Title: - My Valentine

Author: - Caia Caecilia

Rating: - M

Characters: - Kent, Chandler, Miles, Buchan, Riley, Mansell

Pairing: - Kent/OC

Warnings: - Non/con

Feedback: - Yes, please

Disclaimer: -I own nothing I just borrow the characters to play with.

Author's Note:- A new fandom for me, hope you like it .

My Valentine – Chapter 1

It began on Valentine's Day.

A dull day spent stuck in the office in front of his computer completing endless amounts of paperwork. Hours spent staring at the screen making his eyeballs ache, eyelids heavy, a headache throbbing at both temples. Of course the day hadn't been made any easier by Mansell deciding it was officially 'take the piss out of Kent day'. Had he got any Valentine's cards, was he too shy to tell them, on and on. Emerson was used to some ragging from his team-mates, it came with the job, it came with being the youngest. But this hurt. There was someone. Someone who made his stomach flip and his heart skip a beat with just a look, just a smile. Someone who didn't seem to feel the same way. Someone who saw him as just a colleague, just a subordinate, worse still - just a kid.

Until today he'd fooled himself that he'd managed to keep his feelings secret. Then the DI had walked past his desk on the way to his office deep in conversation with DS Miles and Emerson had felt his eyes drawn to the tall, slim figure, and he had let himself watch...just for a moment. That's when he'd heard the snigger from behind him and had turned to see Mansell smirking at him and winking just before Riley had elbowed him and whispered something which had made Mansell turn away, grinning. Riley had then given him a sympathetic smile and Emerson had felt his cheeks flush with shame and his heart sink as he realised that his feelings weren't a secret anymore.

Pushing open the door to his flat he didn't notice the blue envelope on the floor until he stepped on it. Bending down he realised it was a card as soon as he picked it up. The envelope was blank, no name, no address, so hand delivered then. Despite himself Emerson could help a little thrill of excitement as he ripped the envelope open and pulled the card out. It had a large red heart on the front and a tumble of red fell to the floor as he opened it, a flurry of rose petals slipping out from inside the card to land at his feet. Looking at the handwritten message inside Emerson felt disappointment settle heavy in his stomach when he didn't see the well-known neat script of his DI but instead an almost-scrawl running across the inside of the card, black ink looping and whirling out the words,

"You will be mine".

A little frown creased Emerson's forehead. Wasn't it supposed to be a question, "Will you be mine?" Not this statement which seemed to leave little room for disagreement.

He wondered who it could be from. Maybe the pretty, blonde who had moved in across the road a couple of months before and who had smiled and blushed when he'd said,

"Good morning",

to her the week before.

Still feeling the ache of disappointment Emerson put the card onto the bookcase in the living room and despite himself he couldn't stop a little smile from flitting across his face. Even if it wasn't who you wished it was, it was still nice to have an admirer.

Exactly a week later he came home to find a teddy bear neatly wrapped in cellophane and ribbons on his doorstep, sitting in a puddle of red rose petals and holding a note saying,

"You will be mine".

Early the next morning he realised his secret admirer wasn't the pretty blonde from across the road when he saw her kissing her girlfriend goodbye at her garden gate.

Exactly a week later his plan to have a lie-in on his day off was ruined by brisk knocking at his door at half past eight in the morning. Upon opening the door a man in a brown UPS uniform, a parcel at his feet, thrust an electronic pad at him muttering,

"Sign and print."

Practically snatching the devise back from Emerson the delivery man hurried off jumping into his van which was parked on the double yellow lines outside, hazard lights blinking orange, and drove off before Emerson had even bent down to pick the parcel up. Grunting with effort he was surprised at how heavy it was. Taking it into the living room he eyed it and wondered what his secret admirer had sent him this time. He knew it was from them because of the now familiar handwriting stating his name and address on the side of the parcel next to the "fragile" and "this way up" stickers which adorned the parcel's sides.

Pulling open the top Emerson at first peered in, and then reached in, pulling out first one then two and finally six bottles of wine. As each bottle was pulled out a little shower of red petals came out with it and Emerson sighed at the sight of the rose petals on his carpet. It may be romantic but he was getting a little fed up having to clean them up every time. Once again there was a note,

"You will be mine."

But no hint who had sent the parcel and Emerson wondered if his mystery admirer would ever reveal themselves to him, and if they did how they would do it. Carrying a couple of bottles at a time Emerson took the wine out to the kitchen and placed the bottles in a line on the work surface next to the toaster. He didn't really know anything about wine and rarely drank it, but the labels looked fancy and the bottles had corks not screw tops so he guessed they were expensive.

Exactly a week later he couldn't wait to hurry home after his shift turning down the invitation from Riley for,

"A pint and a packet of Pork Scratchings down the pub."

He was a little surprised at how disappointed he was when he arrived home and there was no present sitting on his doorstep, and no envelope lying on the hallway floor. Maybe it was over. Maybe his admirer had found someone else whose floor they would litter with rose petals. While he had his own secret infatuation at work wondering who his secret admirer was and, what present he'd receive next, had taken his mind off his unrequited feelings for his DI.

Sighing Emerson hung up his coat and paused at the kitchen door trying to decide if he wanted some cheese on toast before a shower and then bed. A yawn made up his mind for him and he walked into the bedroom to get together a change of clothes and some fresh towels. Flipping on the bedroom light shock made him take a step backwards until his back collided with the door jam. Scattered across his bed were dozens of photos and what looked like hundreds of red rose petals. Moving forward, his mind numb he looked down at the photos and saw that they were all of him. Pictures of him leaving his flat in the morning, leaving the station with Riley his head thrown back laughing at something she'd said, shopping in Sainsbury's, closing his bedroom curtains, glancing towards the bedroom window he wondered if he was being watched, photographed, at that very moment. Rushing to the window he jerked the curtains closed so fast he nearly wrenched the curtain rail from the wall. Someone had been watching him, photographing him, someone had been in his flat.

Suddenly he realised that somebody could still be in his flat.

TBC – 28/03/2012