Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval or its characters…
Author's note: I know I said I'd finish some fics before starting others, but I just couldn't help myself…
Summary: Post-ep for series 4 episode 6. Probably doesn't fit with episode 7, but since I have not seen that one yet, and this ficlet begged writing (if only to help me wrap my brain around the character of Matt), here it is. Matt/Emily
He had never counted upon meeting her.
Anomalies. Unpredictable by nature, by definition. And yet they were a constant in his life. Now, one had thrown everything to chaos.
No. That was only true if he allowed it to be true.
He had thought maybe if he didn't look at her, at those big, perceptive eyes that seemed to see straight through him. Maybe if he didn't think about those curves visible and yet elusive under his clothing. Maybe if he didn't permit his mind to wander, imagining her body tangled amongst the linens of his bed...
It wasn't enough. Granted, she was beautiful. But the attraction that pulled his thoughts to her was more than physical. He'd had physical. He'd had women. Never before had they threatened his focus, his path, Gideon's plans.
Getting to know those at the ARC, becoming friends with them... it was always a precarious balancing act. And meeting Emily had more than thrown him off-kilter. It had all but knocked him completely on his arse.
Suddenly, keeping her safe was the primary imperative in his life. And she was foremost in his thoughts, no matter how he struggled against it being the case.
Love at first sight.
Such a cliché. Did it not refer to hormonal, physical attraction? Then what could explain the connection he felt to this woman? Was it simply that she was an anachronism, someone as detached and out of place in the world as Matt himself felt?
And just as suddenly as this woman had appeared, muddling up his brain with confusing emotions, thoughts, his father was gone. The man who had honed his life to a specific purpose was no longer there to keep him on task.
He had been his entire world. The only person who knew him for who he really was. Except Emily... she knew no facts about his past yet saw right through him. And she wasn't the one they were looking for, the one who... He felt deep down in his being, he could trust her.
It was just difficult to let go of the lessons that had been drilled into him for so long. Reveal nothing of his self, his emotions. Evaluate, scrutinize all those around him. Obfuscate, hide, evade, think. Always think.
Feelings did not matter.
He sighed, giving up on sleep. Normally, he would've gotten up, gone to stare out at the city, so full of life, even at night, so different from his home, his real home. This night, he didn't want to leave his bed. And not just out of a desire to leave the woman to her peaceful slumber curled against his side.
It had finally been too much. Too much pain and frustration to suppress. He knew the loss was coming. It was gradual enough. He should've had time to prepare. To repress, to swallow it down, bury it deep. He could deal with it later. Everything could be dealt with later, once they -he- had succeeded.
But it wasn't that easy.
He couldn't remember any of the journey back to his flat, not even now that the shock had worn off. His father was talking to him, ill, dying, but alive. And then, gone. Numbness. And then Emily crouching before him as he perched on the edge of his bed. One soft hand gripped his. The fingertips of the other reached out tentatively to brush his cheek, and then assuredly caressing his face.
He looked into her eyes, her perceptive eyes. And he knew she not only saw his sorrow, but felt it as keenly as if it were her own.
Was that love?
Or was it merely pity?
Whatever it was, he had given in to her, relented to the silent consolation. Sinking off the edge of the bed, falling to his knees, he melted into her embrace, burying his face in the soft curls of her hair. Even as his mute tears wet her shoulder, he did not feel ashamed or reluctant to reveal the emotion to her.
It was all due to that bloody confounding connection he felt to her. And he knew she felt it too. Despite the missteps he had made and her blatant defiance of his protectiveness -that admittedly bordered on controlling, she obviously liked him. More than that, she appeared to instinctively trust him. Sure, her brain oft caught her up, and he could see her wondering why as his own had done, but it was undeniably there.
And she was undeniably in his arms. Serene human touch. A comfort he had not known in such a long, long while. He had forgotten what it was like not to have the weight of the world, the future, resting upon your shoulders. Such freedom was fleeting, for it was already crashing down upon him.
How could he get over her? How could he do what was needed to be done now that he had met Emily Merchant from the 19th century and fallen in love with her in the 21st?
She was the anomaly that rent his world asunder. And he wasn't sure he'd ever recover.
A/N: Probably way off, but I don't care… I've become a little taken with the whole Matt/Emily thing they have going…