink her way through them. That's alright, she thought. Better to have the heavens cry than me.
Even though she had no raincoat, nor an umbrella to keep her safe from the downpour, Emily kept on walking with no destination in mind. No place to go. She was lost to the world.
Only, mere minutes later, Jess' car appeared on the road – windshield wipers energetically moving back and forth. She rolled her window down and called out Emily's name. The young woman turned her head, and when she looked at Jess her eyes were glassy from both rain and her own sadness. She was cold, and her hair clung to her face, framing it perfectly... but it took her a few minutes to react. Warmth…companionship. Yes, she could use them right about now.
"Come on," Jess said. "Get in."
They sat in silence for a while, just listening to the sounds of the car as it made its way through the empty streets. Everyone had fled inside, seeking shelter from the rain. She could see the people standing behind the glass entry doors of shops, peering out – assessing the greyness of the sky. Emily wished she could be among them, caring for nothing more than when it would be safe to venture out again. She'd blend into the masses. Forget for a while.
"I can't go back to the ARC."
Jess nodded beside her. "I know. You'll be staying with me for a while, is that alright?"
Emily turned to her, finally allowing Jess to look into her eyes. Letting her in, showing her all the pain that made her feel like curling up into a ball and crying her heart out. "Thank you."
Jess only smiled, patted her knee. "That's what friends are for."
]..[
For the better part of the next morning, Matt didn't really know if he was looking for excuses not to go near Emily's quarters, or searching for reasons to justify his presence in the small room. He knew she wouldn't be there, of course. He'd made sure of that, single-handedly driven her out of the building. But the memory of her would linger.
In the end he couldn't stay away.
The closet stood wide open, defying him with its emptiness. Her whole room had been cleared out, save for one item: the flowers he had brought her. He felt a sharp and sudden pain, almost as if a stake had been driven through his chest. His breath was stolen from him. Excellent, his mind echoed. Let's make it hurt a little.
His work served him well as a distraction. Ploughing through the numerous files he had on each and every one of the ARC members, letting his eyes fly over the words and sentences… it made him forget, if only for a few precious minutes. Matt leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes, pressing his fists just a little harder to his eyelids to strengthen the darkness. It was a trick he had taught himself years ago, during his training. It allowed him focus on the pain he'd created, not the one that threatened to consume him.
He lasted three whole days before checking the security tapes, searching for her. (He'd told himself that he'd use the footage to search for abnormal behaviour of any of the employees and try to decipher which one of them was the person responsible for the end of the world.) He felt a little strange, breaking into his own company's surveillance system, but it could not be helped. His mission required it – it did. But he found himself not so much observing Philip and Connor, Abby or Lester; instead his eyes focussed on an entirely different person. Matt watched Emily walk in with Jess the night of their big fight, carrying two overnight suitcases that soundlessly rolled through the abandoned halls.
Emily paused in the doorway and let her body fall against the frame as if she was somehow too tired to carry on. Then she pushed herself away from the edge, forced herself to go in.
Get it over with. I was never here.
[..]
For the past few days, Emily Merchant had done many-a-thing. The first day, she had allowed herself to wallow in self-pity : she'd slept in, ate breakfast and then spent the rest of the day watching day-time movies from the 1930's. The most evilest of things, she'd decided afterwards. While they were humorous at times, their romantic plotlines had been all too real. It hurt.
Halfway through the fifth – or was it seventh? – movie of the day, she'd made up her mind. She may not be the most lucky of creatures, not when it came to love, nor when it came to different circumstances, but there was one thing she'd always had. Emily was strong. Resilient. And she would not let people just waltz over her; she did not care if they were called Henry or Matt. And while Matt's mission was, no doubt, truly important, it did not give him the right to treat her like this.
Jess had treated her epiphany with mixed feelings. "I'm sure Matt had his reasons," she'd said, then continued on more vehemently, "but you're right. What he did was wrong, Emily; you deserve better."
Emily 'd called Lester the very same day, who told her that his wife was on the look-out for an assistant. "I think you'd be perfectly qualified," he assured her. "And anyway, I figured I owe you for what happened."
Oh, let's not think of that. Emily smiled, though he did not see her from the other side of the line. "Thank you, James."
The evening was spent choosing the perfect outfit for a potentially-first-day-at-a-new-job; she hated to say it was one of the dresses Matt had loved on her. She could just about hear his voice as she walked into the gallery the next day. "You look great," he would say. She shook her head to clear it – Matt Anderson had no business being in her head today. Emily took a deep breath and entered.
