Author's Note: I ended up not having nearly as much homework as I expected (big history project), so I decided to leave you guys with this little goody~

This somehow went from 800 to 1,300+ words. Oh, the power of editing...

Anyhow, I hope you enjoy!

-Erin

(btw, to any Icelandic viewers (and I know there's at least one of you!): please point anything I'm showing or describing wrong, or even just drop a helpful suggestion that'll make this fanfic more accurate. You're input would be greatly appreciated!)

With the strange incident in the bookstore still weighing on his mind, Emil bid Bjarni good night, and headed home. As he walked, his thoughts kept drifting back to the look the Frenchman gave him. It was almost look the stranger was sorry for him, and it unnerved Emil to no end. It was almost as if the guy knew him..

A sharp pain erupted in the side of Emil's skull. He stumbled, and swore as he clutched his head. It faded after only a moment, and he stood there. He brushed it off when it didn't appear to be anything serious, and he continued on his way.

He reached his building and ascended the four flights of stairs to his flat. He still going over what happened at the bookstore as he reached his own door. Frustrated, he almost slammed the door shut, and flopped down on the futon. Today was simply not his day, and he was ready to end it. He didn't even want to bother with dinner, he was so ready to go to sleep. In the end, Emil was in bed and fast asleep before the sun had even set.

For once, Emil was not greeted with a vision of the blond stranger from his dreams, and he didn't bother to wake up At the usual early hour. He had no job to go to, so what was the point. Even as he thought it, the fact left a sour taste in his mouth. If he wasn't careful, Emil would have to get a new job, and he didn't want that. He liked his job at the coffee shop. He liked walking in to the smell of the fresh grounds in the morning, and getting to watch people while he wasn't busy. He liked talking with Fríða and the baristas. The tips from unknowing foreigners certainly didn't hurt, either.

Emil sighed heavily. He had had days like this before, and they always sucked. Now rather depressed, he dragged himself out of bed to sit in front of the coffee table. His laptop was off to one side, and he stared at it. He slowly slid it over to himself and flipped open the lid. He opened his novel, and stared at it. He was reaching the end of the book. He might even finish it soon.

It was on odd feeling. He had been working on this project for almost a couple years now, and the thought that he could finally send it off to an editor was almost exhilarating. He even smiled in spite of his sour mood. Maybe he could actually start thinking about a sequel…

Not feeling particularly inspired to work on it, Emil hauled himself up off the floor. Maybe he'd go and visit Eiríkur or something. The idea was quickly vetoed, however. Something must have happened to keep the student busy yesterday, and Emil didn't want to interrupt and possibly make him late. Instead, he decided to go for yet another walk. He had the free time now, and he might as well do something at least vaguely productive with it.

The wind coming off the ocean was particularly cold that morning, and Emil had to wrap up in an extra jacket and scarf. He didn't bother with a hat, though. He disliked them, especially how they seemed to muffle everything.

The day was wonderfully crisp and clear. Very few clouds trailed in the azure sky, and the sun lit up the old city. Emil decided to take a detour into an area of Reykjavik he didn't visit very often. It was one of the more colorful neighborhoods, with some nice shops and bright, cheery buildings; even with the economic hardships.

As Emil walked through the streets, he was surprised with the energy of the place. There were more people than he had seen last time he was there -or even at any time, for that matter. As he walked and listened to the buzz around him, the thing that amazed Emil the most was how many of these voices he heard were speaking in Icelandic. The thought that all these people might have come back from somewhere else brought a feeling of happiness that he had never felt before. Maybe, just maybe, things were finally starting to look up for Iceland...

At that moment, something very strange happened. A heat like red hot flames burst in his chest, and it felt like he was floating up into the air. He saw everything around him almost as if through an overexposed photograph, like it was lit by an otherworldly light. He turned in a slow circle, looking at every face he could. Then, another strange thing occurred to him. It was like he knew these people. Each and every one. Something old and familiar stirred in his core, and he stood, awed by the sheer ecstasy of this new feeling. The energy he felt in him, from each and every one of his people...

It almost brought tears to his eyes.

Emil stumbled, crashing back to reality. He braced himself against a nearby wall, and listened to his heart pounding in his ears. What the hell was that? He didn't know these people. He didn't know any one here! And they certainly weren't his by any stretch of the imagination. He shivered violently. The heat inside him had vanished, and as he stood there, a feeling of cold and emptiness settled in him.

Shaking his head and gathering his bearings, Emil kept walking. He was on the edge of a small square, with a few quaint shops around the edge. Emil ignored them and their temptation, and pressed onward across the open space. He focused on the ground as he walked, not wanting to look at anyone after that weird experience.

On the other side, Emil found a small alley; a rare sight in this city. In a split second decision, he decided to take a short cut through it, in order to avoid dealing with anyone else.

As he entered the shade cast by the buildings, he tried to forget his strange feeling, and he let his thoughts drift away. They settled on his story, and a smile crossed his face as he mused. He was especially proud of the plot twist at the climax. The shock of the main character as his true heritage is finally revealed? Absolute perfection, in Emil's mind.

He was so lost in his thoughts, that he didn't hear the two people following just behind him. It wasn't until a sickly sweet stench reached his nose that he actually realized something was wrong.

Emil tried to whirl around, but he was grabbed and from behind and held in an iron grip. A soaked rag was forced against his face as he gasped in sweet smell of the liquid was overwhelming, and his mind began to spin with panic. He fought against the people holding him, but his limbs started to fail him. Too late, he realized what had happened, and in a last ditch effort to save himself, tried to hold his breath.

As the last bits of consciousness abandoned him, Emil was left with one, final thought resounding in his mind:

Oh my god, I'm being kidnapped