diamond on a landmine

“Then I suppose this is an insistence that you will have to get used to over time.” Concern flickered, warming the icy blue hues as he watched her. She was stubborn, as her father had already told him, and just pig-headed enough to be endearing about it. This job would be much more difficult than anticipated, and Emmett sighed, stepped to the first aid kit and returned.

“Lift your shirt,” he instructed firmly, kneeling before her, nearest to the side affected. “Your arm is broken and you’ll like hurt yourself more if you do this alone. Think of it as a way to ask questions of me and knowing I’ll have to answer them to keep you distracted.”

“Perhaps you will simply learn to let it go. As most individuals do on their first day.” Emmett appeared to possess more perseverance than most staff, however. That she had anticipated he be hardcore was a give, even a little bossy, but Beatrice did not think his first order would be that she expose her flesh. Having been an assassin, surely he had seen his share of core. So she sighed, and unbuttoned her blouse, eyes squeezing shut when her arms moved to shrug the fabric past her shoulders. Other than the cut releasing dark blood in rather large quantities, the girl still had several blue and purple marks spread throughout her torso as well as some fresh scars along her sides. 

“A love-” Emmett cut himself off, the smile threatening to turn into a laugh. This was a serious matter, but to have a residence with her, much less in the guise of a legally-binding marriage, was actually quite amusing to the oft-serious man. “I will conduct the decorating if it is necessary. Change to attire is not nearly as important as the well-being of you and your child.”

It was a matter of comfort, he was sure, when her lips touched his fingers. Simply to assure, to seal their bond of marriage in some way. His kiss to her forehead had been just that, after all, for it was not his place to kiss her lips–as fervently as he had once wanted to. “You do not need to make up anything.. nor give me something, either.” It was a token protest, for she was a stubborn woman, and truly the watch was lovely. A little stunned, Emmett granted her a soft smile. “Thank you. Truly.” As he wore a simpler watch with a frayed leather band–the only sign of lacking-pristine on his body–Emmett pocketed the older watch and wore now what she had given him. “I will give you your ring when we have landed.” Hopefully she understood that her wearing Edward’s ring simply would not do.

The brunette arched an eyebrow at the hint of a smile that may have become laughter. “Am I amusing you, Emmett?” she faked a stern tone, before she allowed herself a quiet chuckle. It was a serious topic, one that could not be delayed any further, but they would remain very much themselves, despite the new titles and legal work. “I don’t think your attire will change much. You will still wear a suit day in and day out. Just not the same boring black tie. I’ve stocked up your closet though. And I expect to be the first to see you in a vest,” Beatrice taunted subtly. 

The second time they met was a couple of years later in New York. He was working with the FBI at the time and he was on a case. He had to find this con fella when he saw her across the room.

Blair recognized him. He was the mysterious guy she met in Paris. She had a big crush on him, they spent so many afternoons in that gallery talking about painters and paintings. He never said but he must have been an artist or something. Talking with him was the best part of her day, and now he was there, in New York and they were staring at each other.

Whire Collar / Gossip Girl | Neal / Blair | Asked by addictserie | (2/2)

The appearance was suitable and he nodded, committing the new images also to his memory. “I have no compunction against modern nor classical appearances,” he revealed, setting the photographs back to the table, exactly where they had been placed originally. “But to answer your question, yes. I do like the office and its furniture. Thank you.”

His thumb traced her cheekbone lightly. Intense eyes never left hers and he was nearly unaware of how close he was. How gentle and affectionate his touch to her was. How once, just for a few moments, his eyes lowered to her lips. One heartbeat, two, then back to her eyes as she gave her reasoning. Gave her proposition. “You are only trying to protect your son,” he mused. Why was there a faint ache in his heart? A foolish question, as there always was with her. One did not forget loving someone, not even after the years had passed. “Yes. I will be your husband.” With a small smile, he lifted his head and kissed her brow. “Though I am glad you did not kneel with such a proposal.”

No complaints was as good as it got. “You can do whatever you want with your room,” she offered, wanting to ensure he knew that he was at freedom to do as he pleased. “It’s as much yours as it is mine. Literally.” And she dangled the paperwork in front of him with a short smile. “It’ll be our love nest,” she taunted with a muffled chuckle. 

Silence once more. It was medication, he was sure, which had loosened her tongue and lessened the attempt of a filter. As amused as he could be, Emmett simply listened and looked down at her as she rambled. Really, how much long would she talk and order him about? The insult of being used as a tool or a talking point, bouncing words off a wall, it didn’t bother him. So he simply listened and remained close as she stood.

“My duties are to protect you,” he reminded her and glanced at the door. “I would carry you if you wish.”

He remained in silence, as he often did. Beatrice could not determine whether or not this was a good. The girl remained slow, in part because she could only focus on the pain at her broken arm and leg, as well as the fractured ribs and, in part, the drugs were pulling the strings of her mind. “I don’t require a babysitter. I don’t recall you possessing that aspect in your curriculum either.” The brunette groaned. “Sorry, don’t want to come across as a bitch. I’m not used to people... insisting on... sticking around.” Even her father and brother knew to leave her when she told them to.

Silent. It was a default action, a common personality trait that Emmett possessed. But so was attentive and intense. Both were prevalent when she laid out documents. Some were lifted, studied. Memorized for he had a talent for speed-reading; a photographic memory was indeed most helpful in this instance. So this was to be the act until she was safe? So be it.

The resolve reflected in his cool, stony eyes when at last her story had completed. “Very well.” He did not give his opinion, as it was not his to give. He had studied under her father, how to run a company. He knew the flaws of her father, knew how to improve on the man’s actions. Was it somewhat manipulative to use what had been observed? No. That was life. But Emmett blinked, visibly softened at the sensation of the infant kicking against his palm. In an act so rare, so very reserved for her, he cupped her cheek in his free hand. “None will harm you nor your child,” he vowed.

Photographs of the estate were then spread along the table, once she was certain his mind had captivated all the legal information regarding the estate, as well as the company. “I’m sure you’ll find it somewhat... ancient. In comparison. But we can redecorate if you dislike it. I arranged for the office. I’m well aware you treasure your privacy. It’s the only division I may be held responsible for. As well as those which will be of use to my son. Do you like it? The office I mean. I wasn’t too sure about the desk.”

“I will not harm you,” he assured in return. He would harm many others who might hurt her. But she would be safe with him. Why else had he been chosen to protect her? Sympathy lingered beneath the guard but could not be seen. Not beneath the shield in his eyes which protect any emotion from showing. He knew what it was to be beaten and broken by family.

“I was.” He continued to approach, arranging pillows behind her, supporting her body which was surely pained. His lips nearly turned up and that was as close to a smile as he often reached. “My entertainment can be found when I am not protecting you.” Being personable was not his best trait, truly. Not yet. Not when a new assignment had been given. Eventually, he might become charming to her. But not yet. “Thank you, but no.”

“No, I know,” she sighed, eyes fluttering closed as the pain killers she had taken following lunch began to kick in, making her momentarily dizzy. “You are simply male, tall. As is my older brother, whom is responsible for my current state. It is a fact, you are larger, more muscular. All the same, my mind has been temporarily programmed to react with fear to any man who establishes contact with me as a result of the trauma. With the exception of my father, whose scent always inspires tranquility.” Yep, the drugs definitely had a hold on her tongue. How long before it began to numb the pain?

Silence. There was nothing for him to say, not while her explanation was… lacking. Yes, he was very dissatisfied with her response but loyal at least. There was cause for her concern and this he knew, accepted, and soon drove them to the airport himself. Again in silence. Right until the hangar’s attendant approached the car and immediately snapped to attention. Whether it was for Beatrice or the icy nature of Emmett, it didn’t matter.

“Is it ready?” Emmett asked simply and received a curt nod. “The pilot?” A man named Jameson, which earned Emmett’s approval. “Load the bags, Mr. Cave, and keep your silence.” The man took the bags and indeed rushed away. Emmett glanced at his charge. “Come, we’re already behind schedule.”

Over the years their partnership transformed into one solid friendship, in which they were always willing to listen, to help but never to judge. It was why she turned to him. His particular set of skills were unique and necessary for the situation at hands, but it was not the reason why she would ask the impossible from him. 

She tensed and his steps slowed for a moment. Waiting for her to grow accustomed to his presence, perhaps, or to cue he was not a threat to her, either didn’t matter. What did was her comfort near him, especially if she was under his protection. His chest was tight as well, which was easily ignored. It wasn’t due to her injuries, and therefore inappropriate.

“Your confidence is well-placed,” he noted and yet did not smile in congratulations or pride. There was little reason for his emotions to be shown. “But if questions are meant to be asked, they would have been done so already.”

"It’s fine,” she assured him. “I just get startled by shadows,” she explained, and given his height... well, it brought on unpleasant memories. “It usually takes me a moment but I recover rather quickly.” Being kidnapped, smacked around had never caused much damage to her mental sate. But having her brother break her as he had, limb for limb, fracturing ribs and slicing flesh... how did one forget that?