Well, galaxyMafia is tired of writing "reality" fiction about old Wentworth Miller. She's got to concentrate on other projects so this is the end of this for awhile. If you happen to read this, you'll see I left it hanging. Maybe one of ya'll could finish it for me. . .?

Anyway, here goes nothing. . .





"Diabolical Lust"

Eva turned to the mirror, clutched the basin, her stomach twisting.
She couldn’t do this. She didn’t want to do this.
But, she didn’t have a choice.
She had to. . .
His emotions will manifest themselves as physical symptoms.
What does that mean, exactly?
The experiments have rendered him incapable of sustaining any kind of emotional trauma. He’s at a critical stage. Anger and sadness might kill him. That is why we need you.
You want me to what? Feel his emotions for him? Take on his pain?
You’re the only one who can.
“Did I kill Gabrielle?”
Cautious, terrified, Eva raised her head, met Wentworth’s blue-green eyes in the mirror.
The intensity of his sorrow stabbed into her, sliced her open.
Eva stumbled, gasping.
“Tell me. . .” Wentworth demanded.
Noradrenaline flooded Eva, swirling in her veins.
The anger was returning.
Heart slamming, Eva turned to him. “You have to calm down. . .”
“Where is Gabrielle?”
“I don’t know. . .” Eva told him, looking up at him. “But you have to calm down, you have to – ”
“Tell me!”
“Wentworth, please – ”
With a savage growl, Wentworth grabbed Eva, lifting her off the floor, and hurled her across the ladies room.
Screaming, Eva slammed against the wall, her head banging against it violently before she slid to the tiled floor, moaning.
You must be very careful when dealing with him in the subconscious. His rage divests him of any limitations, and his strength is amplified in direct proportion to the escalation of the anger.
What the hell does that mean?
Subconsciously, he could kill you.
I don’t understand. . .
Just be careful. For your own sake, you must take steps to lower his blood pressure and his heart rate
How am I supposed to do that?
We’re not sure yet. . .but, you must find a way. . .
Wentworth stalked over to Eva, grabbed her wrists, pulled her up. “If you don’t tell me what happened to Gabrielle, I will kill you.”
“Listen to me,” Eva said, forcing herself not to struggle against him. “You love Gabrielle. You would never hurt her.”
“You’re lying to me.”
“No. . .” Eva whispered, lips trembling.
But, Wentworth was right.
She was lying to him.
Because she had to, because if she told him the truth –
“Why can’t you tell me?” Wentworth asked, staring at her.
“What. . .?” Eva asked, gazing into the blue-green eyes.
“I can read your mind,” he told her. “I know what you’re thinking.”
Eva took a deep breath, calculating her next move. His extra-sensory perception was another byproduct of the experiment Dr. Xing had conducted.
“I hurt Gabrielle, didn’t I?”
“Let me go,” Eva said, relaxing her body. If she could think calm thoughts, if she could flood her mind with tranquility, perhaps he would –
“It won’t work,” Wentworth smirked. “You think that all you have to do is think of a nice, calm, gentle breeze and I’ll leave?”
“Listen to me,” Eva said. “I don’t have any answers for you – ”
Wentworth grabbed her around the throat. “No, you listen to me. If you don’t tell me what I did to Gabrielle, I’m going break your goddamn neck.”
“You can’t,” Eva gasped, squirming, digging her nails into the hand that was crushing larynx. “You’re in my subconscious. . .you’re not real. . .”
“If I’m not real, then how is it that you can feel my hand around your neck?” He asked, his smile wicked.
Eva slapped at his face, her heart pounding, her lungs burning as she tried to breathe, to fight against the dizziness and the darkness threatening to overcome her.
She had to think, she had to find a way to calm him down. . .
She had to find a way to get him out of her damn mind. . .
“Okay, I’ll tell you. . .” Eva rasped. “Please don’t. . .kill me. . .”
“I don’t want any of your fucking lies,” Wentworth warned.
Weak, Eva shook her head slowly. “No. . .lies. . .”
Reluctant, Wentworth removed his hand.
Gasping deeply, gulping great breaths of air, Eva dropped to her knees on the floor, panting, trying to breathe.
“Get up. . .” Wentworth grabbed her, pulled her to her feet.
Yanking her arm away, Eva glared at him. “You want to know where Gabrielle is, Wentworth?”
“I believe that’s what you need to tell me if you want to live.”
“Gabrielle left you,” Eva said, sneering at him.
“That’s not true. . .”
“It is true,” Eva said. “She left you. She doesn’t love you. . .she never did. It was just a job. But, you had to go and fuck everything up by falling in love with her.”
“She fell in love with me – ”
Eva laughed. “Are you serious? You were never good enough for Gabrielle. Every time you told her that you loved her, she laughed at you behind your back, she never – ”
“Shut up!” Wentworth slapped Eva, sending her stumbling against the bathroom counter.
Eva laughed again. “The truth hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Fuck you!” Wentworth said. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“I know you’re so fucked up,” Eva said, taunting, “that after Gabrielle left you, you made up a story in your head about killing her. . .that was the only way you could deal with the fact that she left because she didn’t want you!”
“That’s not true. . .” Wentworth whispered, sinking to the floor.
Eva gasped.
Sorrow, cold and raw smothered her.
Wentworth’s sorrow.
Searing, suicidal pain swirled though her.
Okay. . .well, at least the anger was gone. But, goddamn, this emotional pain was no better. . .and he was still in her damn head. . .
“Wentworth,” Eva sat in front of him, lifting his chin, forcing him to look at her. “Listen. . .you need to wake up. . .”
“I need Gabrielle,” He told her.
“Gabrielle is not the only woman in the world who wants you,” Eva told him.
“But, she’s the only woman I want.”
“Wentworth,” Eva took his face in her hands. “In your dreams, anybody can be Gabrielle. . .you just have to close your eyes. . .”
Eva watched as his eyelids dropped.
“And pretend that she’s with you. . .” Eva whispered, leaning close to him, placing her lips lightly on his. “Just don’t open your eyes. . .”
Maybe this would work, she thought, pushing him gently to the cold, tile floor, crawling, stretching out on top of him.
Already, she could feel the pain subsiding, being replaced by desire. . .
No, desire was a polite word.
It was lust traveling trough her body now, pure and unfiltered. . .and diabolical.
Wentworth’s mouth moved over hers delicately, slowly, but commanding and insistent. Eagerly, Eva opened her mouth and he slipped his tongue between her lips. She felt his erection against her thigh, and her heart slammed inside her chest.
Along with the lust was an icy panic, warning her, telling her that she couldn’t let this happen, she couldn’t let Wentworth make love to her. . .
But, this isn’t real, Eva told herself. This is only in my head.
And yet, she could feel her vagina expanding, moistening, her clitoris swelling.
Abruptly, Wentworth reversed their positions, moving on top of her.
Wentworth’s hands moved from her breasts to her neck, his fingertips like ice against her skin, his thumb pressing into her throat, his nails digging into the flesh at the back of her neck.
Eva gasped into his mouth, arching up against him.
Wentworth moved his head back, staring at her.
The blue-green eyes were glazed and luminescent, exciting her, hypnotizing her, terrifying her.
This isn’t real, Eva reminded herself. He isn’t even thinking about you. . .
She felt his hands under the hem of her skirt, and she opened her legs.
She wasn’t wearing panties, and she didn’t need foreplay.
She needed him to fuck her, and then get out of her damn head.
Wentworth entered her, thrusting into her, her hands still around her throat. Eva couldn’t breathe. She wrapped her legs around his waist, rocking her hips. He thrust faster, harder, deeper into her. Eva bucked against his hips, squeezing his penis with her vaginal muscles and Wentworth cried out. . .



“Wentworth! Wentworth!” Gabrielle said, shaking him as he writhed beneath sweat-soaked sheets. “Wake up!”
Violently, Wentworth sat up, his eyes wide, wild as he gasped for air.
“You were having a nightmare,” Gabrielle said, gathering him in her arms, resting his head against her chest as she stroked his cheek. “Are you okay? You want to tell me about it?”
Wentworth pushed away from her, grabbed her wrists.
“What is it?” Gabrielle asked, alarmed by the fright in his gaze.
“You do love me, don’t you?”
She sighed. “We’ve already gone over this, Wentworth. You know how I feel about you.”
“She told me you didn’t love me,” he said.
“Who?” “I don’t know who she is,” he said, dropping Gabrielle’s wrists, lying back down on the bed. “I’ve seen her before but, I don’t know. . .I can’t remember who she is. . .”
“Listen, you were dreaming,” Gabrielle said. “It was just a dream. Now, I need to get going – ”
“Where?” Wentworth demanded.
“I have a meeting with my business manager and my agent,” Gabrielle said. “I’m not like you, I don’t have a hit show. I’m not on the cover of Entertainment Weekly.”
“I don’t care about that bullshit,” Wentworth told her. “It doesn’t matter if we’re not together.”
“We’re together, Wentworth,” Gabrielle said, standing up. “How many times do I have to tell you that before you finally believe it?”
“If we’re together, then people should know.”
Gabrielle shook her head. “You’re a very private person. It’s nobody’s business who you’re sleeping with. And anyway, you don’t want to disappoint your squealing fans, do you?”
Wentworth sat up again, his gaze intense. “You are coming back, right?”
Gabrielle bent over to kiss his forehead. “Of course, I am. I promise. Now you get some sleep, pretty.”



Stunned and disoriented, Eva stood on wobbling legs.
Wentworth was gone.
But, that dull ache between her legs remained, taunting her, making her want to spread her legs and stick two fingers inside of herself.
Eva cut the taps on, splashed cold water on her face.
She had to get it together.
What had happened between her and Wentworth wasn’t real. . .it hadn’t really happened.
Eva looked at her haggard expression in the mirror.
The sex hadn’t been real but it had felt real.
And part of her, a part she didn’t want to acknowledge, wished that it had been real.
Which didn’t make any sense because the pretty boys with the gorgeous eyes had never been her type. Hadn’t she told Paul Walker to fuck off when he’d tried to hit on her during the filming of “2 Fast, 2 Furious”?
So what the hell was it about Wentworth Miller?
Damn it, she didn’t know. And she didn’t want to think about it. She just wanted to forget what had happened, go back out and enjoy her dinner with Joaquin.
Sighing, Eva straightened her dress, and left the restroom, worried and self-conscious, afraid that her encounter with Wentworth Miller was written all over her face.
People were staring.
But, that’s because you’re hot tamale, she told herself, feeling foolish.
She didn’t feel like a hot tamale.
She felt more like a limp noodle.
“Are you okay?” Joaquin asked as she took her seat.
“Fine,” Eva told him, picking up her menu. “I just felt a bit sick. . .”
“How can you say you’re fine?” Joaquin asked, his voice a harsh whisper as he leaned over the table, staring at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Eva. . .there’s blood all over your hands. . .”


Wentworth woke up.
Darkness, hot and cloying and menacing cloaked the room, smothering him.
He tried to swallow the warm lump in his dry, cottony mouth as he pushed the bed linens away, swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood.
Groggy, he stumbled over to turn the light on. Right hand splayed against the wall, he felt for the switch, found it, flipped it up.
“Gabby. . .” He said, squinting against the hard, harsh glare of the 75-watt bulb as he turned to the bed.
Wentworth screamed.
The bed linens were drenched with dark, wet blood.