Another Day on the Job. (AutumnDreaming/Rekoj)

He shook his head as he watched Dianna's desperate attempts to keep him wary, to keep him on alert for 'them', because she was certain 'they' were out there. He pulled his hands entirely away from his weapon now, watching her with nothing but pity in his eyes. She had become delusional, he had very few doubts now, with the desperation in her eyes to get him to believe her. She wasn't just trying to convince him, he knew it, she was trying to convince herself.

He watched her sprint from one end of the property to the other, and there was still nothing, not a breath of noise out in the woods. And there was even less movement, not a shadow dared to twitch in the moonlight. He followed her sprint to the front doorway, and stood behind her, leaning against the door as he watched her drop to her hands and knees to try and find the apparently invisible rose. He rolled his eyes, (making sure he was behind her back), and sighed as he watched the shell of what used to be Dianna going over the edge.

He approached Dianna from behind, and softly put his hand upon her shoulder. It was not a romantic touch, a longing touch, but instead a comforting touch. It was accompanied by a soft voice, as Patrick spoke to her, "Dianna... it's okay, I need you to calm down. I want you to put the pistol away, and go back to bed."

His touch and his voice had suddenly become far too soft, as if he was afraid another wrong word would break her. He thought of her as sick, vulnerable, and needing help- he couldn't take her pleas seriously, as much as he had wanted to at first. She had snapped and pointed the gun at him, followed by herself, as well as begging for him to believe her. This was not the Dianna he knew, (with the exception of the gun being pointed at both of them), but the begging had been desperate and weak. She had lost control, and he continued in his soft voice, "Just try your best to go back to sleep, they're not out there Dianna. If he had had the car parked at the bottom of the hill, we would've seen or heard him sprint away. You just need to try and get a good night's sleep, and look at it all again in the morning, okay?"

She looked behind the chair behind the door and under it, thrusting her hand underneath the upholstery to feel for the flower. There was nothing, no trace in sight of petals or anything that may even remotely resemble the bloom of a rose. It was as if it just didn't exist. "I left it outside." She told herself, but that wasn't true. "I picked it up off the ground and put it in my pocket." She leaned up, checking the coat again. Nothing. "No, it's outside. It's outside." She repeated to herself, starting to get up off her knees when she felt his hand on her shoulder.

There was something about the calm tone of his voice that seemed sickeningly familiar to her. It was nothing she had experienced before, but it was in the past nights of watching television with Roxie. She was obsessed with forensic scientist and shows like CSI and the likes. The way he talked to her was like a police officer did to a criminal on the edge, trying to soothe them so they would back down without a fight. "No!" She screamed at him, slapping his hand away from her. "You don't get to fucking play cop with me, Rookie. Don't tell me to calm down and don't you fucking tell me to put the gun away!"

She stood then, slamming her hand into his chest to push him away from her. "You didn't see him smiling back at you like that! You didn't- you weren't there! It wasn't your throat closing in on you. I couldn't breathe!" She bent over then, trying to catch her breath as if he was choking her. "It wasn't your best friend. Oh, god, and Roxie. She hates me. She won't speak to me, but you. She's cozy with you, right? I'm paying for all I've done. I let her take whatever money she wants because I feel so guilty." There were tears in her eyes now, but she wouldn't dare let them stream down her face. The gun was back in her hair, the silver hiding in the cloud of red. "I tried to move past. I thought I was making amends when I went to the basement, but. . ." She trailed off, talking more to herself than him. She wasn't ready to address the subject, didn't want him to know how much he had hurt her.

"There was someone out there, damnit!" She was screaming to the point of being hoarse now, but without a conscious effort, her arm extended toward him. Her other hand clasped with the one holding the weapon, pointing the barrel straight at his chest. "Stop telling me to go to sleep. Stop trying to pacify me. Stop acting like I'm delusional! STOP IT!" She was angry, livid even. Her finger accidentally squeezed the trigger, her wrist flicking upward so that the bullet barely strayed over his shoulder and soared out the open door. The bang frightened her, the woman not realizing what she'd done. Her mouth fell ajar, her eyes growing wide. "I- I. . . " But what could she say? She was sorry for almost shooting him? That he was right to think her losing her mind? Even if someone had been out there, that didn't justify her almost shooting him now.

She froze in her stance, her head shaking as if silently telling him she didn't mean to do it. Her shaky hand flipped the safety, her grip loosening on the gun. Instead of dropping it to the ground, she removed her right hand from it and let it lay in her left. She had tumbled head over heels off the edge of a cliff, falling straight down into the depths of the river below. She advanced slowly to him, holding out her arm for him to take the pistol from her. "You and Roxie should go." She whispered, unsure if she was even speaking. "Get out of the country. I- I'll stay here. It's not. . . safe anymore." But she didn't mean from the Caprelli's. No, Dianna didn't think it was safe for them to be with her. She slowly backed away from him, showing she didn't mean to cause him any further harm.

He stepped back when he felt her shove into his chest, there was an unbelievable amount of force packed into that push and he needed to take a few steps in order to catch his balance. Patrick watched the fiery redhead blow her fuse in front of her, he had wanted to tackle her when the gun was pointed at herself, lost within her red locks- but he dared not move. He didn't want to set her off, that was the last thing, she was a bomb with a timer ticking down at an erratic pace. He dared not touch a thing and risk setting her off, instead he stood there and let her run herself out- praying she would not explode in front of him.

That was when he heard it, she brought it up... Roxie, the guilt, and then she trailed off. She didn't have to finish the sentence though, he knew exactly what she was talking about. He knew he had hurt her, it had pained him to know he had hurt her. He couldn't bear to watch the woman spin out of control anymore, he looked to the ground. He knew what he had to do, he had to listen to Roxie, he simply needed to tell her. It wasn't the time or place, but he had to, and he looked up to her, his words cutting through her hoarse screams like a knife through butter, "Look, Dianna, I-I didn't-"

As he looked up to tell her though, he was interrupted by the sight of Dianna pointing the gun right at his chest. And then it happened, he watched the finger squeeze and the muzzle flash in slow-motion. He seemingly could see the bullet flying right at him, tearing first through his layer of clothing, followed by driving it's way through his chest. He could feel the impact rock him, as he pictured the bullet tearing through his insides, destroying anything in its path. He could swear he felt it cut right through him, out his back, and he dropped to one knee, holding his chest.

Except, there was no pain, and his eyes popped open. His hand was clutching at where the scar marked his previous experience with a bullet, his mind had flashed back to that evening in the museum. He patted his chest and swallowed down the lump in his throat, standing up, slowly coming to realize that he was okay. The bullet had missed him, he had heard it go by his ear, but when the gunshot rang off he had convinced himself that Dianna's aim had been true, and she'd fired a round right through his chest.

He was pale as a ghost, the blood had drained from his face with the fear he had just been shot. He looked to the woman, his mind completely forgetting telling Dianna everything, from the fact he didn't sleep with Roxie to how he felt about her. Instead now, he was focusing on his life, and the sudden threat the redheaded woman was to it. He looked at her, watching her advance slowly, offering him the pistol. He looked at it and grasped it, slowly pulling it out of her hand and holding it idly in his.

He opened his mouth to respond to her whispers, but he could find no words. He quickly slammed his mouth shut and did the only thing he could, offer her a soft and slow nod. Just as she had looked at him and shook her head, he now looked at her and offered her only the soft, slow nod. He pocketed the pistol and remained standing there, trying to get a grasp and understand what had just happened. He let her back away, and stood there, peeking outside of the open door for a moment, wondering when Roxie would return- and what exactly he would tell her.

Dianna had been a lot of things in her life including, most notably, a pathological liar and thief. She'd take on the form of countless identities, all of which had piled up to be the reason she owned this beautiful cottage in the Irish countryside. She robbed and stole from unsuspecting victims, devastating them both financially and emotionally. Yes, she had been a lot of things in her life but, until now, dangerous hadn't been one of them. It kept replaying in her mind, the muscle in her finger contracting just enough to squeeze the trigger while the loud boom of the shot rang out into her ears. She watched him drop to his knees and clutch his chest and for the briefest of moments, she thought she'd actually shot him. It didn't matter than it was an accident; she was out of control. She'd been of sound mind all her life, even if her lifestyle seemed to border insanity. It wasn't until the bullet had been fired that she understood she had slipped over the edge.

She stared at him still, watching the color drain from his face. His head was nodding like he seemed to comprehend both her words and the significance behind it. The fact that she had given him the fun was proof enough for the both of them that she had become a threat to his life. In fact, how many times had she verbally threatened to end his life? How many times did she scream at and shove him? Countless, but she knew neither of them really expected her to actually do it. Her hands came together as if she might be about to pray, but they lifted upward to rest against her mouth and nose. Out of all the forced social situations the two had been in, it was definite that this was the most awkward. She couldn't even move her mouth to speak anymore, nor did she think he'd want to hear her apologize.

She took another step away from him, followed by another. Hands dropped to her sides, devastation written in her expression. She turned from him then, sprinting into her bedroom. In a few minutes, she returned with a wad of money in her hand, extending it outwardly toward him. She wanted to advance, to hand him the currency but she was afraid to come any closer to him. Oh, she wasn't afraid of him lashing out at her. She understood well that she had that coming, but she was terrified of herself. She didn't intend to assault him, but she also didn't plan to shoot him either. "Get Roxie in the morning. Take the first flight out. Don't tell me where you're going. In fact, it would be better if we never spoke again." She was whispering, her voice nearly breaking with emotion.

She bent then, laying the money on the ground at her feet. When she stood again, tears were rolling down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry." She finally told him, her hand coming up to grip at the neck of her nightshirt. Without another word, Dianna turned away from him and walked into her bedroom. She didn't slam the door behind her, but very quietly closed it instead. The lock was turned, keeping herself in there more than trying to prevent anyone from coming in. She glanced at the window, seeing nothing but darkness shining through it. Collapsing down on the bed, she curled up on her side where she remained- eyes open- for the rest of the night.

It was hard for Patrick to look at Dianna, she had been broken, and it was not something done to her that broke her- but what she nearly did to him. He remained silent, there were no words to speak, what could he possibly have to say? He knew it had been an accident, but it was far too close to being all over for him for him to think about Dianna. He watched her place the cash upon the floor before she disappeared. His head recognized the words she spoke, but again there was no response. He had noticed the tears, and he knew the apology was sincere.. but perhaps she was right.

She disappeared into her bedroom, as he looked down at the pile of cash on the floor. He inspected it for a few moments, hesitant to reach down and pick it up. If he reached down and picked up the money, that would mean.. he would have to give up on everything. The months of working himself every day harder than any job had every worked him, the months of longing for the redheaded woman who had now just nearly killed him... and he knew if he took it he would feel the guilt. He didn't blame Dianna for losing control, they were fighting a war against an invisible enemy and they couldn't even stay united within the house.

He stared at the cash before sighing and finally picking it up, she was right... he needed to get away from her, it was better they never spoke again. Patrick knew they had shared something special, not just the night in the hotel room but the night in Roxie's house. The very first night, there had been that hate.. and somewhere fused within that hate, had been something that might've been love. He sighed as he pocketed the cash, as soon as he had collected every stray bill he returned to his bedroom. He quickly laid down in the bed that would offer him no sleep, and sighed, hoping and praying that Roxanna would come home soon. If he was to live an entirely new life, on the run with Roxie, he wanted to get it started now, so he could try his best to forget about this life, and Dianna, entirely.

As heavily as her mind was weighed down by constant guilt and regrets, Dianna wouldn't allow herself to think while huddled up in the safety of her bedroom. It wasn't an easy task to clear her mind, but she forced herself to do so or else she knew that it would all be too much. Instead, she recounted her steps from the day before, starting with the garden. She was certain someone had been there, but where had the flower gone? Did she just imagine the whole thing? She knew he was right, but she only accepted that because she had almost shot him.

Him. Patrick had transformed in her mind from him to him, though she couldn't exactly pinpoint when it had happened. From the moment they had met, he'd been nothing but a thorn in her side. It had been so easy to blame him for everything, but she knew he was only her scapegoat. And that night in the hotel- oh how real that kiss had been to her. It wasn't a result of her trauma. No, she wanted her lips to be claimed by his, but Dianna was a coward. As soon as Roxie had stepped into their path, she had shunned him; what was worse was that she had driven him straight into the arms of the only true friend she had ever known. Seeing him connect with her like that was the turning point- the moment when Dianna realized that the hate she felt for him wasn't hate at all. After all, one could theorize that love and hate were the same emotion.

But none of that would matter soon. Roxie and Patrick were going to flee the country again, leaving Dianna behind this time. She knew that she would never know the story of their lives, especially not the one they were about to embark on together. Somehow, Dianna knew they would be safe now. No one was going to come after them so long as she stayed where she was. Eventually, whoever she thought she had seen the night before would show up and end it all. Being alone wasn't frightening nor was the prospect of facing those predators. No, she was only afraid of never knowing what happened to the two of them. Maybe they'd settle down together. They could make each other happy. Roxie could finish out her medical degree and they could marry and have lots and lots of kids. It didn't really matter so long as they were both safe.

She didn't pay attention to the rising sun, but once the clock flashed that it was nearly noon, she rose from the bed. Though the house had seemed quiet, she assumed they were already gone. If he had told Roxie what had happened, she knew that the pair of them would want to leave as quickly and as silently as possible. Any noise might break the fragile redhead in any event. She took her time showering and dressing, finally coming out of her room. Her eyes wouldn't dare to glance at the doors leading to their bedrooms for fear that if they were open the emptiness would consume her.

After having a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal, she washed the dishes and decided to go out into the garden. It was the only place that brought her comfort, but in a matter of weeks it would be taken from her, too. It couldn't withstand the inevitable, the constant changing seasons. When she opened the door, her eyes immediately fell to that same dark pink stain on the stone. "No. . . " Stooping over, she peeled it off the ground. The weight of the flattened flower was heavy in her hands, its proof bringing more solidity to it. She stared at it, unmoving as she lingered in the doorway.

Patrick had managed to fall asleep, and was surprised when he found himself waking up. He didn't remember falling asleep, but with a good long stretch he realized that he had been resting. The clock ticked 11:00 am, and he exited his bedroom to look down the hall at Roxie's bedroom, surprised to find it still empty. He figured she had ended up staying at the inn above the pub the previous night, and she would return home soon. Exiting the bedroom, he found the place deserted, Dianna was still hiding within her room. He then shook off the haze of the morning when the thought of Dianna went through his mind.

Dianna, and everything that had to do with her, all of the thoughts ran through his head as he stared to the front doorway. He walked towards it, placing his palm upon the doorway he had been leaning on so few hours ago. He wanted to believe her, he had never wanted to believe the alternative but he saw no evidence to support the alternative. Sighing, he cracked open to door to confirm that the vehicle and Roxie had not arrived, when he found a sealed envelope upon the front step.

It was unmarked, and the pure sight of it made his blood run cold, the chill going up his spine as he quickly leaned down to pick it up. Normally he'd make himself some coffee, have some breakfast, but the revelation of this letter changed his routine. Disappearing back into his bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him he quickly opened the envelope.

Inside was a letter, written by a computer, typed out as to not leave any traceable handwriting, and his eyes quickly glazed over the words. The letter was not a threat, it was not a warning, but instead a cold-blooded set of directions.

'We have Roxanna, and by the time you receive this letter she will be on a plane out of the country. You are to meet us on familiar turf, the warehouse you offered to originally offered to meet us in. If you want to buy your friend back, it will cost you $1,000,000 American dollars. We have much to discuss, and look forward to seeing you there.'

They were mocking him, looking forwards to the meeting, and Patrick buried his head in his hands in the bedroom. His head felt like it suddenly weight fifty pounds heavier, why Roxie, of all of them? Roxie had never done a thing to this mafia, she was simply an expendable asset to them. Despite the final bitter note between him and Roxie, she was still his friend, he still remembered being carted bleeding into her house and being tended for. Why couldn't they have taken him, he was the one that killed the young Caprelli, he was the one that lied to them on the phone, and instead it was the innocent Roxie that was taken. It wasn't right, and as Patrick read and re-read the letter he failed to come up with a plan to save the poor girl.

He didn't know how long he remained in his bedroom, reading the letter, trying to convince himself it wasn't real, that it was wrong... but Roxie was gone, they needn't attach anything to the letter to prove it. He knew that Roxie would not come home in a few moments and everything would be okay, (was it ever?), but he was lost. In moments of crisis he could depend upon his brain to make quick and good decisions. But it was blank, and his mind was blank.

The sound of a door snapped him out of his blank, depressing trance, reminding him of the redheaded woman that was in the house with him. And as his mind went to her, a stinging pain started to drive deep within his chest. She had been right, he had called her crazy, hurt her by getting close with Roxie, and made her think she was insane... and she had been right. Patrick nearly wanted to puke he felt so terrible, but he knew what he had to do and he raised himself to his feet to make it across his bedroom.

He opened his bedroom door, and peeked down the long hall to find Dianna standing in the open doorway to the backyard. He didn't remember walking down the hall, but he must have because soon he was right beside her. Without an ounce of hesitation, the letter stashed within his pocket he wrapped his arms around Dianna in a tight, desperate, embrace. His arms wrapped around her form, hugging from behind and pulling her body against his, whispering into her ear in a rushed tremor, "You were right Dianna, oh my God I'm so sorry you were right. About everything... you were right, I'm so... so sorry..."

Dianna's gaze was fixated on the delicate, smashed flower. The petals were dark and curled at the edges, indicating that it wasn't a freshly cut flower but the same one she had peeled off the ground the day prior. She was incredibly calm, her body neither trembling nor flinching in any manner. She was simply still. Her heart was beating at a normal pace, her blood pumping regularly through her veins. Her mind was extremely clear, no haze or muck clouding it. The veil of confusion had been lifted. She had been right the whole time. There had been a man in the window. It shouldn't have comforted her because the danger was real now, but it did. This meant she wasn't insane, which was more significant to her at the moment than the fact that they had been found.

If the flower had been in her pocket, then someone had come inside her house to take it. Her eyes glanced around on the ground, finding the marked rock that held the key inside it. It was tilted slightly on its side, the dirt disturbed near it. Someone had moved it. Maybe they hadn't left after all. Maybe they had simply been hiding in the trees and watching them crumble and destroy each other. Dianna knew this had been a mind game, a way to separate the pair of them. The worst part? It had actually worked. Patrick's disbelief in her had infuriated her to the point of nearly killing him. Getting them to turn on each other was more fun than simply harming them because a boss demanded it.

She didn't hear him come down the hall, but as his arms wrapped around her, she still didn't flinch a muscle. She knew it was him, the embrace was too tight and desperate to be someone who intended to harm her. His words should have come as a great relief, but they didn't. The Dianna he knew would have celebrated victoriously, turning around to push him away and yell about how she had been right all along. Yet, there was something chilling about the way he whispered in her ear. Why did he know she was correct? What had happened to make him realize she was telling the truth?

There were a million emotions coursing through and poisoning her veins. Firstly, it hurt to much to be in his arms, especially after she had witnessed. Yet, she craved it, needed it. Her body begged for his touch and wanted to return it, but she couldn't. Her eyes closed, her ears just listening to the sound of his voice as it penetrated them. Free hand reached out hesitantly, fingers stretching toward the back of his palm. Her body felt so safe and secure while he enclosed himself around her, but she knew it was a false security. When her fingertips made contact with his skin, she was pulling his hand away- not forcefully but in a tender, soft manner. She turned his palm upward and placed the smashed flower into it. "I know." She whispered, no arrogance in her tone.

Slowly, she turned herself in his arms so that she was facing him. Her eyes, so full of pain, lifted to settle on his. Both her hands reached up to his face, hesitantly hovering over his cheeks. Her fingers longed to caress his face, but she couldn't let them. After all, he had chosen Roxie. "Roxie." She said, making a connection to the other woman and his sudden knowledge. "Where is Roxie?" She asked, but she already knew the answer. "She didn't come home." It wasn't a question but a statement.

He nodded to confirm her statement, his pained eyes meeting hers. There were so many apologies to be had, from Patrick to Dianna, from Dianna to Patrick.. but both of them knew the one person they hurt most was Roxie. And the pain they both shared, in their battles with each other, they had let Roxie be taken away. His green eyes found hers, the fire that was within them, what made his eyes burn burn so bright, there was only a flicker left to that flame. His eyes had so much pain, so much guilt, and in that connection where he found hers for that moment, and they shared it.

He looked into her eyes, looking away for a moment to gain the strength as he tried to explain it all, "This morning there was a letter outside... they have Roxie- oh God, if only I'd listened to you-but.. and.. they want one million dollars for her. They want us to go back to America, meet them in exactly two weeks... at midnight, at the abandoned warehouse I told them we'd be at to throw them off."

His eyes looked down from hers into the rose within his palm, taking the opportunity to use his free hand to reach into his pocket and pull out the letter. He mimicked her transmission she had just shared with him, closing his hand upon the back of her hand softly, turning her palm upwards before placing the letter in it. He looked back up to her eyes, desperate to find them as he struggled more than she could ever know to continue, "A few days ago in the basement..."

He couldn't continue, at least not immediately, it literally caused a wince of pain to come across his face as his mind went back to the moment, "She told me she wanted to go home, but I know she wouldn't do it like this. After I turned her down that night.. she was bitter, hurt. Last night she would've been an easy target in town, you know Roxie better than I do... you know she'd be looking to drink, forget. They've got her Dianna... and... I dunno how we're gonna get back."

He admitted his incompetence, as he saw it, to not have a plan or any idea as to how they'd get Roxie back. His eyes couldn't find hers anymore, it hurt too much. He looked to their hands, and it was then he realized that his fingers had been curling between hers. He was holding her hand tightly, and the rose that had once been within his palm had crumpled and fallen to the floor. He gave her hand within his a hard squeeze, as he repeated, finding the strength to look up to her eyes again, "I don't know what we're going to do..."

She didn't need his verbal affirmation to know what had already happened. Roxie was angry at her, but she wasn't stupid. She would have at least checked in with Patrick if she wasn't coming home. She was more afraid of this battle than any of them, but she knew not to worry them. "Did you try calling her?" She asked him quietly, her head nodding to acknowledge his words regarding the letter. She didn't need to see it, didn't want to read it at all. She remained calm, her mind processing everything he said to her.

The predominant portion of her nature was screaming at her to react the way she normally would have. She should have been screaming at him, accusing him of letting this happen to Roxie. If he had only believed Dianna the night before instead of calling her a nutcase then maybe they could have saved her. Her body told her to ball her hands into fists, to attack him physically. It told her to cringe against his touch, to show nothing but repulsion to him. Her mind constantly played the same words: if he had believed her, if he had trusted her. If. If. If. But, there were no ifs and buts in this situation. The point was that Roxie was gone and the two of them had to figure it out somehow, together. Their lives had been constantly flipped from hating each other to vulnerability to her nearly killing him to feeling abandoned to. . . what did she feel at the moment? Fear? Anger? Resentment. She should have. Oh, how much she knew she should have felt all those loathsome emotions, but she couldn't.

Her fingers closed around the paper in her hand, letting it rest against her palm. She dropped her arms to her side, her chest still lightly touching his. When he mentioned the basement, Dianna snapped out of whatever trance she had been in. She tore away from him then, her eyes darting to the floor while her hand unclenched from his grip. She didn't want to hear it, didn't want him to bring up that day. Whatever had happened then didn't matter anymore. She lifted the letter upwards, unfolding it and reading over it while he continued to speak. When she was done, she stood there shaking her head repeatedly.

"We're going to leave now. We're going to report this kidnapping to the authorities here because she was taken on Irish soil." But even as she spoke it, she knew the risk of involving the police. "I'm going to take them the million, it's that easy, right? I'm going to give them the money and get her back! We'll fly out right this minute and go to the warehouse. I'm certain people are watching it. We'll give them two million, Patrick. I'll give them myself, I'll give them whatever they want just to get her back!" She was frantic now, pacing back and forth.

Then, she stopped. Her head lifted, her eyes finding his. She visibly swallowed, tears brimming in her blue eyes. He had said something she didn't catch before. "You turned her down?" She asked, hardly believing it. "But I saw you. . . " Her voice trailed off, the woman wanting to believe him so badly. The letter dropped from her hand, the redhead advancing toward him. It was the worst of timing for emotional interferences, but they needed this- they deserved it. She closed in against him, her palms laying on his chest. "Why did you turn her down?" This was it, the defining moment. Everything could be redeemed with one simple answer, but whatever he said, their fates were relying on it.

It had hurt when she ripped away from him, but it was to be expected. He was almost ready to give up hope again, to be where he was in that hotel room when she silently rejected him. However, he felt a pair of hands upon his chest, and his eyes looked up to hers once again. He was surprised, she advanced upon him, and then his eyes looked into hers, his full of activity and life again, now that she had come up to him and was at least giving him a fair chance to explain himself, "Yes, you saw me.. I don't deny I kissed her Dianna, I was lonely... but I couldn't go any further. I turned her down because I... wanted you. I've always wanted you."

He wanted to continue with his words, and tell her over and over how badly he wanted her, but he couldn't help himself, with her palms upon his chest he wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her into a kiss, his right hand going up and getting lost in her crimson locks, his palm resting upon the side of her head and pulling her lips against his, he didn't care if she rejected the kiss and him- in that instant, that moment he had needed it more than he needed the air to survive. He closed his green eyes and just in case he felt the hands upon his chest shove away, he was going to enjoy every damn millisecond of this moment.

He leaned forwards into the kiss, his chest molding against hers as his left hand clutched the small of her back against him. He couldn't have her physically any closer, it was impossible, but he wanted her to be. He wanted to be with Dianna, he wanted to love her, and he fused all of his thoughts into the passion he put behind the kiss with his lips. The back of his mind was trying to remind him that this was Dianna and it was only a matter of moments until she shoved him away, but instead of deflating him it urged him to press harder and make the most of what he had.

He wanted her. Those were resounded in her head like a broken record, only the stuttering tune was a perfect melody. She silenced the voice in her head that urged her to pull away, the one that always told her she had to be tough and show no weakness. She wasn't being vulnerable now, she was being human. No matter how strict her self-programming may have been, she wasn't without emotions or feelings. There was a part of her that needed affection as much as anyone, but she knew that she'd denied it from herself for so long because of the calloused occupation she had pursued. Her body was equipped with a nervous system, too, which was tingling at the moment. She had a pulse that raced and a heartbeat that pounded against her ribcage.

Any moment could be their last. Someone possibly had the key to her house and could be watching both of them now, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. But she didn't care. The only thing weighing on Dianna's mind was her dire need to feel his lips attack hers. She wanted that connection, craved it. As he finally crushed his mouth to hers, she didn't fight it. She allowed his hands to weave into her thick locks while their bodies were forced into each other. Her mouth was greedy against his, parting so that she could deepen the kiss. She wanted to savor and taste him, to learn the mold of his perfect lips.

When his hand pressed into the small of her back, she took a step toward him until she was physically as close to him as was possible. Her hands slid up from his chest and across his shoulders, looping to drape across the back of his neck. Breaking the kiss, she placed her cheek against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart beating. Tilting her head back, her eyes came to focus on his again. Desirous and yearning, they told him she was ready to finish what had been started that night so long ago. Using her arms across his back as leverage, she lifted up her legs to wrap about his waist. Her mouth crashed back into his again, kissing him as if it would be the last time she ever did it.

He needed Dianna, his mind was blank to any other thoughts that didn't involve Dianna, correction, his mind was not blank to any other thoughts, it was rejecting him. He couldn't assault her lips with his passionately enough, he couldn't feel enough of her with his hands at one time, he couldn't get enough of the taste of her upon his lips, at least that was the way it seemed. He kissed her with such a desperate passion one would think a barrel of a gun was pointed at his head, telling him he had only precious seconds to live. And if he did have only precious seconds to live, (which wasn't too unlikely in their situation), he wanted to spend them like this. With her.

He left the back door open and out of the corner of his eye noticed the couch beside them, quickly wrapping his arms around her back and falling upon the couch, landing his chest on top of hers. Even on the fall down, his lips remained upon hers and after a split-second on the couch, his tongue dared to tingle up against hers. He deepened the kiss and kept his lips upon hers as long as he could, the fire burning his lungs, demanding air finally causing him to break the connection between their lips with an inhale as desperate as somebody who had been drowning. He would not waste the moment though, his breathing heavy upon her skin as he leaned down and his fingers curled the hem of her shirt, lifting it up and off of her form.

The moment the shirt had been pulled far enough up over her neck, he dove into the crook of it and placed kiss after passionate kiss against the soft skin, kissing up her jawline back towards his lips, his ear attentive to any wonderful noise that could escape past her lips. The passion he put into every kiss against her skin was exploding from within him, he had tried to deny it, tried to stuff it under the bed and keep it hidden but it was bursting out now, and nothing else in the world mattered except for the woman beneath him. He kissed up over her chin, he planted one single peck on her lips, and then pulled his lips away to look into her eyes, and offer her the softest of smiles. The smile lasted only a moment, before his hands were running all over the freshly-exposed skin of her torso, on a mission to feel every last pore upon her body, and his lips returned to their unyielding assault against hers.

The scene was reminiscent of the night they had spent in the hotel before flying to Ireland. It had started with them falling onto the couch, but when they tried to sneak away, Roxie had caught them. Roxie. "No." Dianna told him, turning her cheek quickly to the side so that he could no longer kiss her lips. Her mind wandered to the friend she owed so dearly. Was she safe and alive? Was she hurt? Though she cared so deeply she didn't know what to do, there was a selfish need between them that was begging to be fulfilled. Could they help Roxie now? No, they couldn't. And if she had been herself, she would have told the both of them they needed this moment of clarity to address everything that had transpired between the pair. It didn't matter if they hopped a plane right now, it wouldn't do any good. It made no sense to spend these moments with him, yet it was the only logical thought in her head. "I need you." She whispered to him, tilting her chin so that her lips could find his again.

The connection between them was vibrant and vivacious, like a thousand diamonds shimmering in the light. Her tongue tangled with his, exploring his mouth when so freely invited inside. His fingers darted to the hem of her shirt, tugging it up her body so hastily. She wanted hurry up for fear of losing the moment again, but yet she wanted to take her time and experience every incredible moment for what it was. She lifted up slightly, raising her arms over her head so that her shirt could be yanked freely from her body. While his mouth drove into the tender nape of her neck, her hands reached down for his shirt. Slipping them underneath the garment, she simply caressed his back before capturing the fabric and freeing him from it like he had done to her.

Eyes closed to the room, her mouth making the softest whimpers and purrs. She turned her face, exposing the side of her neck that he was so intent on kissing. Her fiery red hair splashed over her shoulders, spilling down her chest and contrasting against the color of her complexion. Her eyes met his again, unwilling to tear from them. She wanted to watch him as he explored her, to see the reaction in his eyes while his skin pressed to hers. His fingertips tickled her bare midriff, her lips curling into a grin. Reaching for his hand, she brought it up to her mouth and kissed the tips of every one of his fingers. Placing it back across her stomach, she arched up to him as he resumed kissing her.

Laying on that couch, Patrick knew that couldn't experience this with any other woman on the planet, he was in it for Dianna, he thought of, desired and practically lived for the redheaded woman beneath him. He wanted to explore her, understand her, and most importantly he wanted to be one with her. He kissed up and down her neck, the tip of his tongue daring to just to tease her smooth skin. His hands had been roaming over her midriff, his fingers spread wide to feel as much of her skin as possible, when he felt her hand grasp his.

His eyes followed their hands for a moment, watching as she took his hand and guided it to her lips, kissing each one of his finger tips. As she planted the soft kisses, his eyes met hers, and since her lips were busy all he could do was return the devious smirk upon her lips. Oh Lord, did it ever feel good to truly smile again, it was not a false curl of his lips to keep the peace and try to remain civil, but a smile within the moment. A tinge in the back of his mind reminded him of Roxie, but he knew there was nothing he could do, nothing that could be done until he had finished this moment with Dianna. And as she finished placing a kiss upon the final one of his fingertips, he leaned down and placed his lips right beneath hers, the top of his upper lip only grazing the bottom of her lower lip, before moving down less than an inch and placing another kiss towards her chin.

And so he started his trail of kisses, taking his sweet time to place a singular peck upon her skin before pulling away and moving down again, taking caution to not graze his lips against her skin but instead tease it with kiss after kiss. His trembling kisses continued all of the way down the center of her body, kissing down her very throat to her upper chest, where he did not cease his trail of kisses. Another kiss brought him ever closer to her chest, and just before his lips met her bra, his fingers snapped the front strap open. He quickly pushed the garment to the sides, so his lips could continue their perfect trail straight downwards. As he continued his kisses starting down her midriff, his fingers searched for and quickly found the button upon her jeans, snapping it open and zipping down her fly, while his lips neared her belly button. He began to tug the jeans down, moving his body down in order to place his lips lower upon her body, his hands pulling her jeans down at the same pace he planted the soft, sweet kisses against her skin.

There was a skeptical part of Dianna that caused her eyes to drift to the open door. Her initial reflex was to want to pull away from him to shut it as if the open doorway was a threat for anyone to walk in and interrupt this moment they had worked so long to achieve. Yet, she remained right where she was. She knew that if she ever peeled from him this time, they would have tempted the fate of chance far too many times. It was too risky; they may never have this opportunity again to be in each other's arms. Neither of them knew the future, especially due to the event to occur in only two weeks of time. Even if they took the money, there was no guarantee in that letter that any of them would survive. They probably were walking into a trap in which one or all of their lives would end.

So it was imperative that Dianna enjoy this moment with him in the present. She didn't need to just experience it, she needed to live it. She was etching ever passing second into her memory, observing each sensation he was giving her. Though she wanted to watch him, she needed to feel it more. Eyelids shielded her eyes, granting her blindness so that her other senses could be heightened. Her mind focused on the way his lips trailed down her chin, tingling her skin. Then, the touch turned to fire, burning her. Teeth sank into her bottom lip, though her mouth was still turned upwards into a blissful smile. Her hands lifted to his hair, weaving into the locks and rubbing to soothe his scalp.

There was a tinge of scarlet to her complexion, left behind by each one of his brushing kisses. When his fingers snapped open the garment on her chest, she was somewhat surprised when he bypassed her exposed breasts. For some reason, that simple abandonment made it more sensual, especially as his mouth crossed the femininity of her bare stomach. She was reveling in it, her throat continuing to emit the faintest of sounds to encourage him to continue. As his fingers pried open the button to her jeans and pulled down the zipper, she raised her hips up off the couch to allow him to pull them down. Her legs lifted, the woman pulling them free from the confinement of the clothing.

It was an interesting moment, caught between the need to hurry, if he didn't then perhaps a nuclear explosion would go off outside to interrupt them, through past experience he simply knew that something was going to happen. But he pressed that doubt of the way, and replaced it with the need to tease, please, and pleasure the petite form of the redhead in ways she'd never forget. He'd wanted this for so long, he'd denied himself wanting it for so long, he could hardly wait anymore... but he wanted to make Dianna want it more. He knew she wanted him, and he knew that she knew that he wanted her, but he wanted to make her want him and this moment more than she wanted the air within the lungs.


His kisses continued down her stomach, towards the only garment of clothing left upon her body. His kisses continued their way down, making sure to take the time so each kiss was a single, separate kiss from the previous one. His kisses trailed beneath her belly button now, his hands beside his lips as to feel each bit of skin he wasn't kissing. Another kiss brought him lower, his fingers just barely running over her skin, the pads of the tips of his fingers grazing her with the softness of a feather. With another kiss, he found his bottom lip had reached the hem of her panties.

His hands went to the hem of her panties, his fingers curling upon the top of the hem, running along the top of them before slowly starting to curl the fabric and peel the clothing down. He dragged the fabric slowly down her skin, kissing at the freshly exposed skin, edging ever closer and closer to the center of her very womanhood... before he stopped entirely. He planted one final kiss, before now dragging his lips up the trail he had formed, moving his entire body back up on top of hers until finally his lips met hers again. He planted a small kiss upon them, before pulling her away and flashing her a soft grin; the game was afoot, and he had made his first move.

His lips tickled her stomach, the woman reacting by wiggling beneath him. Her laughter soon followed, her eyes reopening to fixate on him. Fingertips were still lost in his hair, roaming through it if not for any other reason than just to prevent her hands from becoming idle. She felt his hands toying with the waistline of her underwear while his mouth continued to tease her. Just as they had done when he tried to remove her jeans, her hips lifted up to let him pull down that last remaining, significant garment. It slid down her legs, her foot kicking it off where it landed somewhere in the middle of the floor. What a sight for that proverbial interrupter to witness!

When he kiss her, her hands left from his hair. One of them flattened against his chest, firmly pushing him away. However, she wasn't trying to end anything but rather continue along the journey. She sat up then, the satin straps of her bra floating down her arms and she flicked it away from her body. She was completely bare before him now, her body his to drink it. She remained in that position for a lingering second, granting him permission to view her if he wanted to. There was nothing written on her face that showed any apprehension. In fact, her expression was one of longing.

She shifted herself then, pushing him back into a sitting position so she could slide into his lap while still facing him. Her body arched into his, molding her bare chest against his naked torso. Not an inch was spared between them while her arms lifted to loop around his neck. She wanted to be held, to enjoy the feeling of his warmth against hers. Lips traveled to his neck where it was met by her tongue, licking a long line up to his earlobe. Blowing her hot breath behind it, she capture his earlobe with her mouth. Teeth nibbled lightly but sucking gingerly upon the patch of skin. Pulling away, she kissed across his shoulder while her palms rubbed down his back.

He saw the final garment of her clothing go flicking past his head, and it made the smile upon his lips grow wider. He felt the hands push upon his chest and he accepted the push, leaning back into a sitting position upon the bed. His eyes followed the bra down to the floor, before they went up the arms the strap had fallen down off of. He took the few moments he had to inspect her body, and his eyes scanned her nude form from her very toes, up her wonderful legs and up her torso until finally he was looking into her eyes once again. The look of longing in her eyes was countered with a look of unbelievable desire within his, only hidden by the tiny, cocky grin that was plastered upon his lips.

Soon enough he found her sliding into his lap, his chest quickly pressing itself up against her bare chest, his arms wrapping around her back to once again pull her into him. He'd appeased his visual desire, and now it was the time to appease every other sense, his eyes closing as he took in a long inhale through his nose. As he inhaled he remembered the very scent of Dianna, and made sure to store that scent into his memory banks for the rest of his life. He felt her tongue running a long line against his skin, and he caught himself letting out an incredibly soft low groan.

His eyes remaining closed, he used nothing but the sensation of touch to bring his lips to her jawline, kissing up the incredibly soft skin, his cheek rubbing up against hers. He felt the gentle sucking on his ear, and his hands roamed her exposed skin. His fingers were busy touching every pore upon her body while his lips kissed at her jawline, before he finally returned the words she had given to him, in a shaky tremble of a whisper, "I need you."

When her own words were repeated back to her, Dianna pulled her face back to meet his. The very depths of her blue eyes were searching his emerald orbs, trying to read everything possible in their reflection. She was satisfied that his words were sincere, but there also seemed to be an underlying silent code exchanged between them: forgiveness. Her eyes were begging him to forgive her of all the wrong she had done to him while she was solemnly making the vow to offer him that same forgiveness for the mistakes he'd made. They were both human, prone to flaws. Suddenly, it no longer mattered how much he had infuriated her. She didn't hold him accountable for the events that had led to their fleeing to Ireland because it had led to this very moment between them. No regrets.

Dianna's left hand cupped his cheek, her forefinger extending as it traced down the curve of his jawline. She was studying him know, learning the curves and contours of his handsome face. The woman wanted to detect any scar and seek every hint of a freckle he may have had. She leaned forward, her lips snatching a single fleeting kiss. Every emotion she had was displayed on her face then: fear, understanding, desire, trust, and just maybe. . . maybe something else. She would never acknowledge it, would never allow him to know that she was capable of embracing such a powerful emotion.

She peeled herself from his form, sliding off his lap. Her hand beckoned him forth while she made her way to the door. With a grin on her face, she shut it locked it, almost daring anyone to come through it. Not that it mattered; even if a meteor suddenly fell from the sky to land in her back yard, she wasn't giving up now. No words were needed as she sauntered down the hall, the invitation for him to join her spoken in her body language. Going into her bedroom, she lowered herself down on her bed and recline back, waiting for him to appear in the room with her.

There was no fear when she stood up, no apprehension that she would not return to him, for he was secure in his knowledge that Dianna wanted him and nothing would come between them anymore. Nothing in his life had been secure for far too long, and the unspoken words that were shared when their eyes met gave him the security and the peace of mind that came with it. They had said so much to each other in that moment, with his chest against hers, his arms around her back and hers around his, so many apologies, forgiveness... and longing. If they had tried to use words to say what had been said, it never would have worked. There was too much within that powerful moment for words to say, and he could only return the grin she flashed him as he closed the door.

He stood slowly, for he was no longer in a hurry, he didn't have the fear anymore that Dianna wouldn't return to him. Three small words had been shared between them, and although they weren't the three small words that were normally shared in such a situation... it was the best either of them could do. They had exposed their weakness to each other, the small admission of needing anything was so difficult for either of them, nevermind the admission of needing each other. Soft footsteps followed the woman down the hall until he swung his head around the corner and found her waiting for him upon the bed.

He walked up to her, and decided to save her the trouble as he dropped the pyjama pants he had been wearing before laying down on top of her on the bed. He slowly lowered himself down, his palms meeting the soft mattress beside her head as he leaned his lips down and found hers once again. As he lowered more and more body weight to his chest upon hers, he moved one of his hands from beside her head, slowly stroking it down her body. He let his fingers trickle down from her collarbone, grazing over her breasts before going down to her thigh, where he gently began to stroke his fingers up and down her inner thigh.

Moments before her joined her in her brightly lit room, her head turned toward the infamous window where, less than twenty-four hours before, she had seen a maniacal and twisted face peering in at her. Eyes stared through the clear glass of the pane, greeted by the intense rays of the sun. There was no one there now watching her; no devious eyes and no wicked smile. The only sounds that could be heard were the gentle songs of the chirping birds nestled in the trees outside. The day seemed so peaceful, though her life was anything but that. There was a potential trauma weighing down the back of the mind, but the footsteps outside of the doorway told her she couldn't worry right now. Dianna was going to be selfish, which was a natural characteristic of herself. Yet, it felt so foreign all at the same time.

Her head snapped back to him, her lips curling into a wide smile. Hand lifted lazily into the air, curling to beckon him to her. She watched as his hands pushed into the waistline of his lounge pants, rolling them down with ease. Arms raised up while her legs bent at an angle and spread, making the accommodations for him to lay between them. When the weight of his chest pressed down to hers, her arms dropped down to drape across his back. Fingers inched down to his boxers, teasingly toying with the hem of them. Her chin tilted up, her lips waiting for the return of his mouth. They were her voice now, speaking in volumes to him as they molded against his mouth and explored the wonders of his warm cave.

His touch was so gentle as it caressed the length of her body that it made everything seem so. . . surreal? It was like she was trapped in a dream or watching this unfold between two people other than herself. Teeth captured the inside of her cheek, chewing on it liberally as his fingertips made their way across the inside of her thigh. She didn't move a muscle, though hundreds of tiny bumps raised on her skin while a shiver traversed her spine. She did nothing to encourage him, the woman simply choosing to enjoy the moment instead.

Patrick had never known how incomplete his life had been before, he had never known what it was like to truly have fallen for somebody as hard as he had fallen for Dianna. He doubted he would ever be able to figure out his attraction to the beautiful woman, but from the moment she had smacked his head against the side of a cupboard... his mind hadn't been able to let her go. And in that moment, in the bedroom, he was thankful for it. The months of pain of not having her, the anguish of being rejected, the physical bruises and the longing he had suffered and doubted would ever be filled finally was no longer there.

He felt her fingers play with the hem of his boxers, as he moved his hands back up her body to her shoulders, as he lowered his hips down. He rested his hips between her split legs, the fabric of his boxers the only thing stopping their connection from being complete. He felt her warmth of her core with his hard length, and he let out a trembling groan as he knew they were so close. His muscled form was pressed against hers, his entire torso from his neck to his waist was against hers, and yet he somehow wanted to be closer. He took a shuddered inhale as he took a moment to look at her in the eyes once more and flash her another soft grin.

He pondered why they were so attracted to each other, why they needed each other so? Perhaps it was that stubborn will within both of them, their refusal to give up on anything... even each other. Perhaps they had learned to need each other, and lean on each other through out the events of their lives over the past few months. Or perhaps it would be something he would never understand, but he would never dare to question it. It didn't matter what the reason was for the feeling of completeness he had, the feeling that everything would be alright, if only for these precious minutes. The thief and the cop, together at last, and his eyes never wanted to stop scanning her beautiful blue hues to see every thought run through her mind. Feeling her fingers run along the hem of the last wall of defense between their inevitable connection he whispered into her ear, "Let's not torture ourselves anymore..."

Little did he know that those very same thoughts were being pondered in her mind, too. Dianna had questioned herself all along, from the moment she knew that her persistent feelings were more than just anger and bitterness toward him. Why was it that, even when her mind had tried to overpower her emotions, she couldn't stop herself from thinking about him? The true test had been only a few days ago when she had walked down in the basement with a peace offering only to find him in the arms of her best friend. As much as she had tried to ignore the overwhelming feelings of deceit and betrayal, it was merely confirmation then of what she had known all along.

So, if he were to outwardly ask her, she thought she had some answers for him. They were a classic tale of polar opposites: she the beautiful thief and he the ruggedly handsome cop. It was a case of bad versus good, only the roles were reversed from the traditional form they usually assumed. Yet, she knew that wasn't the reason. Maybe it was because he was the prize she could never have. Dianna was accustomed to taking whatever she wanted whenever she wanted it, but he had been the only thing that had ever been denied to her. Every time they had come a little closer to each other, some unnatural force had ripped them apart. And still, that wasn't the reason either.

No, the real reason was that somewhere inside that complex mind of hers, Dianna believed in fate. As cynical and skeptical as she appeared to be, there was a small optimistic part of her that believed everyone belonged to someone. From the moment she saw him in that museum, there had been a tug at the string attached to her vitality. Dianna and Patrick were two outcasts, poured from the same mold. As opposite as they were, they were so much the same. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, the quote from a priceless book had spoken those words to her over and over again. They had literally fought for their lives together, had overcome so much only to find their way to each other. How else could that have happened if it had simply not been meant to be? She fit perfectly to him like a hand to a glove, and nothing nor no one could change that. Whether she would ever tell him of that, however, was beyond even her.

When his words washed over her ear like a gentle breeze, she removed her hands so that he could finish the task himself. Her legs pressed lightly against his hips, her body rolling upward to his. If he only continued to search her expression, he would see how much she was trusting him with this. She was ready for this connection, to experience him as she had never done before. Her chin tilted then, her lips stealing a brief kiss. Then, her mouth pressed gently to his earlobe. "Whatever or whoever I am, remember that in this moment, I am yours." She whispered.

He would never forget those words, and how they were spoken to him in this moment. A man would have to be an idiot or a fool to believe he could predict the future, and whether or not he was destined to forever be with this woman- she would never be forgotten. He needed her, all of her, and he couldn't wait another second. He didn't bother to search his mind for an appropriate response to her words, for there was nothing left for either of them to say. The only words that could be spoken now were through actions, and one of his hands pulled away from her shoulder down to his boxers, as he pulled the final piece of clothing off of his body and pushed the article off of the bed and onto the floor. There was nothing in the way anymore, and he lowered his hips, sending her length into her awaiting sex.

For a moment, despite everything, Roxie within their very enemy's grasp, the knowledge they both had that an enemy could come in through their doors and shoot them both at any second, all of the things wrong with life... for once, it was perfect. Nothing could have been better than that single moment when he entered her, and they were one. Not just by body, but soul, heart and mind. He could swear he could hear her very thoughts within his mind, and his lips quickly went to hers, his tongue entering her warm, accepting mouth and searching for hers. His arms wrapped around her back, and pulled her up into him as his hips pulled back the length of his shaft and sent it back inside of her, with a full thrust.

It wasn't long, however, before the personality traits of Patrick that had been hidden for the past while started to show with his actions. He was determined, he had waited for this moment where they could be together, and they could be one, for so long... he was going to make use of every precious millisecond. He knew he would never forget the words she spoke, and he would never want her to forget the way she felt on this morning. The stubborn will he had used so many times in the past was showing now in his actions, as he pumped his hips into her, jolting her entire body with the impact. He was not rough, but very firm in his actions, and he made sure to keep up the pace he had started, a groan escaping from his throat but muted by the connection between their lips.