Hours pass days pass time stands still
light gets dark and darkness fills
my secret heart forbidden...

He returned to the motel later that evening with a Chinese take-out, intending to spend a night in treasured solitude, trying to piece the picture together. He was lured by the sense of duty to seek out the murderer; the culprit that had landed his brother in a coma- and the seduction which was strangely becoming increasingly reluctant the more he thought about it- was aided by the need to dispatch any favors he might had inadvertently owed his brother. Jutting out new angles for him to see; new angles blunted by blurred blackness again, he was surprised to discover that he was not really excited to sharpen the edges so they would all point to some common truth.

Not excited. He was driven to.

The sight of Lynn sitting on the couch in the motel lobby, perusing some old newspapers, apparently waiting for him, startled him. He was just about to whirl around and walked out of the motel quietly without rousing her from her preoccupation with stale coverage when some intuition, inborn in girls, guided her head up. She spotted him before he could just so quietly sneak away.

"Elijah! You’re finally back…" She stood up and grabbed a set of room keys similar to his. Watching it dangling from her fingers, Elijah felt the ire of vexation rising and falling- swelling and contracting his chest.

"I don’t need a new partner." He spoke blandly. Observing her with his mirrored gaze, he saw that her dressing was casual and her hair was slightly wet, most probably from an earlier shower. Her luggage was nowhere in sight. She must had arrived quite some time ago and checked into her room already.

"Gray assigned me. I’m sorry. Much as I like to stay by Isaiah’s side, I have to come and take your crap. Believe me; I’m not exactly jumping for joy. Can we discuss about it in your room or mine?" Lynn replied him acerbically. The twist of her lips and her puffy eyes told him that she meant what she had said; only that she had censored her language- cleaning it up with several bottles of Dettol.

Elijah stood still, journeying in the span of a split second into the many immediate futures that could arise from any talks with Lynn. He could not think of any outcomes more plausible than that of her storming out in frustration at his taciturn. Despite Lijah’s breakdown which she had unwittingly witnessed, he could still sense a measure of the hostility that she harbored towards him ever since their first meeting; an enmity that he ignored. There was no need to be affected by it. He needed no approval from her or anyone.

"Yours." He replied without much debate. True, all his notes and memos on the case was in his room but he did want his privacy to be intruded upon. Human beings, especially the female species, enjoyed the process of dissecting a person’s character and traits. They could see meaning in something as aimless as how someone placed his books. Elijah abhorred being put under the microscope and studied like some new strain of germs. His soul was his own secret to bear.

She shrugged disinterestedly, jingling the keys like a little child in awe with all things shining and noisy. "My room’s 202. See you in a while. I’m going to get some take-out. Is that your dinner?" She pointed to the brown paper he was carrying bearing the name, Wang, on it. He nodded and sauntered past her.

Her room was actually just next to his. His hands, usually swift and sure, fumbled with the lock. A feeling of claustrophobia took over; the need to take flight overwhelmed.

Wings. He needed wings.

Anger. He was feeling too much anger lately. The wrath that simmered inside of him threatened to spill over- molten larva that would destroy everything in its churning path.

And once again, he was reminded that there was only one person standing in harm’s way.

Himself.

***

A persistent knock on his door hammered on his irritation just as he was about to pack up his notes and leave for Lynn’s room. Knowing instinctively who it was, Elijah sighed with the annoyance of a man faced with a pest and swung the door open. Lynn stood right before him- in her loose beige blouse and faded blue jeans- illuminated by the lighted corridor; looking all fair and radiant. She took a step forward and her glow darkened as she stood between the wall of light on the outside and the forbidding darkness of Elijah’s room, smiling and raising her own take-out.

"Took me a while to find this restaurant. Have you eaten? I hope not. I’m not one who can eat alone." She let herself in and immediately switched on the lights. Elijah shut his eyes too late against the sudden flickering glares of the light rays- its stark, transparent whiteness much more dazzling than the orange glow of the corridor- cursing her inwardly for her lack of respect for one’s privacy.

"How can you stand the dark? Ah! Good... you’ve not eaten." She saw his non-disturbed take-out on the dressing table and placed her next to his. "So, where can we share this meal? On the floor?" She gestured to the empty carpeted space between the bed and wardrobe, right in front of the dressing table. He was still holding the door open, about to dash away from the crazily assertive woman.

"I’ve lost my appetite." Elijah tapped his foot and jerked his head towards the opened doorway, "We should leave for your room, now."

"No, of course not! I’ve thought it over. It’s more convenient here. I don’t have much notes and everything’s with you." She took both their take-outs and set it on the floor. Elijah knew a lost cause when faced with one. With his lips disappearing into a tight, thin line, he closed the door, took the file containing the notes and other bits of information on the case and his notebook from his bed, and lain them gently on the floor, almost like they were precious babies and he did not want to hurt them.

Sitting cross-legged a slight distance away from her, he reached for his own take-out and saw that she was already attacking hers. From the faint aroma of onions, oyster sauce and greasy oil, as well as the sight of her using the chopsticks expertly to extract the browned noodles, he knew she had ordered the same dish as him. Hong Kong Fried Noodles. It was the first dish listed on the menu and thus the first dish that came to his mind.

The only dish that came to his mind when he ordered.

"I don’t like to talk shop when I’m eating…" She announced before smacking her lips. Nonetheless, she began sifting through the contents of the file. Flipping each carefully annotated loose sheet bounded to one another only by the ring-file, she laid her index finger on the pamphlet from the PolSci Inner Sanctum.

"What’s that?"

"One of the conventions that Alvin Skyner went for. It caught my eye because a similar murder had taken place in New Orleans. I believed I had elaborated about that a few days ago. I’m thinking of talking to Agent Blie, the special agent in charge of it; see if I can mine out anymore information." Elijah replied, lifting up the cover of his own take-out but without the intention of eating it yet.

His hands just needed to be occupied with something to do, anyway.

"Hmmm…" She mumbled, trying to swallow a mouthful of noodles. Elijah peered inside the box and was caught by surprise at the hunger pangs growling in his stomach. It had been so long since he had anything remotely savory. The take-out was bought out of need but it was rather appetizing.

Not appetizing enough to turn a need into a desire, though.

"Anything else? Oh… before I forget…" Lynn spoke, suddenly excited by something she recalled. She turned her head turned towards him and waved her chopsticks in his face. "I did the check on Magdalene Ashriel. She’s yet another PS student in EC but a freshman still. But this is not the interesting part… the intriguing bit is that she’s a Jewish." Lynn set her take-out down and flipped through his notes again, knitting her brows in concentration.

"What are you looking for?" He asked, seeing that she was rather lost in his tiny, flowery script.

"The answer to your interest in her. I don’t think I’ll get a response if I ask you," she muttered, "Wait! Ok… so… you wrote here… pretty girl with aquiline nose could be Ben’s girlfriend. Name: Magdalene Ashriel. Ben- Satanic/ Nazi wannabe or poser or fanatic. Indeterminable." She looked at him again and smiled, amused.

"You have a very strange style of jotting down notes."

"Am I supposed to thank you for that? Anyway, you should have seen in his room." Elijah remarked wryly, thinking of the garbage dump for a dormitory that he had just explored illegally earlier in the morning. Lynn laughed softly and shook her head.

"Lemme guess… heavy metal bands posters?I used to be like that when I was a teenager. Gave my mom a brief case of depression with five ear studs in each ear. I hate those music now, the senseless violence inside…"

On sub-conscious impulse, Elijah glanced askance at her and wondered why he never noticed the long chain earring she wove in and out of her ear. It should be either made from silver or platinum and against the pale, almost white lobe; it twinkled like a comet in daylight.

"Like my earrings? I kinda like them. Isaiah loves them." She spoke, a twinge of sadness and yearning in her voice and she looked away from him, slamming the file shut. Elijah simply watched the rays from the fluorescent light bouncing off the jewelry, a little amazed by the needlework on her ears and at the same time, curious about how painful it must had been.

"What about you? What were you like when you’re a teenager? An Ice Mountain? She regained her composure, going straight to the point driven by her inquisitiveness.

He averted his eyes immediately, feeling a slight rush of warmth to his cheeks. Lynn was inching her way slowly in a prohibited area; his past. If Lynn sensed his discomfiture, she was dismissing it very well.

"Hey…I’ve asked you a question… two in fact. You can be courteous, can’t you?" She tapped him on his shoulder and startled him, jolting him away from the vise grips of his memories.

And startled because she dared to offer him an almost friendly physical contact for no apparent reason. Elijah recoiled from the touch- unaccustomed to it. Even Isaiah would be intimidated by the blast of frost he sprayed and watched hardened as a barrier between him and others. Lynn, though, simply walked past it like a specter, oblivious to its numbing coldness.

"I…," he stumbled over that one simply word which got trapped in his chest. Clearing his throat, he straightened himself and pushed a lock of fringe back. "I don’t want to talk about myself."

"So what do you like to talk about?" She asked; genuinely fascinated in such a way that made him cringed. Her prying eyes and questions were dumping him into the role of a fugitive, under watchful, large, black, almond-shaped eyes.

"The case." He stated and that was all. He picked up the file and started perusing through it. If she did not want to talk about the case, he would just think it through in silence. He was planning to do that anymore.

Suddenly, she turned all desperate for some reason. After shifting closer to him, she gripped his forearm which was covered by the usual long-sleeved sweatshirts or shirts and gazed into his eyes. He narrowed his sight for a moment before focusing his attention back on the file, still feeling gentlemanly enough not to shake away the unwanted physical contact.

"Don’t you want to talk about something or someone? Someone like Isaiah? What’s Saiah like? Humor me, please?" She almost pleaded and Elijah saw that she was drunk- intoxicated with that something called regret and despondency.

"I’m sorry. I don’t know…"

"Yes! You do! You’re his little brother… you do know him… please… can we talk about him? He’s in Mount Sinai now… so far from me and I am stuck here… when I just… just want to be there…" She released her grip and sobbed softly, covering her face with her hands.

"The doctor was not optimistic about him ever waking from his coma… I talked to him the whole day before Gray carted me here and he was… was just there… like a dead man… Elijah… I don’t know what I’ll do without him…"

He looked at her, feeling so sorry for her. She was a strong woman, from what he had observed to be. Or maybe, she was only pretending to be. Love created a clutch as she and Isaiah hung on to each other- so dependent on one another such that even a concrete soul could crumble when the other one had flown.

" …I don’t know much but I know this. Love can heal what hate had destroyed."

He bit his lips; somehow, without him meaning to, her words seeped into his consciousness and threw him into the limbo again- the chasm in between. A funny twist in his chest and something heavy resting on his stomach caused him to cock his head to one side, mouth gaping with silent words.

That found his voice.

"Saiah’s… Saiah is not like… not like a stereotypical big brother. He…" He closed his eyes, trying to recall. Memories washed over him- the sweetness of innocent remembrance. No, they had never left him. He remembered the times when he thought he should just end it all for himself, dangerous destructive thoughts,- those memories created a safe haven for him to retreat to and rest his mind. Those memories saved his life.

Then somehow, he ran away from them. Somehow.

"He’s emotional and apologetic. A little wishy-washy, unable to make up his mind but when he does, he is so adamant in fulfilling it until it was perfect. He thinks he has to shoulder the world, but he forgot that he’s only human. And…" Elijah’s eyes shot opened and banished the comforting caress those memories held for him. Memories of him and his brother; him and his elusive mother.

Knowledge of why he sought ways to escape from those memories returned to him. It had something to do with the decision to sever ties.

If not spiritually, then at least emotionally.

"And he’s always sad." Elijah concluded in his usual bland voice, a far cry from the whimsical tune of only a split second ago. "Melancholic fool."

He blinked when his eyes were exposed for too long and the air stung his corneas. There was Lynn again but no longer beside him. She was in a crawling position in front of him- studying his face intently with her hands resting on his raised knees.

"Are you going into another one of your rhetoric on the wonders of love? If you are, save it." Elijah remarked and almost rudely pushed her away, restraint by cool gentlemanliness.

"No. I’m just wondering…" She cocked her head to one side, inching closer to him such that soon, their faces were only a breath away.

Then she drew back and her lips lifted in one of the most sympathetic smile ever, a smile that irked him and saddened him. Feelings. Again. They were certainly most irritating.

He watched her stand up and spun around, heading for the door. Almost he wanted to yell ‘good riddance’; almost he wanted to ask her to stay.

She stopped in front of the closed door and he saw her hands raised to her face, most probably brushing away some tears.

"If you need to be with him so much, just go tomorrow. You don’t have to stick to this case. I can handle it and if Gray pesters you, tell him to come talk to me." Elijah offered. His voice was softer than normal but because it was dead silence all around, she heard it loud and clear.

"No… this is my job…" She protested weakly, betraying her true feelings. He sighed, a serial killer was on the loose and there he was, trying to convince someone of a better action. Her mopping around, unable to concentrate on the case would only slow him down.

Besides, someone had to wake that lazy brother of his.

"Just go in the morning. I’ll call you when I need help." Elijah spoke- a robot trying to show some compassion; or involuntarily doing so.

She turned around and gave him the most grateful smile. "I’ll think about it."

Then she turned the handle on the door and left.

Still sitting cross-legged on the floor, Elijah chewed over all that they had discovered in the case. Him and Isaiah. Noting down the next few steps of possible actions with each thought, Elijah suddenly felt himself missing just antagonizing his elder brother. Somehow, watching Isaiah’s mien wrinkling in frustration gave him a sick, perverse pleasure.

And the best part was that he achieved it without even being someone else- just by being himself.

Elijah pictured the image of the shooter in his mind- a black ski cap, black gloves, black sweats and black jeans. Black. Evil was often equated with the color black. Evil.

So was darkness. Darkness like the mourning of loss- darkness like the emptiness of a heart; a soul. In that, Elijah could almost feel his fingertips making contact with that of the killer’s. But what mourning? What loss? The bastard that was his father? The dead mother of whom he only had an ethereal image in his godforsaken mind?

The echoes of someone sobbing disturbed him. No, it was not Lijah. It came from the adjacent room. Came from Lynn.

He pondered for a moment in cold contemplation, feeling exceptionally disorganized inside. There he was, having all those little knick-knacks of information in front of him, waiting for him to fix them together for the complete, picture-perfect canvas but the mess inside his head- a silent, distressing mess- stymied his efforts at logic. And the crying became a little louder; disturbing him even more.