Emily sat in her car for several minutes once she'd pulled up beside the curb outside Morgan's apartment, considering just leaving because he was probably already asleep and wouldn't appreciate being woken up after such a long and gruelling case. Not to mention the awkwardness still latent in all their interactions after their kiss.
When she finally worked up the courage to knock on his door, Morgan was reluctant to get up to answer it, since it was rarely worth the effort so late at night. His brows shot up his forehead when he saw through the peep-hole that it was Emily, looking like she'd just rolled out of bed.
"Hey, Morgan..." she said quietly, once he stood back to let her in. "I'm sorry to wake you up, you're probably exhausted, but I just..." Her speech that she'd rehearsed on the drive over suddenly faltered when Clooney came bounding over, excited to greet the guest. As he tried to jump on her, she yelped, shielding herself behind Morgan.
He frowned, rather surprised and confused about her reaction, though he didn't comment. Instead, he led her to the couch, keeping himself between Emily and his dog. Gently resting an arm around her shoulder, he raised a brow when he felt her trembling slightly. "Hey, it's okay – it's just Clooney, you've met him before. He's just happy to see you."
"Yeah, I... I know," she said slowly, still not taking her eyes off the German shepherd.
"You haven't told me why you're here," he said quietly, "Is something wrong?"
"I couldn't sleep. I guess I just have a lot on my mind and I couldn't think of anyone else I could talk to..."
He gave a small comforting smile. "I'm glad you came to me. What's on your mind? You've been acting kind of off since we raided Henkel's land. What is it?"
She unconsciously bit her nails as she was prone to do in times of high stress. Her gaze was distant and unfocused and she didn't say anything for several long moments, obviously thinking.
"You don't have to tell me, but you obviously came here because you wanted someone to listen."
She finally met his gaze with a shaky breath. "At the house, everyone said nothing we see affects me...but that's not true, you know." He said nothing, waiting for her to open up. "In the barn... Those dogs... What they did to that woman..." she stammered, struggling to form a complete sentence and failing. "It...it was horrible."
"It was," he said quietly, "You looked a little stunned when we saw the dogs..." When she gave him a curious look, he admitted, "I notice you..."
"What do you mean?"
"When we opened the doors, for a second you looked scared, but you quickly brushed it away. Were you scared?" he asked quietly.
Emily looked away again, sighing. She didn't directly answer him, instead telling a story, "When we lived in Russia, there was a pack of stray dogs that hung around the Embassy. Mother hated them, she tried to get rid of them, but they kept coming back; I was happy because we weren't allowed pets and I had always wanted a dog. One day, I was playing in the garden when one of the dogs approached. I knew something was wrong right away – I tried to run away, but he was too fast and..."
When she faltered, he feared for the worst, asking, "He caught up with you?"
"He attacked me," she whispered, fear still visible glinting in her eyes. "He bit me and wouldn't let go." She pulled her right pant leg up past her knee, showing two long lines of scar tissue on the back of her thigh, like worms burrowing under her skin. "There was so much blood..."
"I'm so sorry," he murmured quietly, unable to resist running his fingers over the scars. "I can only imagine how scared you were..."
At his touch, she unconsciously tensed her muscle. "It was awful... I tried to fight him off, but he was too strong. Daddy finally heard my screams and came running – he had to beat the dog off." Her heart was pounding and she was breathing faster as she relived the trauma. "I had to get twenty-seven stitches and a rabies shot."
Not knowing what to say to make her feel better and feeling his heart go out to her as she struggled to hold back tears, he pulled her into his arms. "It's over now, Emily."
"I know," she whispered, "It's just...seeing what those dogs did to that woman made it all come rushing back and... It scares the hell out of me that something like that still affects me so much. We see things a hundred times worse every single day...what if I can't get over them?"
"You got over it once," he said encouragingly, "Look at Clooney – you liked him the first time you saw him and he loves being around you. You were never scared of him until the case brought back those bad memories."
With a shrug, she elaborated, "I just never know when it's going to resurface – it could suddenly come back and I can't deal with it when it counts... What if I had been in JJ's position? I should be better at compartmentalizing, I shouldn't still be afraid."
"Did you hear yourself? Shouldn't be afraid?" he asked incredulously, "You're only human, Emily, you're not a robot. You're allowed to have feelings and be afraid of things. It's normal, we all have fears."
"You don't..." she mumbled, not meeting his gaze, "You're not afraid of anything."
"I'm not Superman, Emily – I am afraid of things, I just don't show it. Just because I don't let anyone see it, doesn't mean I'm not scared."
She studied him in silence. "What are you afraid of?" she asked breathlessly, needing reassurance and validation.
"You can't tell anyone..." he whispered as she stared at him, wide-eyed, "I'm afraid of my mother and sheep..."
She tried not to laugh, but she couldn't help the smile that formed on her lips for the first time that night. "Sheep?" she asked sceptically.
"I was six and I went to have dinner at a friend's house... When I went into the kitchen to wash my hands, there was a sheep's head sitting in the sink, just staring at me...and guess what we were having for dinner." He made a disgusted face. "Haven't been able to look at one since without wanting to hurl."
Emily shook her head as one might do with a silly child. "How...traumatic that must have been for you," she remarked sardonically, before realizing how callous it must have sounded. "I'm sorry, it just seems a small pittance compared to getting three needles injected directly into my stomach. I guess I'm just a little jaded." She gave him an apologetic smile.
He shrugged. "Don't worry about it. We all have our demons lurking over our shoulders, waiting to pounce when we least expect it. But they won't be there forever, you know. If you don't let them get to you, there's nothing they can do to make you afraid again. You got over it once, you can do it again."
She attempted a real smile, but it was faint. "Like an unsub, right? Show no fear and no mercy and you take their power away..."
"Right. You know what my dad always told me what I was scared? He always said that you're not weak because you're scared; you're only weak when you don't have the courage to face your fears and fight for yourself.
Her expression softened a little. "Good advice. He must have been a really smart man. I wish I could have met him..."
"He was," Morgan said with a soft smile, "I wish I could have known him a little longer."
A hand came to rest on his arm. "I'm sorry."
"Me too." He turned to look at Clooney who was lying at his feet, staring up at them with big doleful brown eyes. "Are you ready to face your fears, Em?"
Looking down at the dog as well, her grip in his arm unconsciously tensed slightly, but she took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm ready."
"It's going to be fine, Emily. Clooney won't hurt you – right, buddy?" The dog's tail started twitching slightly as if he understood. Then, at Morgan's call, the dog leapt up onto the sofa, nestled between them. "Whenever you're ready..."
She tentatively reached out to pet the dog, flinching a little when he turned his head to sniff her hand, then steeling her nerves to finally gently scratch behind his ears. She couldn't help but smile as the dog's tail wagged contentedly.
Morgan took her hand in his and guided her to run her palm over the shepherd's face, stroking his fur. When the dog's tongue lapped out to lick her hand, she stiffened under his grip. "He won't bite. I promise, if he bites you, I'll let you bite him back."
She couldn't help but laugh at that. Watching their joined hands running over the dog's fur, she whispered, "Thank you...for everything."
"You're welcome," he replied, squeezing her hand. He turned to face her then, finding himself in a position they'd been only a few short weeks ago. They were so close that he could feel her breath on his cheek. "Emily..." he breathed.
Her heart was pounding in her ears, so she barely heard. Shutting her eyes, she said, "Maybe we..." But her attempt at voicing that maybe this wasn't the best idea was dead in the water as she felt him shift the tiniest bit closer.
He leaned in unconsciously, brushing his nose against hers, her soft whimper only spurring him on. He watched her carefully, seemingly unable to resist pressing his lips against hers, even though he knew full well that he shouldn't be kissing her...again.
She didn't fight it, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and she didn't hesitate to reciprocate, once again granting permission as his tongue begged entrance at her already swollen lips.
He responded by deepening the kiss, stroking her tongue with his as his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her into his lap, the other hand winding in her hair to keep her close. He smiled into the kiss because, even if this was a bad idea, it was really really good.
Emily moaned softly, losing herself in the moment, doubting whether she would have had the power or the desire to stop him if he tried to go further...at least until Clooney decided he wanted to be the centre of attention again, voicing his displeasure with a short sharp bark.
The moment was immediately broken and they broke apart with a sharp intake of breath. "We can't keep doing this..." she whispered.
Morgan nodded slowly, not sure what to say because he knew she was right, but he really didn't want to stop kissing her. "What if I said I don't want to stop doing this?" he asked quietly.
"What are you saying?"
"I know we shouldn't keep doing this, but I don't want to stop," he replied," Do you want to stop?"
The look she gave him could only be described as pleading, making it clear that she did want more, but begging him not to make her say it. "Please, don't make this harder than it already is... It doesn't matter what I want because we can't do this."
"I understand. I'm sorry." And with that, he released his grip on her.
Her face fell and her heart went out to him. "It's not that I don't want to," she tried to explain, "But we've been through this...I like you too much to risk losing you."
"I know. I don't blame you." He gave a fleeting smile as if to prove it. "We're okay, right?"
"We're okay," she said, a hint of lament on her voice. "Thanks again." Clooney followed her to the door as if objecting to her leaving and she ruffled his fur lightly, proving to Morgan that he'd helped.