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Another Day on the Job. (AutumnDreaming/Rekoj)

"Good, because we need to get the hell out of dodge before it's too late. I just... I just figured out who it is that's after us, it's Aldo Caprelli, the one true leader of the Italian mafia in North America. Those guys we killed, they weren't your ordinary muscle, those were some-high-up-bring-the-foot-down muscle, do you have any idea how rare it is to find anyone who has direct phone contact with the leader of the mafia? Never mind all three of those guys? I think one of them may have been his son oh man.. Dianna, I hope Freddy is as good as you say he is because the longer we stay in the country.. I don't even want to think about it. They already think we know something, by being there at that museum... never mind the fact that now I've murdered a family member of his!"

He shook his head and ran both of his palms down his cheeks before taking one long, slow, deep breath and regaining control of himself. He had finished his little panic-rant, and was thinking clearly again. He took two of the cell phones, rolled down the passenger window and quickly dumped them out. He didn't trust them, he didn't know exactly how strong the mafia was, and what technologies they had- but he didn't put tracking devices past them. He knew he had to make a call, and make it quick, the longer he held onto the phone, it more of a liability it became.

But he knew he couldn't pass this opportunity, and quickly scribbling down the phone numbers for the important contacts onto the same (now with very little free space) envelope. Taking the cell phone, he scrolled down to the name of the mafia kingpin, and hesitated to press the call button. He looked to Dianna and explained to her, "I'm calling him, personally. It's time to see if I can wriggle some info out of him. Have anything you'd like to add to him, before I call? I've got to see if I can trick him into giving us some information on what exactly it is he thinks we saw."
 
The name didn't register to her except that she had already spoken the surname when she found it on one of the body's identification cards. She was going to offer a shrug, but the panic was written on his face. Instead, she waited for him to finish telling the story. Breath was dragged in noisily through her nose, one of her hands lifting to rub at her neck where a muscled arm had come within seconds to literally suffocating her to death. The leader of some mafia group wanted her. . . alive? Unconscious? Was he going to mount her head on his wall? She didn't know, but the thought caused her to visibly shudder. The car swerved slightly, her hands trembling for the briefest of moments. "Don't overreact!" She told him, but she knew he wasn't. Inside, Dianna was crumbling and completely freaking out.

She watched him pick up the phone, her hand jutting out to stop him. "WAIT! What are you doing?" She asked, trying to slap the phone out of his hand. "He probably has some GPS tracking system on that so he can keep tabs of his boys. It's bad enough he may already know where we are, but if you call him, we're screwed. Come on, Rookie, think about this. Do you really fucking think you can trick the kingpin-who-the-fuck-ever into giving you, a nobody, information? What the hell do you think you're going to say?" She put her hand up to her ear, mimicking a phone. "Uh, hello, Mr. Mafia Man, we didn't see anything. Seriously, can you just forget about all this? We'll buy you some donuts." She scoffed, shaking her head. "You're nuts if you think that. Whatever it is was so bad that I almost died. Or worse, was taken to him."

She turned her head back to the road, still grumbling. "Ireland, I'm going to fucking Ireland. You can stay here with your boyfriend if you want." She was spouting off, angry at him for some unknown reason, really. The fire in her had returned, the vulnerability gone. She was Dianna again, that same fire-breathing, man-eating woman with an unmatched feisty spirit. She wasn't about to let him call the king of the mafia, but in truth she couldn't stop him. "Just be smart about this, okay? Please."
 
"Dianna, I can't not call him, his number could change at any moment.. and damnit, what, do you think we could hide forever in Ireland, and live a happy little life surrounded by leprechauns and booze?! This is it, the one chance I have to get in contact with the person after us. I know he might be tracking us, but if he's tracking us already, one minute on the phone won't make much of a difference!" he was trying to keep his voice low, for Roxie's sake, but already his voice was raising a little.

"I don't know what I'm going to say, what he's going to say, but if I don't phone him and see if I can goad him into giving me something, any little piece of information of what really happened in that museum then we've got a much better chance than we have now!" exasperated, he knocked the back of his head against the headrest of his seat and cursed under his breath. He then looked down at the screen, and the name he knew he had to call.

He licked his lips quickly and spoke in a more relaxed voice to Dianna now, his panic subsiding as he came up with a plan, "I'm going to phone him and tell him... we saw everything. I'm going to pretend like we actually have something he wants, to see if I can fool him into divulging some information about what exactly it is that we supposedly saw... or know, and... I'm going to tell him our silence can be bought. And to meet us by the docks down by the old quay tomorrow at midnight. By that time we'll be long gone on a plane to Ireland, and they'll be on a wild goose chase. Best case scenario, they're off looking in completely the wrong place so we can slip away... worst case... well, I don't think it could get much worse than it already is, can it?"
 
It took a great deal of self-control to prevent her from slamming her foot on the break in the middle of the interstate. Dianna was fuming, her face growing a bright shade of red. She was trying so hard to keep her voice at bay for Roxie's sake, but it was even more difficult for her to keep herself in her own seat. She was about to climb across the gear shift into his lap just to choke the living daylights out of him. "I'll show you a fucking leprechaun in a minute, you jackass. No, we're not going to live a happy life forever in Ireland." Her voice was shrill, clearly mocking him. She exhaled loudly, as if literally blowing steam from her body.

"You know what, you just go right ahead and call him. Tell him whatever you want. Tell him the little redhead he tried to murder tonight also shot one of his goons in the balls. . . three times! Tell him we witnessed it all when we don't even know what the fuck is going on. Go right ahead!" She clapped her lips together, willing herself not to speak any further. Roxie was flopping in the back as if she was about to wake up, which was not what either of them wanted. They needed at least one of them to be well-rested an sane for the longer hours and both knew it would be neither Patrick nor Dianna. They were both too hot-tempered especially the woman.

She was still shaking her head, flooring the accelerator. Their exit was coming up. Eyes glanced at the clock, noticing not too much time had passed. "It should be enough time for Freddie to have already dropped everything off. He's a fast worker." She was trying to change the subject, but that was nearly impossible. "You know what? I'll let you tell me it can't get worse when we're being hung up there with their moose-of-the-year plaques on the walls. We're just game to them now, you know that, right? Maybe you should have thought about that when you came barging in and saving us. Sure, save Roxie, she's innocent. But sometimes blood has to be shed. It would have stopped if they had taken me. It would have ended if they had just. . ." She paused, keeping her eyes away from him. "If they had just killed me."
 
He wished he had time to tell her all of the different ways she was wrong, but he knew he didn't. He couldn't ignore the possibility of the phone having a tracking device within it, and he stared down at the name on the contact list only to hesitate one more final time to call Aldo. He looked up from his passenger seat to Dianna, and placed his hand upon her shoulder, rubbing it gently followed by a quick squeeze, and a calm voice, "Dianna, I need you to slow down, and focus on the road. I'm going to make this phone call, I need you to stay focused, Roxie needs you to stay focused. Do this for her, okay?"

Once he was finished, his hand left her shoulder and went back to his phone, where he finally pressed the call button and brought the phone up to his ear. He was allowed enough time to take one deep breath, before a gravelly voice answered the phone, "Buono sera, Antonio."

Patrick answered, in a calm, but very rigid and firm voice, "No, it is not a good evening for Antonio, not at all. Hello Aldo Caprelli, you should know who this is, so I'm not going to bother with introductions."

Patrick listened intently, as the man on the other side of the phone took his time with a few deep breaths before asking, "Where is Antonio?"

Patrick noted the aged voice of the man on the other side, as well as the calm demeanor, "Antonio is dead, Aldo, as well as the four other men you sent with him. Did you hear me, they're all dead? You don't know who you're dealing with Aldo-"

Though before he could continue, he was interrupted by a voice that was no longer calm, and escalating with each word, "No Detective Patrick Adair, you don't know who you're dealing with. I know exactly who I'm dealing with, you can say hello to Roxanna and the thief named Dianna. I know everything, Patrick-"
"Evidently not Aldo, you didn't know five of your best men would fail you tonight," Patrick interrupted, trying his best to keep his voice level and calm, though it was getting more and more difficult by the second. "And you don't know what I'm going to do next, let's stop playing games and get to the point. I know what I saw in that museum a week ago..."

Aldo's tone changed dramatically when Patrick mentioned the museum, and he quickly hissed across the phone, "What you saw was a business deal gone wrong, nothing more... nothing less..."

Patrick had to think of a response, he was reaching for anything to get information out of the old man on the other side, he just hoped the man on the other side wouldn't call his bluff, "What I saw that night was cold-blooded murder!"

He raised his voice with those words, daring to wake the sleeping beauty in the backseat, and it was not in vain. Aldo Caprelli nearly lost it on the other side of the phone, "Listen you sunuvabitch, if you think you can phone me after murdering my son and then try to tell me that I murdered the Lebedev's, they shot first, you heard the gunfire!"

The name was instantly captured in Patrick's mind, and he stored the name away for future use. He had got what he needed, it was time to end the phone call, "Relax Aldo, I only killed your men because I had to. I know I can never go back to the way things were... and I don't have the funds for a brand new life. My silence can be bought, I want five-hundred thousand dollars, and I want it all ready for me by tomorrow. Midnight, in the blue warehouse by the old quay, I'll see you there."

With that, he cut off the yell of Aldo on the other side by shutting off the phone, and then tossing it out onto the freeway beside him. He rolled up the window and took a few deep breaths, looking over to Dianna, "A business deal gone wrong, the last name Lebedev, that's what I got..."
 
Whatever moments of weakness Dianna had been facing earlier, they were completely gone. When his hand clapped to her shoulder, she growled at him. Swaying in her seat, she tried her best to knock his touch from her body. "Don't fucking touch me!" She told him, her angry tone full of dark promises for him if he did not remove his hand from her shoulder. "I'm doing everything I can for Roxie, but don't tell me to slow down. I'll fucking drive this car right into a bridge if I want to. And, why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't I just make everything easier and kill us all right now? After all, we're going to die anyway." She wasn't being quite rational, the car drifting toward the guard rail. Just before it made contact, she darted across all lanes of traffic to take their exit. The tires were screaming a protest, but she didn't care. Smoke billowed behind the stolen vehicle, but the car would make it to the airport. Then, she didn't care what happened to it.

She fell quiet while he was on the phone, ears tuned to a song in her head. Dianna didn't want to hear the conversation, didn't want to acknowledge he was screwing up. Somehow, she knew this plan was going to backfire in all their faces. You didn't become the king of the mafia by being a stupid man. No, this Aldo guy was probably highly intelligent with connections spread everywhere. Hell, he probably even owned the airport and the hotel that would be hosting them for the night. The whole world was separated by six degrees, but this man probably made it just a little smaller.

Her ears picked up the signal of his words toward the end of the conversation, listening as he claimed he had killed the men because he had to. Well, excuse her, but if Dianna remembered correctly she had brutally murdered one before carrying out two of the bodies. It was her hand that poured the gasoline, and it was her hand that lit the torch that ignited both the house and car. Anyone could squeeze a trigger, but what she did took far more courage than he could ever know. Eyes rolled, her throat scoffing at him. Men. Stupid stupid men.

When he hung up, she glanced in his direction. The name meant nothing to her so she just offered a shrug. By now, she was pulling into the parking lot of the hotel side at the airport. "Wait here." She instructed him before shutting off the vehicle and getting out. Jogging into the front door, she immediately went to concierge. "Good evening, I'm here to pick up a package for Brooklyn Mansfield." The man looked through his list, nodding and passing the package to her. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a photo I.D. and flashing it at him. "Thank you, Ms. Mansfield."

Tearing it open, she glanced inside to see the fake drivers' licenses, the passports, airplane tickets, the hotel room keys plus some extra cash. Good ol' Freddie always came through for them. Returning to the car, she passed him a key. "I'll get the bags. We have one room, but it's probably a deluxe suite so don't freak out about staying in the same space with me. It's 517, I think. There's a back elevator you can take to get there if you want to do so without being seen. Oh, and, do you think you could take Roxie in? I don't want to wake her."
 
Patrick chose to ignore her outburst in the car, her near suicidal words, her snapping at his touch, swerving through three lanes of traffic and dealing with squealing tires; for all that meant to him was that the real Dianna was back. A touch on the crazy side with the talk of running all of them off of the road, but hey, it was nice to see the fire in her eyes back. Patrick always liked that fire behind her eyes, it matched her hair so well. Once the car was in park, he checked beside him to see if Roxie had managed to stay sleeping peacefully throughout the discussion, and the whiskey must have done it's job because she was still out like a light.

Turning around just in time to notice the key tossed towards him, he snatched it and nodded at her suggestion. Quietly opening the back door, his one arm cradled underneath Roxanna's upper back, the other underneath her knees. He carried her bridal style to the back elevator, his eyes not once glancing towards Dianna. He had been disturbed by some of her words, he couldn't afford to have Dianna not giving any value to her own life in a moment of crisis. He was exhausted, and silently thankful for the way she was, if only for a moment, giving him orders and keeping him organized. He didn't want to have to think of the now, his mind was still stuck on the name.

Lebedev, Lebedev, Lebedev, it ran through his head, but no light switch seemed to flick on as it did with Aldo Caprelli, he was clueless about the name and it's importance. Once the elevator reached the correct floor Patrick carried Roxanna's sleeping form all of the way to the door, and somehow through a circus act of leaning against a doorway while keeping Roxie as still as possible he managed to swipe the card key and get the door open. Stepping through the door he didn't bother to inspect the place, instead he searched for the bedroom, finding a queen sized bed to place Roxie's form upon. Once her body hit the mattress, he didn't dare try and get the covers over her, for fear of waking her. Somehow she'd slept through the entire thing, and he returned to the main area, looking around, wondering how many more footsteps he had in him before he crashed.
 
Dianna let him think she was behind him, taking the first few steps with him until she halted in her movements. When she could no longer see him after he had entered the building, she sat down in the driver's seat. Leaning forward, her forehead rested against the steering wheel for a few moments as she tried to clear her thoughts. Always a woman with a plan, it frustrated her beyond belief that she could see no definite actions beyond a plane landing in Ireland. Oh, sure, she loved the place. The owners of the local pubs just adored her because, being of Irish roots herself, she could easily keep up with them when it came to partying and Irish whiskey. Her home was in the midst of beautiful, lush gardens. And though it was an incredible place, she knew he was right in saying they couldn't hide there forever. Attention would be brought to Roxie's absence and it wouldn't be long until authorities were looking for her.

Reaching back behind her, she fingered the floor for a few moments until her fingertips brushed the crinkled paper bag. Wrapping her hand around it, she seized it and brought it forward. Much like Roxie had done, she unscrewed the top and chugged down a good amount of its contents. She tasted nothing beyond the burn of the alcohol, but she didn't care. She sat there, bottle in hand, drinking the mostly empty bottle until it was completely drained of its contents. After all, she deserved some rest, too, right? Gathering the plastic bag with the information, she opened the glove box to clear it of the clutter. Finding a tattered rag, she ran it over the steering wheel, seat belts, and everywhere she could find to clear fingerprints. She knew their DNA was all over it, but there was only so much she could do. Getting out of the vehicle, she gathered all their belongings and set out for the hotel.

A few minutes later, she was sliding the electronic key into the front door. Securing the deadbolt behind her, she walked into the dark living room. Seeing the shadow of a figure, she placed the bags down on the floor. "I'm pretty sure Roxie packed some clothes for you in the bag. I don't know what's in there, probably those shirts and maybe some jeans. She's good at stuff like that." Kicking off her shoes, she peeked into the main bedroom to see another shadowy figure laying on the bed. Roxie. Walking through the bathroom, she noticed a connecting door. Opening it, there was another bed inside. Coming back out to the living room, she collapsed on the sofa. "There's another bedroom back there. It's all yours. I'll sleep in there with Roxie."
 
Patrick rubbed his tired eyes and watched as the petite figure of Dianna collapsed onto the couch. She mentioned something of a spare bedroom where he could rest, and instantly that was where he started going. After a few footsteps though, he stopped, and stood motionless in the room. He delayed for a few moments, before turning himself around and regardless of what Dianna had to say about it- he flopped himself on the sofa beside her. He turned and looked at the shadow he knew was Dianna, he couldn't find her eyes in the three o'clock in the morning darkness, but it didn't stop him from speaking.

His voice was in a calm tone, he had no desire to argue though he knew it would probably come down to it, "We've got to talk Dianna, you said some things in the car that can't go unnoticed. You said some really stupid things, and I didn't have the time to tell you how wrong you were. You know as well as I do that this would not end for me and Roxie if they had you, they would hunt both of us down anyways and you know it."

He dared to move himself closer to her, but he couldn't look at her as once more he took his palm to his forehead, letting a soft sentence escape past his lips, "Damnit Dianna... I can't do this on my own, I need your help. I... I need you." He let out a heavy sigh after the words drifted past his lips. He was looking away from her, he couldn't dare to look at her as for the first time in a while he was letting his guard down. He knew it too, and he was already wincing, waiting for her callous words to mock him.
 
There was a nice, even buzzing happening in her head, the woman feeling quite light and airy. Whoever said alcohol was a depressant must have been sorely mistaken for she felt as good as gold at the moment. Her back was diagonally angled toward the arm of the couch, her feet pulled up onto the cushion so that her knees were pressed into her chest. Hands covered her face, her head drooping back to rest on the sofa. She had told him of the extra bed, had expected him to go away. But as she felt the seat dip down beside her, she knew he couldn't grant her even a moment of peace. Her life had almost ended today, and he just wouldn't give her a single second to reflect on it. Besides that, even his presence was a buzz kill.

She waited for him to speak but when he finally did, her chest fell in a heavy sigh. Of course, here came the lecture. Foot tapped anxiously on the cushion, the redhead counting in her head to keep her temper at bay. One. . . two. . . three. . . Go unnoticed?. . . four. . . fiver. . . six. . .stupid things?. . .seven. . . eight. . . she was wrong? Dianna, wrong?. . . nine. . . ten. There was a bundle of fire in her stomach, burning and burning. It was rising, about to explode from within her. Teeth sank harshly into her bottom lip as a prevention for starting an argument that very well may turn into a fist fight. One. . . two. . . three. . .

"You need me?!" She scoffed, rising from the couch. Her dainty feet paced back and forth in front of it, though not a single sound of a footstep was made. She was an extremely stealthy woman, one who could walk through a crowd wearing bells and not utter a sound. "What the hell do you think I'm doing if not helping you? I got you a passport, a plane ticket, and a safe place in IRELAND. You know, where you can drink and fucking dance with the leprechauns." Her voice took on that same high-pitched tone she had used earlier when mocking him. "You need me as much as a fat kid needs a doughnut. Isn't that the stupid joke? Something like that." She waved her hand through the air as if dismissing what she had last said. "You know what? Just go to bed!" Like a mother scolding her son, she raised her hand and pointed to the spare bedroom. "Go!"
 
He stood up, his pain quickly turning to anger at her words; when she had had her moments of weakness, he had been there. When he had his, she might as well have just spat on his face. Patrick knew how to be stealthy when he stood up, but he didn't care now, his feet hit the floor with a thud as he raised up and desperately tried to find her eyes to glare into in the darkness. His fingers curled into fists at his side as he returned, a temper raising in his voice as he spoke, "And then what in Ireland? After we've finished dancing with the leprechauns are you still going to try and run yourself off of the road? I need you to value your own life Dianna!"

With the final sentence, his hands met her shoulders with a shove as he tried to physically knock some sense into her. He stood tall now, teeth sunken into his lower lip, his arms going rigid by his sides again. He kept his fingers curled into a tight fist, if he had fingernails they would surely be drawing blood from his palm by now. He shook his head in disbelief at the way she had ordered him to go to bed, after all of this time, and still no respect. "You know what, you wouldn't be able to get the passports, the plane ticket if I hadn't come back tonight- of course, you don't really give a fuck because you wanted them to take you! You wanted an easy way out, sure you've been helping me for tonight- but you're helping me for Roxie's sake. What good is anyone on your side if they don't care whether they live or die?!"
 
Dianna did value her own life, but in a moment of weakness she had thought of her dearest friend first. In her mind, this had started with her so it should have stopped with her, too. It wasn't that she wanted to die, but rather she just wanted it to end so that Roxie- and even Patrick- would be safe. She had always lived her life on the edge, but it was catching up to her. Sometimes she just wanted to slow down and live an honest life, but she couldn't do that because there was nothing honest about her. She was a thief, pure and simple. She existed just for the thrill of taking whatever she wanted from whoever she wanted. It was a dishonest lifestyle, but it was completely hers.

Her hands dropped to her side when she realized she had commanded him. She knew she should have apologized, but it wasn't in her nature. However, she could see his figure advancing in the dark. When he shoved her, she stumbled back slightly. Stunned by his sudden attack, she lunged back toward him so that her chest collided with his. "I do care! I care. Don't stand there and tell me you've never had a fucking moment where you lost sense of who you are! Give me a fucking break, I did almost die tonight, you know?" She paused, lifting curled fists to beat harshly on his chest. "Don't tell me you saved me. Don't tell me you're a fucking hero and I owe you something. I don't owe you shit, Rookie, because without you none of this would have ever happened. If you hadn't been tracking me. . . if you hadn't tried to stop me!" But he was only her scapegoat for pulling the true blame from herself. Her fists pummeled and pummeled against him as if she was trying to knock the wind out of him.

"They were going to kill her. Roxie! They were going to just discard her like she was nothing." Her voice was angry but her tone was hushed so as to not wake the other woman. "All for what? Nothing, she was innocent! I couldn't breathe. I couldn't make them stop. . ." She paused, her hands pulling from him to clasp her throat. She was being weak again, showing him her vulnerability. Bitter tears were stinging her face, which only added fuel to the fire. Palms flattened, slamming into his chest to push him away from her. "Get out! Leave like you did that night! Just go!"
 
He was ready for her counter, he knew the shove would not go without some sort of response. He slammed her fists up against his chest, they had an impact, but he stood there and took each impact. When one of her fists came dangerously close to his wound he flinched a little, not in pain, but in protection for his wound, shying it away from her. He stood there until he felt the shove, the flat palms against his chest, and he only took one step back to catch himself. Again quickly he stepped forwards and he snatched both of her hands at the wrist, stopping any more attempts to attack him. He was non-combative at the moment, and he kept her arms still. Stepping forwards once more, bringing his chest against hers he shook his head and said a simple, "No. I'm not leaving, not again."

Another shake of his head and he bowed his head down a little more, any anger gone from his voice, "You're right, I'm no fucking hero, and you don't owe me shit." His hand released her arm, as he trusted she was done with her assault. "But this isn't my fault, you know that. If I hadn't been there that night the mafia still would have been with their guns, and who knows what would've happened with you and them. But more importantly Dianna... this isn't your fault either. You can't blame yourself for not being able to save Roxie, you can't blame yourself for the situation we're all in, and you can't blame yourself for the pain and suffering we've all gone through. It wasn't you who pulled a gun on me and shot me, it wasn't you who showed up last night with the intention of murdering Roxie, it was the Caprelli fucking mafia."

His arm went around her back now, as with a heavy sigh he continued, "I' very recently had a moment where I didn't know who I was, it was when I was pointing a gun in the face of an innocent man demanding he give me his vehicle. I didn't know whether I was a cop or a criminal, and I didn't care at that point. I just knew... I had to get back."
 
By now, Dianna was visibly trembling from anger, pain, fear. . . she didn't know the source. All she knew was that she was shivering across from him as if it was below freezing in the room. When he stepped forward and seized her wrists, her initial instinct was to fight against him. After all, that was all she knew how to do: fight. Her arms flinched as if to pull away, but she let them relax against her sides. She wanted to tell him again to leave, but there was a flutter in her heart that told her it wasn't what she truly desired. For someone who had been alone the majority of her life or deceived anyone who thought they were close to her, she actually needed Roxie and him as her support system. He was right, they were all in this together. It didn't matter who started it, only who ended it. And as much as she blamed herself because of the poor choices she made years ago, what was happening to them now wasn't really her fault. Her collision with the mafia was controlled by fate, and she knew better than to tempt it any further.

She remained silent, feeling somewhat guilty for the way she had attacked him. She knew he had good intentions, but the truth was that Dianna was just looking for a confrontation. She needed to work out her frustrations, but he was making it worse by reacting so placidly. Now, his arm was looping around her back as if he was actually going to embrace her. "Why did you need to get back?" She asked softly, raising her chin up to him. When realizing what she had done, Dianna took a step backward to struggle against his semi-embrace. "Stop. Stop!" She told him, her arms raising to pound on his chest again. "Why won't you fight back? Why are you just standing there?" She asked, her hands suddenly stopping the assault. Instead, they flattened until her palms came to a rest just above his heart. She stepped forward, her neck craned awkwardly as if she didn't know if she wanted to be held or to break free.
 
When she finished her second assault upon his chest, he ignored her second two questions, deciding only to answer her first one, "Because... because I needed to get back to you." He had other reasons, his debt to Roxanna, his need to find companions to work with against an unknown enemy- but those weren't good enough reasons to turn a cop into a criminal. The true reason he had used to justify his actions was the irrational, the irrational, inexplicable acts of a man who was starting to fall for a woman. There was no nervous trembling, no anxiety, he simply smoothly leaned down and placed his lips upon hers. It was not a soft kiss, it was a passionate one, he had not fought back because he had been saving his energy for this. Both of his arms went around her back and pulled her into him, as he wanted her body as close as possible to his.

He broke the kiss only to catch a quick breath, before returning his lips to hers. He needed this moment, he didn't care anymore if she would try to shove him off, reject him. He held her tight and took a step to the side, pulling her underneath him as both of them hit the couch. His hands went down her back, and he broke the kiss again to catch his breath for a moment. The only sounds he could hear in the room was his own heavy breathing, and the sound of his heart pounding up into his throat. He couldn't keep the kiss broken for more than a moment though, he didn't feel right, didn't feel complete without his lips against hers.
 
Dianna wasn't sure she could allow herself this moment of softness, to expose herself in front of him. But oh how much she needed this, needed to feel another person against her. And not just any person, but him. Yes, the Rookie. The man that had caused her so much grief was probably the only person in the world right now who could understand her. Sure, Roxie understood her but there were even some parts of her that her closest friend couldn't comprehend. He seemed to understand her mechanics, though. He knew she needed to fight away all the pent up frustration. Now, though, he seemed to understand how much she craved just a soft touch.

She lingered in his arms, her fingertips slightly flexing against his shirt. When his lips ensnared hers, she did not protest. Her lips acted quickly, fervor and passion dancing in them. Her chest molded to his, her body leaning in to cling to the curves and outlines of his figure. When he paused, she exhaled a sigh of relief. There was so much tension between them, but she could feel it melting. As he pulled them down, she fell easily beneath him. Her arms looped around his neck, her lips eagerly awaiting the return of his to her mouth.
 
There was a fire within the passion he put into each and every kiss, but soon enough his lips crawled away from hers. He kissed the edge of her mouth, and then her cheek, planting peck after peck until he reached her jawline. His lips moved up to her ear, where his teeth found her earlobe to nip it. His teeth fiddled with the flesh, rolling it back and forth as his grizzled cheek rubbed up against her smooth one. His hand traveled from her back to the hem of her shirt, where he started to slowly peel it off of her form. He wanted to kiss her lips again, but for now he wanted to have his ear as close as possible to her mouth so he could hear each and every noise that escaped past her lips. He was on a mission now, to bring her pleasure, and to have her admit it. His hands peeled her shirt up to the point where he'd have to un-mold his chest his from hers in order to pull it any farther and he decided that was good enough for now. His palms began to run over the exposed skin of her midriff, he wanted to feel every bit of her skin.

He needed to enjoy every part of the moment, he needed to experience Dianna through each and every one of his senses. He wanted to taste her, to hear her, to feel every part of her body. The fiery redhead had captured his attention from the very moment she called him Rookie, she shouldn't have, but she did. He had once stood for good, for nobility, for the law... and she had been his very opposite, a thief for the sake of the thrill. And yet here they were, in perfect symphony, as he couldn't bear to have his lips away from hers anymore he ripped his teeth away from her ear to return his lips to hers. His mouth met hers and his tongue dared to run against her lips, teasing them, closing his eyes and feeling himself slip away into the moment.
 
Dianna had never really allowed herself any true intimacy. Most of her actions in encounters such as these were rough and out of necessity, just another means for working off frustration. Even as all her aliases every bit of romanticism she had given had been completely feigned. She had never allowed herself to care for those men simply because they were a job to her. As cruel as that was, it was the truth. Those men had expected things of her because of the progression of their "relationship", which was really just a progression of Dianna toward whatever artifact or treasure she was going to steal from them. She made them happy because she was a wonderful actress, but it had all been just a falsification, an illusion.

But this was real. It was startling to her how she reacted to him, the way she let her body so easily give in to his. The craving she felt was unhealthy as it meant her emotions were very genuine. It was so much easier for her to hate him, to insult and mock him without another thought. This was the difficult part. Her guard was lowering, the woman exposing her heart to him. It was a great risk; she doubted she could bear it if he left her brokenhearted. But still she stayed, lingering in the comfort of his arms.

His lips caressed her face, leaving no inch un-kissed. When the warmth of his mouth captured her earlobe, her throat uttered the softest, most melodious purr. Her legs bent, sliding upward at an angle so that he could easily lay between them. The chill of the air tickled her exposed belly, though it was soon replaced with the heat from his hands. She did nothing except lay beneath him, reveling in the way it felt to have another body close to hers. And unlike before when those men were kissing a stranger, Patrick knew exactly who his lips were touching. He knew Dianna for all the bad that she possessed, understood her mechanics from the very beginning. He had pushed through her tough barrier, had torn the wall down and breached that security to be with her. She wasn't Elise, Brooklyn, Madeline, Anastasia, Iliana, or any of those other fake identities. She was Dianna, really and truly.

When his mouth crashed back into hers, she was hungrily awaiting. Feeling his tongue trace the outline of her lips, she parted them just enough to grant him entrance. Jaws relaxed slightly, her own pink muscle coming alive to interact with his. Hips rocked up to greet his, her exposed midriff rolling up into his shirt. The fingertips beneath the fabric on his torso inched upward, feeling the muscles in his back. Gripping the hem, she, too, started to peel his shirt away from his body for as much as she could reach.
 
His tongue met hers and soon he began to mash the amorphous muscle up against hers, seemingly trying to wrap it up with his own. It was nearly a wrestling match going on between the two tongues, and Patrick was set on winning. There would always be the pride between them, the challenging of it and defending of it. The conflict had eased now into a much more than friendly competition, and soon broke his lips from hers, pulling his tongue away for only a moment. He whispered one quick word, in a voice that was barely a breath, he didn't dare wreck the moment with unnecessary words, just the necessary one, "Bedroom."

His palms soon roamed from her midriff to her lower back, squishing their way between the couch and her skin so he could feel each and every smooth contour of her body. His one hand weaseled its way up underneath her shirt more, crawling up her spine until he could bring his hand no further up. His other hand went in the opposite direction, forcing it's way between her bottom and the fabric of the couch, until his large hand could find a hold. He slowly pulled himself up off of the couch, his strong arms pulling Dianna up with him. He didn't dare break the near the connection between their bodies, he needed to be as close as possible. His forearm soon shifting underneath her bottom to get a better hold, he pulled her up and the hand upon her back squished her to closer to him. He soon started walking towards the bedroom, keeping his forehead bowed against hers, heavy footsteps bringing them towards the empty bed, which was seemingly waiting for them.
 
As soon as he uttered the word, Dianna tried to wriggle herself out from beneath him. She was very capable of walking from one room to the next, even with the buzz of the alcohol attempting to slow her down, but he had other intentions. She wondered, too, if he could taste the liquor on her breath. Would he think she was reacting due to that? Furthermore, was she? Was this intimacy she felt really as genuine as she thought or was it just the assistance of whatever had been in that bottle? She thought it to be real, but she'd have no way of knowing until the following moment. She only hoped it wasn't a mistake. The seed of doubt was planting itself into her non-trusting brain, wrecking and spoiling what seemed like a much needed evening between them.

When he lifted her from the couch, she was somewhat afraid he would drop her. Her arm looped across his back while her body leaned into his chest. When his forehead was pressed to hers, she tilted her chin upward until her lips lightly touched to his nose. Fingertips caressed the back of his neck while her eyes stayed glued to his in the dark. She wanted to whisper to him, to divulge every secret she had, but she didn't. Dianna simply didn't have it within her mechanics to be any more intimate than she already was.

From within the main bedroom, however, Roxie stirred. Eyes fluttered open to not the backseat of a car, but to a vast, open room. Hands slid across the linens, finding the comforter to be smooth. Raising up, she pulled herself up to her feet. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, she slowly crept back into the main room. There, she thought she saw two figures moving toward somewhere else. Hands in her hair, she stepped toward them. "Di, is that you? Where are you going?"
 
Patrick froze as he heard the voice, he supposed it should've been expected, Roxie could only sleep for so long. He froze, but he didn't yield in his actions, he kept himself close to Dianna. He was not a teenager, trying to hide what he felt with Dianna, instead he was now just a very confused man. He let himself sigh softly into Dianna's forehead at the arrival of Roxie, for she could not have picked a worse time. He wanted Dianna, so badly, he needed her.. and the bedroom had been so close. Just a few more steps, and they would've been home free, behind the locked door, free to explore each other. Instead, he was left standing there questioning... now what? What to do about Roxie, what could he possibly say?

He planted a soft peck upon Dianna's forehead before resting his cheek against her forehead in the darkness and starting, in a voice that he forced to be calm, "Roxie... we are in a hotel beside the airport, getting a flight to Ireland in six or seven hours, the plane tickets are on the table. I... Dianna... we were just going to head off for a... rest before the flight. I can explain everything.. but not right now, later. You can help yourself to anything in the room, and I promise that we'll talk about this later."

Once he finished he took one more step towards the bedroom, hoping he had appeased her, silently praying to some sort of deity that she would let them go- that she wouldn't question it, that they could just take a few more footsteps to privacy and the freedom that came with it. He felt terrible for leaving Roxie in such confusion, but he couldn't make things any clearer to her right now any more than he could make objects appear out of midair. His body, mind and soul were still caught up with the only thing that mattered to them in that moment, and that was the redhead in his arms.
 
Dianna's heart sank to her toes as soon as she heard the feminine tone of her best friend. As much as she dearly loved Roxie, the woman couldn't have possibly barged in at a worse time. Well, she supposed she could as the couple hadn't quite made it into the bedroom yet. The moonlight coming in from the slit in the curtain in the open window was enough to illuminate the duo so the woman couldn't have been blind to Dianna being hoisted in his arms. She knew, too, that Roxie was not a stupid woman. Though she may have been confused about what she saw, she most definitely could have understood where it was leading. But, no, she knew what Roxie was doing. She was trying to let Dianna reassure herself that this was what she wanted. She knew the redhead well enough to know that if she ever hesitated about anything it was all over.

Roxie's foot tapped on the carpet, her arms coming down to fold across her chest. "Funny, but to me it looks like you and Dianna were headed for the same room. I'm awake now, no reason for her to not get a full night's rest." She advanced toward them, determined to stop them in their steps. "Come on, Dianna, come sleep in my bed. That way, there will be nothing to keep you two distracted." Her tone was accusing, knowing exactly what they were up to. Clearing her throat, she took another step toward them, watching as he tried to resume his journey into the adjoining room.

Dianna sighed, pulling her feet away from his grip. "Put me down." She whispered to him, giving in to what Roxie wanted. "You're right, Rox. Goodnight, Mister Adair. I'll see you bright and early in the morning when we're making our way over to board the plane to Ireland." Of course she wanted to stay where she was, but the other woman had already ruined the moment. Whatever they had was over, possibly to never be resumed again.
 
Patrick made no move to stop Dianna as he let her down, there was hurt in his eyes, but he was not going to show it. He shook his head, very softly to himself and his eyes made it to the floor. He let Dianna go, he understood the moment had been lost, but it didn't hurt any less. He dared not speak, he had noticed how he was no longer rookie, but instead of wishing Dianna a good night, he placed one last, longing kiss upon her cheek. He softly turned away to his bedroom, and shut the door behind him in silence. He walked straight to his bed, and collapsed upon it, his face hitting the pillows. He stayed facing down, and shuffled his way under the covers, and let out what would've been a loud curse, had it not been muffled by the pillows, "Fuck."

With that, he fell asleep, defeated and exhausted, he had no choice but to fall asleep instantly, for staying awake would just mean another moment alone. He stayed face-down through the evening, drifting off right away into a deep sleep. He didn't care about what time he had to wake up, or anything else in that moment. He just wanted the darkness of sleep to take him so he could forget about the moment that had almost been. After all, wouldn't it have been better to sleep on the flight?
 
Dianna dared not to even make eye contact with the other woman as she trudged past her. Even in total darkness, Roxie could feel the heat of wrath from Dianna's eyes upon her. "Goodnight, Di." She told her, but her friend said not a word. There was some satisfaction in knowing that she had upset her. After all, she had just burned her house down. It was just desserts, Roxie thought, but she knew she shouldn't have felt that way. Dianna was just doing what was necessary even if it meant destroying the only home she had ever known. She flipped on the television, blankly staring at it for a few hours. When the sun started to rise, she took a long hot bath. Afterward, she dressed herself slowly before going into the bedroom where Dianna was sleeping, taking her bag to her. "Di, time to wake up." She told her, shaking her slowly.

When the redhead woke and made her way toward the shower in that bedroom, Roxie opened the door to the other. She stood back, watching sleep for a few moments. Then, clearing her throat as it to ward off any unsettled feelings, she made he way to the bed. Leaning over it, she roughly poked at him. "Patrick, get up. We have to be over at the airport soon. Wake up!" She told him, nudging him in the ribs.
 
She could've cleared her throat a thousand times to ward off the feelings from Patrick, but it wasn't going to work. He acknowledged the finger in his ribs, and cracked his eyes open. As soon as his eyes found the object poking him in the side, his eyes instantly darted up the hand, then the arm of the woman poking him until he found her eyes. It was the first time in a long time Patrick remembered giving anybody an icy stare, but he eyes wanted to find Roxie's and stare hers down. His eyes were popped open wide as soon as he found hers, there was no waking up and rubbing dry eyes, it was straight from being asleep to burning holes in Roxie's eyes. Somewhere deep inside of him there was a part of him that wasn't angry with Roxie, the part that remembered that she had saved his life, the part that pitied her for her losses of the previous night- but that part of him was nowhere to be seen on this morning. His eyes were full of hatred and despise as he looked unblinkingly right into Roxanna's eyes, making sure that she got the message.

The previous night he had been hurt when the woman he cared about so deeply had been ripped away from him, it was not a simple physical matter of not having sex- but instead an emotional hurt, where he had not been given the chance to express his true feelings to Dianna. He had not been able to take Dianna behind the bedroom door and truly make her his, to solidify their stance with each other. Hidden from the surface there was the fear that Dianna would reject him today, as well as the knowledge that Dianna probably would reject him today, he understood her too well to live in denial. He was bitter with Roxie, she had possibly not just taken away a night of comfort, but Dianna from him. He spoke, though the words he spoke didn't really matter, with the tone he spoke in he might as well have just told her to fuck off, "I will be up in a minute."
 
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