A/N: Warning, this chapter involves a much requested 'steamy scene'. If that's not your cup of tea, I'll add another note right before, so you can feel free skip it entirely. I'm not making it overly-detailed, but... Those of you reading it will definitely enjoy! Without further ado, let me introduce you to this unpunctual update. (:

Alison's POV

Silence fell in the awestruck room. I watched Aria's face grow visibly pale, as the last words on the card rolled off her tongue in a faint-hearted manner. A strong mixture of unwanted emotions stirred in the pit of my stomach, though none was quite capable of overpowering the other. I was almost positive my brain briefly short-circuited and rebooted itself seconds later, only to be flooded by a tide of questions.

"Are you guys actually taking this seriously?" Hanna arched an eyebrow at us, raising a hand up in disbelief, "isn't Calypso like... Cuckoo for cocoa puffs?"

"Yeah, I'm sure the nut house lets it's captives send fan mail," Spencer sarcastically scoffed, "she's probably the one who leaked the information to the media and now she's threatening to tell them more. Do you know how detrimental that can be to the case?"

Emily folded her arms in front of her, creasing her forehead in thought, "Are we absolutely certain that it's her, though? I mean, Aria was convinced that she was crazy, but then we found out that she was possibly faking it. Maybe this is a false threat as well."

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news but," Anet interrupted, taking the card from Aria, "this isn't a joke. We're not dealing with the same person."

"What do you mean we're not dealing with the same person?" I quickly quizzed, turning my attention to the psychic. She was hovering her hand over the card, seemingly stuck in deep cogitation.

Her dark orbs raised to meet mine, concern etched in her expression, "The girl from the ward... She's not the real Calypso. The person who sent this is."

"So, there are two of them? Why did that girl tell me her name was Calypso Maykis?" Aria countered, wide eyed.

Anet briefly closed her eyes, keeping silent for a few seconds. She occasionally nodded, as if answering to silent enquiries before fluttering them open again, "because she strongly believes she's Calypso. She's somehow mentally connected to her, like a psychic parasitic twin. She can't tell the difference between her own memories and her insight. She doesn't even understand that her visions are merely echoes of someone else's past, present or future."

Hanna shook her head and sighed, "That's cool and all, but can you translate that to English now?"

"She's crazy," Spencer responded flatly, stealing the opportunity to answer the question, "this explains why I didn't find any information about Calypso having a mental issue. This is someone completely different!"

Of course! Perfect opportunity for Spencer to redeem herself, my subconscious sneered, rolling her eyes.

"But that leaves the question as to whom Aria actually met in the ward. Maybe whoever she is can help us in some way," I theorized, trying to make the best out of the situation at hand.

"Don't we already have a psychotic psychic on our side? I don't think we need another one," Hanna jested, earning a slap on the arm from Aria. Her mouth fell agape as she glared at the petite brunette.

"I can't believe this, but I actually agree with Hanna on this one," Spencer added, "what can she do for us that Anet can't?"

The young witch stepped forward, twirling the threatening card between her fingers, "technically she's not psy-chic, she's psy-cho. Plus, she can do a lot of creepy things that I can't. For example, it's like she literally lives in Calypso's mind. I didn't realised it earlier, due to how strongly she believes she's actually this red haired woman. I mean, I thought she was her too! But I see everything clearer now, since I've found your friend over there," Anet tilted her head in the direction of an oblivious blonde who was lost in her own world, "that girl in the ward can let you know Calypso's every thought and that can give us the upper hand. That's a skill I don't even have, unless I'm in the same room as the person I'm reading."

A sudden, soft clinking of what could only be identified as an object hitting glass repeatedly entered our sound waves. Though minor, it was enough to draw our attention away from the young witch and onto the source of the disturbance—Samara. She was propped on top of the white sofa, legs folded neatly beneath her. With eyes glued to the screen of her tablet, she tapped incessantly using only her forefinger, which seemed to be the origin of the pinging noise. The resonance came to an abrupt stop as she realized she was now the center of observation.

"Oh, don't mind little ol' me," the bewitching blonde stated dismissively, switching her attention back to the iPad laying in her lap, "but before you all go back to your Scooby Snacks and Mystery Machines, I'd just like to point out the fact that the media probably has a lot more information than they're letting on. Any good journalist knows that you should build up the anticipation of the story, before giving the bulk of it. That way, the number of daily viewers explodes and you sell way more magazines, newspapers and all that jazz. If you want them to lay off the report, pay them off or give them something juicer to talk about."

"Samara's totally right," Hanna agreed, "when I heard rumors about Ryan Gosling and Eva Mendes breaking up, I was glued to TMZ and all over Perez Hilton's blog looking for the article. I'm telling you guys, Ryanna would be inseparable."

I face-palmed myself, shaking my head, "Han, you're missing the point. If they release our names and our pictures to the press, not only will it be revealed that I faked my own death, but it will bring negative attention to all of you guys too! Let's not forget that a lot of innocent people died there and everyone, including their families, will expect some answers from us! That psycho bitch might even try to pin this on us!"

"Did you say red haired woman?" Emily interrupted, totally disregarding my concerns and directing the question to Anet.

"Yeah. Red hair, green eyes, GREAT body..." she answered, suggestively trailing off towards the end.

And then it hit me!

"I can't believe you had a wet dream about Calypso!" I blurted, immediately regretting the words that spilled out of my mouth. The audible gasps only amplified my guilt.

Emily pressed her lips into a thin line, visibly taken aback, "it wasn't a wet dream!"

"Was there water?" Hanna asked, nudging against her.

"There was a river AND a waterfall," I replied, appreciating the quick shift in mood and also grateful that Hanna's inappropriate humour is finally working in my favour.

"Sounds like a wet dream to me," she concluded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "a very, very wet dream."

Emily threw herself in the sofa, defeated. I followed, sitting beside her to massage her shoulders. To be honest, guilt was still pulling on my heart strings. Poor thing, she was followed by this woman at school and all I cared about was her dream about her.

I'll have to make it up to Emily later, I mentally noted.

Aria ran her hand through her brown locks, "why does Calypso even want to continue torturing us though?"

"Umm, I don't know," Spencer shrugged exaggeratedly, "maybe because we sent her sister and mother to prison?"

"She's my sister too!" the brunette reminded us, fighting the tears forming in her eyes. Guilt evident in Spencer's posture, she began rubbing Aria's back, which was probably the only form of comfort she knew how to offer right now.

"We can't keep playing in a house of cards, waiting for it to all fall down," Emily stated matter-of-factly, finally breaking her short-lived silence, "we have to do something!"

"I have a plan," I announced, brainstorming a category 5 hurricane. The group gathered around our sofa. We spent the rest of the night, formulating possible counterattacks to undertake, in the event of something going wrong. We weren't going to make this easy for Calypso to do. We had to burn her, before she had the chance to burn us.

CAUTION: Tsk, tsk. Did you skip straight to this scene? If so, shame on you. This isn't for the weak of heart. If your virgin eyes can't handle this, please move on to the next scene. Lol, jk. Let's pop some eye cherries!

After assigning a room to each of the girls, I raced to my bedroom to slip into something more comfortable before Emily had a chance to get in. She was stuck in the hallway, explaining to Anet as to why Samara didn't want to share a room with her. The blonde was still feeling uneasy about exposing herself to the young psychic, during our little Truth or Dare game earlier. In my opinion, it was a great idea; I regret nothing. After everything they've been through together, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want their ship to sail.

Screeeeeeee, the sound of the door creaking shut broke me out of my chain of thoughts.

I quickly turned around, only to be met by intense, chocolate eyes burning into mine with deep desire. I don't know how long she was standing there, or how the hell she ended up in a silk robe, but I felt … frozen. She began moving towards me, undoing the loose bow-tie around her waist almost in slow motion. As her robe opened like the curtains at the number one show on Broadway, my concupiscence woke up from her rose-petaled bed, clapping in glee. Chills ran down my spine, while an ice-cold shiver ruptured through my body at the sight in pleasure. She looked hot as hell. The irony. I wanted nothing more than for our skins to make contact, so that I could put her fire out, as I melted beneath her.

With the moon shining it's spotlight on her through the slightly veiled windows, shadows cast down her toned, olive skin—every contour closely traced, replicating an unknown, detailed portrait; a masterpiece. And every artist needed to sign their work, right? My signature just happened to be made with my lips. Unf. My knees instantly grew weak as her robe collapsed to the ground, revealing a better view of the gift she hid underneath. Black lace cupped her bra, with her hair spilling seamlessly over her shoulders. My eyes didn't hesitate to wander down the vertical line of her abdomen, admiring how well the lingerie hugged her body closely. Lace sure complimented her well.

"I believe you owe me something," she said in a slightly husky voice, pushing me against the wall, "… and I'm here to collect."

I visibly gulped, as the bubble of anxiety expanded in my chest, breaking down all my walls of confidence and uncovering the Hanging Gardens of vulnerability which hid deeply behind them. Even though I already knew what was coming next, I was never prepared for how I felt during these moments. How could one person affect you so profoundly deep? Witches and wizards would weep at the magic Emily possessed within her soul and excavators would envy the depths of her love. Though she wasn't aware of it, she was the only person who wrestled through the layers of my existence, battling all my inner demons, until she reached the very core and rescued me from the hell I imprisoned myself in; a prisoner of my own pride. I often question where I'd be if she hadn't. Perhaps I'd be so lost in the facade I created that I wouldn't remember what the definition of individuality was, or how amazing it felt when someone saw exactly who you are, flaws and all, and decided to love you as if they weren't imperfections, but rather the things that made you perfect. Perfect for them.

I replied shakier than I intended, tracing the outline of her lips gently under my finger tips, "your wish is my command."

She smiled in response, closing the distance between our lips. With her arms wrapped around my waist, she kissed me like she was waiting her entire life for this; like every corner of my mouth was covered in pixie dust and she was finally getting a taste of all her hopes and dreams coming true for the first very time. That was something I was able to empathize with on many levels. Who needed a time machine when my future was right here in my arms?

"I think you're a little overdressed for the occasion," Emily breathed, breaking away breathlessly, gasping for air.

I felt the heat rising to my cheeks and I internally hoped the low lighting didn't give it away too much. She pressed her forehead against mine, slipping her hands under my tank top. Her haunting eyes were locked on mine, almost searching for something. I recognized that look. Only because my eyes mirrored hers, growing a darker shade of blue. It was hunger; concealed hunger, finally lurking to the surface, begging to overflow ... And we both surrendered.

Raking her nails up the small of my back, Emily unclasped my bra when her fingers met with it. That was enough to send my skin tingling in all the right places. We eagerly helped each other undress, discarding the garments to the floor. The desperation was almost palpable, hanging thickly in the air now. I needed more, though. I needed to feel her closer to me. I wanted our limbs to be so impossibly entangled, that I forgot where I began and where she ended. I wanted to make Plato proud, proving that we were once one body, separated by Zeus and condemned to spend our lives searching for our other halves—each other.

Hooking my leg around her waist, I pulled Emily closer. Her lips instantly connected with my mine, before trailing down my neck and occasionally grazing against my skin with her teeth ever-so lightly, sending me writhing into her. There was a sudden shift in our breathing, now coming out in short huffs. I encircled my arms around her torso, guiding her hips until our bodies found a slow, tantalizing rhythm that was bound to send me over the edge.

She slowly raised her left thigh, repeatedly pressing against my center ... once, twice, thrice. I bit back a moan, throwing my head backward against the wall. The fire burning throughout finally caught up between my legs, erupting into a sudden throbbing sensation. I was so close now. My knees were threatening to buckle.

"Oh, God, yes! Just like that," I whimpered, dragging my nails down her back.

Then, Emily removed her thigh. I grunted in frustration, missing the contact immediately.

"Relax," she cooed, tilting my head backward and slowly licking down my neck before leaving a trail of fiery kisses along my collarbone, down to my chest.

I involuntarily arched my body into her, slipping a moan out. Emily traced the outline of my nipple with the tip of her tongue, before taking it into her mouth. Her hand gave the other similar attention, squeezing the nub tauntingly and switching interchangeably between sucking and biting. If this wall wasn't supporting my back, I swear I would've already been on the floor.

Feeling her mouth traveling lower and lower caused my breath to hitch. Before I knew it, she sank to her knees, looking up to me for permission. I desperately nodded, bracing myself. She brushed her lips over my bundle of nerves over and over again.

"Please," I moaned, raking my hands through her hair. It was the only word I was able to choke out, which she understood quite well.

Emily placed one of my legs over her shoulder, holding me steady. Her tongue skillfully stroked over my sex, occasionally sucking and painstakingly repeating the process. My hips automatically thrust forward into her, only intensifying the feeling. All coherent thoughts disappeared into the back of my mind and my head grew dizzy, while my body fell limp. But when she delved her tongue into my warm wetness, the Earth stuttered on it's axis.

An alarm slowly seeped its way into my unconscious world, waking me out of my slumber. Birds chirping in a distance and wind blowing the branches against the window were also in my hearing range. Once upon a time, those would've been things that would trigger a panic attack for me. It's amazing how things change over time.

Heavy eyelids became the least of my problems, when I noticed my face was being peppered all over with feather light kisses. I smiled, opening my eyes to take in the bright surroundings. As my distorted vision finally started forming a focused picture, I saw the most beautiful sight I'd probably see all day—Emily. The morning sun gave her an angelic outline. Even with messy bed hair, she looked amazing.

"Good morning, sleepy head," she greeted, flashing a heartwarming smile.

I caressed her cheek, admiring how soft it felt, "hey, gorgeous."

"You're a really hard sleeper," she teased, "if only you knew all the things I did to try to wake you up."

"What did you … Never mind, I don't even want to know," I laughed. I knew she was kidding. Emily wasn't the type to take advantage of a sleeping person.

"Yeah, I don't think you'd want to know either," she winked, "you got 5 missed calls from someone named Kenneth O'Brennan. I would've answered, but I wasn't sure if you'd want me to."

Shit! I felt the smile melt off of my face, panic now settling in. I jumped out of bed, quickly grabbing phone to return the call.

"What's wrong?" Emily questioned, furrowing her eyebrows.

"He's the Director of the C.I.A. He said he'd call me when they were done analyzing everything they found at the Athena Organization's Headquarters," I answered, waiting for him to pick up. He was pretty busy guy, it would be a miracle if—

"This is O'Brennan," the voice on the other end answered after the 4th ring.

"Mr. O'Brennan, this is Ms. Darkbloom. I'm just returning your call from earlier," I announced.

"Oh, yes, Madison!" he cheerfully replied, "I need you to stop by my office, whenever you're free today. We found out some startling information after my team went through the evidence we took from the scene, and I think you'd want to see them."

"I'll be there as soon as possible. What information can you disclose with my over the phone?" I quizzed, curiosity-ridden.

"That's a hard question to answer," he paused for a second, "we ran the serial numbers for all the equipment we took and found out that they were all reported missing from our official headquarters a few months ago. The experimental procedures were also taken from our database; however, something went horribly wrong when they tried to actually perform the experiments on people. These dead bodies... And the lab reports on them are mortifying. You'll have to see what I mean when you get here."

I don't know why, but the happiness I had inside was soon replaced by uneasiness. Something told me that this was only going to get worse, as we uncovered more information about what was actually happening at that sick organization.

"Ok, I'll stop by in an hour. Thank you for the call, Mr. O'Brennan," I stated, before ending the call.

This is going to be a long day.

P.S. | Please excuse my poor smut-writing skills. I'm new to this. You'd never believe how many times I've re-written this chapter. So, I hope you liked it! I'm determined to finish this fic at Chapter 32, so that I can start my collab, "The Lullaby Machine", as soon as possible. I'd like to give a huge thanks to Alexa, the bae. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have uploaded this chapter any time soon. Also, thanks to Sydney for telling me that Paily would be endgame if I didn't do this, and to Alicia, author of "Endgame", for being awesome and giving me excellent tips. Last, but not least, thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited and followed Stolen Sunsets during the hiatus.

I've regained my inspiration, so expect more frequent updates. (: Oh, I'm on twitter, guize. Feel free to tweet me at AsaMoritz and tell me that you read this, so that I can follow you. Lets be friends. I don't bite.

P.S.S. | Next chapter will be split POV's... and a lot of dead bodies. Hope you're into that shit. Lol. Oh, we'll meet Kenneth, also followed by an appearance of Liam and Barth. It's going to be a super fun chapter!