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"No."[break][break]

But it's what she believes will happen, whether she wants it to or not. She's seen it before first-hand, the corruption that comes with the hunger for power. She lost everything to it once.[break][break]

Her shoulders sag when he insists she can help him, can protect him, can prevent him from going too far. And yet she can't help but feel helpless even now, because here she is, desperately trying to convince him. She's already doing her best and he's refusing.[break][break]

"Someone said that to me once before and I couldn't protect them. I can't watch you fall -- I can't lose you, too."

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Emma's expression is pained and she finds herself subconsciously pulling away. It isn't that she doesn't believe in him or the passion behind his words. She can see that he truly believes in what he's saying, in what he believes he's capable of. [break][break]

"You can't see it, can you? Are you listening to yourself?"[break][break]

She stands, separating herself from their comfortable embrace. This time, she's watching him and her eyes swim with sadness.[break][break]

"Look how far you've come, how much power and control you already have. And yet you don't see how it's already affecting you and encouraging you to have more. You'll never be satisfied, Gavin. The power of a God isn't any different, once you have it you'll just expect more, and more."[break][break]

I can't watch that happen to someone else.

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She notes the flicker in his eyes, the response that goes unspoken. It warrants her own stiffness in return, a quiet exhale.[break][break]

Her own response is beaten back in an attempt for peace, though peace is the last thing on her mind. His question is warranted but her beliefs are already set aflame.[break][break]

"It's never enough."[break][break]

Rocket has already corrupted them both. They have already been promised power, control. They've been given it, at a cost, and that cost is to keep climbing. [break][break]

"Then let it corrupt someone else, Gavin. Don't let power drive you mad."[break][break]

In a way, Emma does understand. But she is adamant in her position against his rise to power - not because of envy or jealousy, but in fear of what he may become. She had seen the way power corrupted those with good intentions; and Gavin was even less a hero than others.

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Emma remains otherwise indifferent under Gavin's concerned eye. He squeezes her hand and the minute he leaves to attempt the mini-game, Emma retracts her hand and takes a slow sip of her drink.[break][break]

She does, however, watch Gavin succeed and head back toward her. He appears proud of himself given the wide, goofy smile he carries. [break][break]

"Not bad."[break][break]

The slightest hint of a smile lingers at the edges of her mouth.

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She rests against him like this until her breathing slows. But despite her best attempts to relax, her grip is still tight, tense. His breath tickles her hair and she chooses to focus on it, on the warmth, the steadiness, the rhythm of his breathing.[break][break]

And then he asks a question and she pulls away to look at him. Her eyes are dark amidst their golden glow. They search his briefly before holding his amber eyes with purpose, severity.[break][break]

"Because I fear them, and what that power will do to you. Power leads to temptation, to recklessness. I know how strong you are, Gavin, but I know that power is a sickness that corrupts even the strongest people."

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Emma has never gotten cozy with any of her coworkers - Marcel and Gavin being the only exceptions. As such, her reaction to Valerio's coziness with both her and Gavin is jarring and unsettling. She physically bristles as the woman leans in to whisper to her, holding her ground and exercising self-control so as to not warn him away from her.[break][break]

She's likely only seen Valerio in action a handful of times, Emma primarily worked alone. Her operations were solo missions or with single partners. It was unlikely, given their differences in personality, that they had ever worked together.[break][break]

Her attention is divided and with it, a breath escapes her as if she'd been holding it. Gavin leads her away while Valerio takes her leave, and she is promptly handed a stiff drink and asked a question. [break][break]

Though her fingers curl around the cold glass she makes no effort to enjoy it. [break][break]

"I'm fine."[break][break]

She gestures him toward the jump-rope activity. Though he pays no mind to it, she is sure he'd like to participate anyway. His concern is appreciated (sort of), but not needed. She's never needed comfort before, especially not for a bizarre situation such as the one she'd just escaped from.

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This hadn't been the scenario she'd expected, and yet she wasn't deterred by it. Pressed tight against his chest, she feels safe for the first time in her life. The anger in her chest ceases to beat with such ferocity, tempered by those three words.[break][break]

She exhales as his fingers find hers, weaving between, holding tight. He is a comfort to her, one that she didn't know she needed until he was right there. [break][break]

"I don't want there to be a next time."[break][break]

As she says this her nails dig into his back, biting in their urgency. She holds him tighter, presses her body closer. It was subtle, but she was shaking, too.[break][break]

She says nothing, however, in response to his mention of Articuno speaking to him. It wasn't that she didn't care, it was that she didn't want him to. Legendaries were dangerous, tempting. They spoke of offers beyond human comprehension, expectation, reality. She wanted no part of that. Especially not for him.

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Love is, indeed, a hard word for her to say. She's only spoken it a handful of times, preferring to leave it muted and muffled in gesture, in prose. She is more poetic and subtle, preferring to express her emotion in physical touch and her actions.[break][break]

And even still she's uncertain when she interacts with him. Falling in love with him has been terrifying and intense, an entirely new experience regardless of how many times she thought she had been in love and been loved before.[break][break]

His hand brushes her skin, fingers caressing her jaw. The motion is so tender it is deafening. She's not an emotional person, no tears threaten to burst from her eyes. She appears virtually poised, but she is anything but. It's comforting at the same time terrifying, to watch him trust her so wholly.[break][break]

"Gavin.."

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Her breath is stolen from her by the fierceness of his embrace. He breaches the distance before she has a chance to pull away. Honestly, she isn't sure that she would have.[break][break]

Gavin's voice is loud in her ear, in her heart. Her response time is slow, her body stiff at first as he holds her. But she relaxes slowly, arms finding their way up and around him in an awkward attempt to reciprocate. [break][break]

But her lack of immediate action isn't an accurate depiction of her feelings - she's just never been good at expression.[break][break]

"You're welcome."[break][break]

She is breathless, soft, completely unlike herself.

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It isn't panic she feels, or maybe it is. But something happens when he presses her closer, when his voice whispers past her ear.[break][break]

"And I love you for that."[break][break]

The words catch in her throat despite them not belonging to her. Her reaction is something akin to paralysis, shock, perhaps fear. Silence hangs in the air between them for a heartbeat longer than anticipated, than might be comfortable. She catches the way his breath hitches on his own words, the way he hesitates and yet doesn't pull back.[break][break]

Until he does, but his gaze is focused, trained on her expression. She's overwhelmed, watching him watch her. Emma studies his face as if seeing him for the first time, taking in the aftermath of his panic, the rawness of his emotion. There's a tumultuous feeling in the pit of her stomach when he repeats himself.[break][break]

"Wh-- I--"[break][break]

Words fail her in the moment and she's left stunned, afraid, unsure what to make of what's been said. He's admitted something crucial to her, vulnerable, and she finds herself unable to respond. She's afraid to, afraid to acknowledge what she's already known. [break][break]

And it's because she believes he shouldn't, couldn't love her. That perhaps this is an illusion, a trick. [break][break]

Attachments are dangerous.

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Emma is, by nature, an unforgiving and selfish creature. She reacts on instinct, impulse, tuning her action and reaction to the moment, reading the room and estimating her response. But right here, right now, she is lost. Her emotions rise and fall and she feels distinctly helpless. The magnitude of her affection had come to a dramatic head and here she was denying it for the sake of justifying why Gavin might have reacted the way he had.[break][break]

She had overstepped, overdone it. Expected too much of her lover, assumed this gift would be acceptable. She hadn't wanted to put an expectation or name to the gesture - hadn't wanted to call it a gift. But that was what it was: a gift. She had expected him to accept it without hesitation and remain indifferent. Because even in his indifference she could see his affection.[break][break]

But he was shaking, angry, confused, distant. He struggled with his response and she lashed out because of it. She's standing across from a broken man, unable to see past his walls to see what horrors lay in his past. Her stubbornness prevents her from understanding, from wanting to. She bears her own demons.[break][break]

However, her breath is stolen from her at his request. Involuntarily, her shoulders sag and she becomes vulnerable in his presence once again, cracked open at the core by the simplest of instruction; but Gavin's request for her trust wasn't simple. The word was simple, but the strength it bore and the strength it took to be trusted was anything but simple.[break][break]

And then he says us and she's struck with paralysis, staring unblinkingly at the man in front of her. The term elicits a response she is familiar with and yet terrified of. An emotion she's felt before with someone she never thought she'd lose, but she had. [break][break]

I am yours and you are mine.[break][break]

The phrase had felt hollow once and it feels renewed, and yet she doesn't dare speak it aloud. Instead, she breathes only a quiet response, voice strained with raw emotion - almost grief.[break][break]

"Okay."

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In this position, she is vulnerable. Coiled around him, breathing into his neck, hands clinging to the fabric of clothing, to the skin beneath - she is willingly putting herself into a position where she does not have power. She does this because she trusts him, because she cares for him.[break][break]

He's shaking still, trembling in her arms. But she can feel his body begin to relax, his breath exhale warm against her shoulder. And then he curls himself around her in return and she squeezes, desperate, anxious.[break][break]

The whisper he releases sends a shiver down her spine that goes unnoticed in the ferocity of his embrace. But she understands now, to some extent, what is going on. She doesn't break away from him but she does inhale in preparation for response.[break][break]

"You have nothing to prove, mon amour," she whispers, her voice fierce in delivery. She meant it, too, because otherwise she'd never have chosen him. The explanation is left unspoken, but the weight of her words hopefully deliver it's message.

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Emma's attention catches the box as it falls. It twists in mid-air but she's already refocused on Gavin, eyes wide, confused, pleading.[break][break]

But she doesn't move until he falls, too. The moment he does, however, her body moves without thought. In the moment, her anger is forgotten because she's afraid and its all crashing to the surface. She had been afraid, afraid that he wouldn't come home. Afraid that he would and he would be different.[break][break]

His fingers brush dead grass but hers reach around to hold him, to press her body against his hard and firm. [break][break]

"Well you did."[break][break]

Her voice is strained and quiet as she whispers against his chest. Her arms stiffen as she draws herself closer, pulling herself into his lap, into him. She isn't letting go and has no intention of doing so. The ferocity of her embrace carries her passion, her anger, but also her fear.

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