Philophobia

Fifty; Kids

March 3rd, 2011
8:32 pm
The Black Shamrock Bar
Washington D.C.

Eliza felt her heart pounding as she opened the door to the bar, worried she may be declined entry. Why there was a need for the same bar in both Boston and D.C. she didn't know, either way, she knew he would be here.  She ran her palms down her jeans as she walked, taking a seat in a corner booth.

It was over an hour before she saw a blonde head emerge from the back room. He was dressed head-to-toe in black, a Valhalla signature. Her fingers began to tap on the table, index, ring, middle, pinkie. He walked up to the bar and began a conversation with the bartender. They talked for a while in hushed tones, patrons moving around the bar not knowing anything suspicious was going on. Eliza continued to stare at him, hoping it would make him uncomfortable enough to look back at her.

It worked. Soon, Delcan Doyle's baby blue eyes locked into Eliza's dark brown ones. Eliza raised an eyebrow as if she was challenging him, crossing her legs under the table as she did. Declan huffed before leaving the bar abruptly, returning to the back room. Again he emerged, this time followed by a grey-haired man. Unlike Declan, Ian Doyle's eyes were like ice. Doyle took a seat across from her, leaning back in his chair.

"Lizzie," he smiled causing Eliza to lean forward on the table.

"Leave them alone-"

"Now why would I do that?" Doyle cut her off.

"Leave them alone," she repeated, "and I'll take Declan's place." Doyle raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"You'd take your brother's place just to save some team that won't be together in five years?"

"I'll take my brother's place if it means you'll stop killing families. Killing other people won't make this family less fucked up," Eliza stated, leaning back in the same fashion her father did.

"Vous seriez Valhalla pour les sauver??" (You would be Valhalla to save them?)

"Je deviendrai Valhalla si vous promettez d'arrêter de tuer des gens sur le sol américain," Eliza replied. "Votre passion vous rend bâclée, vous allez bientôt vous faire prendre si vous ne vous arrêtez pas." (I'll become Valhalla if you promise to stop murdering people on American soil. Your passion is making you sloppy, you're going to get caught soon if you don't stop.) Doyle laughed, narrowing his eyes at the girl.

"Je suis surpris. Vous avez travaillé si dur pour vous éloigner de mon domaine de travail, pour revenir en rampant comme un ... enfant sans défense," he said with a raised eyebrow. (I am surprised. You've worked so hard to distance yourself from my field of work, only to come crawling back like a...helpless child.) Eliza didn't respond. She stared her father directly in the eyes, hoping she was hiding the hatred and fear living inside of her. Doyle got up from his chair, walking away from the table. He stopped a few feet away and looked back at her. "Let's go."

March 5th, 2011
8:21 am
The Bullpen of the Behavioral Analysis Unit
Quantico, Virginia

Reid rubbed his eyes in an attempt to ease the headache that'd been developing all night. People moved around him despite the early hour, the entire team having stayed overnight. He expected Eliza to enter the bullpen at any minute. She'd gone home the night before, citing a doctor's appointment early that morning as the reason.

Reid really just wanted Eliza to flit past his desk, leaving a trail of her orange perfume, letting him hear her voice, and watch her pass. For the past couple of days that was as close as she'd gotten to him, and he craved those moments where for just a second he could pretend everything was alright.