Disclaimer: I don't own the 2009 version of "Emma." Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: I rewatched the series recently and got in the mood for a little a/b/o set in the last episode.

Warnings: alpha/beta/omega dynamics, sexual content, romance, drama, angst, period typical attitudes.

Cracks (of empire)

…My dear sister,I am writing to inquire about our Mr. Knightley. He was set to arrive in London two days past and we have had no word of a delay. As you well know, it is not in his nature to have anyone worry unnecessarily on his behalf. Please send word as soon as you can. We-

She left the rest of Isabella's note on the sitting room floor as she hurried out the door. Shawl flapping behind her like a banner as her steps lengthened, spanning out faster and faster until she was running. Heart pounding in her chest as worry and the breathless hope that she could somehow still make this right pulsed through her like the very blood in her veins.

Had he been so angry with her he'd taken ill? Or had Harriet- Oh God, had he and Harriet? Had they-

She could not put her love for him to rest. Not when she finally understood her heart. Even of there was only a breath of a chance she could succeed. She didn't deserve it, nor him. But she felt too much, too biting, too true and too sweet to sit quietly and let the cards fall where they may.

She had to try.

She tripped over a root and went sprawling into the dirt when Donwell was barely in her sights. Tarting her lips with the salt of tears as she pulled herself up. Leaving her shawl behind in the long grass as she stumbled, shoes biting into the back of her feet. But she didn't care. The pain was nothing. She had eyes only for the rock path and imposing wood doors she knew better than any, save her own.

She loved him.

Perhaps she'd always loved him.

She'd been so blind.

So vain and self-involved.

For years!

If she had been of clearer mind she would have wondered why the staff hadn't met her at the door. Or why Mr. Knightley's housekeeper didn't have front drapes pulled as she always did.

As it was, the moment she threw open the doors, she was nearly slapped back by the musk of rut-scent. It was so strong and thick that it sent her reeling. Barely able to keep herself upright as she clung to the door handle. Knees wobbling weak as his scent threatened to send her to the floor.

She'd only scented an Alpha in rut once before, and never so potent. So desperate. But she knew it instinctively all the same. Every Omega did. Only this was familiar. Alluring and masculine.

Mr. Knightley.

She took a deep breath and headed to the stairs. By the time she reached the landing she was trembling. Taking in his scent until a particular sort of warmth started pooling in her center. Feeling herself unfurl in the most baser of ways as she bit her lip and forced herself to continue.

The hinges creaked when she eased open his chamber door. Heart pounding at her boldness. At what she might find. At what he might say. Breath catching in her throat when her eyes darted forward, lips parting in shock as she took stock of the room.

There were clothes abandoned everywhere. The house was in its usual order, but once in the safety of his rooms it was as if he'd shed them like he must have shed his senses. Quickly and with angry abandon. His waistcoat was shredded at the buttons, torn in a fit of heat. Needing the air on his skin. Every scrap had been abandoned to the floor. Even his underthings and dressing shirt. Allowing her to follow the trail all the way to-

She approached the bed carefully. Eyes roving shamelessly down the bare of his arms and chest as he slept. Nude and barely covered in a tangle of bed linens. Sheened in a fine layer of fever-sweat as he twitched fitfully. Muttering and restless.

Oh no.

He was already caught in it. To be this far into his rut and-

It was the low whimper that left him that broke her free of her shock. Leading her to rush from the room, fetching a basin of water and clean cloths. Finding herself running into areas of the house she hadn't seen since childhood in order to fetch a pitcher and a drinking glass.

"Foolish man," she murmured, mopping his brow with a cool cloth. "Why did you not come to me?"

She knew why.

He would never.

He hadn't ever.

He was too much of a gentleman to even hint he was in any sort of Alphan distress. He would rather die than impose his nature on anyone. Least of all her.

She pressed the cloth to his brow. Able to feel the heat of his fever in full sway. Everything was saturated in it. Even the air. Dripping with a musk that tugged at the deepest parts of her. The woman and the Omega. They were one and the same in this room. In this moment.

How could this be?

For her there was no doubt. She would never love another like she did him. But she had learned her heart too late, it would seem. For an Alpha only went to their rut when they'd chosen a mate. Their Omega.

Could Harriet truly be-

She closed her eyes.

Lord, she was a selfish creature!

Here she was, practically in tears over what she stood to lose in he and Harriet's union, while her dear Mr. Knightley was suffering due to Harriet's absence. She might have lost him, but she could not be so cruel as to keep them apart.

She needed to send for Harriet right away!

She made to move off the bed, dashing away her tears and smoothing her dress. Ready to send a message to Miss. Godard's school, when he stopped her.

It started a gasp out of her when his hand closed around her wrist. Bold and hotter than a brand as he pulled her to his side. Tugging fitfully at the sweat-soaked covers as he fought to pull himself up with his free hand.

"Emma. My Emma. You're here...you came," he murmured. Bringing her wrist to his mouth inhaling. Unmistakably taking in her scent - glutting himself on it - as his throat worked. Lashes fluttering heavy as his eyes opened, first to slits, then wider. Showing the brightness of his eyes as the muscles in his chest rippled, pulling himself upright as she remained there, pinning in his grasp.

Tears swam as she leaned close. Face almost brushing his naked flesh as she dared to brush back the soaked hair on his temple. Soothing him as he slowly calmed. Allowing him to keep her wrist as he brushed it against the coarse stubble above his lips, rumbling happily. Too deep in his rut to be ashamed.

It made her heart leap in her chest.

"Of course I did. I got word from Isabella when you didn't arrive in London. I will always come to you...we are old friends after all," she told him, voice trembling with excited hope as he looked up at her like she was the sun.

Could this really be true?

He'd scented her and now he was looking at her with such impossible feeling.

He'd called her his.

She wasn't blind to that significance.

Still, she had to test her assumptions.

She had to be sure.

Otherwise she wouldn't bear it if-

"How long have you been like this? Shall I send for Harriet?" she asked, flailing with her free hand for the glass of water. Bringing it up to his lips for him to drink and not relenting until he'd sipped it down to half.

A strange half-growl left him at the name.

"Ms. Smith? Why? You're here. I have all I need," he rumbled, open in a way he rarely was as he spoke his heart plainly. Making her shiver as he brushed her fingertips against the rough of his lips.

She half-collapsed in relief and embarrassed pleasure. Melting into him for such a long moment that it seemed to bring clarity to him and their situation for the first time. Causing him to stiffen and grasp at the coverlet. Endearingly awkward as the sheets made a bid to slip down his lap. Leaving him deliciously bare as the folds of her dress only seemed to highlight the masculine lines.

"Forgive me, Emma," he rasped, trying to draw up the covers, only to abandon the pursuit immediately when it showed his current- situation as the sheets went taut. Clearly struggling as his normal awareness clashed with instinct and need. Giving him the strength to raise his head from the pillow before she gentled him back down again. Leaning in as close as he would allow. Aware he hadn't once let go of her hand. "I am not myself... You- you shouldn't be here. It isn't proper."

She just shook her head. Feeling that same certainty deep in her bones. Knowing, even though he hadn't stated it plainly, that he was hers. Not Harriett's. Not Jane Fairfax's. But hers and hers alone. She knew it keenly. Just like in the stories. Just like Mrs. Weston had told her she would – when the time was right.

"And where else should I be but with you?" she told him with a smile. Cheeks streaked with happy tears. "Would you be so cruel as to separate me from you? From my heart?"

His lips parted - dry and crackling with fever - but no words came out.

Months ago she might have taken pleasure in catching him off guard, but not today.

"Forgive me," she told him. "Forgive me- if you can, for my selfishness and conceit. And for every numerous fault I have that almost drove you away. I discovered something about myself very recently. And I fear I might have worried a hole in my father's floors in its pursuit."

There was a smile alive in his eyes as he looked up at her, still squeezing her hand gently. So focused on her she knew this moment would be brief. Soon, nature would take its course. She would be called to him in the most intimate of ways. Just as he would call to her. Claiming each other as mates- as a bonded pair- as man and wife all before they could make it to Church. And she could imagine no better a thing than to experience it all with him.

Her Mr. Knightley.

"There is nothing to forgive. For I fear I might have been just as foolish," he admitted. "All these years...I now understand the reason for my daily walks. Or at least the truth behind them. Why you vexed me with your scheming and later my dark thoughts regarding Mr. Churchill's attentions towards you."

She dipped her head. Letting it wash over her like baptismal waters. Cleansing. Forgiving. And blessed. Allowing herself to recall that day on Box Hill, before her unforgivable comments to Ms. Bates. Mr. Churchill had rested his head in her lap and-

"I love you, Emma. I believe I always must have."

She exhaled shakily, catching his eye as he tipped his chin - automatically following her. Meeting her half-way as she slowly- so slowly- brushed their lips together in a chaste, but hungry kiss.

"And I love you…" she answered as they parted briefly. Needing to say it aloud as his grip around her wrist slackened and fell away. Large palms drifting down to rest on the clutch of her hips. Bringing her close. "Always."

She let go of a girlish curl of sound when he pulled her astride him. Feeling his hardness through the linens as she looked down at him in surprise- then pleasure. Finding something queer and almost pleasurable in having the pressure against her core.

"Emma, I- I need-"

His taste was burning on her lips.

"I know, and I'm here."

He shifted underneath her. Blanket falling even further as he propped himself up on his elbows. Watching her. Realizing she was rocking shallowly atop him. Chasing a delectable, slow building pleasure he seemed to feel as well. Biting at his own lip when his cock stirred underneath her. Rigid and firm.

"Emma…"

The way he said it was different this time. Like he needed some sort of permission he didn't know how to ask for. Instead, all he did was endure her unmeaning teasing. Bearing the press of her lower body against his sensitive head until the sound that left him was almost a growl.

She knew nothing about this was proper or civilized.

But the truth was, she didn't care a whit.

All was equal and sacred in the eyes of God.

Even for situations as there's.

Still, she knew him.

And this loss of control- this loss of civility, wounded him.

For he was an alpha, but also a gentleman.

And now he-

She came across the answer honestly- naturally. Knowing what she needed to do even as he hissed a breath underneath her, hips firming against hers for a delectable, fraction of a moment before falling away again. Holding back.

She straightened atop him, regal and playful as she reached behind her and caught the laces of her dress, loosing the back as he stared at her. Unmoving. Almost breathless. The only sign he was affected was the unconscious tightening of his hands around her hips.

"Emma…"

She shushed him. Putting a finger to her lips as her hands went to the pins in her hair. Letting it loose as her dress slackened around her shoulders. Showing him a bow of creamy pale skin.

"We shall be quite savage this afternoon, I think. And why shouldn't we be? Are you concerned for your virtue, Mr. Knightley- or merely mine?" she purred. Baring her neck to him as easy as breathing as the Omega in her surged. Laughing aloud when he growled and flipped them. Nuzzling into her neck as he loomed above, nude and hers. Kissing her deeply as a low, growling-purr emanated from deep in his throat.

An Alpha after all, in every way.

Her Alpha.

A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. This story is complete.