Tacenda

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Tacenda

(n.) things better left unsaid; matters best passed over in silence.


I walked into the warm apartment building and out of the relentless D.C. winds. I said my hellos to the Russian doorman, Vladislav in his native language, and stepped into the compact elevator. I finally decompressed from the trying day by letting out a long exhale and slightly slouching my shoulders. I just wanted to take a hot shower and go to bed, forgetting everything of the past 48 hours. Doyle escaping from prison, me blowing up at Garcia - that I didn't regret in the slightest, she broke my trust - and the pit in my stomach that as I called wouldn't go away.

The doors of the elevator screeched open and the dimly lit hallway seemed a bit eerie. Maybe it was just the adrenaline mixed with the whistling wind outside but something made me pull out my gun.

I tip-toed to my door, quietly unlocking it, looking up and down the hallway before entering, and canvased my foyer. It was extremely cold which caused a shiver to travel down my spine. I set my purse down and continued to canvas the rest of my small apartment.

----

The sound of my door squeaking open woke me up and I shot out of bed. I slung my legs off the edge of my bed, clicking the clip into the body of my gun I set on my bedside table just a few hours prior, not taking my eyes off the door of my room. The floorboards were cold on my bare feet as I made sure not to step on the ones I knew creaked.

As I got closer to the end of the hallway I could hear shuffling and an almost constant stream of curse words coming from whoever just came into my house. I cocked my gun and slung my body toward the door yelling for them to put their hands up. I high pitched scream left the intruder as they stuck up their hands and turned around.

"Emily?" My voice lined with annoyance.

"Hey Kira." Emily drew out the 'y' in hey as she dropped her hands. "You weren't picking up your phone so I got worried." Hey eyes glanced at my phone laying with my purse on the kitchen counter and then back at me.

"So you picked the lock to my apartment at four in the morning?" I crossed my arms and shifted my weight onto my left hip. "I would ask why you're up but I know that answer. I'm shocked I could get to sleep." I tried to lighten the mood but it didn't really work. Emily's hands were shoved deep into the pocket of her shiny black coat. I knew she was trying to hide her hands from me. I didn't even need to see them though to know she was biting her nails.

"Kira, is it weird to be scared, I mean we don't even know for sure he's coming for us right?" I walked up to her, enclosing her in a hug. I had to or she was going to see the my eyes were glossed with tears.

We both knew without a doubt he would find us. Emily was trusted enough to watch over his son and I was the one who made the call to Sean that it was time to lock him up.

"If I'm being honest Emily, I'm terrified. I don't know what's waiting around the corner and I don't know who I can trust." My voice cracking with the last word caused Emily to pull back and look at me with worry. Even though the room was only lit by the lamps in the parking lot outside I knew.

"Kira, you can always trust me. I'm here for you whenever you need me and if one day we decide to no longer be partners I'll still be there ready to talk about anything you need." I couldn't even muster up a smile, I dropped my head in sorrow as everything started hitting me with full force.

It was a few tears at first but by the time Emily walked me to the couch I was balling my eyes out. My head was cradled by Emily's soft hands that smelled faintly of beeswax. I felt her hand on my shoulder as I was curled up in her lap like a small child that had a bad dream.

"Em- I..I really- messed up." I mustered out through broken sobbs.

Emily's Pov:

Tears threatened to fall from my eyes as I listened to Kira. I knew she was talking about Garcia but I also knew those words were just her heart talking.

Kira has always been a straightforward person, not one whose emotions got the best of her. She always thought with her head and I admired that about her. She's never even cried in front of me before and now here I am listening to her weep about something I knew she didn't actually regret.

The most put together person I've ever met is now a pile of salty tears. Words can't even begin to describe how much my heart ached watching and listening to this. Her fingers were holding on to my jacket so hard her knuckles were white, I could feel the damp spot on my pants where her tears were falling, and the air of her apartment was so still that the only thing you could hear was her. I couldn't do it anymore and a single tear escaped, rolling down my cheek and landing on the back of Kira's large gray pajama shirt.

I love this woman so much I would do anything right now to calm her down.

I...

I love Kira Monet.

No.

I'm in love with Kira Monet.

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