A/N: please review! I'll even go for some critique!
XIV
Ten minutes after they had left, Woody finally spoke, "Are you hungry?"
Emma, who was thinking about Woody's silent attitude, as she looked upon the lights of the city, replied in the affirmative.
"If you could have anything to eat, what would it be?"
"I don't know."
He sighed, "You're like a child you know."
"Only because you treat me like one."
"What's that supposed to mean?" He exclaimed sandwiching the car in between two others on the curb.
"The way you drag me around like I'm your shadow, 'we're going to the morgue now, and you're going to talk to Lily while I talk about the case with my good pals here,'" she mocked. "It's like you don't think I can handle what's going on."
He nodded silently, and without saying anything in reply, he got out, "Stay here, and honk if you need me." Something must have happened in the crime lab for him to be acting this way, just as a feeling had stirred her emotions in Lily's office. When he had come back to retrieve her, he held the same fiery expression on his face as he had in the police station the night before. She did not ask what had happened, she innocently obeyed and followed him to the car. What was her problem? Why does she let people push her around from one situation to the next?
She locked the doors. It began raining as she waited for his return. She listened to the rubber of the windshield wipers slide monotonously across the glass. She fiddled with his CD's and put in one labeled, 'The Kinks, You Really Got Me, Castle Edition.' Woody soon returned with a to-go bag and two Pepsis, and a smile at his favorite, high school band. He hopped into the driver's seat, and peeled away from the curb with gusto. Racing home before the black clouded storm could catch up with him. Thunder ripped through the sky as the car turned into the underground parkade.
"We'd better take the stairs in case of a power failure," He said, reaching into the backseat and taking their meal. In the stairwell, he finally came up with an answer. It seemed to take all of his courage to say it, as if the entire subject embarrassed him. His voice echoed, "I don't mean to treat you like a child. I'm sorry for that. I just think—"
"You just think that because I'm a woman and a person who is younger than you, that I haven't seen what you have seen and that I can't handle the situation I'm in," she finished for him.
"I suppose you could look at it that way," He said sheepishly, unlocking his apartment, quickly checking for anything amiss and then putting the food on the coffee table.
"Well, I can handle the situation." Once they had settled on the futon in front of the TV, Emma asked, "These smell good, what are they called?"
"Chimichangas; a deep fried burrito."
"Sounds artery clogging," Emma assumed taking a bite into one.
Woody did not answer; His mind seemed constantly to be brewing over something. They ate in silence but for the action on TV. Emma felt as if she were on a TV stake out.
When they had finished their dinner, Emma, sipping on the remainder of her Pepsi, casually asked, "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"
"Go ahead," said Woody, although slightly tense.
"What's up with Jordan?"
"Jordan? Oh, nothing," He replied disdainfully.
"She seemed pretty angry while she was walking past Lily's office when I was telling her I was staying here."
"You what?" Woody exclaimed, "You told somebody?"
"I told Lily, I'm pretty sure she's not going to tell the whole world. And Jordan might have overheard us talking," Emma replied defensively.
"Never mind about Jordan, you've put us both in a dangerous situation."
"Nobody else heard!"
Woody glared at her, "You're sure?"
"Yes! I'm sure the media poses more of a threat than Lily and Jordan!"
"You don't know Jordan…"
"There you go again, acting as if I can't handle the situation!"
Woody exploded, "You can't handle the situation, that's how you got into this mess! Remember, you got kidnapped, in your own hotel suite."
From the futon, Emma cast her eyes downward, "Only because I ignored the warning signs. And then neglected to tell you about them…"
Woody froze; he was pacing the living room like a father scolding his child for staying out late at night, drinking or doing drugs. However, now he stopped and looked at her blankly.
Suddenly, a bright light illuminated the room from the outside seconds later an especially loud crack of the thunder sounded. The TV began to flicker in tune with the lights and even the refrigerator was silent.
"I'll get a candle," Woody sighed.
Emma could hear him shuffling through drawers. She was silent in the darkness afraid that her enemy might be lurking and if she made a sound, he would find her, immobilize her, and steal her away before Woody could find out.
However, her silence alarmed Woody and he asked, "Emma, are you alright?"
"I'm fine," she quietly whimpered.
He did not answer; instead, he struck a match, which lit a white candle. He put the candle in the middle of the coffee table.
She felt disgustingly innocent, afraid of the dark as she was, she decided to make light of the circumstances and said, "I learned the definition of Necrophilia today."
Woody studied the half-grin on her face, and said, "Don't try to change the subject."
"Nigel told me that it's the urge to crack a cold one."
Woody contemplated her oddly for a second. 'How can this sweet little thing have such a dirty mouth? Wait, I'm forgetting, she's not little, or all that sweet. She's a grown woman. How can somebody in her situation think so morbidly? How can she have withheld information from me?' He recalled what she had said about moving on despite her terrorization by a stranger. Had she been doing so for longer than he suspected? He realized that in order to face her experiences, with courage, she needed to stand up and make her reality comic.
His eyes creased and his lips curled into a semi-smile, "That's pretty good. Now do you want to tell me what you meant before when you said you ignored the warning signs? How could you, Emma? I let you in my home, I'm taking care of you and you couldn't bother to tell me the whole story? Even after I had asked if you had missed anything?" With his arms folded, his voice was gentle, not accusing, as she had expected him to be.
Emma curled up on the couch, looking up to him like a lost kitten. She smiled silently. Her smile was not a happy one; it was one, which knew that if Woody became too irate, she would be lost on him. A grimace saying, 'I've held this in for reasons of my own and I'm only telling you now because I trust you, even if it bites me in the ass.' She showered herself with guilt
He took a seat beside her, putting a yielding hand upon her knee, "Do you want to tell me what this is all about?"
Deep inside, she felt he already knew what was eating her up. His touch comforted her somewhat, knowing that they were both still human, that they made mistakes, kept secrets and told lies. However, from what she had studied about Woody, he was perfect. Woody did not lie, or stretch the truth. He did not hold information from important people, only people who were not on a need-to-know basis. At that moment, she had never felt so awkward with him.
He sighed, removing himself from her, reclining on the futon so that he faced her. Upon his face was a serious expression. He eagerly waited to hear what she had to say.
"Well, I think you should know t-that…" she trailed away, too afraid to continue. She looked at him in silence. His intense eyes searched within her for the courage; saying nothing, only waiting for her to continue. "I'm so ashamed," she admitted, burying her frustration in her hands.
Still wordless, he patiently sat across from her. She wished he would say something to convince her to carry on, she felt as if he would sit there all night just waiting. She imagined the candle wax dripping down the table, evaporating in the heat for hours until it was a waxy stub, snuffed out with time. He would still be sitting there.
Finally, he said something, "I know you're hiding something important to the case."
Emma looked, bashfully up at him. She blurted in a whisper, "I know his alias, and I've known it for a while."