Bane of My Existence

Emie

EMTs carry Corey on a gurney. He struggles to keep his eyes open despite a constant, "Corey? Corey stay with us buddy. Keep those eyes open." As they hurry him to the ambulance, his eyes fix on Celia and his hand latches onto her wrist. The EMTs stop suddenly as Corey fights to remove the oxygen mask from over his mouth.

"She tried to call me... she sent me a photo... my phone... my phone... where is it?" He begins to panic, wheezing between his words.

"I'll find it." Celia promises.

His eyes are sorrowful now.

"It's her name."

Corey lets go of Celia and the EMTS swiftly resume their path.

Stiles rushes to Celia.

"Are you okay?"

She's quiet, already miles ahead trying to work out their next move.

"Celi, talk to me." Stiles says again, his hand where Corey had grabbed her.

She's frazzled, both by Corey's assertions and Stiles' newfound affinity for touch.

"Um, his phone. We have to find his phone-"

Before she's finished speaking, Stiles is holding a cellphone, its screen cracked. Pressing the power button once, a photo of a smiling Emile sitting lakeside illuminates.

"There's a password."

Lydia and Scott join the two of them and there's silence among the group for a minute.

"Her name. He said 'it's her name'." Celia recalls.

"It's only four digits." Stiles replies.

"Well, did she have a nickname? Something he called her?" Lydia waves her hands out desperately.

"Emie," Scott adds. "When we were in there, he called her Emie."

Stiles presses each key. 3 6 4 3. The phone unlocks.

------

In their apartment, Celia runs her foot over the slick spot as she leans against the wall. Stiles is pacing, as per usual, as Scott and Lydia stare at the photo Emile sent to Corey.

A blurred image of a darkly paneled house.

"This could be anywhere." Stiles whispers to no one in particular, switching the tempo of his pace.

"Let me see it again," Celia pushes herself from the wall.

Lydia hands over the phone and Celia turns the brightness up all the way. Zooming in and out the other three look on with anticipation until she puts the phone down again.

"I have no idea."

Scott glances over at the digital stove clock. 1:47 AM. Stiles stops his pacing to yawn, rubbing his hands over his face.

"We should sleep." Lydia says.

Stiles pulls his hands away. "We're just so close..." cut off again by another yawn.

"Lydia's right. We're not going to figure this out tonight and I have a feeling we're still ahead of the cops." Scott supports.

Without another word, Scott moves to the couch, pulling off his shoes before lying back. Lydia's gaze bounces back and forth from Stiles to Celia.

"Well, goodnight." She chips, turning and sashaying to her room.

Stiles yawns for the third time.

"You can sleep here." Celia offers before she's had time to think it over. Idiot.