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Visualise this thing that you want, see it, feel it, believe in it. Make your mental blueprint, and build it. - Robert Collier

What You PromisedFairlane & Zack Gray

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"HEY, YOU'RE OKAY NOW. I gave you something to help you sleep," Erik's reassuring voice was the first thing that Diana heard, before she had even dared to open her eyes, she knew he was right beside her. Revulsion twisted in her gut as she realised what had happened.

Diana had lost control again, what was it that doctor had said when you feel yourself slipping, grip your anchor. Diana did not have an anchor anymore; she had been murdered. "Why?" Her voice was hoarse, raw, and dry.

"You were becoming a danger to yourself and others. I reckoned you were out of your mind; you haven't slept in days." His voice was soft as he lowered his hands. Diana's shoulders hunched as she drew the blanket to her chin. "Can you tell me something‒what is the last thing you remember?" He asked.

Silence settled over the room, outside car doors slammed shut and engines revved to life, the room had an eerie glow by the light of a single lamp. Diana sat, dizziness overwhelmed her, she could see his lips moving but she could not hear him.

"It's‒it's none of your business. I don't remember." Diana stammered, she fought her vision as Erik came into focus, a car horn went off outside the window. "Yes, but can you please try?" He pressed; a concerned smile tugged at his lips.

Diana exhaled slowly and nodded, she looked anywhere else, doubting her hazy memories. "Ethan Larson called, he asked me to meet him in his office, that meant I had to leave the party early. He asked me if my parents were especially close to anyone," She said hesitantly, Erik shifted in his seat but kept his attention on her. "Did that bother you?" He asked.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," She rolled her eyes and tilted her chin up indignantly. "There were a lot of people at the party that night, but one person stood out to me. My uncle was there without an invitation, but Emms and I were sent to bed a little after eleven, the au pair escorted us, and we watched her car pull out of our drive from the window. That is the last thing I remember."

"I need you to be honest with me," Erik said in a muffled voice, his mind worked through it, Diana nodded for him to continue. "Why were you digging in the dirt?" He asked. "I already answered. I don't know. I thought I was at a park, I remember seeing Carkeek sign. I was looking for something." She said with a yawn.

"Then what?" He asked in a calm voice, Diana raised her head and looked him in the eyes, she gestured to him.

"Then what? You're a bloody surgeon, why am I answering to you? I was already interrogated once today," She unleashed in one swift breath, but Erik stopped her with two raised fingers, she drank him in‒every detail, every minute motion, just to see if he was made of stuff. His expressive dark eyebrows arched, under such scrutiny, she could filet him with one look‒the thought welcomed an intrigued smile.

"You are displaying distressing signs of scopophobia. Now, I am no psychiatrist, but I would suggest speaking with one," The playful tones in his voice brought a wash of colour to Diana's cheeks. "Come on, be honest with me‒if I can help, what will it hurt? You are barely eating, you never sleep, and when someone talks to you, you are not even there,"

Diana squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head sideways as if fighting off a memory, a bitter taste in her mouth, there was a time when she did not need to try and remember‒she just did, and the memories would flood in like diseased water.

After that night, the doomed night when her life had been taken from her, Diana had sworn to herself that she would never remember. However, with the recent murder and everything involved, she was torn between not wanting to remember and needing that information more than the next breath.

"Sometimes not knowing is better," Diana said slowly, she adjusted the oversized T-shirt, her tousled hair fell uncharacteristically free. She felt torn, she wanted to walk out of the door. To disappear, but she could also stay and make a life for herself.

"I think that whatever it was that happened, it is better to take the good with the bad and then judge. I just need facts. Tell me what I need to do to convince you‒I will do whatever it takes," He prompted under his breath, he would do anything to make her believe.

Groggily, Diana wiped her face, her throat felt like sandpaper, she never got used to that feeling.

"When was the last time you slept?" He asked. "Wednesday?" She said in more of a questioning tone, Erik's jaw tightened. "Today is Monday." He said indignantly, she gave him a look. "I don't sleep much. Speaking of not sleeping, it's time for me to do just that. Get out." She ordered as she took the blanket with her and laid down.

Eyelashes fluttered, overhead a violent storm billowed, damp grass threatened to make her slip. She felt the wind lash her face as she ran, but the footsteps behind her had stopped chasing after her, the silence that echoed the great halls mirrored her shallow breaths. Somehow, she had gotten inside, down into the basement, terror thrummed along the bones in her body like a xylophone. Someone or thing breathed down the back of her neck, the shutter of a camera click-clicked throughout the gigantic room, filling it with an ungodly noise.

"You're not real. You're not real." She repeated until her voice fell into tears, she cradled her ears, in the vein hope that would block out the sound of the camera. The basement ran the length of the house, in the pitch black, it was impossible to make out the blocked-out windows.

The camera echoed in the dark, taking blank after blank, the knife in her hand glinted with impossible moonlight. Suddenly, there was a presence in front of her, she used the knife in her hand and plunged it into the shape in front of her.

Someone's strong fingers eased through Diana's hair; a husky voice soothed her to the surface of her nightmare. She opened her eyes and got an eye full of Erik's expansive chest, she cursed under her breath, her body would not listen to her‒it shook with every ounce of strength she had.

"What did you say, love?" From the deep tone of his voice, Diana assumed he had not been awake much longer than she had. Her lips moved to say knife, but she held that back, he was practically a stranger, albeit a warm, cuddly stranger. "N‒nothing." She managed before she drifted off against him.

Broad daylight awakened her like a car alarm. Oh wait, that is a car alarm, Diana groaned and walked to the window, remembering when she and her sister would spend their nights dancing the soles off their shoes when they thought their parents could not hear them.

Raking the heavy drape back with a finger, Diana took in the foggy Seattle morning with a deep sigh, wondering if the neighbours across the street that could see her if they intended to wonder if she were someone special to the Laurence family‒Erik, in particular. She wondered where he had gotten to and, most important if he had heard her talk in her sleep.

Diana pinched her lips together in concentration, there was something different about Erik, if she were to be completely transparent with herself, it was the fierce resolve in his eyes. Surgeons were meant to open bodies and mend what is damaged; what did he see when he looked at hers?

Erik shoved open the door, he admired how the light caught Diana's hair, the way she wore his Cardinals shirt like a dress. "You're awake. I reckon Will setting off his car alarm woke you." He commented as Diana made her way from the window to a sofa near the bed, painfully aware that they were alone.

"What makes an adult with a successful job choose to live in his parents' home?" Diana asked as she sat with her legs tucked underneath her, accepting the coffee as Erik sat beside her. He looked at her and then down into his cup with a fixed, unreadable expression, giving her a vague answer of how high the cost of living could be.

"I met with Larson, he told me that a woman has gone missing, that I should be back in witness protection," Diana said, absently thinking about how it felt to sit close to a near-perfect stranger, the sleeves of his white shirt hiding the scarring on his bicep.

"I should not be telling you this, but Larson said that they found an anonymous note at the crime scene of the missing woman. Its contents alluded to something in my past," Diana said, pausing a long draft. "but he would not tell me anything more, only asked if I knew about it. I said that it was not a game, I do not know how the stalker is doing it, but they are messing with me, and Larson‒he does not believe me. His father worked on my families' cold case; he knows more than anyone about it‒more than I do."

"So, now let me see if I have this right‒feel free to stop me at any time. You were living in Spokane under an assumed name with your handler, Mags, when you came home from a business trip in Canada to find Mags freshly," Erik cut himself off mid-sentence, glancing at Diana to gauge her reaction.

On her part, Diana had started to chew her lower lip, a bad habit she had developed in middle school, and as the topic came full circle back to the topic she had so desperately avoided, bit her lip so vigorously blood trickled down her chin. She flinched as Erik suddenly dabbed at her face with a cloth, she could only guess at but did not fight him, the heat from his firm grasp sank into her cool skin.

"What is this scar from?" He asked as he inspected a four-inch-long scar that was barely detectable, fanning out from the corner of Diana's mouth, she did not answer but lowered her eyes.

"Reflex," Erik apologized out of the side of his mouth as he gave it another look and settled back into his seat. "The killer is trying to get to you, but why? Is it misguided vendetta?"

"I am at a loss, I do not know how they are involved with my family, there are a thousand ways they could be connected to it or none. What it comes down to is outsmarting a mastermind, but as a player, how do you beat the creator of the game?" Diana asked in a distracted voice, absorbed in her own thinking process.

"What do you remember?" Erik asked, scratching the scar through his sleeve. Diana graciously pretended she had not noticed.

"I remember every inch of the backyard, every cranny and dust particle in the house‒the days' events leading up to that night, but that is where it stops," Diana paused, an undeniable heaviness in her chest, drowning her in reverie. The dim light, a room with the two of them.

Erik flexed his hand around his cup and set it on his knee, he stared at it intently until he felt eyes boring holes into the side of his face, he looked up at her and made a face. "I am not sure working with the police on this case is the best thing," He said in an apologetic voice, surprised when Diana merely shrugged her shoulders. He had expected a good slap to the shoulder, a haughty screech of protest at the latest.

"Eight hours, approximately that is how much time I lost. There is nothing there, I have seen psychiatrists and therapists, even hypnosis and nothing has ever worked. My only hope is this case, what happened to my family‒the missing woman, they are connected. Working this case could bring me closer to the truth, to my past. I am going to find out why Emma died, my Dad would have wanted that," Diana finished.

"Determination is attractive. You and Larson, what is the story there?" Erik asked in a casual manner, twirling the glass on his thigh, he could feel her close to his side.

"I do not know about that, crazy is not exactly everyone's' type," Diana said with a light chuckle, her shoulders folded in a bit as she laughed, giving her head a slight shake as her eyes sparkled. "I told you, Larson and I know each other because of my past. He is married, I think, but I can give you his number," Diana said, feeling herself come a little more alive, her quick wit was returning from the saturation of the dulling drugs.

"I enjoy a good challenge, but I think he is way out of my league," Erik said with a cheeky smile aimed at her, Diana felt a small flutter deep in her chest, a warmth delightfully spread throughout her body and warmed her veins.

Erik's ethereal eyes sparkled for a moment as they locked eyes, Diana squeezed a hand over her ribcage, she tried to shove the thought of asking him about the night before when he beat her to it.

"You started to cry and thrash about in your sleep, I couldn't just leave you." His words were a comfort, but she still had doubts whether he heard it or not

Diana checked her wristwatch, a quarter after eight, and looked up as Tom came into view with a tray full of coffee cups. Diana grinned ear to ear as she snatched one up as he offered, cup in hand, she turned back to the elaborate drawing board.

"Is it really all right for me to be seeing this? Aren't I still a suspect?" Diana asked through the buzz and hubbub of detectives, all clamouring to reach their stations and get prepared for their workday. Larson, who had been half sitting on the front of a desk, looked over the rim of his mug at her, he considered her words with a great deal of weight.

"As long as you wish to remain a consultant," Larson said vaguely, he had a certain sceptical set to his features, but Diana could not tell what it was that he mistrusted.

"Do not mind them, look at the board and tell me what you think is missing," Larson added, keenly aware of Diana shoving a trembling hand in her coat pocket. She glanced at him and smiled sheepishly, dipping her head as she walked round to the front of the board, mindful of everybody in the room.

I see a whiteboard full of photos, some familiar faces, some I could guess at‒but every one of them has at least one thing in common: me. My eyes shift over the information scribbled messily by the top right side of each photo, details, and alibis of the persons as well as an updated synopsis of their present-day whereabouts.

The closer Diana looked, the closer she became to remembering things; the trivial things like the face of the kind and gentle officer that scooped her up out of that place and never let her look back.

Diana looked back over her shoulder at Larson, he held his mug as no one had ever taken the care of teaching him how to properly hold a cup, but she knew someone had. For his part, Larson had been scrupulously berating one of his lackeys, much in the way every good captain does, when he tuned in to the blueish grey eyes that had haunted him countless nights. Interest piqued, he tilted his head to the side by way of saying, "Yes?"

Diana chewed her lower lip and winced at the pain, remembering the cut she had inflicted. "Nothing," She said in a deep voice, he gave her an inquisitive look, but she ignored it.

Back to the drawing board, as they say, she thought, her heart doing little flips. What happened to you? She asked the photo of her father silently, her eyes glanced over to the far right of the board, a pang of recognition sparked in her memory, a young girl with scraggly blonde hair. Diana pointed to the photo and looked over her shoulder, Larson had made little noise as he stood beside her.

"This girl? Who is she?" Diana asked, a blurry memory of the young girl and an older woman in their house in New York. Larson read the name aloud and asked for someone to search the name in the database.

"What do you know about her?" Larson asked, studying Diana carefully. "Not much. Just that her and an older woman, her mother may be, used to go to our New York house, I would see them sometimes. We moved, and that was that." She said, finishing her cup.

"Got anything?" Larson asked an officer behind them; one stood and gave confirmation. "Sir, it says her mother reported her missing yesterday from her hometown in Miles City," He said, sitting at his desk resolutely.

"Montana?" Larson asked in a pitchy voice, glancing to Diana, she had set her cup down and wrapped her scarf around her neck. "Get some people out there, we need to know everything," He said, turning to Diana. "Leaving us already?" He asked.

Diana scowled and shouldered her purse. "You were the one that encouraged me to get a job and live a halfway decent life," Diana retorted calmly, gesturing indifferently as she walked backwards, Larson gave her a rare and genuine smile.

As the elevator doors opened, an old but kept Nike shoe slid into the track and into Diana's view, she had been looking down at her phone but pocketed it and took advantage of the empty elevator. She leaned her tired body against the wall and felt herself decompress, her eyelids slid shut, a sweet sultry tune playing in her head.

"How did the meeting go?" Erik asked in a flamboyant voice, acutely studying Diana as her eyes darted to his, caught off guard. She recovered and licked her lips, stepping off the lift stiffly.

"It went well, made a little headway," Diana said to sound casual, Erik fell in step beside her, waving and smiling at his coworkers as he guided them to the cafeteria. "What were you humming in the elevator? It sounded lovely," He said, jerking to a stop as Diana stood planted to the floor.

"I was humming, was I?" She asked with a laugh, pretending it did not affect her, but the colour had drained from her face. Erik moved his hand towards her shoulder but thought better of it, she smiled and kept pace with him. In the back of her mind, her mothers' voice continued to hum.

"So, you stay in the guest house? Isn't that quaint‒like, a modern working woman out on her own," Tracey said in a ridiculous femme fatale voice, a bit of avocado salad falling from her fork, she sat across from Diana under the pretence of becoming girlfriends in the workplace.

Annoyed, Diana's mouth formed a pretentious smile and before she even knew what she was doing, said, "I did not know there was a guest house," She instantly regretted it, wanting to bite off her tongue, but the words were out there, and they could not be taken back. "Perhaps you could show me when you come round next," She added, taking a bite out of her club sandwich.

From across the table, Erik met Diana's wistful expression, but he was one step ahead and stood. "Drinks on me, Diane and I will get them," Erik said in a charming voice, nailing her with a look, she smiled guiltily and stood.

Once they were a safe distance from the table, Erik pinned her by the coffee cart and lowered his voice, conscious of the crowded room. "What happened today? Did that Larson guy get under your skin?" He asked.

Diana laughed, realising it came out more manic than anything and adjusted herself. What was it about Tracey that upsets me? She wondered, looking past Erik at the table where the blond-haired person was busy at work flirting the cap and shoes off another fetching male surgeon. Diana rolled her eyes.

"Forgive me for stepping on her territory," Diana said in a light voice, throwing her hands up as she leaned in to speak quietly. She turned and took a tray of drinks when their order was up. Erik sighed as he paid for the coffee, taking the other tray.

"My Dad will understand, I will understand if you cannot focus on work just yet," He said in a faint voice, his eyes scanning the room as he directed his words at her. "It was a

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