DISCLAIMER: not mine, please don't sue.
Nosferatu's-Cigarette-Binge: thanks so much! The story will go on, I promise. Oh so slowly but surely. :) And here's hoping that we'll see Natalie again in S4. tbh I no longer care how they bring her back. just bring. her. back. writers. please.
aprilf00l: yes, I'm back again. I always show up eventually with the next chapter. ;) I'm so glad you still enjoy it and thank you!
KellyD: I love you, too. :) Thanks so much!
~ TOUCH ~
She watches the glass pot darkening as it starts to fill up with steamy, hot coffee. Lieutenant Mills asked her if there was a way to get a cup. Eli readily told him the way to that little coffee shop nearby but Natalie was more than happy to make a fresh pot. She was grateful for the distraction but now her attention begins to wander and her gaze keeps landing on Eli. He's being fingerprinted. Her prints were scanned, Eli, however, is getting the old-school ink-and-card treatment, courtesy of Lieutenant Mills. She watches him, trying to do a quick inventory of her feelings but she's only marginally successful. Her brain is still scrambled but every time she looks at him, she feels a pang of relief.
Tess has been saddled with the task of recording Eli's elimination prints. She carefully inks his finger, then gently guides his arm over the form while Eli's face betrays only a slight frown. The whole process involves a lot of touching and a necessary violation of personal space but Tess acts the same way with Eli as she did with Natalie: she's being friendly but professional. Eli, however, has yet to master the art of small talk over ink and fingerprint forms. He tries but at this point his eyebrows still do most of the talking, which clearly amuses Tess. Then, when his left sleeve slips down and Tess helps him roll it back up, Natalie feels a sudden rush of jealousy. It's stupid, unwarranted, intense and undeniable. She grabs the pot to pour a cup of coffee for the lieutenant who's still out, investigating. Finding and fighting a masked stranger in one's living room is unnerving at best and she still feels raw from the experience. She's been keeping it together rather well so far but her hands won't stop shaking and, as a result, some of the hot black liquid ends up on her. A colorful string of profanities leaves her lips – some English, some Spanish, some undetermined –, and Eli's head snaps up instantly.
There's concern and surprise in his eyes. "Are you all right?"
She's not and the searing pain doesn't help things either. She hates being so out of control. She hates that he sees it. She hates this whole situation. But she refuses to break down and the only way she can do that right now is by pushing aside the pain, the fear, the frustration and the confusion – by denying all of it. "I'm fine," she says and steps to the sink to run cold water on her hand.
Eli doesn't believe her for a second. He wants to go to her so badly but his left arm is still trapped between Tess' hands. The young woman glances at him with a small, knowing smile. "I'll let you go in a sec."
He is about to signal his appreciation when he hears a familiar voice asking for Natalie. Then Richard Thomas waltzes into the apartment and Eli tenses up immediately. Richard sees him and halts at the sight. He seems confused and uncertain about many things. "Hey," he greets Eli who reluctantly acknowledges him with a nod of his head.
"What's going on?" Richard asks, his gaze shifting between Eli's blank expression and his ink-smeared fingers.
"We're having a theme party," Eli deadpans. Tess has to stifle a grin but Richard doesn't seem to appreciate the humor. There's a distinct what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you expression on his face but his attention quickly switches to Natalie when she emerges from the walk-in pantry. Trapped in ink and a young crime scene technician's hands, Eli is forced to stay put as Richard quickly walks up to Natalie. He can't even hear what's being said, he's so focused on what the younger man's doing. Richard reaches out and lightly squeezes Natalie's shoulders, then his hand sweeps down and along her arms in a gentle caress. He's doing precisely what Eli denied himself only a few minutes ago – when his hands weren't covered in ink and Natalie wasn't busy staring at a coffee pot at the other side of the kitchen counter. He wanted to comfort her. He could have touched her. He didn't. Given the circumstances, it didn't feel right to be the first one reaching out. Richard, however, seems to have no such qualms about wrapping himself around her yet again. He reminds Eli of that giant octopus in that horribly cheesy movie Marissa made him watch a few weeks ago.
His eyes narrow, his jaw clenches and his right hand slowly clutches into a fist, drawing his knuckles white and further smearing the black ink on his fingers. But then Natalie takes a step back and away from Richard. The younger man seems to get the message and awkwardly stuffs his intruding hand into his pants' pocket. He clears his throat. "Mike called and told me what happened," he says.
Eli's eyebrows go up immediately. "Who's Mike?" he interrupts, not bothered by the slightest that he wasn't even included in the conversation or that he's standing about 10 feet away.
"A friend of mine," Richard answers curtly without looking at him.
"He lives one floor down. His place was ransacked, too," Natalie adds.
"Is that so?" Eli asks, his eyes shifting from Natalie to Richard, the wheels in his head already turning, eagerly connecting the dots that are there and those that might not be. "You are quite the lucky charm, aren't you, Dick?" he remarks with a vicious, victorious little smile.
The semi-veiled accusation gets Richard's attention and he flashes Eli an angry glare. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You tell me," Eli says. His tone provokes the younger man even further but he remains silent.
Natalie glances from Richard to Eli, then from Eli to Richard. Neither says another word. Tess presses Eli's left palm onto the form and with that they are finished. She offers Eli a couple of wipes and a thank-you smile. He welcomes both – especially the wipes.
Natalie grabs the coffee mug. "I'll be right back," she tells Richard. "Eli."
When he glances up, she's already on her way out. He catches up to her outside but she simply continues walking down the corridor in silence. The situation feels familiar to him. She might be angry and he doesn't really know what to say, so he opts for silence. It may seem the safest choice but it gets very uncomfortable very soon. They reach the elevator and she smacks the call button. "Is everything okay?" he asks at last but when she faces him, he regrets it instantly.
"You tell me," she says, throwing his words back into his face.
He sighs. His eyes drop and he starts fiddling with the wipes in his hand. The ink just won't rub off his skin. He twists his lips and his teeth began to abuse the inside of his mouth.
"Eli?"
Hearing his name prompts him to make eye contact again. He is silent and she regards him with mixed emotions.
"Why do you hate Richard so much?" she asks, her voice matter-of-fact.
He tries to protest. "I don't hate him. I just…" He trails off and she raises an eyebrow. "I'm just looking out for you," he says quietly, dodging her original question. She keeps looking at him, so he averts his eyes. "I don't like having him around," he admits, staring at the wall, then looks back at her. Now she raises both eyebrows. "It's not… I'm not jealous," he adds quickly – maybe a little too quickly. He doesn't want to be that guy, obsessed and controlling, but her eyebrows continue questioning his behavior. He doesn't want to tell her what Kalinda found out. Not just yet. He drops his gaze, trying to hide behind a flimsy shield made of air and silence. She could tear it down effortlessly if she wanted to.
"Okay," she says, tilting her head a bit. She looks tired. She is tired so she lets him off the hook. For now.
The elevator arrives and its doors slide open with a ding. Eli's still evasive, which overrides almost everything, including politeness. He quickly steps in. Natalie calmly follows. When she gets in, she doesn't turn around so once again they are standing face to face. She presses the button for the 6th floor and the doors close. There isn't that much space and since both refuse to move, they are barely inches apart. It's an odd moment. Slightly awkward but intimate. His tension subsides and she seeks and finds comfort in his closeness. She doesn't want to analyze or question why. She just wants to enjoy it. She flickers a glance at him but Eli seems to be taking a huge interest in the elevator's control panel.
She stares at his tie, its simple yet elegant striped pattern, and the way it's knotted at his throat. It moves slightly, rising and falling with each of his breath. He glances at the cup of coffee in her hand – it's shaking a bit but not because the elevator started moving. Anger swells up in him once again but her voice jars him out of his thoughts.
"Did you know there are 85 ways to tie a tie?" she asks out of the blue. A mixture of surprise and confusion washes over him, dulling his anger.
Their eyes meet. It's his turn to raise an eyebrow and a small smile crosses his lips. He can't help it. "No, I did not know that."
"Well… now you do," she says with a grin in her voice. His smile grows, then slowly fades. The air changes. The mood shifts. The full weight of his gaze is on her now, taking in everything.
This time her eyes drop and her free hand reaches up. Cold, shaky fingertips slide along his tie, feeling its soft fabric and the warmth seeping through layers of clothing. She breathes in the scent of their owner. He reaches for her hand and gently covers it with his own. His thumb strokes the back of her fingers – it's cautious, gentle, soothing, and sensuous.
Their eyes lock again. Slowly and tentatively, they are drawing even closer to each other. She licks her lips and he lowers his head, tilting it. Their lips only brush at first, then she kisses him lightly and he kisses back. When they pull apart, a small smile forms on his face but she can tell that a tiny part of him is still wary and confused by being wanted, needed, and accepted like this. Andre took her for granted. Eli doesn't, not for a second. There always seems to be a tinge of wonder in his gaze when he looks at her.
She loves his eyes. He has kind eyes. There's rough honesty in them, a bittersweet reflection of things deeply buried, and a glint of mischief – ageless, shiny, and contagious. He'd probably laugh at her if she ever told him – or look away. So she doesn't risk it. She wants him to look at her. She needs him to see her. She craves his gaze, his nearness, him – because of what happened and despite of it.
Suddenly a loud creak shatters their silence and the elevator lurches. The coffee she's carrying is about to spill but Eli quickly reaches up and helps her steady the cup before he ends up with another stained shirt. Then there's ringing stillness. They both glance up as the cables' eerie groan echoes through the shaft. They exchange a worried look as the lights flicker, then go out completely. Pitch black engulfs them and for a long, unsettling moment there's only deafening silence. He grasps her hand a bit tighter. The elevator starts up again, then comes to a sudden halt. The lights flicker back on and the doors part at the 6th floor.
They don't dare move. Eli is barely breathing. "Just tell me this is normal," he says, his voice barely above a whisper as if he's afraid the elevator might hear him and take offense.
"This is normal," Natalie whispers back. Her heart is in her throat but she smiles faintly when he looks at her.
"Slamming," he says under his breath as he glances around.
She looks at him a bit taken aback, not sure if she heard it right. "'Slamming'?"
His gaze drops, then he looks up – almost shyly. "It's… youth talk." She can't contain her grin any longer. "I'm trying to pick up some new words," he explains with a straight face. She starts chuckling. "What?" he asks, breaking into a smile.
"Don't. Your old words are just fine."
"My old words?" he asks with a raised eyebrow, followed by a slight purse of his lips. Apparently, he's still a bit touchy about his age.
"You know what I mean."
"Yeah. Newspapers," he teases.
She rolls her eyes but on the inside she's kind of impressed he still remembers that.
"Are you okay in here?" a uniformed cop asks, peeking into the elevator.
Eli keeps his eyes on Natalie for a moment, then glances up at the policeman. "Yes, we're fine."
He lets go of her hand and Natalie turns around. "But something's up with this thing."
"Yeah, I heard," the cop says as he leans in, glances around, then checks the panel. "It's fine now."
Eli raises his eyebrows skeptically. "And you know that because…?"
"Because we're not falling," the cop answers, tongue-in-cheek, and winks at Natalie. It's playful and innocent, earning a soft smile form Natalie – and an eye roll from Eli.
"Is Lieutenant Mills here?" she asks.
"Right there, ma'am," the officer says, taking a step back, gesturing toward the end of the corridor. Natalie turns back to Eli and mouths "ma'am?" He grins at her in response and after some hesitation they quickly get out of the elevator.
Lieutenant Mills is busy taking notes again, but he looks up when he hears Natalie and Eli approaching. She offers him the coffee and the older man's tired face lights up instantly.
"You're a lifesaver. Thank you so much," he says and takes a hearty sip. Then his gaze travels to Eli's ink stained hands and gestures toward them with the cup. "I see Tess has finished with you."
"She has," Eli confirms in a clipped tone.
"Good. Send her up when you get back, will you?"
"Why? What's going on here?" Eli asks. The lieutenant glances at Natalie, then back at Eli. She clearly hasn't told him yet.
"Mr. Singleton's apartment here has been burglarized too," Mills informs Eli, then takes another sip.
"Was it the same guy?" Eli asks.
"Seems that way," Mills says and Eli takes a peek into his notes while the lieutenant drinks from his coffee.
He reads it out loud. "Medium height, medium built, male, Hispanic, question mark, in a…" Eli tilts his head and narrows his eyes, trying to make out the words. "'Skirt… crack.' Skirt crack?" He looks at Mills, frowning. "What the hell is that?"
Mills snaps his notebook closed. "It's 'ski mask'."
But Eli no longer cares. He's looking at Natalie now. "How do you know he was Hispanic?"
"I don't. He sounded like a native speaker, that's all," she says.
"He talked?"
"When I hit him, he sort of… indicated that he didn't approve," Natalie says. "In Spanish," she adds then looks at Mills. "Is Mr. Singleton okay?"
"He's fine," he replies then someone shouts his name from the apartment. "Coming." He glances to Natalie and Eli. "Excuse me." And with that, he limps inside.
Eli chews on this new piece of information for a moment, then looks at Natalie. "Does Dick know this Mr. Singleton?" he asks, indicating the apartment with a nod of his head.
She ignores the question and asks her own. "You think Richard has something to do with this?" Eli regards her but doesn't answer right away so she adds, "Or do you just want him to have something to do with this?"
He takes a deep breath. "I'm not sure yet," he admits with a slight tilt of his head. It's vague, it's barely an answer but it's the truth.
She knows because his lies are usually better packaged. He seems conflicted and she feels a sudden urge to clarify something once and for all. She's never really been one for beating around the bush anyway. "I haven't been with anyone since Andre," she admits right there in the corridor. It's an act of bizarre honesty, both courageous and trembling. He looks like a deer in a headlight. Once again she manages to take him completely off-guard but he can't tear his gaze away from her. "And we broke up right before I went to see you at the party."
His expression softens. He can't find the words to express how he feels but she can tell how much her impromptu confession means to him from the way he's looking at her. His gaze is different now. She feels more confidence in him and a certain calmness that wasn't there before. Not when he was with her. It looks like he's finally made a decision.
They didn't get to spend much time together back in Chicago but something from those brief encounters has stayed with him long after she left and it is still there. He reaches out. His hand slips into hers and she laces her fingers with his. He looks at their entwined hands, then his eyes move up to her face.
His wounded inner cynic is still trying to grasp for control. "How is this gonna work?" he asks, hoping her answer delivers a coup de grâce.
"Do you want it to work?" she asks back. "Us?" she adds, clarifying. Us. He loves the sound of that and all of a sudden he finds he doesn't even have to think about the answer. It's already there, ready to be voiced. He doesn't want to swallow it back down any more.
"Yes."
She smiles and gently squeezes his hand. "That's how."
He mulls over her answer with pursed lips and an amused glint in his eyes, then raises an eyebrow. "Is it so easy?"
"Simple, not easy."
She's right. It isn't going to be easy but he wants to try and so does she. He is a cautious man, rarely taking uncalculated risks, but now he's ready to jump in both feet. For her. With her. Her acceptance is already bleeding into his guilt, her hope into his anxiety, her why not's into his why's. And she smiles. She knows.
What he refuses to chance, however, is another elevator ride. "Let's take the stairs," he suggests, his voice still low and thick with emotion.
She agrees and they hold onto each other's hand as they walk towards the door to the stairwell.