A/N: This is my first fic for Bates Motel, as I only very recently discovered this gem of a show. The relationship between Dylan and Emma really inspired me, so I thought I would start with what I imagine Dylan might be thinking. I hope you enjoy this.

Breathe

Dylan used to believe there was nothing beautiful left in the world.

Nothing pure.

Nothing sacred.

Then he'd met Emma Decody.

At first, she was as unattainable to him as Norma's unconditional love, a fragile figurine you kept high on a shelf to admire from afar but never touched. He didn't even allow himself to imagine being with her, so impossible did it seem. For one thing, Emma's condition came with its own No Trespassing sign; for another, she was his brother's girl. He would keep his hands and mind at a respectable distance.

It was ironic that for the second time, he was taken with one of Norman's strays. While Dylan might be a killer, a former drug boss and (as of recently) a gun runner, he wouldn't violate the man code, valuing his newfound closeness with his brother more than a tumble with the suicidal Lolita. Bradley was damaged goods, much like himself—something he really didn't need any more of in his life. As for Emma, well, she was not the kind of girl you toyed with for any reason.

From Dylan's perspective, Emma seemed perfect for Norman, a soothing presence in the poor kid's crazy existence. Tragic that the very thing that made her so perfect for Norman made Dylan's longing for the impossible even more acute. The truth was, she soothed him too. It was such an unbelievable relief to have someone he could depend on without question in the midst of his family's insanity. What's more, Emma actually seemed to want to be a part of it. She didn't pass judgment, and was hurt when she wasn't included in the madness, which, with anyone else, would have been a strike against her.

And so, as he allowed himself to trust her, to let her help him with Norman, Emma also became a willing sounding board for his other problems. She began to seem a little less like a distant star. She was no less physically fragile, but in her warm brown eyes he found a strength and a courage he had never seen before, and Dylan desperately needed that stability in his life.

Almost before he realized it, they began a tentative friendship, each mindful of Norman's feelings, yet unable to stop themselves from calling for no good reason or for leaving flowers, and cookies that tasted like chocolate ambrosia on his cabin porch. He told himself it was all completely innocent, that while she'd drifted closer, she was still beyond his reach. But deep down, he knew he was only fooling himself.

And so one day after he'd helped her loosen the phlegm from her lungs, it occurred to him that losing her to cystic fibrosis was totally unacceptable. If it were in his power at all, he would not let this girl die, couldn't allow such a beautiful spirit to vanish from this ugly world.

He went to her father for answers, was given a concrete solution, and when the gun running job fell into his lap, it was like manna from heaven. Nearly getting killed for it was forgotten when her dad called and said they had found Emma some lungs. At that moment, Dylan realized he was in love with her, and nothing else mattered but keeping her alive on the off chance she might find a way to love him too.

Dylan found her out on his farm, waiting for him, looking for all the world like the Virgin Mary with an oxygen tank. His heart skipped a beat, then swelled with emotion to think she needed him to help her make the most pivotal decision of her life. This normally self-assured, heroic young woman had sought him out for strength, and, pedestal or not, he pulled her down from the sky and held her tightly, lest she slip away into the ether.

Their lips had been cold at first, quickly warming with the heat of their tentative passion. He'd held himself back, afraid of breaking her or scaring her or losing complete control of his newfound emotions. Her mouth tasted of sweet innocence (though, knowing that she'd dated Gunner, that was likely no longer the case), washing from his mind all thoughts of darkness and family depravity and his own sinful mistakes. He'd been reborn by her tremulous kisses, and nothing for Dylan would ever be the same.

His heart pounded in his ears over the loud lapping of the waves, his gut clenching with desire and infinite happiness. But he forced himself to release her mouth, opening bewildered eyes to find her staring dazedly back at him. She gave a little laugh of surprise, but it wasn't awkward at all. It was mutual giddiness, the kind that made you forget your train of thought, forget for at least a few moments how ephemeral life was.

"I guess I'm getting this dumb lung transplant," she'd said with a smile, but there was still fear in her eyes.

He wished with everything he was that he could have the surgery for her, could take on the risk of her body rejecting those foreign lungs, could give his own worthless life so that she might live a long, fruitful one.

But then, as he hugged her small body to his, protecting her from the chilly air, he felt the first stirring of optimism for the future, the giddiness returning as he dared to contemplate finally having everything he wanted. She would get a new set of lungs. Norman would get the help he needed. Norma would truly love him; forget the circumstances of his birth. His father would come back even though he'd told him to go to hell.

Dylan felt Emma's breath catch briefly as she rested against his chest, and he knew she was thinking about the same thing—the fearfulness of hope.

"Shhh," he whispered into her hair. "Breathe…"

A/N: I hope you liked this. Please let me know what you think. Thank you for reading.