Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.
AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to the amazingly talented purpleplasticpurse for beta reading!
Warning: dark&twisty
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XXXIX
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Until We Know What To Say
(The Color In Anything/Staying The Night III)
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"Are you just going to stand there all day long?" Emily wonders from where she's sitting on her couch, watching the security guy in the reflection of her TV screen.
"It's what I'm supposed to do, yes," he states, irritated.
"Why?" Emily prompts, turning around slightly to meet his gaze. "Don't you have anything better to do than babysit the Ambassador's daughter?"
"I'm not your babysitter," he clarifies. Emily has to stifle a laugh.
"What's your name?"
"Does it matter?"
Emily shrugs. "If you're going to stare at me for the rest of the day, you could at least tell me your name."
He stays quiet, a look of disdain crossing his features.
"My mother told you not to talk to me, didn't she?" Emily notes with a roll of her eyes, not really surprised. She should have just stayed at the hospital. A 72-hour hold couldn't have been worse than this.
"I'm going to take a shower," she announces, mostly to herself, already getting up.
"Keep the door open," the security guy orders, just a little too smug, and Emily stops. Turning back around, she raises her eyebrows questioningly. "Excuse me?"
"I'm supposed to watch your every move," he declares with feigned sympathy. "You're on suicide watch, honey."
"Am I?" Emily muses, slowly shaking her head. He couldn't be more wrong. Her mother just wanted to make a fucking point.
"No shower for me then," she taunts calmly, offering him a complacent smile in return. Laying back down on the couch, she wonders if it would be enough to call her mother and apologize. Maybe that would do the trick.
Emily already knows that getting her car and credit card back won't be as easy, though. She definitely has to come up with a plan, and fast.
Turning her head back to where he's still by the door, Emily wonders if it's worth the effort to try and seduce him. If she went to take a shower after all, maybe she could-
The thought alone makes her sick, and she just shakes her head at herself before closing her eyes in defeat.
No, it really isn't worth it.
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When she wakes up, something is different.
Moving slightly from where she's curled up on the couch, the first thing Emily notices there's no one guarding her apartment door. For a moment she holds still, listening and wondering if it was possible that-
"Thinking about running away?"
Startled, Emily turns around.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" she blurts the second she catches sight of Aaron, watching her intently from where he's leaning with his back against the wall.
"That's not the reaction I was hoping for," he states with a chuckle, and Emily frowns.
"Where did the other guy go?"
"His shift was over. Mine just started."
"What are you talking about?" Emily mutters as she sits up slowly. Absently running her fingers through her hair, she wonders if she looks as terrible as she feels.
"Are you hungry?" Aaron wants to know, his arms crossed in front of his chest almost defiantly. "I brought something to eat."
"No," Emily shakes her head. "Why are you really here?"
"I told you."
"Why would you have to go back to-" Emily stops. "Wait, did something happen?" she asks, unease building.
"I still do some extra shifts. I thought I told you."
No, Emily thinks but stays quiet. Something seems off, and she wonders if he's telling her the truth.
"What happened?" he asks, more gentle this time. His arms are still crossed in front of his chest.
"I'm sure there 's an official statement somewhere, isn't there?" Emily mumbles, turning her gaze away to look at the floor instead of him.
"I'd rather hear the truth," Aaron states, and Emily takes a breath.
"I don't remember," she admits. It's neither a lie nor is it the truth. "I'm going to take a shower," she adds casually before getting up.
"Just don't close the door, Emily. Please."
She stops with her hand around the doorknob. Turning her back towards him, her dark eyes meet his from across the room. "Why?"
"You know why."
"This is ridiculous."
It doesn't sound as self-assured as she would have liked it to. Aaron stays silent.
It would be easy to throw the bathroom door in his face and lock it before he's anywhere near it. Yet somehow, Emily can't bring herself to do it.
"Whatever," she mumbles, making sure to leave the door ajar.
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"You need to eat something," Aaron tells her an hour later, watching her carefully from across her small kitchen table. Emily wonders how long it will take until he loses his patience.
He pushes the plate in front of her yet again. Even though it makes her feel all the more childish, she shoves it right back.
"I'm not hungry."
"Try to eat something anyway. Please."
Reluctantly, Emily reaches for the fork. "Does my mother know you're here?" she wonders, looking up to meet his gaze.
"I assume she does."
"Did she request your presence?"
"Why would she do that?" Aaron asks while he pushes the plate towards her one more time. Staring down at the untouched food, Emily wonders if she owes him the truth.
"Emily?"
"I'm tired," she says, slowly letting go of her fork.
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With her eyes closed, Emily's curled up in her bed, listening to the faint noise from the running TV.
She's barely able to hold still, her restlessness getting worse with every passing second. She feels the need to scream in frustration, longing for anything to take the edge off. But she's not naive. She knows her mother had her apartment searched. She has no doubt they even took her last package of cigarettes.
Biting her lip so forcefully she draws blood, Emily turns to her left and then to her right. She's freezing, yet her skin feels like it's on fire, burning her from the inside. Pushing the covers away she slips out of her bed, making her way barefoot over the floor. She practically tears the curtains aside before she pushes open the window with shaking hands, desperately breathing in the cold winter air as soon as she succeeds.
"What are you doing?" Aaron asks. He sounds awfully concerned from where he's lingering close behind her, but she doesn't even answer. She keeps staring out into the night, watching snowflakes tumble from an overcast sky until she starts to get dizzy.
"Emily?"
Black dots dance in front of her eyes, too fast, when Aaron comes into her line of sight. He's reaching for her, his hands brushing against her shoulders. For some reason that only makes it worse.
The pain comes rushing back out of nowhere, just like it did this morning. From one second to the next, there's a heavy weight on her chest like she's buried under a ton of bricks. And just like earlier that day, Emily doesn't understand it at all. Her eyes grow wide and she grabs the windowsill with force.
She tries moving backwards, out of Aaron's reach, even though she can't explain why. He takes a step away from her, intuitively raising his hands.
"None of this is real, Emily. You just think you can't breathe. It's just in your head," he says, calm but firm. "Look at me, Emily," he tells her, more forceful this time. "Concentrate on my voice. I promise everything is going to be all right."
She blinks, confused and panicked, tears burning in her eyes while she's desperately trying to get some air into her lungs. It's not working. Breathing is absolutely impossible.
"Please, Emily, just look at me," Aaron tries again, getting just a little bit frantic. She forces herself to meet his gaze, but he only keeps blurring in front of her eyes. Her head hurts, everything does, her chest is heaving with her useless efforts to draw another fucking breath. Darkness is creeping closer and fast. Emily knows she's about to faint, but she doesn't care anymore. She just wants it to stop.
"Emily!" Aaron calls out and she feels his arm slip around her waist to keep her from falling. It's the last thing she's aware of before everything fades.
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When she opens her eyes again, she's back in her bed. Only half covered by a blanket, she sees the window is still slightly open.
She's alone, but she can hear Aaron's voice from the kitchen. He's talking to someone, probably on the phone since his voice is the only one she can hear.
Turning slowly to her left, Emily looks out of the window and into the dark night sky. She watches snowflakes tumble into the room, floating through the air until they settle on the floorboards, melting the second they touch the ground. It's almost comforting to watch.
"How are you feeling?" Aaron asks and Emily looks up, startled. He's standing next to her bed, watching her with an expression that makes her weary. She hasn't even noticed he came back in the room.
"I'm fine," she says hoarsely, but her words carry no meaning. The restlessness is back, as well as the emptiness, overwhelming and relentlessly growing. Emily can't help but bury her fingernails deep into the skin of her bare arms, so deep she feels blood well up from under her fingertips.
"I'll go get you a glass of water," Aaron offers, turning, and the moment he does she grabs his hand. He stops, his eyes finding hers. She isn't sure what she wants, she just knows that she doesn't want him to leave, even when it's just to go get her something to drink.
It's Aaron who moves first, not letting go of her hand while he rounds the bed to lay down next to her.
He pulls her into his arms, close against his chest, and Emily wishes it wouldn't make her feel as comfortable as it does.
This isn't right.
He's not hers to keep. He never was. He never would be.
"Why won't you talk to me?" Aaron murmurs quietly, pulling her just a little closer into his embrace.
"You're going to leave as soon as I start," she whispers, her eyes still fixed on the dark night sky in front of her window.
"There's nothing you could possibly say that would make me leave." He sounds sure, like he actually means it. Maybe he does.
"You don't know me, Aaron. You don't know me at all."
If he did, he wouldn't be here. No one would be able to stand that amount of darkness.
Closing her eyes, Emily says nothing more. Aaron doesn't either.
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She wakes up alone, her apartment eerily quiet.
The window is closed, the curtains are drawn shut and she's carefully wrapped into a blanket. The bed beside her is cold and empty. The only indication that Aaron's ever been there is his cell phone on her nightstand.
Sitting up slowly, Emily reaches for an oversized sweatshirt carelessly left on the floor before she slips out from under the covers. She's on her way into the kitchen when a knock at her apartment door makes her stop.
She almost expects it to be locked, but to her surprise, it isn't.
When she opens the door, she finds Julian standing there. He has a tiny plastic bag filled with pills in his left hand, a bottle of vodka in his right.
"Miss me, princess?" he asks, a smug grin growing on his face when his eyes find hers.
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Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.
