The bright morning rays of sunlight filtered through the crack in the curtains, shining with annoying persistence straight onto Charlotte's face. She let out an annoyed groan and burrowed deeper into the warm covers, reluctant to let go of the last remnants of sleep. As the last imageries of sleep were chased from her mind, a satisfied grin found its way on her lips: a grin that only a certain Elvenking was responsible for. Charlotte rolled over but was disappointed to find Thranduil's side of the bed cold and absent, with only his scent lingering on the sheets.

Charlotte sat up, leaning back on her elbows as she recalled the events from the previous night. She could not blame her lethargy this morning on a hangover, as Thranduil had seemed particularly determined to keep her otherwise occupied after her second glass of wine. And he had done a damn fine job of doing just that. All through the night. At least until she had fallen into an exhausted and thoroughly sated slumber, enveloped in his protective arms.

She glanced at the clock on the bedside table, noting that it was a little after nine in the morning, and sighed. Thranduil would have been up for a few hours by now, being the early riser that he was, but she had been hoping that he would be here to give her a very nice wake-up call.

Charlotte flung back the covers and hopped out of bed, absently stepping over their clothes that had been shed on the floor, and made her way to the bathroom. The rejuvenating shower fully awoke her senses and afterwards Charlotte made quick work of getting dressed in black leggings and a long-sleeved red top before heading downstairs to find her elf.

Thranduil was neither in the living room nor the kitchen, and the absence of his cloak and boots suggested that he was probably outside. Charlotte decided to make a cup of tea while she waited for his return. She happened to glance out of the window and witnesses a scene that bought a smile to her face.

Thranduil and Tallagor were standing in the snow, which glistened like a quilt of glittering diamonds in the morning sunlight. The proud and regal Elvenking faced the mighty moose, an enigmatic smile alighting his luminous features as he produced an apple from a bag and fed it to his new pet. Tallagor happily munched away on the crisp, juicy fruit and when Thranduil turned to gaze into the distance, the cheeky animal nudged the elf, clearly demanding more.

Thranduil openly laughed at his antics, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he stroked Tallagor's nose. Charlotte was certain he was reprimanding the animal for his gluttonous ways, though only half-heartedly.

The boiling kettle cut through Charlotte's thoughts and she proceeded to make a cup of tea before shoving on her jacket and boots. She paused and decided to grab a few carrots from the fridge before heading outside to join them.

Thranduil and the moose both turned around at her approach and Charlotte held up the carrots enticingly, determined to get on friendly terms with Tallagor. She was still wary of him and felt it wouldn't hurt to butter him up a little bit. After all, she did not possess Thranduil's charismatic ways and had to rely on bribery instead.

"Don't encourage him, Charlotte. Tallagor has proven to have a greedy appetite," Thranduil stated, though the warm glint in his eyes contradicted his disapproval.

Charlotte fed a carrot to Tallagor and grinned wickedly at Thranduil. "Reminds me of you."

"I am not greedy," he replied evenly. Except, maybe, when it comes to wine.

"No, but you sure had the appetite last night."

Thranduil narrowed his cerulean eyes at her, a coy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "When it comes to you, then yes, my appetite knows no bounds," he replied smoothly, taking a predatory step towards her.

Tallagor chose that moment to swiftly step between human and elf, nudging Charlotte for more of her offerings.

Charlotte chuckled and fed him the rest, watching with rapt attention as he polished off the carrots in record time. She glanced up to see Thranduil studying them with a contentedness enveloping him. An inner light glimmered just beneath the surface of his skin, giving him a soft, ethereal glow. In this moment, surrounded by the pure white snow and picturesque scenery, Thranduil was an embodiment of a creature borne from beauty and perfection.

Carrots now gone, Tallagor turned his attention back to Thranduil, who merely sighed in resignation and produced the last apple from the bag, which the moose gobbled right up.

"If you get a stomach ache, Tallagor, it will be your own fault!" he chided.

Tallagor showed no signs of caring in the least. Sensing that there was no more food to be had, he let out an indignant snort and ambled away without so much as a backward glance.

"Well, there's some gratification for you," Thranduil said with mild disdain as he watched the moose disappear into the woods.

"Hmm, seems we've found the one thing that is impervious to your irresistible charms," Charlotte said, taking a sip from her tea.

"I must be losing my touch."

Charlotte glanced sideways at Thranduil, but his attention was still trained on the line of trees ahead, a faraway look painting his face. There was a sense of melancholy settling over him, and Charlotte found that she wanted to erase such a mood.

Setting her mug down onto the snow, Charlotte scooped up a handful of snow and molded it into a snowball. Then, trying to be as quiet as possible, she took aim and threw. In the blink of an eye, Thranduil pirouetted away from the shot and stared back at her with a cool and calculating gaze.

"What exactly were you trying to do, little one?" he enquired as he slowly started to advance towards her.

"I was trying to hit you with a snowball," she squeaked, taking a step back.

"For what purpose?"

"For fun." Charlotte frowned. "Have you never had a snowball fight?"

Thranduil paused, thinking over her question. And there, in the ageless depths of his eyes, Charlotte glimpsed the truth: Thranduil, King to the Woodland Realm, had not partaken in frivolous activities in a very long time for the mere fun of it. This revelation saddened her, for his life in his kingdom must consist of rigorous rules and expectations that he could not deviate from.

Charlotte scooped up some more snow, which instantly had Thranduil's full and undivided attention. His ice blue eyes flickered from her hand to her face, and he slowly arched a brow, giving him the added affect of superiority.

"Do you truly think you will best me in a snowball fight?"

Charlotte grinned cheekily and nodded.

"Need I remind you that I am an elf: a race far more superior to that of humans. You have no hope of winning such an endeavor."

Charlotte shrugged. "Maybe, but I'll have fun trying."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "So be it."

Charlotte spluttered as a snowball hit her square in the face, and she hastily swiped the cold flakes away. She hadn't even seen him move! As she glanced up, observing the wide grin and twinkle in his eyes, Charlotte chuckled, knowing that this was how she always wanted to see him: carefree and without the weight of the kingdom resting on his shoulders. She would gladly take many more snowballs to the face to witness him like this.

They returned to the house much later, Charlotte a sodden mess and Thranduil humming merrily to himself and noticeably dry. Charlotte cast a sideways glance at the Elvenking, who merely smirked as he felt her eyes on him.

"You fight dirty."

"No. I fight with skill. You, on the other hand, fight with...chaotic enthusiasm."

"Is that a fancy way of saying that I suck at fighting?"

"Very much so."

Thranduil easily dodged the smack intended for his arm and chuckled as she tried again without success. A lightheartedness descended upon the two as Charlotte chased him, the game far from over; even when Thranduil tackled her into the snow and then proceeded to carry her into the house to 'warm' her up.

Monday was proving to be a typical Monday: tedious and dragging on in an endless march. Charlotte sat at her desk deep in thought, which was solely focussed on Lucy and her baby. Each time she reached for the phone to call the hospital, she would hesitate and think better of it. Carl would surely notify her of any changes but waiting for news was proving to be difficult.

Lucy...Charlotte and Lucy had been close friends since childhood, where most weekends were spent with sleepovers at each other's houses. They had been as thick as thieves and had shared many happy moments together, and as they had grown older, they had been there to comfort each other through the angst and hardship of teenage years. Charlotte, naively, had assumed that their friendship would withstand the test of time and they would be the type of friends that would raise their children together and ultimately grow old together. Their bond had seemed unbreakable.

So, what had changed that? Charlotte, at the time, would have confessed that she had been blindsided by the romance that had blossomed between Eric and Lucy, but looking back, she had to wonder how she had not noticed the little clues? The signs that had been so obvious.

When Charlotte had first introduced them, Lucy had seemed a bit flustered and reserved around Eric, which had been unusual for the bubbly blonde, who had not been without admirers and often basked in the attention she received. But her reaction to Eric had been different. Subtly so. Looking back, Charlotte realised that Lucy had become irrevocably smitten with him, her eyes shining brightly whenever he entered the room and a special smile that seemed reserved just for him. If Charlotte had to guess, Lucy had fought her feelings towards Eric, but in the end, she had lost the battle. How hard must it have been to be secretly in love with your best friend's fiancé, knowing that no matter what you did, someone would get hurt?

It was no excuse for what they had done. Their actions had been despicable, regardless of which way one looked at it, but Charlotte was not without understanding and she knew that Lucy really did love Eric. But lately, especially after Eric's unhinged actions, Charlotte had to wonder if Eric even loved Lucy back? Or was he with her because she could give him the child he so desperately wanted?

Charlotte's mind drifted to the baby once more and her heart ached that one so innocent should be bought into this world surrounded by tumultuous conditions.

The ringing of her phone snapped her out of her reverie and Charlotte fished in her handbag, her heartrate increasing when she saw that it was her throwaway phone – there was only one person who had this number. She hastily stepped out of her office, making sure to close the door behind her, and answered it.

"Hi, Carl. Please tell me you have good news."

There was a slight pause on the other end and Charlotte leaned against the wall, closing her eyes as she waited for the bad news to fall, although she had desperately hoped for otherwise.

"Afraid not, Charlotte dear. Lucy passed from her injures about an hour ago."

Charlotte sucked in a deep breath, feeling the salty sting of tears pooling her eyes, and she thumped her head back against the wall.

"And the baby?"

"Still in critical condition."

Charlotte swallowed thickly. The poor baby...

"But there's something more concerning..."

Charlotte's eyes flew open. What could possibly be worse than this? "What is it?"

"I've lost all communication with Thomas. He's not answering any calls or replying to any of my texts. I think something has happened to him. Something bad."

A chill sliced through her body at this news. If Carl was concerned, then it meant that the situation was very bad indeed.

"You remember me saying that if I told you to run, you should run?"

"Yeah."

"It's time to run, Charlotte. Head back home right now, pack up elfy boy and disappear."

Charlotte swallowed hard. She had known this moment was coming, and yet she still felt unprepared for it. But Carl was right: the time had come to go on the run.

"Alright. I'm leaving now."

"Good. I'll call you on the other phone later tonight. Make sure to dispose of your other phones. And Charlotte?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful." The phone went dead, and Charlotte blinked a few times as she stared at the device in her hand. Snapping out of her haze, Charlotte turned and headed back into her office to grab her handbag.

A timid knock on the door startled her and Charlotte whirled around, instantly relaxing when she found that it was only Claire standing in the doorway.

"I was just heading out to lunch," Charlotte hastily lied. She straightened but halted when she noticed Claire's demeanor.

Claire's arms were crossed protectively over her stomach and she was biting at her bottom lip, the red lipstick staining her perfectly white teeth. But it was the anxious look on her face that had Charlotte concerned.

"What's wrong Claire?"

"I need to talk to you, Charlotte," she replied, her voice hitching. She took a deep breath and was visibly trying to compose herself.

Charlotte glanced at the clock. She knew she had to get out of here pronto, but Claire was clearly in distress.

"Of course," Charlotte said, dropping her handbag on her desk and sitting down in her chair.

Claire glanced over her shoulder and then closed the door softly behind her before coming to sit in the chair opposite Charlotte. She clasped her manicured hands together, wringing her hands as she warred with herself on how to proceed.

Charlotte frowned. She had never seen the immaculate Claire in such a state, and it unsettled her. She rose from her seat and was instantly crouched at Claire's side, clasping the other woman's hands in her own.

"Hey. It's okay."

Claire shook her head and Charlotte caught the tell-tale glimmer of tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to overflow at any moment.

"No, it's not." Claire sucked in a deep breath and looked Charlotte straight in the eye. "I'm responsible for what happened to Lucy."

Charlotte frowned. "What do you mean?"

Claire tugged her hand free from Charlotte's and wiped away the lone tear that had fallen. "Friday, after you left work early, I came into your office to place some paperwork on your desk. A folder fell onto the floor and when I went to pick it up, I saw the bug planted under your desk."

Charlotte let out a whoosh of air and sat back on her heels.

Claire continued. "I put two and two together and figured out that Eric had planted it the day he came here to see you." Claire glanced down at her hands guiltily and then looked up at Charlotte, silently imploring her to understand. "I took the device and went over to Lucy."

Charlotte stared at Claire in wide-eyed horror, all words eluding her. She watched numbly as another tear trickled down Claire's smooth cheek, though her voice never wavered as she continued.

"I told Lucy everything: from Eric insisting to seeing you to the bug he planted in your office." Claire finally broke down and sobbed into her hands. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't told Lucy, she wouldn't have left in that storm and had that accident!" she wailed, her words slightly muffled through her hands.

A sense of numbness overcame her, and all Charlotte could do was rub Claire's back in what was hopefully a comforting gesture. Claire was not a malicious woman by no means and Charlotte quite liked her, but her actions had set in motion a chain of events that had ultimately caused the catastrophic accident. If Claire had stayed out of this, Lucy and her baby would still be fine. But Charlotte was not cruel and held her tongue. In the end, the only one to blame was Eric.

"No, Claire. None of this is your fault. You only did what you thought was right. If anyone is to blame, it's Eric."

Claire nodded, though she still looked utterly miserable. Charlotte sat with her until she had finally calmed down, though Charlotte kept glancing at the clock all the while. She really needed to leave. Now! She didn't have time to deal with this.

"I just feel so guilty."

Charlotte turned her attention back to Claire and sighed. "Lucy would have found out eventually, Claire."

"But what are you going to do, Charlotte? What Eric is doing to you is borderline psychotic."

"I have someone who is helping me take care of it."

Claire clasped her hand, her face still twisted with anxiety. "Can't you call the cops, or something?"

Charlotte let out a bitter laugh. "Eric is CIA. He is way out of the reach of the police." Charlotte stood and helped Claire to her feet. "Now, I suggest you take the rest of the day off and try not to worry about it."

Claire nodded, still looking unsure, and suddenly ensconced Charlotte in a hug.

"Be careful, Charlotte."

Charlotte awkwardly patted her back and then watched as Claire left her office. She waited a few moments, gathering her wits, and then grabbed her handbag and fast-tracked it to the elevator that led to the underground parking. As it descended, she zipped up her jacket and tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the doors to open.

Finally, the ping sounded, and she dashed out, walking with quick strides towards her car.

The hairs on the back of her neck suddenly raised and Charlotte paused, a sense of being watched coming over her. Maybe she was being paranoid, but she could not shake the feeling. She glanced over her shoulder, but all she could see were the cars parked in neat rows, the dim overhead lights barely illuminating the spooky atmosphere. Maybe it was watching too many horror movies as a kid, but Charlotte always had a healthy fear of underground parking lots and was always on the look-out for the boogieman to jump out and attack. Cabins in the woods also did not put her mind at ease.

Charlotte silently reprimanded herself and turned her attention forwards, gasping when she came face to face with Eric.

She reeled back, but Eric was quicker and had her instantly pinned hard against the wall, his hand clasped firmly around her throat. Icy fear shot through her body, but it also seemed to make her senses become sharper and more focused and she subconsciously took in his appearance. Eric looked almost like a wild animal compared to his usual smarmy self. His features were haggard, his hair a greasy mess and his usually clean-shaven face was sporting stubble. But it was the look in his eye that was the most unnerving of all: his eyes were soulless, a glassy reflection of a man that had lost everything and no longer cared what he did or who he hurt.

"It's all your fault!" he snarled, spittle flying from his mouth.

Charlotte flinched, her fear paralysing her and all she could do was stare back at him with wide, fear-filled eyes.

"You told Lucy, didn't you?!"

"No," Charlotte gasped. His hand tightened marginally around her throat, and she clutched desperately at his wrist.

"Don't lie to me! I know it was you!" he shouted, his voice resonating through the cavernous interior.

Charlotte stilled. There was no way she was going to tell him about Claire and her involvement. Regardless of what she had done, Claire didn't deserve to have Eric's sights set on her.

Eric took a deep breath through his nose, his nostrils flaring and his eyes narrowing dangerously.

When he spoke again, his voice came out in a low, menacing growl. "You are to blame for all of this. You and your meddlesome friends." The moment stretched out as Eric studied her and he lifted his other hand to stroke her cheek, causing Charlotte to cringe against his touch. "I've already taken care of the one that has been following me around like a mongrel."

Thomas. He was talking about Thomas...

"What did you do to him?" she rasped.

A dangerous glint entered his green eyes like shards of glass, and he drew his face closer to hers, his nose almost brushing against hers. "I killed him," Eric whispered, a cruel smirk stretching on his lips. "A bullet straight to the head. Have someone taking care of Carl as we speak."

Her heart started beating frantically in her chest and Eric's grin broadened at the fear that was plainly written on her face.

"And now I'm going to make you pay for everything you have done."

Charlotte froze with fear as she realised that there was no reasoning with this madman. Eric had long since fallen off the rickety bridge of sanity, and now there was no coming back - especially after the death of Lucy. In his mind, she was to blame for everything that had happened.

Fight back, Charlotte! she heard Thranduil's stern voice order in her head. If you are to have any hope of getting out of this alive, you need to fight back now!

Charlotte instantly jerked her knee upwards and connected with Eric's groin. His hold on her throat released as he fell to his knees, doubled over and now cradling his injured nether regions. Charlotte didn't hesitate and she used the opportunity to try and flee.

But Eric grabbed her ankle and she fell to the ground, her palms hitting hard against the concrete. Sharp pain shot up her arms and Charlotte cried out.

You need to get up now! If he pins you to the ground, you're not walking away!

Eric's cold hand was still curled around her ankle. Charlotte sucked in a deep breath and twisted, swinging her leg around. Her boot connected with Eric's head and he let out a howl, releasing his hold on her. Charlotte scrabbled to her feet and turned in time to see Eric pushing himself up. He lifted his gaze slowly and glared at her with venomous hatred. Everything seemed frozen in a fracture of time before shuddering back to the present, and Eric started to advance.

Position yourself. Take a deep breath, and wait for the right moment...

Charlotte listened to the inner voice that was emulating Thranduil and steadied herself, her mind focusing on her attacker as Eric advanced like a creature spawned from the depths of hell. Suddenly Eric charged and Charlotte leapt up, swiftly kicking out as Thranduil had taught her numerous times. Eric's head snapped back, and she swore that his eyes rolled back into his head as he fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Don't waste time. Your attacks lack power and it won't be long before he's back on his feet. Get out of there now!

Charlotte grabbed her handbag and quickly unzipped it, pulling out her gun. She kept it steadily trained on Eric as she inched backwards.

Eric groaned from his position and slowly turned his sights to her.

"If you make a move, I swear to God I will kill you, Eric," she stated in a voice that was far calmer than what she was actually feeling.

"And risk going to jail. I don't think you have it in you, Charlotte," he sneered, though he didn't dare move from his position.

"This gun has a silencer, Eric. How long do you think it will be before somebody finds your body? I'll be long gone by then." She levelled him with a glare of her own, willing him to see how serious she was. "You know perfectly well what a good shot I am. I assure you, Eric, I will not miss."

The shift in his features let her know that he was taking her threat very seriously. Charlotte never took her eyes off him, even when she reached her car and climbed in. She gave him one more glance, and saw the promise painted on his face: Eric was going to kill her the next time he saw her. Charlotte sped out from the underground parking and raced to get back home. She had to remind herself to reduce her speed – she really didn't want to get into a car accident now and end up with the same fate as Lucy.

As she drove Charlotte tried to call Carl, and panic started to mount to epic proportions when he didn't answer after the third try. It was in this moment that she realised how precarious her predicament really was. Not only had Eric killed the last person who was like family to her, but he had also eradicated her one source of protection. Her only hope now was to get herself and Thranduil to the safe house that Carl had set up. Charlotte would have to wait until they were safe and far away to mourn. She couldn't afford to break down now.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she made it home. She didn't bother parking in the garage and instead grabbed her handbag and rushed inside.

"Thranduil!" she shouted, slamming the door behind her.

Thranduil instantly appeared in the kitchen like a phantom of the night. He stilled at the panic written all over her face, but before he could utter a word, Charlotte cut him off.

"We need to go now! Eric attacked me and I think he killed Thomas. Carl, too, as I can't reach him on the phone, and Eric promised as much. We need to leave now! You need to get your things, Thranduil, and we need to get going," she ordered, barely pausing for breath as she flung her handbag on the counter. She would no longer be needing its contents, except maybe the gun. She would have to retrieve it before they departed.

Thranduil remained unnervingly composed throughout her tirade, and she wondered briefly if he had understood her gibberish. But it was with relief that he gave a nod and disappeared from the kitchen without a sound. Charlotte didn't wait another second and raced to the closet near the front door, grabbing the duffel bag as well as another bag she had prepacked with clothes for her and Thranduil.

Charlotte was running on pure adrenaline now, and barely registered the weight of the two bags as she made her way back to the kitchen.

Better grab the crossbow as well...never know when that might come in handy...

Charlotte froze in her tracks, all thoughts and preparations vanishing from her mind - for there was Eric with a gun pointed at her with cold precision.