Sorry again for making you wait so long, but this time I can't promise anything. To make up for the lack of updates this is a long one. I don't want to bore you with my personal issues, but I'm not suffering of writers block or anything, I just am very busy and I got sick again resulting in a trip to the hospital. To understand better just know this chapter has been in the doc manager since Sunday and I just forgot to post it.
Doyle's thoughts and actions may feel confused and random and, believe me, it's done on purpose. While Emily has Lauren and those two are definitely different personalities, Doyle finds himself conflicted within the same personality. It's more of a brain vs heart struggle than a split personality. For instance, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde are two different contrasting personalities, imagine that kind of contrast in just one personality. Emily's struggle with Lauren will be picked up later on.
Once again I wrote while I had a fever so some parts might seem weird, especially the last scene. This was supposed to be M rated, but I just decided to tone it down so everybody can read it and it's probably why the last part doesn't seem to match the rest for some reason, or that's my impression, anyway.
Huge thank you to everyone who's sticking with me, and please just know this overwhelming time is going to end soon enough. Enjoy and review :)
He'd found a parking spot, hidden in the woods and covered by the trees, just as he liked it. It had taken him just about twenty minutes. It usually took longer to find the perfect spot and it wasn't perfect, this one, but Emily wasn't feeling well and didn't want to move her too much.
To say his feelings towards her at the moment were conflicted was a huge understatement. When he kissed her that night he'd gone a little too far, he knew it, although he'd always been with Lauren back then, he knew she was basically Emily, maybe a bit more reckless, but still her, seeing her cry in front of him and get away from him pouring fear out of her pores had shook him loose.
The rational part in his mind kept reminding him he had taken her and was keeping her for a reason, a very specific reason, something that no other woman could do. It also kept telling him he had to be good to her, get her to at least trust he would take care of her, trust he wouldn't hurt her, she barely trusted her beloved teammates, there was no way in hell she would trust him. Though this part of his brain, or the little voice he could have sworn to have heard told him not to get to attached to her, after all he asked her to marry him once and he wasn't surely faking it.
The other part of his brain instead felt pity for her, felt what it used to feel over eight years ago, felt what he had when he'd decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He felt love, now clouded by betrayal and hurt, but strengthened after he found out about her saving Declan from the North Koreans and the local authorities and as much as it pained him, himself.
Whenever she slept he sometimes felt the urge to touch her to caress her shoulder and to pull her against him. When he'd seen her tremble a couple of nights ago he'd wanted to grab his jacket and wrap it around her. But her couldn't, he couldn't let himself get close to her again.
So he let the rational part win over any feeling he still had for her and reminded himself he was keeping her captive, basically, not organizing a tour to Ireland.
That is way when she fist started getting sick he was worried, but kept telling her not to make herself sick and just suck it up. When the illness represented itself over the next few days part of him grew more worried and the other overly annoyed. Both feelings getting stronger, but one was eventually going to overpower the other.
What happened half an hour ago determined the soft and vulnerable part had win over the rational one, for just a second, but still it worried him, made him realize he shouldn't wallow and get on with his plan.
He looked back at the bed he assumed she laid on, exactly where he found her asleep. It wasn't cold, chilly, and she wasn't covered by the blankets. He took the plaid blanket pushed at the feet of the bad and covered her up rationalizing he needed her to be healthy, which she already wasn't, so he needed to do everything he could in order to have her in good shape as soon as possible.
"Ian?" she mumbled, opening her eyes and staring at him, surprise written all over her face. "Are you alright? You seem a bit... off."
He shook his head, profiler right, even sleeping she could tell what he was feeling without looking at him. "You're the one who's not alright. Rest, I'll try a shortest way to Ireland in the meantime."
Emily found herself nodding and let her head fall back on the pillow, his pillow. She didn't want to move to her side, as it was closer to the door and colder. For a second she'd been surprised of his reaction, but she sobered up quickly, she wasn't in any fairytale world where the villain is nice to the princess. Quite the opposite.
She spent the rest of the morning, or rather until about four in the afternoon, sleeping or in bed anyway. She knew it wasn't like her to stay in bed for too long, not even when she was sick, which happened so rarely she didn't even bother rest, just overdose on cold medicine.
When she woke up, to her surprise, her knight in shining armor was nowhere to be seen. At first she thought he was in the 'bathroom' although she didn't heat him move o do anything, but she waited on the bed anyway partially due to the fact that her head still spun and hurt way too much, but also she felt uneasy, a very strange and uncomfortable feeling had settled deep into her stomach. It happened her often to get these feelings on the job she called it instinct and she was always, almost, on job mode.
She didn't have to think long about what to do because she felt the bile rise again in her throat for the second time that day. She stood, carefully slow, and made her way towards the door, waited just a second before going out, trying to swallow it. She knew for a fact she wouldn't be able to hold it, when she got pregnant she learned whenever she was really sick she wouldn't be able to compartmentalize and hold it like she did when it was her mind making her sick.
After mere seconds she bolted out of the van and threw up in some bushes. She'd seen in the corner of her eye Ian sitting on a chair staring away. Steadying herself with her hand on a tree nearby again she got sick. It was becoming dangerous and worrisome as she'd barely been eating, but still threw up what she thought to be gastric fluids, not having studied medicine or paid attention in biology class, that was the best she could come up with. Problem was how long she could keep doing this?
Sure, he'd promised to take her to a doctor, but what if her illness was stress related? She couldn't not to stress herself when all her issues came from Ian Doyle and she was positive she'd be staying with him for a while yet, not having been in the right state of mind o plan his murder. She'd allowed herself to wait at the beginning to be in a more stable situation, trying to kill your road trip companion while on a trip seemed a lot of effort and no good chances of success. Also he'd shown interest in keeping her with him and protecting her, so, she'd thought, at least she wouldn't have to worry about him.
What worried her instead, after her stomach decided to relax, wasn't Ian's absence, but the blood on the back of her hand, which she was completely sure wasn't there before she wiped her mouth off.
She turned to him and saw a wave of worry disappear just as quick as it'd appeared. He was still sitting, impassible, watching her. That morning he'd scared her, the way he'd been all over her, giving her his jacket and stopping the whole day just so she'd get better, he'd behaved the same way he had with Lauren. In that moment instead he was distant and almost didn't care.
"I think I might need a doctor after all." she admitted, trying to get a reaction from him.
He looked at her in the eyes and she did see worry, worry that he was trying desperately to hide. "Once we get to Hastings."
She let a tree take all of her weight and leaned over it squeezing her eyes shut for just a moment. "Probably in less than a couple of days would be best." seeing as he's apparently detached himself from her she used the same tactic, not that she'd tried to get close to him, spitting the words out at him.
His eyebrows shot up at her harsh comment. "Based on your judgment? Forgive me, but I've known you as a weapons dealer, killed you as an FBI agent, but not a doctor. Is there something you'd like to tell me?"
He was being sarcastic, but he didn't mean well. Emily bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from lashing out at him, given his current mood it wouldn't probably be a good choice.
"Well then what about what you told me? That you want me to be healthy and in one piece for your twisted deal? I'm not okay." he'd been stressing over her well-being, she hoped she'd touched a soft spot and got the message through.
He sighed, for what felt like a whole day. He knew she was right. He couldn't actually separate her captor from the man who once had loved her, or her cover anyway. His hatred for her had just faded, she'd betrayed him, but saved his son, he could not love her again fully and let things be the way they were for many different reasons, for instance he was th player of this game, she'd played before, but he wasn't going to lose his opportunity now.
"You know better than me you can't go to a hospital and I don't have friends who happen to be doctors in every city in western Europe. It's just a couple of days." he shrugged.
His behavior had managed a hundred eighty turn in the span of approximatively six hours. "Ian what the hell is wrong with you?" Seeing his confused face she continued before sounds came out of his open mouth. "Some times your all over me, like this morning, worrying and hovering, but then you act cold and distant and I don't understand why. We already cleared I'm not going to run, call it depression and suicidal tendencies, call it deal, call it fear of you, call it love for you, frankly call it whatever makes you sleep at night, but for my sake please settle on how you feel about this."
He was taken aback by her words. He'd come to know her on a pretty deep level, although, it'd been her cover, in the last few days, weeks, he'd realized those two personalities were more alike than she would have ever cared to admit, being a different person from someone who fell in love with a criminal most likely had set her conscience straight more than a few times. "I don't have to feel anything about this. Nor do you. The way I see it is just business." he responded in a neutral tone.
Emily, who'd slid down the tree and was now sitting on the grass, rolled her eyes not particularly caring whether he saw her. "Yeah right. You felt something back then, hence you must feel something now too. We're not business, too much crap happened for it to be just business."
"Well? What do you want me to say?" Doyle assumed a certain voice that Emily recognized and immediately knew he was being honest. "I wasn't faking anything back then. I asked you to marry me, I think that's pretty clear as to where I stood."
"Eight years ago, what about now? Where do you stand now?"
She could see, even from her weakened state, that he was trying so hard to look and act uncaring and distant, something that came easy to him, a sociopath, though when it came to her and Declan he'd always gone out of his way to make sure both were okay and safe. "Why would you even care? You said it yourself, you won't run, I won't hurt you, what else is there?"
Then there was silence. An incredibly uncomfortable, but short, silence. "I told you fairly recently how I felt. I didn't lie, I wouldn't gain anything lying to you now."
"Like I said, love, it's business and you're the very person that taught it should never get mixed up with pleasure. What about this?"
Emily shrugged. Just like it happened to her, sometimes it felt like he was all over the place, caring then cold, protective than distant. She'd been actually surprised as of lately, but in the first few days Lauren made herself known a lot more. Lauren was what, who, she leaned on when things with Ian got difficult or she just didn't want to react. She let Lauren free and let her be with the man she loved. She'd started to keep her under wraps when she started to become stronger and stronger, not wanting to end up like old Doctor Jekyll.
They once again sat in silence. For longer, but this time it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. They were sitting in the woods surrounded by chirping birds and the sound of the wind through the trees. Though after not as long as she would've wanted Emily had to head inside. "I'm going in," she informed him. "It's too cold out here."
He just nodded staring straight ahead, determined to enjoy the nature for a little while longer.
During the time she'd slept, he'd tried napping, not successfully as he'd had the urge to check on her more than a few times. The first couple of times he'd stood and poked his head inside just seeing her feet bundled up in the blanket was enough. But then he'd kicked himself, he reminded the weak part f him he needed her, but didn't need to love her and tend to her. So he repressed the urge, thinking and sleeping.
He'd come to the realization he needed to drive that night. He'd lost an entire day of travel because of her, and he needed to get as far as he could every day. He knew somebody was aware she was alive, obviously and so somebody had to be looking for her. Going to Ireland seemed like a very bad move, but all in all it was the smartest he could afford.
He'd thought about going somewhere that didn't lead straight to him, but then remembered he didn't have Liam, he didn't have as many contacts as he used to, so Ireland was the best move given he knew the territory like the back of his hands.
He headed inside just a bunch of minutes after her finding her, unsurprisingly, laying in bed, wrapped up in the plaid blanket staring at the ceiling. "You feeling any better?" he sat on the edge.
She turned her head slightly to him and nodded.
He laid in bed in his place, just like he did every night. He looked at her, stared at her, took in her image. She looked relaxed, pale, but better than she'd looked recently anyway. He remembered watching her sleep, for hours. Watching her dress up before they got together, when she spent the night and had to leave early in the morning.
He touched her shoulder and she flinched and scoot away instinctively. Her eyes burning into his. "What?"
He shook his head and withdrew his hand, "Nothing, I just... I wanted-"
"I think you've lost that right the moment you drove that stake in me." she said, carefully not looking at him, not sure what he'd see, given that she'd never talked about almost dying, that time, with anyone else. "You can't keep switching between wanting to have things back as they were and hating me and pushing me away."
He moved his whole body closer, trapping her between him and the closed trunk door. "I'm sorry about that. I meant what I did, back then. If I'd known before Declan was alive I wouldn't have killed you, tried to."
She snorted louder than she would've wanted, clearly furious. "I have had half a dozen surgeries, was forced into hiding, was in an induced coma for two weeks and you're talking about it as if you got wrong your pizza's topping?" she shook her head. She had to turn, to hide the tears that would fall in an instant. She didn't need him to see her like that, weak.
Before she could roll over, though, his hand traveled to her left hip and covered the area of the red ugly scar. For a second he just left it there, feeling the warmth of her through his hand. Ignoring her confused looks he swiftly lift up her shirt, revealing the horrible mark.
At that she let her head back not wanting to see both the scar and what he did with it. She didn't care if he'd just stare at it, like some trophy, or feel guilty. She didn't want to know, didn't care.
He took in the sight of the mark, red, marred and horrible, it was still healing and from time to time he'd noticed her rub it, obviously it still hurt. It looked like and L, more or less, and he traced the borders with a finger impossibly soft, if he hadn't seen goosebumps erupt all over her body he wouldn't be sure he'd touched her. His fingers kept hovering over the ugly scar for a few more moments, until he leaned over and kissed the upper tip, sending shivers down her spine.
She flinched at the contact, but tried not to move. She tried to stay still and not to react to anything he did, but couldn't stop herself when she felt him pull her shirt further up. "What are you doing?" she whispered.
He looked at her, his gaze said more than his words could ever. His eyes were the same as the first night they spent together years ago. "What does it look like I'm doing?"
Wetting her lips she caught his hand with hers before it got under her clothes. "If it were so obvious, I wouldn't ask."
He moved his head up then, to look at her straight in the eyes. While his hands worked to bring her shirt up to her neck and pull it over her head.
"Don't do this." her voice was low and quivering. "Please."
He'd seen her vulnerable, but never this vulnerable. He knew he wasn't going to hurt her, he knew her body well enough to know what it could take. He didn't want to upset her, nor get her to hate him, but as his rational brain reasoned, business is business.
He let his hands undress her as she begged him to stop. He wasn't hurting her, not physically, so in his mind it was okay. "Sorry love, if you relax you might even like it."
He didn't see tears, but knew he would in a matter of minutes.
When he started working on her pants she again asked him to stop begged him and tried to pry his hands away from her, thing was, she wasn't really trying to stop him. Ian Doyle would expect more struggle on her part if she didn't want it.
Emily's tears were now staining the pillow underneath her head, while she still told him to stop every now and then. She couldn't rebel, she'd tried to stop him, but he had all the power at the moment.
After efficiently removing all their clothing, he moved onto her, matching their bodies head to head, shoulder to shoulder, hips to hips. For a second he looked through her tears into her eyes. "Why are you crying?"
She sniffled, "Why do you think I'm crying?" she picked up his ruse and rolled her head on the side looking away.
"Well Emily, believe it or not, but I'm doing this for the both of us."
Before he could move she turned back and grasped both of his hands, "At least use protection." she croaked.
His eyes snapped up, away from his goal. She's always been strict on protection, and he know understood why, but it hadn't seem to matter now. "Aren't you on the pill?"
She shook her head. "It hasn't been my priority."
"I'm clean." he offered, not really comforting her, "besides I don't think you'll have to worry about anything else." generally pointed to her midsection finally tracing the scar one more time. Then he stopped listening to her, knowing she was once again stalling.
He ignored her tears and whimpers, her hands pushing his chest away and her legs trying to kick him away, he went on like it was nothing, he had to do it. It was the plan. He'd waited long enough for his sake. When he finished he crashed over her, for a minute letting her take all of his weight.
As soon as he rolled off on his side, she grabbed the plaid blanket and curled up in the corner, sobs still racking through her. What he did that she definitely didn't expect was to pull her blanket wrapped back to his chest and hold her tight. Gently, lovingly stroking her hair and rubbing her stomach trying to sooth her.