how quickly you forget || CONNOR

[eli byrne]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) 842 ( TAGGED ) CONNOR ( STATUS ) COMPLETE The last thing she remembered from that night was Connor asking her if she could walk. After that there was unending darkness and that made her entirely uncomfortable. Even as Eli lay in bed like she was supposed to be doing, she strained to remember something after she had been helped in to his car. There had to be something that triggered a memory, but in her drug induced states she hadn't been able to figure it out. Now she was as sober as she had been her entire re-cooperation period and still she could not figure it out. Frustration filled her vibrant blue eyes, and she sat up quickly, forgetting the emergency surgery Flynn had performed on her to save her life. The broken ribs she had sustained had been irritated to the point in which she had punctured a lung and had severe internal bleeding that would have killed her if Connor had not gotten her here as quickly as he did. Because of his actions Eli was alive. She owed her life to the mafia leader and she didn't know how she felt about that. She didn't even know how they were right now because before she had been surrounded and attacked she had walked away from him after sex. Her emotions had gotten in the way which was something that was not a part of their deal. Looking down at her hands for a moment, she forced herself into a sitting position even though it hurt her. Eli was used to dealing with pain. Lifting the white cotton shirt that she was wearing, she saw the large scar that traveled up from her belly button to below her breasts. "For fuck's sake Flynn!" She was furious. He was supposed to be an excellent surgeon and he had butchered her alive. She was going to kill him. She was going to ring his neck. Her eyes traveled to her bedside table and she saw the amount of pill bottles gathered there. They had needed to drug her to get her to stay still this long and that only served to infuriate her more. Reaching over, she started chucking the bottles across the room, watching them hit the wall with an unsatisfying clunk. They didn't even open, or shatter. Highly irritated now, she saw a note left from Flynn. She was supposed to stay in bed for another two days. Like hell she would. Apparently she had already been grounded for two weeks, and that unnerved her. She had been out for that long? Furrowing her brow, she ripped the note into pieces and gingerly swung herself so that her feet were now on the floor. Sitting there quietly for a moment, her breathing a bit labored from her healing lung, she regained her composure and pushed herself to her feet. Wincing as her right leg took her weight, she remembered suddenly that the bullet had grazed her. Lifting up the shorts she was wearing, she saw the neat line of stitches. This was wonderful. She felt like Frankenstein. Heaving a sigh, she limped from her bed to her private bathroom, closing the door behind her and seeing herself for the first time. Her mouth dropped open in shock. That couldn't be her. She refused to believe that was her. Reaching out to touch the reflection in the mirror, she nearly shattered the glass. Seriously? Had they starved her while she was out? Her face was hollow and her cheeks were sunken in, making the fading bruises look even more ghastly than they should have been. Her left brow held a few stitches from where she had been punched, but that wasn't even what bothered her the most. She was whiter than a ghost, and the dark circles beneath her eyes made her look as if she had been punched all over again. Grimacing, she whacked the mirror, but not hard enough to break it. Nearly snarling, she turned on her heel, gasping as the sudden movement caused sharp pains that she hadn't been expecting. Doing her best to regain her composure, she limped from the bathroom and didn't even bother changing at the moment. If they dressed her in this outfit then they could all suffer the consequences. Making her leg take more weight now that she was out of her bedroom, or her prison as she would now refer to it as, she walked into the kitchen, noticing that the damage that had once been there was no repaired. Shaking her head at that thought, she realized that even though she was starving, she just wanted one thing. Alcohol. That would rid her of her pain in her own way. Going to Connor's bar, she made sure she didn't reach for his expensive whiskey this time. She didn't want a fight because she knew she wouldn't be capable of it. Reaching for one of the mediocre bottles of vodka, she unscrewed the top and instantly drank it down. It burned like fire in the back of her throat but she welcomed the familiar sensation. Righting the bottle, she carried it with her to the island in the middle of the kitchen, placing it there as she went into the fridge. Not interested in much, she figured she might be able to stomach some toast and butter. Grabbing the butter from the fridge, she placed it and a knife beside her bottle of vodka and then toasted two slices of bread. As she waited for them to finish, she chugged another long sip from the vodka, seeing a maid walk by as she finished. The maid gave her a look, for she had been the one caring for Eli. "Miss Byrne. I know that you probably didn't take your dose of pain meds this morning, but you did get them about four hours ago and that alcohol is not going to sit well with them." She said, chiding the young Irish woman. Eli just raised a brow. "Well then you all should have thought about that before making me take those meds." She snapped heatedly and then watched the maid waddle away, tsking her behavior as she went along. Eli rolled her eyes and looked over as her toast snapped up. Grabbing the pieces, her movements were much slower than usual, for the pain was still making her want to vomit. Getting her things together, she looked up as she heard more footsteps. Deciding that she didn't care who it was, she went back to trying to butter the bread. Sitting on the stool by the island, she realized the alcohol was still visible. Oh well. If they had a problem with it she'd just throw the bottle at their head. She was miserable, cranky, looked like shit and was in a lot of pain. Sue her. sorry it sucks. didn't know what else to do!

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0, lyrics by maroon 5

[CONNOR SELWYN]

[style=width: 400px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: #000; line-height: 85%; text-transform: uppercase; padding-top: 8px;]it's a steel knife in my windpipe

She fucking hates me and I love it

grabbing the towel he'd laid nearby with the bottle of water he'd brought with him, connor wiped the sweat from his face as he laughed back at jett, asher, and lennox. "you should choose your mates better next time, jett," he goaded. jett snorted as he retrieved his own bottle of water from nearby and slapped lennox on the back. "it's not the fairy's fault he's not good at rugby. he's more of a thinker," jett joked, making connor laugh, especially as lennox rolled his eyes and turned to walk away without an argument. they'd just finished a morning round of rugby, two-man teams, and connor and asher had soundly won. unfortunately for jett, lennox wasn't as athletic as his brothers, but jett was a good sport. he'd chosen lennox simply because he knew connor would kill him if they lost. the remaining three young men headed for the house, connor and asher shirtless since they'd been the 'skins' team.

they entered through the back door which led almost directly into the kitchen. "i could use some more water," connor admitted, emptying out his bottle and tossing it toward the trash cans. missing warranted him a dirty look from the only maid he kept around, a woman too old for him to be interested in sleeping with, a characteristic that made her the only option as a live-in servant. she also reminded him of his mother which was probably the only thing that kept her alive when she chided him for throwing his trash on the floor. "aye, but you love me anyway, lola," he joked as she squeezed his cheek and shooed them away. in the midst of their murderous, dangerous lifestyle, lola could make them all feel like teenagers being cared for by their mother.

as the three of them burst into the kitchen, laughing and rehashing the game, they instantly saw eli, and started coughing to cover their raucous laughter. all three of the young men could sense the palpable tension in the air around her as she sat morosely over her toast with a bottle of connor's vodka nearby. jett, upon seeing connor's face draw down at the sight of his alcohol being consumed by the same perp who'd destroyed his prized whiskey only weeks before, smiled to himself and grabbed asher, pushing him through the kitchen. as he passed eli, he leaned over and kissed her on her cheek, "seems you've survived being mobbed just in time for connor to light into you again. have fun with that!" he smiled playfully, enjoying how his twin stood up to their leader. the banter between the two amused him. he saw connor as a brother, and he knew eli wouldn't let him off easy.

when jett and asher were gone, connor walked behind her, swiped the vodka bottle off the table and took two long swigs directly from the bottle. after sweating out most of his water during the rugby game it probably wasn't a good idea to drink strong alcohol, but he didn't care. he raised his eyebrows and turned back to look at eli with a mixture of amusement and threat in his eyes. sure, she was still recovering from her wounds, but that didn't mean she had the right to start bitching and taking his stuff again, damn it. "are we really going to go down this road again?" he asked, waving the bottle in his hand. he was briefly conscious of his naked torso and wondered if seeing him in such a way turned her on, but he pushed those thoughts away by allowing a hint of irritation creep up. even if she was pale and washed out, he knew she wouldn't look like that forever, and he only saw the vibrant eli he knew she still was.

[/style]
TEMPLATE BY ROYALSTANDARD.

[eli byrne]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) 842 ( TAGGED ) CONNOR ( STATUS ) COMPLETE Eli caught a glimpse of her reflection in one of the decorative mirrors that hung upon the vast walls of the room she was now sitting in. Why they needed mirrors in the kitchen she would never understand it, and it only served to irritate her further. She had never looked this bad, ever. Not even after the marines. Well, she had looked bad but no one had seen her. They had kept her under lock and key until she was decent enough to be viewed by the public eye. Blanching at that thought, she knew she needed to stop this. This wasn't the marines. She hadn't been raped. But the very voice of the man who had attacked her rang true to her heart and she did her best not to let the familiar tremors take over her hands again. However, as she tried to butter the toast her hands were trembling to violently and she ripped straight through the more sensitive middle of the piece of bread. Frustrated with herself, she let out a strangled cry that no one would hear. She couldn't even butter fucking toast. Grabbing the butter knife, she chucked it across the room, and the familiar smile couldn't even be seen upon her beaten features as she saw Asher yelp and duck out of the way. Her blue eyes flashed as she recognized the four that were entering the house through the back door, but she said nothing. She didn't want company. Hearing Asher's furious statement, she just ignored him and sat where she was, crossing her arms gingerly across her abdomen as if she needed to protect it. Watching the four come in, she locked eyes with her twin and for a moment relief fled through her. Jett would be the only one she wanted to talk to in her state of being, but he was the first one to leave the room in a hurry with a kiss to her bruised cheek. Furrowing her brow, she started from the sharp pain from her stitches, and then watched him leave. Great. He had basically thrown her to the wolves. She didn't have the energy or the want to listen to Connor gripe because she had dipped into his personal bottles of alcohol again. He could kiss her ass. It was the cheapest bottle that he possessed. He could live without it and she needed it more than he did at this point. Watching Asher dance out of the room after Jett, she looked helplessly after them all. She didn't want to be yelled at. She didn't have the fight in her. But she would be damned if she let him know that. Taking a deep breath, she inflated her healing lungs and eyed him warily, viciously. The light that normally brought the fire to life in her eyes was dormant and she looked every bit of a corpse to be perfectly honest. Her pale features were ugly in her eyes. While she had never been one to really care for appearances she still didn't want to look like this. As Connor waltzed over to her with that pompous, angry look on his face Eli want to hit him. But he had saved her life. How could she want to hurt the man who was the reason she was alive now? She couldn't, but she so desperately wanted to, especially when he picked up the bottle of alcohol and started drinking from it. She didn't even have a buzz yet and he had robbed her of that. Alcohol was the only way she was going to be able to numb the pain and confusion inside of her. Memories from that night flashed back into her mind as he drank and then asked her if they were going to go down this road again. She did everything in her power to make herself remain on this stool, to not walk away like a coward. She had to face this. Had to face them. No matter how much she willed herself to move she just couldn't do it. The last time she had walked away she had almost lost her life. There was no telling what would happen this time, but she did know one thing. She didn't want to lose him. She knew that if she walked away this time there would be no going back to the way that things were. A life with Connor and what they were doing was better than a life with no Connor at all. The desperation that filled at her at that very thought filled her lifeless blue eyes, and she managed to look away just in time so he didn't see her weakness. He had already seen her weak. She didn't need him to witness it again. "No. Take it." This was not the old Eli. This was an Eli that was confused, an Eli that was trying to decipher between what was real and what had been a figment of her imagination in her delirious state. Had he said the things that she wanted to believe he had? Looking over at him now, she regained a semblance of her old self, not wanting to shock him. The glare lit her bruised features and she looked at him stubbornly. "It's not like I took the whiskey. Just give me a break." She snapped viciously, not wanting to argue. This wasn't going well. sorry it sucks. didn't know what else to do!

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0, lyrics by maroon 5

[CONNOR SELWYN]

[style=width: 400px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: #000; line-height: 85%; text-transform: uppercase; padding-top: 8px;]it's a steel knife in my windpipe

She fucking hates me and I love it

ever since that day a week ago, that day when he'd left her bleeding on the driveway as his cousin and her brother tended to her, connor had been conflicted. this was the first time he'd seen her since, actually, and she was so much thinner and weaker looking, but he could still see her fire in her eyes. she was furious, probably because she wasn't as strong as she was accustomed to, and he liked it. he liked her angry; it reminded him of who she was. like she'd said in her dazed condition the night of the ambush, he liked a challenge. it was true, and he'd weighed the words over the past week. he wasn't happy with the women who fell at his feet and practically begged him to fuck them. he was a man, so he enjoyed sex, but he didn't enjoy how easy it was. with eli, everything with eli, situations were complicated and often irritating. she got him on the cusp of confusion, and he hated her for it. he hated not being in control.

when she replied so uncharacteristically diplomatic, connor almost choked on the last sip of vodka he'd taken into his mouth. his brow furrowed and he set the glass bottle down on the counter top with a dull thunk. he was reminded of his inner torment the night he'd brought her home from the attack. his words, while true, had rang in his mind as a sign of weakness. he never showed weakness, never felt it. needing her in his life was a weakness his enemies could, and would, exploit if given the chance. he needed to get her out of his head. so he had tried. he'd tormented neil and his younger sister lily, since they were easy targets. he'd screwed at least ten women, or more he'd lost count. he'd even taken jett to the shooting range, pointed the younger man's gun at his head and ordered him to pull the trigger so he could feel anything other than what he was feeling. thankfully, although jett was insane, he hadn't followed that order as evidenced by connor living and breathing here in the kitchen. jett had actually been the one to talk some sense into him, thanking him for saving his twin sister and telling him he had to forgive himself. it wasn't his fault she'd gotten so badly hurt, and she would heal.

words of wisdom from a mad man.

so connor had settled himself by assuming his upset was over failing a fellow soldier, for her almost dying as he'd run back to his car to get his gun. deep down, he knew that wasn't the real reason, but his mind clouded that truth over and made him believe the made-up truth. guilt. that was all it was: guilt.

nodding his head absently as she asked him to give her a break, he turned toward the exit, fully prepared to remove himself from the room. damn the water. he could drink out of the sink. but as he reached the door, his pride refused to allow him to leave. growling, he slammed his fist into the door jam and turned back to face her, his hand stinging pleasantly from the punch. "can't you just get over yourself?" he hissed, his eyes seething with that hatred. he hated her for being in his head. he hated her for not leaving his thoughts every night as he worried about whether she would live or die. he hated that she made him care. he hated her.

"i hate you," he stated in a low voice as he advanced on her slowly. "you almost get yourself killed... you make everyone worry to death over you... and then you waltz in here and mope over how pitiful you are." he was beside her now, and his hand grabbed her plate with the toast, tossing it angrily into the opposite wall. the hand came up and gripped her chin, probably too roughly but he didn't care. he raged with a mixture of emotions: anger, passion, hate, love, desire, lust, confusion. "get... out... of my head..." his lips crushed into hers in a smothering, angry kiss. for the moment, he didn't think about jett, asher, and lennox perhaps being only steps away down the hallway. he didn't think about lola in the mud room cleaning up the trash he'd littered on the floor. all he could think about was the main thing that had been on his mind for the past week: eli and his need for her.

when his lips finally left hers, his face stayed inches away as he opened his eyes and glared into hers. "this can't keep going on..." he confessed. "i can't stand it. i can't be this close to you. i can't... all i can think about..." cursing, he moved away from her and threw his hands in the air. his hazel eyes seethed and burned with that mixture of emotions flashing over them, and his hands slapped down on the counter top as he braced himself and tried to breathe. he couldn't stand this going on any longer. something had to give, or he would go mad.

[/style]
TEMPLATE BY ROYALSTANDARD.

[eli byrne]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) 842 ( TAGGED ) CONNOR ( STATUS ) COMPLETE She was lost in her thoughts as the rest of the men disappeared from the room. She wished Connor had gone with them. The confusion that his mere presence presented her was enough to make her go bad. What did he want from her? Their agreement was something that she had believed to be set in stone, but she had been the first one to ruin it. She had been the first one to walk away because she couldn't handle the no attachments rule. She had broken their first, most important rule. Eli had grown attached to a man that she was trying so desperately hard to continue hating. She didn't want to feel anything but loathing towards him but her heart would not allow it. No matter what her mind told her to feel, her heart would not obey, and as she stared at the vicious man standing in front of her, she didn't know what she felt. Normally a woman in her position would feel fear but there was nothing of the sort pounding behind her beating heart. She couldn't place it, didn't want to. She was terrified that it would complicate things, terrified that it would mean making herself admit that she did indeed care for this man. That was not who Eli Byrne was. She had given up on caring about anyone other than her brother. This was not a part of her description, her make up. She wouldn't allow it to be. She had not had to struggle as Connor had in this past week. She was certain that if their positions were exchanged she wouldn't be as stoic as she was now. If it had been him that lay dying in his bed, something would have enlivened deep within her. Something would have broke and she didn't even know what to think of that situation. The fact that Connor seemed to be handling this situation so well was indeed much like a slap to her face. It was disappointing in a way and any hope that she dared to hold on to that they could be something fell from her fingertips. This was foolish. Ridiculous. Worthless. She was an idiot. No feelings. That had been the main point, the main reason that they were doing what they were doing. She needed him in ways that he needed her and they were simply there to satiate one another. They had to let that be that. Grinding her teeth together in her frustration, her blue eyes turned downward as she glanced to the counter top below her fingers. Ignoring his actions as he drank and nearly choked on the last sip, she looked past him and to the windows that lit the kitchen. They were in the mafia. He was the leader. She was one of his best soldiers. Getting romantically involved would be a huge mistake. She had to realize this. He had to see that. Keeping her head bowed for now, she watched him as he got up with a nod. Feeling as if he was going to leave her alone for the time being, she relaxed visibly. But she should have known better. Connor Selwyn would not leave without a fight, and she found herself relieved as he punched the door frame and rounded on her. Instead of being afraid or astonished, she was happy. She hadn't wanted him to leave. She hadn't want him to walk away from her as she had done to him in the past. They needed to face this. They needed to make things right between them both no matter what that meant for whatever they had. Holding her breath in as he approached her, she saw the hatred burning in the very depths of his dark eye. That emotion was for her and for himself. She had to match it and she did rather easily. As he came closer to her Eli stayed where she was. Where was she going to go? No where. Enough was enough. As he asked her to get over herself, her features hardened dramatically, and she responded, her tone snapping like a whip. "Fuck off Selwyn. You have no idea.." She didn't finish her statement because she didn't want him to have an idea. She wouldn't throw her pathetic story in his face. That wasn't the kind of individual that she was. That was weak and she would be damned if she took that road. Snapping her jaw shut with a click of her teeth, she shook her head and refused to look at him. Then he was confessing his hatred towards her and it was almost like a weight was being lifted off of her chest. She had never heard him say those words to her but it was something. Watching him with a steady gaze that never faltered, she let him speak, let him accuse her of moping around. And so she had been, but this was the first day she had been up. This was the first day that she was trying to figure out what she had heard him say that night. She thought that they were going to have an all out brawl with their words, but as she opened her mouth to retort, his hand reached out to grasp her chin. It hurt but she wouldn't cry out. Eli didn't cry unless the pain was unbearable. This was different. This made her feel something other than the hopeless desperation she had been experiencing. He was touching her. That had to mean something. Inhaling sharply, her eyes dilated from the sharp pain his actions sent through her, but she had no time to react, for his lips were crashing into hers as he ordered her to get out of his head. Closing her eyes, she responded willingly, heatedly, passionately. The fear that she would never wake up had clouded her mind more times than not in the past week, and the fact that this was happening satiated her. He pulled away from her suddenly and Eli was left stunned and breathless. Her beaten lungs were struggling to cling to the air that they so desperately needed but she refused to show her weakness, her pain. Ignoring her gasping breaths, she felt her face flush from the effort and heard his next words. He was right. This couldn't go on. Studying the man across from her with intelligent eyes she knew that it was now or never. This was when they were laying everything out on the table and she needed to know the truth. Her gaze sharpened immediately as he leaned on the counter, and she stood from the stool. Moving more slowly than she wanted to at the moment, she didn't stop until she basically ran into him. Shoving his shoulder as roughly as she could in her weakened state, her anger flared for more reasons than one. It flared out of frustration for not being as strong as she usually was, and it flared out of desperation to figure out why he was playing these games with her. "That night...that night you got me out of your car and put me in the driveway, I heard you. I don't know if it was me imagining it because it was what I wanted to hear, but I heard things. You said you didn't want to live without me...that you didn't believe in love but you didn't want me to die. Connor, what did you say? Tell me the truth. Stop playing the games that I don't want to play anymore. Be honest for once Selwyn. Did you say those things?" She asked, her voice rising in pitch as she spoke, wanting to know what was real and what wasn't. Was she crazy? Probably. Did she care? Not at all. sorry it sucks. didn't know what else to do!

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0, lyrics by maroon 5

[CONNOR SELWYN]

[style=width: 400px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: #000; line-height: 85%; text-transform: uppercase; padding-top: 8px;]it's a steel knife in my windpipe

She fucking hates me and I love it

connor was losing control, and he hated it. he had a desire to always be in control, in every situation, and losing control drove him insane. when he looked at eli, he felt feelings, and he never felt anything, and that made him angry. it meant his body, his mind, two things he always relied on and trusted, were acting without his permission. hearing her tell him to fuck off relieved him. she was still mad at him. maybe she hated him. that would make what he was feeling so much easier to deal with. if she hated him, then he could move on. he could go back to the lifestyle that was comfortable and easy for him: one night stands with no strings attached and no feelings involved. that was essentially what this between him and eli was supposed to be. but it had turned into more, and that infuriated him. he refused to admit he was susceptible to the same emotions other people felt. he was the leader of the irish mafia, damn it. he didn't have time for dealing with this kind of shit.

when he came to her, kissing her so passionately it took his own breath away, he felt her kiss him back. even in her weakened state, she melted into him, and her lips battled with his own. it wasn't a battle of wills though, it was a battle of passion and desire. they had always wanted each other's bodies, but this was turning into something more, and it was driving connor insane.

he finally released her, needing to get away but unable to move as far away as he wanted. he still had that desire to be close to her, and he was constantly torn between the two now. his shoulders rose and fell with the short breaths he was taking, both from the kiss and from just having finished and game of rugby. sweat was still drying on his reddened skin that would inevitably turn red with sunburn and peel within the week, and his black hair felt heavy with the sweat that soaked it as well. he was grimy and filthy, but he didn't care. he had never cared what he looked like to other people, unless he was trying to impress a business partner, and he expected everyone to accept him as himself. he was connor selwyn. that was enough. even around eli, he didn't find himself showing off for her or anything stupid like most men did. she would have to accept him as he was just like anyone else.

when she weakly pushed his shoulder, he didn't budge (simply because she was still too weak to actually push him), but he continued staring down at the granite counter top as she started speaking. and there it was. she was reminding him of his words, reminding him he had admitted he didn't want to live in a world without her. if he had to choose a woman who could be his feminine equivalent, that would be eli. she was as bloodthirsty as him, as devoted to her job and the mafia, and she was stronger than any woman he'd met. it was true, he didn't want to live in a world where she didn't exist. he didn't think that constituted as love (since he didn't believe in it and refused to allow himself to do so), but the words he'd confessed were true.

finally, when she'd finished word vomiting on him, he looked up slowly and over at her. "i've never lied to you," he stated plainly, the struggle still in his eyes. "you may think i have, but i haven't. i've never lied to my allies: only to my enemies." sliding his hands together, he stood from where he'd been leaning on the counter. he rested with his right hip propped against the granite and looked down at the floor before back into her face. he'd never seen her like this, and he couldn't say whether he liked it or disliked it. always believing pleading to be weak, he usually offed people who pleaded with him, but this situation was unlike any he'd ever experienced. "i said all of it." it was a simple statement, and it was out. he'd said it. he wouldn't deny it although he could. he was tired. tired of thinking and fretting and tired of feeling anything at all. he wished he could shoot himself so he could feel some real pain instead of this bullshit he was going through. "so? now that you've found a weakness, now what?" he asked, his hazel eyes going hard as he turned to stare at her.

[/style]
TEMPLATE BY ROYALSTANDARD.

[eli byrne]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; background-color: #343434; padding:20px; border-top: 10px #af9390 solid; border-bottom: 10px #af9390 solid;] repair your broken wings ( WORDS ) 842 ( TAGGED ) CONNOR ( STATUS ) COMPLETE This was getting old. She was tired of the warring emotions inside of her heart and she was tired of this weakness. She had pledged to never care for a man, especially after what she went through. It was easier for everyone involved. She would never be completely trusting, she would never stop thinking about the what ifs of a situation. The marines had given her a certain paranoia that she'd never be able to get rid of. It bothered her to no end but she didn't know how to end it. Sure, they suggested therapy. She didn't want therapy. She was fine, she was functional. Looking over her shoulder every second was good for her. It meant that she would know if someone was following her. It was how she was so good at gun running anyway. She wasn't Connor's best gun runner because of her looks. She was skilled, and the marines had only rounded and molded her into a finely trained and tuned killing machine. She scouted an area completely before entering it and she made certain that she knew all of the escape routes. She never went into a mission without that knowledge, and there was a reason that she was still alive after the many close calls she had had. This last one had been a bit close. She didn't want to ever go through something like this again. If anything the almost failure had angered her, had ignited her to become a better soldier. That was how she could distract herself from this situation if they didn't come to a conclusion now. She would throw herself into training as soon as she was healed, but who knew how long that could take. Flynn had said she needed to take it easy, needed to give her body time to heal. If she didn't she would only cause more damage, especially to her damaged organs. Telling Eli to take it easy was not something that she had taken lightly, especially now that she remembered the instructions. Furrowing her brow as she remembered to what the doctor said, she nearly snarled. Malice rose up within her like a wild fire and she wanted to hit something, throw something. Connor was her only target however, and he had already thrown her plate of toast. Which didn't improve her mood. Her eyes locked onto the broken dish on the floor with the pieces of toast scattered around. She wasn't going to eat them because she was queasy just sitting here, but it had taken a lot of her energy to make those. She wanted to punch him. But as she brought her gaze up, she misjudged his height and her eyes landed straight onto his bare chest. Starting slightly, she tore her gaze away from his familiar muscles, wishing that she didn't know his body so well. But even as she willed herself to forget, their touches, their kisses, their violence hit her like a smack to the face. Her face flushed with color as she thought about the three times that they had sex. There was pain involved every single time and she wondered why she didn't realize how similar they were before now. Snapping her gaze upwards to his dark eyes, she prayed she wouldn't see satisfaction there. He had distracted her simply because he wasn't wearing a shirt. What was wrong with her? She had to control these urges, this lust that was slowly turning into something that she didn't dare describe. She refused to admit that the passion that drove her lust was anything more than just a primal urge. He was a man. She was a woman. He wanted her, she wanted him. They could give one another what they seemed to so desperately need and that was that. There should have been nothing more but there was. She could see it by the way that he looked at her with such hatred. That hatred wasn't as intense in the beginning. Something was developing inside of him and he didn't like it. That much was obvious. He resented it, loathed it and in turn resented and loathed her because she was the one who made him feel that way. Snapping her fiery eyes to his own, she dared him to challenge her. She was weak yes, she was in pain, yes, but that defiance was slowly rising within her once more. She was tired of this. She wanted to know, she wanted answers. Being kept in the dark to wonder about what they were or what they could be was driving her absolutely insane. Even knowing that they could never be would be much better than this. "I've never lied to you." He had caught her attention with those words because Eli was instantly beginning to think about what she could do to disprove that statement. He had never lied to her. Her face flushed with irritation as she realized that he was telling the truth. If there was one thing that Connor was, it was that he was honest to his soldiers. He never lied, and he was more blunt than he had to be more often than not. Looking away from him, she didn't even look at him when he made his admittance, his confession. He had said those things. It made her heart beat increase rapidly but she refused to let it show. What did this mean? That he felt the same way? How? She didn't even know how she felt so how could they possibly understand this situation? If anything his confession had only made it worse. He could have lied. He could have told her that she was delirious and half dead. That was why she heard what she heard. He could have said that he was just threatening her to keep her alive. Muttering under her breath for a moment, she flashed her eyes to him as he asked her what she was going to do with his weakness. What did he think? That she was going to exploit him? Hardly. He could do the same thing to her and that wouldn't be good for either of them. Her inability to even move him with her shove had infuriated her and it was obvious that she hadn't gotten over that yet. She drummed her fingers on the counter top, refusing to meet his gaze for the time being. She was so weak, and even standing for as long as she had been was exhausting. Her head was pounding with a head ache that she couldn't get rid of and she was certain that all of this was certainly not helping. Eli wanted to be strong again. She wanted to be herself. This conversation could be going so much better if she was herself. Biting her lower lip, the young Irish woman finally managed to bring her crystal blue eyes to Connor's. "So." She was going to completely disregard the fact that he asked her what she was going to do now that she had found his weakness. There was nothing for him to worry about. "You can't stay away from me. I can't stay away from you. That's obvious. What's not obvious is...what do we do now?" She let her question hang in the air, letting it soak in. If she recommended anything Connor would shoot it down. He needed to make this decision in a way that it didn't seem to fall directly on his shoulders. She needed to be careful. But she knew what she wanted. Now she only had to see if he wanted the same thing. sorry it sucks. didn't know what else to do!

table by CALIFORNIA DREAMING of CAUTION 2.0, lyrics by maroon 5

[CONNOR SELWYN]

[style=width: 400px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 18px; letter-spacing: 2px; color: #000; line-height: 85%; text-transform: uppercase; padding-top: 8px;]it's a steel knife in my windpipe

She fucking hates me and I love it

he saw her react to his honesty, and in a weird way it amused and pleased him. he enjoyed surprising people and catching them off guard, and he had clearly done so to eli. the rage at being weak to these emotions he was beginning to feel for her was still there, but he was beginning to understand it and come to grips with it. the way her gaze seared into him so angrily, he sensed she was having the same problems he was, and that pleased in a sadistic way. he wasn't the only one suffering through this. if he had to suffer, someone else should have to as well.

but then he remembered, in vivid detail, a conversation he'd once had with his father. it hit him so fast and hard, it was as if a bag of bricks had been thrown into his face. he'd blocked the memory out until now due to the circumstances in which it had first happened. it was the night his father, kyson, had learned about the rape that had led to the gunfight which had gotten five men killed and connor wounded. he'd been nineteen at the time, hot-headed and wreckless, much moreso than he was now. he had raped a young italian girl because he couldn't control his urges, and hadn't wanted to, and it had weakened his awareness of his surroundings. so much so, that when he'd stumbled out of the basement where he'd just committed such a heinous act, zipping up his pants in the process and wondering where his tee-shirt had gotten to, he'd almost been shot dead. thankfully, he still had enough of his wits about him that he dodged the bullet (literally), managing to catch it in his arm where he still bore a scar to this day to remind him of that night. the ensuing gunfight was a result of the italian constantinos getting a piece of intel leading them to the rundown house owned by the irish on the outskirts of los angeles, where they believed one of their own to be held captive. the intel was true, but the italians would later be led to believe it wasn't when the house caved in, scarring the memory of the italian teenager tied to a post in the basement of the collapsed building. but the memory that assailed him now was the following night when kyson selwyn had come raging into connor's bedroom where his sister, kahlan, was tending to his wounded arm.

"get out," kyson said calmly, emotionlessly, to kahlan. the two siblings instantly knew their father meant business. kyson was a jovial man for the most part, but when his voice took on that tone - or lack of tone - it usually meant someone was going to die. kahlan deserted the bandages she'd been preparing to put on connor's arm and skirted around her father as quickly as she could to escape. she didn't go far, but hid around the corner in the hallway so she would hear everything to go on between the two men.

"you bastard," kyson hissed, his anger and disappointment so great in his face and voice that he couldn't even make eye contact with his oldest son. those two words hurt connor more than he would ever be able to admit. "dad, i..." connor began. he was cut off as kyson made eye contact with him. the anger, the disappointment, the overall let down he saw in his father's eyes shut him up instantly. he'd never felt more like a flea in his entire life. "i know what really happened at the blue house," kyson stated plainly. "and i think you need some time away. you're going to cambridge to finish your schooling."

that hadn't been the end of the conversation. it had blown into an all-out argument which tessa selwyn had eventually had to invade the room to break up before the two men began throwing blows at one another. connor had always been the only child who could make his father so intensely proud he was about to burst one moment and anger him to the point of breaking the next. connor had always reminded him of his younger brother, kipper, a man kyson had intensely loved and hated since childhood. after his wife had calmed them down, kyson had gone on to explain a life lesson to his son, one that son wouldn't remember until an afternoon far in the future as he came to a crossroads with his emotions.

"you must come to learn the balance, my son," kyson explained. "there is a balance, albeit a delicate one, between passion and control. there is nothing wrong with desire or even love. obviously, i love your mother. but i have to balance who i am when i have a gun in my hand with who i am when i'm with her.

"there is nothing wrong with loving passionately. there is nothing wrong with wanting something, or someone. but there must be a balance. learn to find what you want and what you actually need, and then learn control. that control is the balance between the right passion and going too far..."

at the time, connor had been angry, upset he was being exiled to england, and had tried his best not to listen to his father's advice. he'd raped the girl for selfish reasons, but he'd put his father's men in danger because he couldn't control himself. unconsciously, he had done as his father said. he had learned control, but he'd gone too far the other direction with that control. he'd become a control freak, thinking if he wasn't in control of the tiniest detail then he was losing his power. and when he looked at eli and felt the things he felt at the sight of her, that instinct assailed him. now he knew he had to find that balance his father had told him to find seven years ago.

looking back into her blue-eyed gaze, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his bare chest. gently, he brought her chin up and kissed her on her lips. "we find the balance," he answered her after he pulled his lips from hers. "we agree that there's something more here, between us. i want you to be mine and mine alone. but..." he released her, keeping his gaze riveted on hers. "...we still keep this just between us. it protects both of us that way, and besides..." he smiled slightly and pulled her hips against his own with a mishievous grin. "it's more fun if there's the slim chance we could get caught at any moment."

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