Fear and Loathing

Emily smiled coyly at Ian over her glass of wine. She may or may not have been mentally undressing him.

She was also thinking about how weird it was that the first 'normal' relationship she'd had was with an internationally wanted terrorist king-pin. But she supposed she'd never been the most conventional person in the first place and she kind of doubted he was either.

She was about to suggest the two of them cut their standing monthly date short so she could undress him for real, assuming she could make it that long (it wouldn't have been the first time they'd had sex against the door of a public restroom...), when he reached across the table to hold her free hand. "So, I've been thinking..." he said slowly, a tender smile playing about his lips. "Maybe we should get married."

Emily choked on her sip of wine. "Excuse me?" she sputtered. That was the last thing she'd been expecting him to say.

He quirked a brow at her less than overjoyed reaction. "I know you heard me correctly."

"I thought I already agreed to that..." She set down her wine as if she'd suddenly lost her appetite for it.

"I meant soon. Now."

"Don't you think that's rushing it a little...or a lot?" She attempted a smile, but it was tight and he saw right through it.

"Three years is rushing?" he countered pointedly.

"Well, not exactly, I guess," she admitted hesitantly, wracking her brain for a viable excuse. "But still... We just got engaged. Shouldn't we take some time, think about things?"

He frowned. This was not going at all the way he'd hoped. "What's there to think about? I love you and you love me, we want to get married – why not do it tonight, at the courthouse?"

"It's just..." She sighed heavily. Her tongue flicked out to lick her top lip as she tried to find the best way to let him down gently. "Things like this take time."

"Just to be clear – is it the courthouse you're objecting to or do you just not want to marry me?"

"No, Ian! Of course, I want to marry you! It's just..." She stammered, faltered.

"Then what is it!?" he demanded, voice too loud, attracting attention from nearby diners. "Why don't you want to get married?"

"Ian, keep your voice down," she urged quietly, grimacing apologetically at the other patrons.

"Stop avoiding the question, Emily," he snapped. "Is there someone else?"

"Ian, no!" she exclaimed, surprised by the sudden accusation.

"Is it me? You just don't want to marry an ex-terrorist? You're too good for me?"

Finally, she slammed her palms down on the table, rattling the silverware. "Enough, Ian! This isn't about you!"

"Then what is it about? Because I can't perceive of anything that would make me not want to marry you."

"It's about me, Ian."

"Then why did you even agree to marry me if you didn't want to?" he snapped.

"Because I didn't think you'd want to rush into it. I thought there would be time to get used to the idea..."

"I want to marry you, Emily – I want to be married to you now and I don't understand why you don't want that." He shook his head slowly as if he were disappointed in her.

"I do, Ian. Really," she tried to reason with him. "But marriage is a big step – huge – it changes things, it changes people."

"What change are you so afraid of?" he asked, seeming utterly bewildered by her reluctance.

She sighed slowly, eyes falling shut. When she opened them again, she took one of his hands in hers, consolingly. "What we have, Ian...it's built on sand. We're only together because you were a criminal. Yes, I fell in love with you, but is it enough? I really don't know..."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You wouldn't build a house on sand and we can't build a marriage on it either. What happens when we're married and you realize you only love the illusion of me, not who I really am?"

"You're being crazy, Emily – I do know you and I love you."

She chose to ignore the first part of that sentence, focusing instead on the latter claim. "No, you know Lauren. You know the bits and pieces of myself I've chosen to reveal with time. If you'd known me, the real me, would we even be here today? I don't think so."

"Are you calling me shallow?" he accused.

"I was literally sent to arrest you! Are you honestly trying to tell me that wouldn't have killed your libido a little?" She laughed a little hysterically.

"That doesn't matter, Emily! You're hiding behind technicalities and what if's. Either you want to get married or you don't. It's that simple. And if you don't...maybe we shouldn't be together."

"Ian..." she whispered, clutching his hand tighter. She shook her head slowly, eyes filling with tears.

He stood up from the table suddenly. "Maybe you need some time to think about this."

"Ian..." she said again, voice choking on desperate sobs.

When Morgan asked her the next day if she'd had a long night, she couldn't exactly tell him that she hadn't slept well because her ex-terrorist fiance had been too angry over her refusal to marry him to sleep in the same bed as her, leaving her tossing and turning all night as she replayed their fight and worried that she'd ruined things between them for good.

Clyde had done her the favour of keeping Ian and Declan out of her personnel file, meaning no one – not even Strauss – knew of them and she planned on keeping it that way.

So, she told him the first thing that came to her head. It wasn't even a lie, really, more of a half truth. She had ruined their date, afterall...she just let him think it was a blind date with a stranger. And he'd chuckled and waggled his brows like he knew exactly what she meant and she gave him that forced smile while keeping him at a distance, afraid of what he might read in her, the truths he might discover.

She liked him, really, wanted his acceptance, his friendship...she just didn't know how to let him in without risking her entire castle built on sand.