Emily stared at her laptop's screen, bidding a silent goodbye to Sayu as she watched her friend being rescued by her father. A perfectly round teardrop rolled down her face, but she wiped it away before it could come near her mouth, feeling no desire to taste the warm saltiness that her tears often had for flavor. Would my father have rescued me if he was still alive? Would anyone of my family risk their life for me? Is there even somebody who would sacrifice something for me? She asked herself, sitting up and sniffling as a few more tears tried to escape their fate of being wiped away.

Emily cleared her throat and got up, shutting her laptop as she did. With Sayu now gone, she was back to helping Amy with menial chores or doing special assignments that involved her laptop more than other people. She sighed as she glanced at her laptop again, knowing that she still had to complete a few tasks with that technological device. I'll take a shower, grab something to eat and then get back to work…I swear, I'm going to get arthritis from typing so much for Mello. Mello…

A warm feeling flushed through her cheeks before running down through her veins, all the way to her toes when she thought of Mello. And she didn't know why as she felt her face turn red as she thought about him, more specifically on that night when she had actually…kissed him. Willingly. And she had….liked it. No, "like" was an understatement. The correct term would be "love". She had loved it.

"Eh?" She mumbled to herself, feeling her cheeks burn hotter than the sun, something she wasn't used to. She was accustomed to being calm and collected, not surprised/confused and nervous/anxious/ embarrassed. She shook her head at herself, but her act of self-denial did nothing to stop her heart from beating faster than usual. Emily sighed as she went to gather some clean clothes to change into after her shower- she only found the worn, black hoodie with holes in the sleeves for her thumbs, as well as the holey skinny jeans she had been wearing when Mello had rescued her. He was my knight in shining armor, on a white horse that night…more like the mobster in black leather on a motorcycle. She quipped silently, chuckling briefly before sighing in dismay. She glanced in the mirror that was leaning up against the bedroom wall, wondering what Mello had seen when he had looked at her that night. Emily closed her eyes, trying to remember what she had looked like that night. Her self-applied red highlights had been super bright that night, she knew that because she remembered applying it before leaving her apartment. She had probably, otherwise, had looked like crap, in her opinion. She hadn't a high opinion of herself then- she had seen herself only as the skinny, sickly pale, emo/goth girl who had that blank look forever pasted on her face. She stared hard at the mirror now, noticing some major differences now.

The first one was, shockingly, the fact that the once super dark bags under her eyes were nearly gone. She credited this to the possible feelings of security and protection of knowing Mello, who she doubted gave a real crap about her, was in the room next to hers. The second one was that her red streaks were faded into nothing more than perhaps a dark red color, as opposed to the flaming red one that they had been months back. The third one…was that now…she was actually, automatically, smiling instead of frowning or such. It was then did she realize that she actually looked pretty, that she actually looked as what B had described her as those years ago, over and over. When I look at you, Death, I see a little porcelain doll,something fragile. It seems that you don't see that though, huh, Deathie? Someday, someone will help you see. Emily's eyes widened as she whispered aloud, "Could Mello be…? No, never- he's not that kind of person…" She shook her head at herself, warning her heart not to think that it was all thanks to Mello that these changes had occurred, or that he had helped her see.

Emily sighed again before throwing her hands up in dismay, surrendering to the concept that either way, she was wasting her time thinking about Mello when she could be showering.

After all, she thought as she walked to the bathroom and past Mello in a hurry, trying hard to hide her cherry red face, who said I can't do both at once? I can multitask…

It was later that same day, well, night by this time (it was about 10:45), as Mello paced his sitting room, thinking about one thing and one thing only.

Emily.

He hadn't started out thinking on this topic- quite the opposite. He had been thinking about how easily the trade had gone that morning. It had gone smoothly, according to plan. Of course, he still was waiting for the "aftershocks" of this trade- the father's revenge, for one thing. Nonetheless, it had gone perfectly. And part of the credit belonged to Emily.

He had to admit, if it hadn't been for Emily caring and comforting Sayu, the prisoner would've been in worse shape than being traumatized. He wasn't about to apologize to Emily for yelling at her weeks back when she had started mothering the girl who had been older than her. He knew that if he did, she'd have more control over him.

As if she didn't have too much control over him already.

And that was what lead to Mello thinking about Emily feverishly, without shame as he considered her and her influence over him. Just that morning, before the trade, she had convinced him to let her watch the deal being finished via laptop, something he wouldn't have let anyone do normally- he had usually felt that some things were meant to be private business or just private in general, therefore he would've vetoed any permission for anything to do with business. But he had found it impossible to do with Emily, finding it hard to even watch her smile joyfully and brief without wanting to watch her smile over and over or repeat every word just so he could hear her tone, words and voice. Hell, he had caught himself numerous times, mouth agape and staring like a codfish with wonder whenever he heard whatever strains of her voice singing something, be it a mindless little hum or a real song.

He sighed angrily as he threw his hands up in the air, muttered, "For Christ's sake!" as he stalked to the door, yanking it open and stomping his way to his room, ready to jerk his door open when he saw a white light, probably from a laptop, coming from under Emily's door. Raising an eyebrow, he softly opened the door and poked his head in, not knowing if he should be annoyed or curious that Emily was even up late.

His eyes treated the room nothing more than a second glance; his attention was mostly held by Emily, laying on her stomach on her futon, laptop in front of her and a hand lightly resting on the keys as her other hand served as a pillow, papers scattered around her as she snoozed, her hair in her face, causing her nose to twitch every so often. Mello quietly made his way over to her sleeping form, gently removing the laptop out of her grasp as he turned it around and read the screen,standing as he did, realizing that she had been finishing up a report. He rolled his eyes at her, muttering, "Leave it to you to work yourself to you collapse…" despite his initial admiration of her dedication.

He sighed, though, when he realized that she shouldn't be sleeping in her clothes or with her papers around her- not because it would damage her in any way, but because it would somewhat annoy her in the morning if she realized that she had actually fallen asleep on the job. Rolling his eyes again, he whispered to himself, "Why me?" before putting her laptop down and removing her nightgown, the one she usually wore, from the chair it had been folded on. Trying not to think of how wrong- and yet, how right- it felt to be undressing and then redressing the girl, Mello removed Emily's hoodie and jeans, leaving her in her undergarments and socks before helping her get the night clothes on. Laying her back down for a moment, he quickly organized the scattered papers and put them in her laptop bag before picking her up and repositioning her so that she was on her back, head on pillow. Emily automatically moved, rolling onto her side and clasping her hands under her head, causing Mello to tense for a moment as he prayed like hell that she hadn't woken up. And in one last action to fully complete the job of getting ready for bed, Mello gently brushed the hair out of her face, finding his fingers to naturally stroke her cheeks after the task was finished.

He sat back now, looking at her proudly, half pleased with himself and half fascinated with her. She was on her back once again and her hair fanned out across her pillow, giving her the look of an angel as the moonlight shined through the window and onto her pale charmingly innocent face. He felt a lump in his throat for an unknown reason, but he soon pinpointed the feeling that came along with the hidden cause as confusion, no, awe. Emily, he had to admit, looked so sweet and gentle at the moment. (Although, he admitted again, she looked sweet all the time…unless she was ticked off. Either way, she was always attractive in his sight.) But there was something more, something fragile in how she looked. Something that made Mello lose any desire whatsoever to hurt her, break her or do anything to cause her pain, unless he had to.

He would hurt her if he had to, to catch Kira- he would do anything to be number one. But now…he was starting to reconsider as he looked and watched her again. She barely moved, other than the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, soft sighs and a small, ghost of a content smile. Mello knew what laid under that smile and he knew that if he hurt her, then that smile- and whatever else, including what was underneath the smile- would be lost to him.

He rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation at himself before giving into one simple urge before he got up and left:

He leaned over her form, stroked the hair out of her eyes one last time, and kissed her softly, pulling away and whispering, "Sweet Dreams, Emily…" before he walked out and to his room, mentally kicking himself for not staying distant from her and for even giving into his feelings and desires, as he climbed into bed.

At least Emily will never know…that I think she's someone worth protecting, that she's something fragile…He thought as he drifted off to sleep.

Here's a link to a picture of Emily-

/fanart/view/344457/emily

Elle XVI is the artist to this wonderful picture!

Many thanks to her and all of you readers! This is my first story to reach 10 chapters and I'm psyched!

Please review if you like it even a little!