Stop it, stop it, stop it now! Matt scolded himself firmly, as he caught himself checking out his partner for the dozenth time over the last three days. It didn't matter that they'd broken up, or that she may very well hate him, she was still a beautiful woman. A beautiful woman that sat less than two feet from him in their small cubicle, which seemed to be growing smaller. Even worse, he knew how truly beautiful she could be. He knew every inch of her body: he could hear her giggle just by allowing his fingers to dance down along her abdomen, that her fingers would dig deeper into his hair and she'd let out a soft moan if he placed delicate little butterfly kisses along her collar bone, and he knew just which spot to hit to have her screaming his name. Even more difficult is that he knew she was even more beautiful on the inside: if held her hand and sat quietly, she'd eventually tell him what was bothering her; she could stare for hours watching LA twinkle at night, and when she bit her lip and grew suddenly shy, he loved her even more. What made it completely impossible for him to just sit there, and not get down on his hands and knees and beg for her back, was that he knew he was the only man she'd ever pleasured with those three little words.
It was all of these and so much more that eventually convinced Matt that he was still hopelessly in love with the woman, and that this seeing each other every day thing wasn't going to work so well. Not when every time he tried to get some work done, he drifted off imagining moments they shared, imagining her smile, which he hadn't seen since they'd broken up Monday. At least he hadn't seen one, and he was generally pretty good at picking them up. The woman haunting his thoughts was bending down a bit to grab her bag, giving Matt an excellent view of her ass. And, turned her head, just in time to see him enjoying the view. Oh, thank god the day is over.
Pretending that he hadn't been checking out her ass, Matt thrust his head back as his computer, ignoring Emily as she finished packing up. Finally, minutes later, she walked away toward the elevators, leaving him in his misery. They were both acting as if there were no problems between them, as if their relationship had meant nothing; it was just that easy to get over. At least for him that was nothing but lies, and some seriously Oscar caliber acting. He shoved things around his desk, hostility leaking from his pores, trying to make his workspace neat before leaving for the night.
"Don't go anywhere Matt, we've got a crisis. I just called Emily, she's one her way back up."
"Great." He sighed, collapsing back on the chair he'd just vacated. Well, on the bright side, at least he'd have a negotiation to distract him from her.
Emily wasn't thrilled about getting called back in either. She was finally free from their tiny cubicle, which she was irrationally convinced, was shrinking by the minute. She knew Matt had been sneaking glances at her all day, because she'd been doing the same to him. And, boy, did she ever feel his eyes on her as she left, enjoying the view of her jeans-clad ass. How was she supposed to work with that? When she knew he wanted to feel her body as badly as she wanted to feel his? It was like foreplay that had to be drawn out to the point of torture, and was never to be consumated. As, the elevator dinged to her floor, she straightened herself, and hoped that she didn't appear as frustrated as she was.
"Okay people, listen up. I need everybody's heads in this one," Cheryl announced as Emily walked into the conference room, taking the only available seat- right next to Matt.
"Our HT is 23 year-old Richard House. His girlfriend, Sandra Kauffman, whom he has hostage, broke up with him a week ago, and let's just say Rich isn't handling it…at all. He is holding Sandra, her mother Agatha, her 17 year-old brother Michael and his best friend Andrew Calagarie at gun point in their home in East LA. Are their any questions before we head out?"
She received several headshakes from those that weren't already engrossed in the briefing.
"Good let's go. Lia, you're coming on this one. You'll work your magic from the bus." Lia's eyebrows shot up, she could easily handle this one from the office, why did Cheryl need her?
Her boss motioned her over, apparently already aware she would need to explain that.
"It's their first situation since they broke up, if they get hostile with each other, I need you to talk Emily's head back on her, Frank will handle Matt."
"If you're worried about this, should they really be in the field together?" Lia raised an eyebrow in a skeptical look.
"I'd rather try to make this work, than just give up on my best team. Besides, they seemed to be okay the past few days, they deserve a chance." Nevertheless, Cheryl sent up a silent prayer that things would go well.
One of the negotiators in question was on her way back down to the garage, reading the briefing in the elevator. She hadn't been happy when she got that call, and after finding out who their HT was, she was even less happy. A guy who'd just broken up with his girlfriend? Isn't that nice. Matt would have to be primary on this one, it was too good an opportunity to pass up. He could commiserate, though she doubted that, no matter how strongly Matt felt for her, he was emotionally disturbed enough to take hostages. Regardless, if she got on the phone with the guy, it could set him off. Chances were that he was feeling pretty pissed a women in general right then.
She was so lost in her thoughts that moments later she realized she'd already been driving for ten minutes. Then she noticed her briefing had vanished; likely her own fault for leaving it just sitting on top of her bag. She began fishing around in the car for it, glancing down every now and again when traffic was stopped. But, after a few minutes she got frustrated and allowed her eyes to wander over, searching for the paper. Finally, she located it stuck between the seat and console, and looked up just in time to slam down on her breaks. Oh, shit, shit, shit…there was a car right in front of her, and she cringed as she felt the little bump that said she'd tapped it.
Then it got worse, and it became clear to Emily that if there was a god, he was pissed at her in a real bad way. The car in front of hers was Matt's. It was just a tap, she told herself, he shouldn't get too worked up. She was close enough to see him look in his rearview mirror, not pleased at all. Then his expression changed to one of complete confusion, before morphing to one that added to her misery. The poor bastard actually looked hurt, as if he thought she'd purposely struck his bumper. Their relationship hadn't ended that badly. This, this was going to be a whole lotta fun.
What the hell? Somebody just rear-ended him, well, maybe not rear-ended. They'd hit his bumper, or rather Emily had…what? He stared into his rearview, confused as can be. Was she trying to get his attention? No, she had a cell phone, if it was important enough to play a round of bumper cars, than she could use that. Then he had another thought: was she that mad at him? Was it possible that she'd been hurt enough, had grown to hate him enough to want to smack into his car? Traffic began moving again, ripping him from his thoughts long enough for his eyes to focus back on the road. It hadn't been hard enough to suggest hate or anger though…was it just an accident? What were the odds? Trying to drown out the thoughts, Matt flipped on the radio.
"…I know it isn't true
Love is just a lie,
Made to make you blue
Love hurts, ooh,ooh love hurts…"
Christ, he thought, you've got to be kidding; that was not what he needed to be hearing at that moment. He flipped the dial, silencing Nazareth.
"…Don't deny me - this pain I'm going through
Please forgive me - if I need ya like I do
Please believe me - every word I say is true
Please forgive me - I can't stop loving you…"
And that isn't even funny, he thought flipping again to get rid of Bryan Adams singing his heart out about loving someone too much.
"…Love bites, love bleeds - it's bringin' me to my knees
Love lives, love dies - it's no surprise
Love begs, love pleads - it's what I need…"
"Shut up!" He hollered at the radio's presumption, shutting it off before it could blast anymore shattered love songs. He knew love sucked, he felt it too readily himself to be able to listen to Def Leppard's high pitched vocalist sing about it in an eighties power ballad.
It wouldn't have really mattered anyway, he realized as he pulled over against the car, one of a mishmash of police cruisers and FBI vehicles.
"Alright, which one of you is Primary?" Cheryl asked as her negotiators approached, eyes never drifting towards each other, expressions nothing less than hostile.
"Me."
"Matt." Both answered quickly, both looking slightly surprised that they actually agreed.
"Okay, make the call." Matt nodded to Cheryl first, then at Lia after he had his earpiece in, who tapped a few fingers along her keyboard, and instantly had the phone dialing into the house.
"Hello?" A frightened woman answered, her voice shaky.
"Hi, I'm Matt, I work for the FBI, is this Sandra or Agatha?"
"I'm Agatha, Sandra is my daughter."
"Great, can you tell me how everyone is in there?"
"We're okay."
"Good, that's very good…I need to talk to Rich now, can you pass him the phone?" Matt waited while she did as he asked.
"Yeah, what?" A young man's voice demanded rudely.
"Hey there Rich, my name is Matt. I'm a crisis negotiator with the FBI."
"Yeah, well there's no damn crisis here!"
"Well Rich, you've got a gun pointed at four people in there, they might argue that point with you." Matt rolled his eyes, why is it they always thought taking hostages is a perfectly normal thing to do?
"There's no crisis, I just- just needed to talk to Sandy."
"Okay, I understand that, break-ups are hard, but do you really think this is the best way to do that?"
"She wouldn't listen to me any other way!" Rich shouted pitifully.
"Alright, easy now. Have you uh, told her what it is you feel you need to tell her so badly?"
"No, she still won't listen to me!"
"You think maybe that's because she's terrified right now?"
"What! She's knows I'd never hurt her!" Rich wasn't becoming any calmer, though he had changed from pissed to kind of whiny.
"Uh Rich? The gun, that kind of suggests otherwise…" Matt rolled his eyes again, and turned to Cheryl, who held up her hands with a smirk: her signal that he was doing just fine communicating with the idiot.
"I just want her attention!" He yelled angrily.
"So, how about releasing a hostage, make her feel a little more comfortable?"
"Okay, Andy can go. Get out of here man!" They heard him shout at the kid, and a moment later a frightened teenager ran out of the house into the arms of HRT.
"That was a very good thing to do Rich, now how about you tell me what you need to say. She'll listen."
"I don't know, I don't think she will."
"She sees that you don't want to hurt her anymore, trust me, she'll listen."
Rich was silent for several minutes, before suddenly blurting, "I love her, man. Do you know what that's like? Not being able to talk to, to see, to touch the woman you love?"
Now it was Matt's turn to be silent, Emily's head turned sharply to look at him, wondering what he'd say. Cheryl and Lia watched nervously from the bus; this was one of those things Cheryl had worried about potentially setting them off.
"We're not talking about me, Rich." Matt finally answered, dodging the question altogether, not that whiny Rich noticed.
"She doesn't care that I love her. She says it doesn't matter, that we have no future together. She says she doesn't love me." He sounded increasingly pitiful as he spoke.
"That's really sad Rich, but you can't really force her to love you, can you?" And sometimes, love just isn't enough, Matt thought to himself.
"No, but I love her and that's all you're supposed to need, right? That's what they always say, when you find somebody you love that much, you don't let them go. I can't let her go…" Rich continued to whine in what essentially became a three-hour long session of post-breakup depression talk that was typically reserved for a few shots and a sympathetic bar tender.
"…but, if you found a woman that you were completely crazy about, to the point where you were excited just to wake up, because you knew she'd be there in you arms, could you really just let go?"
Matt sighed, "we're not talking about me Rich." He'd been giving this standard line consistently over the last hour, showing amazing restraint in not blurting things about his personal life. Emily would be proud, well, if they were still together she would be.
"Matt, just answer the damn question. You tell me honestly that if you found the woman you were completely in love with, you tell me you could let her walk away, and I'll lay this gun down and surrender." He issued the challenge to the negotiator, figuring if Matt could do it, he'd seriously consider that maybe he should too.
But, Matt was silent. He couldn't figure out what to say. A big part of him wanted to say no, when you find love like that, you hold onto it until you're dead. Another part knew he should lie, and tell Rich what he needed to hear to end this.
Emily literally stopped breathing, while Matt stood quietly thinking. Oh god, what was he going to say? She subconsciously began nibbling on her lower lip, her eyes darting nervously anywhere except Matt.
Cheryl closed her eyes the minute Rich made that demand, a sad resignation washing over her. If they couldn't get through one negotiation with both coming out whole and unscathed, then their partnership was effectively dead.
"Yeah, I could." Matt's voice seemed so loud to those waiting nervously for answer that it seemed to be on echoing from a thousand speakers. "If that was what she needed, I could walk away."
Cheryl's tense expression softened at the admission and she watched him sadly. Emily, her lip still between her teeth, swallowed, and studied the floor as if it was the Sunday New York Times crossword. The honesty in his voice was heartbreaking, though seemingly lost on Rich.
"I don't believe you. You're just saying that to get me to surrender."
"I've done it!" Matt practically shouted at the kid, suddenly angry and bitter; whine in his ear for hours, that's fine, but don't presume to know what he'd suffered through.
"Tell me about her," Rich requested thoughtfully.
"No, you keep up your end of the bargain. I gave you an honest answer, you have to come out here, and drop that gun." Matt had had enough of this, it was time to end it, time to stop beating this dead horse.
Rich didn't answer, but there was a click on the end of the phone, and he walked out onto the porch and dropped his weapon, allowing HRT to take him without a struggle.
Matt and Emily stood awkwardly, waiting for some direction from Cheryl. Their job was essentially done.
"You can both go, briefing tomorrow morning." She wasn't going to keep them in this perpetual awkwardness.
Matt practically ran to his car, needing so desperately to leave and not be in Emily's presence. It was too damned hard. That negotiation wasn't the only dead horse he was beating without a chance in hell of killing it more.
As he started the engine he flicked the radio back on, in more need of a distraction than he'd ever been in his life.
"I should have seen it coming when roses died
Should have seen the end of summer in your eyes
I should have listened when you said good night
You really meant good bye…"
Matt groaned at the lyrics, "Damn it! Somebody just shoot me!"
"…Baby, ain't it funny, how you never ever learn to fall
You're really on your knees, when you think you're standing tall
But only fools are know-it-alls and I played that fool for you…"
Emily had the same song playing in her car as she drove off, mind racing as Bon Jovi played in the background. This still being partners thing really wasn't working for them, not in the slightest. And this whole, not being able to crawl into bed with him every night, thing? If she was completely honest with herself, she'd admit that wasn't working so well either. She missed him. She saw him everyday, sat less than two feet from him for eight hours a day, but god help her, she missed him more than she'd ever missed anybody.
"Baby, I thought you and me would stand the test of time
Like we got away with the perfect crime but
We were just a legend in my mind, I guess that I was blind
Remember those nights dancing at the masquerade
The clowns wore smiles that wouldn't fade
You and I were the renegades, some things never change"
She snorted as she caught some of the song's lyrics; how is it the radio always knows the worst song to play when you're already depressed? She was so sure they would last, so sure this one would be different. She was sure enough to tell him that she loved him. But, of course, life wasn't that easy. Just because you love someone, doesn't mean you're meant to be with them. But, still with Matt…She felt her throat catch in her throat, and her chest felt heavy as she struggled against tears she could feel coming.
"It made me so mad cause I wanted it bad for us baby
Now its so sad that whatever we had, ain't worth saving
If the love that I got for you is gone
If the river I've cried ain't that long
Then I'm wrong, yes I'm wrong, this ain't a love song
She swiped at a tear as it slipped down her cheek, and went to catch the next as it fell. But her motions were only half-hearted. These weren't the pained, heartbroken tears she'd shed that night with Lia; these were filled with resignation. It was over. They were over. What they'd had, love or not, wasn't strong enough to keep them together. And, that was what really hurt, because Emily had let herself believe in it. She'd happily given him more of herself than she'd ever given anybody, and it had been for nothing. An ache settled in her stomach at the realization- this sick, painful feeling that felt akin to someone reaching inside her body and twisting around her stomach.
"I cried and I cried
There were nights that I died for you baby
I tried and I tried to deny that your love drove me crazy
If the love that I got for you is gone
If the river I cried ain't that long
Then I'm wrong, yeah I'm wrong - this ain't no love song
Emily shut off the song before it could continue, not up to listening to rest of the depressing ballad. She took a slow, deep breath in, and released it just as slowly, stopping the flow of tears trickling slowly from her eyes. She focused herself on driving, hoping something benign would soothe the pain in her gut. Ten minutes later she pulled into the driveway of her building, and steeled herself for another night without Matt.
Inside she threw her bag down, tossed her keys on the kitchen counter, and went right to the shower. She allowed the hot water to soothe her tired body, feeling it twist over her muscles, easing the tension from them. In her bedroom she searched for clothing, her attention falling on a button down shirt sitting on top of her dresser. Matt's. The deep blue colored shirt had been left on her floor, a token of how much she did enjoy seeing him in a button down, rare as it was. She remembered actually being surprised it still had all it's buttons attached, when she found it the next day. They had been that eager.
Against her better, more rational judgment, she slipped it on, immediately surrounded by a familiar musky sent. It fell just past her butt, and she had to roll the sleeves up to get them above her hands. Under the circumstances it was undoubtedly one of the worst things she could do, but god help her, it was what she needed. And inexplicably, that sore feeling in her gut dissipated the tiniest bit. Now, she should probably see about dinner. It was just after ten o'clock, she didn't want anything big. Then she remembered the ice cream Lia brought- the perfect meal for her current state.
A knock sounded on her door around 10:30, and disregarding her current attire of only Matt's shirt and panties, she looked through the peephole. Lia stood outside, looking quite anxious. Unlocking the door, and removing the chain, she pulled open the door to reveal the worried analyst. Lia smiled, before taking in her friend's attire, and then her brow furrowed, and lips fell to a straight line. But, she walked in and allowed Emily to shut the door first, before speaking.
"Matt's shirt?" It was clear from her tone that she felt this wasn't a good idea.
"Don't say it," Emily warned her, knowing perfectly well, she was making things more difficult for herself.
"Emily…" Her trailed off, tinged with disappointment.
"Don't Lia." Lia took in the exhaustion and pain in her eyes, and decided to leave it alone.
"Well, I just came by to check on you, you know after that negotiation…it couldn't have been easy."
Emily shrugged, as if to say it was nothing. Heartbreak and the ache of emotional pain were nothing new to her; she'd had more than her share over the years. And, had this been just another of those times, she could have gotten through it and actually felt the 'whatever' she suggested in her shrug. But this…this was so much worse. This put the same sick feeling, same twisted, bitter pain in her belly that she felt the day she found out what happened to Ally, when she was ten years old.
"Emily you can't stand there and pretend it was nothing, that it didn't hurt, when you're wearing his shirt." Lia pointed out her contradiction.
Emily didn't speak for several minutes, then her eyes blank and unfocused, she finally opened her mouth. "It's over Lia…just like that…it's over."
Wow, I have to say I was really surprised with how popular this story turned out to be, and thrilled to say the least. Anyway, I'm thinking two more chapters, the next chapter set after they had sex in the bus, and the last to pick up where the finale left off. Thanks for reading everyone, and thank you very much to my reviewers!