Maybe there's a God above,
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
Its not a cry you can here at night
Its not somebody whose seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
Leonard Cohen
12
A blender, one of those common place household appliances whose only purpose in life is to mix, chop, and puree a wide array of different things into something completely unrecognizable. Emilia's mind is much like this blender in the metaphorical sense; so many things swirling around the inside of her skull that it's head ache inducing. Maybe if her thoughts, however many of them where on an even keel it'd be different, but that's not the reality for her as her brain looks more like a bi-polar crack addict than anything else. Most of the time its dark, the familiar ache that's growing to comfortable for its own skin throbs like a misshapen organ, till a brighter light shines through, briefly Soap's face, his large strong arms or the sent of sweat and gunpowder will flash on the back of her eyelids, dulling the darkness back, but it never stays, her minding jumping to something before Emilia can grasp the image, something she wishes she could just forget; but the screams of the dead ring like the tolling bell louder than anything, wailing, a constant reminder of her guilt, her part to play in what she so desperately tries to forget.
All night Emilia has been staring at the water stained ceiling, the dark moulding spots make her think that that must be what her insides look like, tainted and never clean. A moment later she closes her eyes, a finger runs across her dry peeling lips, trying to bring back the feel of the Scott's kiss, his warm hands and the closest to heaven Emilia is likely to ever be; but its harder maybe than it should be, to go back to that moment, it's frustrating like trying to catch smoke with your bare hand, a nervous fear accompanying this chase like a bad shadow.. What if? What if he doesn't speak to her again. What if Soap, after the intensity had worn off came to regret his actions and wants nothing more to do with her.
Emilia's stomach twists nauseously with this new kind of fear… the fear of loosing Soap entirely yet still see him everywhere, all the time, so close and so far away.
A sudden knock at her door jars the girl so violently out of her meanderings that she literally flings herself off the bed, her hearts pounding thunderously beneath her breast.
Emilia quickly ties her long hair into a messy bun before walking the short distance to the dull white door and opens it.
"Aye lass"
And her heart abandons its assault on her rib cage to lodge its self in her throat as her embarrassingly wide hazel eyes look upon the Scot that was just on Emilia's mind, standing in her door way like God delivered the man himself.
"Hey, um.. What's up" she says, trying a little to hard to even out the tremor in her voice. He smiles down at her, before glancing away quickly and coughs, clearing his throat.
"Can I come in, thought maybe you'd like a drink, but I cant have this out in the open, I swear the guys around here sniff the shit out better than those damned dogs" Soap says and for a moment the words sound strange like he's not sure of himself, but Emilia looses it when her eyes leave his face looking down at a 2.6 of vodka gripped tightly in his hand; he's here now right, why would he be here if he didn't want to be, so… Fuck it!
"Yes!" she replies a little to enthusiastically "of coarse, come in" she moves back into the room and sits slowly down on her bed close to the head board so the large man will have room…. Its that or the floor, the Russians here aren't exactly generous when it comes to furnishing a room.
"How are you holding up" Soap asks as his sits down, the mattress groaning under his weight and he unscrews the bottle and takes a long gulp before passing it to the girl beside him.
Emilia shrugs and takes her drink, cringing a little as the foul tasting liquid burns her throat, and warms her stomach.
"Alright, can't sleep obviously"
Soap watches her, watches the way she averts her eyes when answering him, or the way she's playing with the bottle in her lap before taking another big gulp, she's nervous and he only hopes its because of him.
"What's keeping you up "she asks, uncomfortable with the spotlight on her and directs it back to him, a grin forms on her lips when she swears she just saw the man blush.
Soap chuckles deeply and takes the bottle back, drinking as he shakes his head, but doesn't answer her.
The two of them feeling like a couple of teenagers as the room fills with award tension, Emilia cant meet the Scott's eyes, twirling a loose strand of dark hair around one finger well her eyes stair at something seemingly more interesting across the room.
"So it looks like we'll be heading out soon, I'm pretty much all better" Soap says to her, but its sounds half assed like he's fishing for something to say, but she bites, interested now it what more he knows about this and Emilia finally turns her gaze back to him. Soap is looking at the floor, a strange expression on his rough features like he's confused and unsure, Emilia swallowing the rising panic and doubt as she speaks.
"Where- where are we going?"
He catches her eyes now, ice blue trapping the warmth of her hazel like a bear trap snaring the doe.
"Istanbul, one of Prices informants has named it as a hot spot for Makarov, the mans actually supposed to be there, so we leave tomorrow night"
Emilia nods, accepting this, if it's the place she's thinking of, it was on the list she'd given them, something that seems like had happened so long ago. And then in that instant as he passes the bottle back to her, her throat tightens painfully, her eyes swelling with emotion, even as Emilia fights to keep it all at bay, chugging the drink back as hard and fast as she can. Ghost and Roach, their dead and burnt faces flashing through her mind like a grim morbid slide reel, feeling so fucking helpless.
"What's wrong?"
Soap questions, the change in her was immediate and obvious, her once lax posture went rigid, and he watched as the girl drew inward, crawling inside herself, hiding from some dark monster that he couldn't see.
He takes the bottle from her when he's scared she'll drown, and Emilia wipes at her mouth before shaking her head, eyes boring a hole into her hands.
"How… how do you do it" she asks finally, her voice is quiet as she turns her eyes up to him and they're glistening.
At first Soap isn't sure what she means, till it dawns on him, and he understands.
"I just do lass, you deal with it. I've watched a lot of friends die over the years… it-it doesn't go away, you just become ok with carrying it around" he says slowly, carefully, like he's walking on single pane glass in full tactical gear.
Emilia smiles strangely at him after a moment but he recognizes it as one he himself has worn many times, the expression looking like it doesn't fit right.
Soap shifts on the bed, so his back is leaning against the wall, knees drawn up and tosses her a pack of smokes. He's much closer now than he was before, her small toes almost touching his thigh as she takes the cigarettes from him and lights one, which proves to be much more difficult than shed like as her vision swoons slightly, the flame of her lighter moves in away that should be impossible and with a loud bark of laughter Emilia realizes she's nearly drunk.
He laughs a little at her "I didn't know you were such a light weight. I just assumed because your Russian that you drink like one" she throws him a glare at that but he's right, she hardly ever drinks, and as it stands now, its been a long time.
"You caught me" she says stretching her legs out and exhales, smoke pluming out before them.
Emilia jumps a little when Soaps hand suddenly appears on her shoulder, he pulls her closer, flush against his side and he smiles at how the girl fits so well there. Her heart beats a little faster and her cheeks flush, some from the alcohol, but mostly from the large man beside her.
Soap reaches over to place to the bottle on the floor than leans back his arm still around her small shoulders, he's looking at her now, and he grins inwardly at the awkward smile on her lips, at the way she cant meet his eyes, but its different this time, there's a warmth in her eyes that wasn't there a moment ago, and maybe this girl isn't as broken as she believes.
There's no words left to say, nothing to fill the silence anymore. He cant draw it out, despite being scared of her pulling away this time, he jumps, taking the plunge, closes the small gap, and kisses her.
Slower this time, not so rushed and violent, his lips moving with hers, deeper. His other hand grips her neck and he can feel the shiver that sparks like electricity down her spin, pooling like liquid fire deep inside her.
Emilia's vodka dulled brain can no longer form logical thoughts as the world disappears around them, hardly noticing that she's laying down on the ruff cotton blanket of her bed. But is acutely aware of the man nearly crushing her as he grinds into her from above, one rough hand slides under the cloth of her tank top.
Some 4 hours later Emilia's tired bloodshot eyes open and she groans as her headache makes itself known. She try's to stretch out but there's something strange and hard beneath her head that's making her neck hurt something awful, so she turns to look and gasps when her eyes come across a large arm. The night comes flooding back quickly and for a moment it feels like a dream till she becomes embarrassingly aware of how naked she is.
'I slept with Soap…' she thinks, the words, even though unsaid sound strange between her her ears, that's when she turns and looks at him, still asleep laying on his back, her blanket is strewn messily over the both of them and a bright blush explodes in her cheeks when she notices that he's as naked as she is. But the good feeling doesn't last. If he didn't want to stay away from her before he sure as fuck will now. 'God damn it' Emilia wants to scream as she tries to very carefully slip out of bed with out waking the Scott. 'He's going to think I'm some loose emotional chick who bangs the first guy to ask if I'm ok!'
She makes it to the freezing floor and as fast as she can puts her cloths back on, desperate to get out of there, to not see the mortified look on Soaps face when he wakes up and realizes what happened and she's nearly in tears when she trips pulling her last boot on, her elbow smashing into the corner of the lone bookcase, cracking it loudly right on that excruciating sweet spot, and her teeth grind, a hiss the only sound that escapes her.
The Scott shifts on the bed, a deep breath escaping his lungs, and after one brief but intense moment he cracks one blue and looks at her, Emilia looking like a deer caught in the head lights.
"Where are you going?" He asks, his voice rough and gravely with sleep, and damn does he sound good.
"Uh… um, coffee?" she says stupidly, pissed off at her self for not being smarter and at least thinking of an excuse if she needed one, which she does now apparently.
"Aye, sounds fucking good to me" Soaps says and sits up, the muscles in his back rippling and twisting wondrously, but Emilia's eyes are drawn away, when she sees the freshly healed scar marring the flesh if his stomach.
She turns away blushing when he stands, the blanket falling back to the bed and she can here him chuckle as he pulls up his boxers and pants.
His hands are suddenly and quit surprisingly encircling her waist, his solid body pressing against her back, and she jumps before relenting, and leaning back into him, the rough hair on his chin scraps the soft pale skin of her neck but the way this feels is amazing.
"Relax lass" Soaps says gently into her ear, leaving so many things unsaid, but he's scared that she'll run so he just settles for this.
"What.. Um, do -" Emilia's struggling attempt at communication is cut short by a loud knock on her door and they both jump apart, the Scott quickly throwing his shirt over his head and stuffing his feet into his boots before nodding at her to open up.
"I was wandering where the bloody hell you where mate" Price says with his arms crossed, his whiskered face is stern and expressionless, but Soap can see the amusement in his mentors aging eyes, the Scott himself just shrugs, deciding not to bother with transparent reasons for his presence here, as Emilia putters around in the back ground, doing random useless things to quell the awkwardness that's radiating off of her.
"Get yourselves down to the mess, will talk there"
"Aye Sir" Soap nods and closes the door slightly but not all the way once Price is gone, and turns back to Emilia, surprised by her beat red cheeks, and the hand clamped tightly over her mouth in a weak attempt at stifling her giggling.
He smiles at her, taking note of how much different she seems when she's laughing, how her face changes a little, like that dark cancerous veil that hangs over her has, even for a brief time, loosened its grasp on her heart, in turn, tightens his own , and the sudden plunge his stomach takes when his mind realizes that Emilia has become, so quickly, something so important to him and its frightening, its putting yourself out there, to be vulnerable to attack, but he cant pull away, no matter how much logic and reason scream at him, soldier or not, he can't fucking do it, or he won't but it makes no difference.
Price is addressing the ragtag broken group before him, seated closely, ears straining to here him over the loud boisterous Russians behind them; they are formulating a plan, perfecting the infiltration of the mansion in Istanbul, it's a monstrous place, more like a small castle than anything else. Four stories high, 15 rooms, corridors and hallways and crawling with Makarov's men. Prices informant is positive that the big mad dog himself will be there, and this, this thought of actually seeing him again, looking into his face; it scares, twisting her stomach sickly. But you wouldn't know that, not at the moment, with the way Emilia is sitting next to Soap and Price, her chest puff out, chin up and face as hard and pissed off as she can make. Not wanting to appear weak in front of Yuri, whose casting her dark glances from his spot down the table.
She doesn't care what Price says, if you take away all this, what they're doing right now, throw the mutual hatred for Makarov out the window, all your left with is a cruel and self serving man, so in the end, if Yuri is picking fights, if he's calling out for blood Emilia wont hesitate, with to much at stake she'll kill him, she'll shoot him dead.
*Wow that took awhile, accidentally deleted half of this chapter last night… was nearly devastating L but I have finished it and started on the next one which will be super actiony! Yay get ready my lovelies*
