OOC: I know I know. Huge, enormous, colossal delay. But I have some real bullshit to deal with here. Plus college is on again. Crap in the bucket! Anyway, I'll be able to upload maybe a chapter a week, but it'll be more regular now. Please review guys. And, please don't have me for being tardy.
"Feeling better?" Neal asked the lithe figure that was as graceful as a vine even on a hospital bed.
"Much, thank you." She nodded to the ivory vase of roses that sat upon the little marble table by her bed. "And for those too…"
He smiled faintly before placing himself on the chair he had pulled close to the snow white bed. "Aisha, I—"
"You need to know who attacked me." She spoke with sharp simplicity, reminiscent of one who was running out of time. "That is why you came, bearing thickets of roses in ivory frame." She was as poetically abstract as ever.
Neal smiled again in spite of himself. She was just fine; she was a strong woman, just like Peter had said. They had argued all morning regarding the issue of questioning her. Neal had wanted her to have some time to recover but Peter insisted that they needed information on her attacker as soon as possible, if they were to make any substantial progress into solving this case. "If we're not careful, we could lose this case, Neal. The President's office has been pressurizing the Bureau for results. I do not need this to develop this into an international situation…and I do not need this to be bumped over to any other unit, not on my watch."
"So, do you remember anything?" He reached out to take her hand, then stopped.
"I remember him in a mask. A blackened face. And I remember a hard blow." She instinctively raised her hand to brush the wound. "I'm sorry Neal. I…I can't seem to recall any more."
Neal watched the play of light and shadow upon her porcelain face before he finally took her slender, small hand in his palm. "I'm sorry you had to go through this, Aisha. And I'm sorry I wasn't there." He spoke without a thought, words left him like blood from Caesar's wounds.
She felt what she hadn't felt in eons, her heartbeat pause, and then race with maddening, erratic speed. Almost without her knowing, her fingers tightened around his. It hurt, this sensation within her chest, a sensation she believed, had been frozen forever, on purpose. Aisha pursed her lips, trying to hide the whisper of tremble upon them. "I'm quite alright, Neal."
"I'm not convinced." Neal wrapped her hand in both of his. "You were afraid. You were afraid for your life. And there's no point trying to hide it. I can see it Aisha, in your eyes. I can see it."
She looked away, for she couldn't let him see her stinging eyes, couldn't let him realize that it wasn't death she feared. "I was afraid I'd never lay eyes upon you again. I was afraid I wouldn't have this moment." The foolish warmth that slid down her cheeks, smearing the light touch of makeup she had applied. "I didn't want to go, Neal."
She expected a loosening of the grip on her fingers, she expected the sound of the chair being pushed back, she expected the sound of the door closing, followed by a rush of cold air from the air conditioner which Neal blocked. The lily would fade, triumphed over by the rose. Stepsisters of Cinderella…lilies-withered, faded, lost…
A burst of warmth grasped her, engulfed her. Aisha felt his Egyptian cotton-threaded shirt soak up her sobs as his strong, subtly muscled arms pulled her into heat-lusted embrace. His fingers flitted through her raven ringlets of unmade hair, and she realized she was clinging to him, her weakened arms wrapped around his chest. His breath kissed her neck in fevered passion. She felt his hair against her cheek as his lips touched the white nape of her neck hesitatingly, nervously. Choked sobs tore out of her throat, her little body shook and trembled until he held her even closer, his lips nuzzling and whispering an assurance into her love-starved ear. "I won't let us be apart, Aisha. Not any more."
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"You're happy today." Elizabeth poured herself a mug of coffee, watching Neal flit in and out of the kitchen, carrying armloads of ingredients and blabbering endlessly.
He stopped in the middle of a tale regarding Jones' expression at a taste of the Bureau coffee. Had it been so obvious? Had he changed? So fast? So easily? Kate…did Kate mean nothing to him anymore? Neal shook his head. No, the pain didn't leave, at least not completely. But, he closed his eyes and tried to picture her face. Did it hurt less? Did the guilt not claw at him endlessly anymore? Was he truly…happy?"
"Neal?" Elizabeth reiterated her statement, her glace laced with curiosity. "Is it…" She looked towards the stairs to ensure her husband wasn't descending. " her?"
Neal furiously chopped parsley, making as much of a racket as possible with a knife and a cutting board. "What do you mean? Who?"
"Don't play with me, Neal Caffrey. You don't barge in and cook authentic Spanish fritters unless you have cause to celebrate. So, give me a reason as to why I should uncork some wine."
He scooped the chopped greens into a bowl before turning around and facing one of his closest friends, a woman he could turn to at times where there was no one to whom he could ask a certain question, not Mozzie, not Alex and certainly not Peter. "I…yes, its her, Elizabeth. I…I have this strange feeling, and I think I know what it is…and I'm so happy, but I don't know if I should be." He turned and started grounding spices in an old fashioned mortar. "I don't wanna think I'd forget Kate this easily…I don't wanna be that kind of a man."
She watched the figure bent over the mortar, bent over with burdens so simple, so common, yet so unbelievably difficult to lighten. "Listen to me, Neal." Elizabeth left her chair and walked to him. "It hasn't been easy, what you went through. And being happy, its something you deserve. Nobody's denying your love for Kate, but that kind of love needs to be reciprocated. You can't burn yourself in for forever, it doesn't exist like that. You have every right to be happy, Neal. You have every right to love."
Every right to love. " I don't even know if its love. Do I love her, Elizabeth?"
"I can't answer that, Neal. No one can, no one but this guy." She patted his arm. "No cook me some fritters, will you? I'm starving. And quit the onions." She smiled knowingly.
He realized a drop of moisture had betrayed him, and laughed. How long had it been since he had done something as impulsive, as stupid as letting a tear escape? Too long. Maybe a part of himself, a part of himself he believed had eluded him forever, was returning.
"So, is she doing okay? You know, after the…" Elizabeth had returned to her place, busying herself with impeccable Italian roast.
"Yea, actually. She's fine, a very tough woman, you know. She says…" He paused, running his tongue over lips which had suddenly become dry. "She says she's going to be here, in New York for a while..." He spoke haltingly, as if each word exerted him, forced tremendous effort on his part.
"You have to go to her, Neal. You have to ask her, better yet, tell her. You need to know what it is that you feel. And only she can help you figure that out."
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"Try to get some rest, Aisha. You're still not as recovered as I would have liked." He spoke into his cell while waiting at the counter of a little coffee shop two blocks down from the FBI building. "I am not worrying too much. You forget, I've seen you in the hospital….No, no. This is not because we…well, maybe that is part of the reason." His voice was laced with laughter. " Now, will you stop exerting yourself?" He smiled to himself as her silvery voice rang in his ears like a sweet rhapsody. "Alright, I'll come by in the evening. Bye…..I miss you too."
"Girlfriend?" The man at the counter asked, handing Neal two espressos. He had been a regular customer and as was true of Neal Caffrey, he had managed to strike up quite a friendship with the staff.
"Not really. We're just…uh…seeing each other." He scooped up the Styrofoam glasses, then quickly put them down, blowing at his palm. "Hot.."
"Lemme get you a bag. Hold on." The counter guy started rummaging.
"Thanks, Charlie."
Neal leaned over the glass case at the counter that displayed a feast of multicolored confectionaries and snacks. His eyes caught onto a slice of black forrest cake with extra dollops of cream, and he wondered what her sweet tooth preferred. She did like chocolate; he had seen a bagful of them that night when they had walked together. He wished he had taken a closer look at the contents, Neal sighed. The way to the heart being through the stomach was as true of women as of men, as his long experience told him.
"She likes lemon meringue pie, custard tarts, sata andagi, hakuto jelly and chocolate mousse. She likes anything dumped with chocolate, really." He turned to find the owner of the most melody-laced voice and found himself looking at what was possibly the most beautiful creature to have ever walked the earth.
"What…?" He started.
"Aisha's specific favorites are Noka chocolate, the Sultan's Golden Cake served at the Ciragan Palace, the Fortress Stilt Fisherman Indulgence and Strawberries Arnaud." The woman was an absolute vision in white. She wore a ivory dress that ended below her knees, splattered with a delicate floral pattern in light pink. Folds of heavy black hair adorned a face that seemed to glow in the grip of some incandescent tan. In fact, all of her exposed skin seemed touched by some unearthly glean, from her lips tp her eyelids to her fingertips. She wore a pendant with a single aquamarine gem, but Neal's trained eye could easily estimate that it was worth more than perhaps all that he had ever stolen in his criminal life.
"Well, did my suggestions satisfy?" She asked, noticeably unaware of all the dropping jaws around her.
"I'm sorry but…how do you know Aisha?" Neal remembered what Peter had told him, that Esmerelda Gabrielle Rossetti was probably being targeted by people of her own stature, who owned similar power and wealth. This woman certainly looked to be one of the indecently rich.
"Oh, dear sweet Aisha hasn't told you of me? She must still be angry. After all, she has always been of such a quick temper. Then, let me introduce myself. My name is Daciana Gabrielle Rossetti. One may consider me as one of Aisha's sisters." Her accent was heavy, and definitely not Italian.
"Sister?…she never mentioned a .."
"There is much she did not mention to you, Neal Caffrey, You have not known her very long, have you?" Her eyes, he now noticed, were pitch black. Not the dreamy darkness of Aisha's pupils, but a dark, abyss like black that could easily be imagined as the birthplace of cruelty. "You should try to know her before professing undying love. It is always intelligent to know who you love."
"Neal, here." Charlie pushed a paper bag with the coffee towards him.
"Oh..yea, thanks." Neal turned to the counter to pay and take pack, but when he turned back, the woman, Daciana had disappeared. He rushed out of the shop to check the streets, but there was no sign of her. "Damn…"
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"You're saying this woman knew your name as well as Miss Rossetti's?" Peter gulped a mouthful of the coffee with which Neal had rushed into his office.
"Yes. And I'm telling you, she not only knew my name but also…" His voice caught in his throat. He didn't plan on telling Peter about himself and Aisha, atleast not until the case was solved.
"Also what, Neal?" Burke intently watched his C.I. who had a familiar look in his eyes. A look Peter had noticed when Neal spoke of Kate.
"She knew…about Ai—Miss Rossetti. She said that she was one of her sisters."
"Sisters? Like blood sisters? Or cousins? By the way, this coffee's great."
"I don't know, Peter. I wasn't exactly chatting up now." He sighed and dropped into a chair. "I gotta say, she didn't look much like Esmerlda, though. She was more…playful. More…uh..."
"Maybe they're cousins. The Rossettis have a large number of familial branches, and they have this reputation for welcoming even illegitimate offspring into the brood. Pretty generous, huh?"
Neal didn't answer. " I should go ask her about this woman, Daciana. I mean, she should know a sister, even if she's possibly trying to kill Aisha."
"I'm sorry…Aisha?" Peter stopped paging through some papers. "And, who is this Aisha?" His look told Neal that he already knew.
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OOC: I know, not too great. But I wanted to keep this chapter about Neal and Aisha, and introduce Daciana. It'll get more exciting from now on. On, and I'm planning to add supernatural elements to the tale. Let me know what you think about this. Thanks everyone.