Cracked

Emily breaks after the revelation, and gives into impulse. Set after 1x22, "Reckoning."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I absolutely love these two together. Can't get enough of Nemily! So here's my dream of the season finale played out. Enjoy and please R&R!

"Let it play." Her words left no room for argument. Behind the tears welling in her eyes, Nolan could see her set determination and anger returning. He tapped his long finger on the keypad, and Victoria resumed talking. The dynamic duo didn't speak a word between them as they watched the ice queen intently.

Amanda was never to know about any of this. David hated doing that to his daughter, but he knew he had no choice.

Emily stiffened beside him, but whether her ongoing hate for Victoria or the fact that David had lied to his precious daughter were the cause, Nolan didn't know.

David told me the second night we were together. I was shocked. I didn't think he would be so forthcoming with it. He's... a trusting man.

"Stop." Emily commanded. He quickly closed the laptop and turned to her. The darkness in her eyes had returned; Nolan could guess why. He could practically hear the thoughts running through his best friend's head. David had trusted Victoria immensely, loved her enough to tell her the truth about his 'dead' wife before he'd told their daughter. He never told her. Was it because he didn't love her enough? As much as he did Victoria? No! Nolan wanted to shout. He wanted to take Emily by the shoulders and shake her, remind her that her father was just protecting her. David didn't want her to suffer. But instead he simply got up and said,

"I'll make us some coffee." Actually he wanted something much stronger, but getting Emily drunk at a time like this wasn't a prudent idea.

She heard him bustling around in the kitchen, but her eyes were fixed on the laptop. She was glad he'd closed it, because one more look at Victoria's face and she might have smashed the damn thing. She let out a deep breath and closed her eyes, her mind wandering back to the plane crash, the white haired man, Jack and his pregnant girlfriend. Could it all only have happened a few hours ago? The unfairness of it, of being so close to having it all, and then to have that life ripped from her grasp made something stir in side her; something dangerous and destructive. Victoria wasn't supposed to die, she seethed. She was supposed to suffer alive for her crimes. Emily's eyes fell on the infinity box, so still and perfect on the table, untouched by the night's events. Her father had kept this secret from her. He knew how much her mother's death had hurt her as a child, and he had hidden this massive truth. She could feel a familiar anger rising inside, an anger that sparked of betrayal. She never imagined she would feel it towards David. She slowly stood and placed her hands on the carved wooden box, running her fingers over the perfect double infinity sign. She clutched it tightly by the sides, lifting it off the table. Then she raised her arms above her head, and brought the box down in a fell swoop toward the crackling fireplace. She heard Nolan call her name but ignored it, only a faint whisper of Emily what are you doing?! echoing in her ears. She could hear glass shatter and felt scorching coffee on her exposed toes as Nolan gripped her wrist, just as the box was about to be swallowed up by the greedy blaze. She turned and stared at the shock in his eyes, her own burning with a kind of pain that was foreign to him. He slowly guided her arms back down to the table, gently setting down the box. She stared at his hands folded over hers, and something inside her cracked. The silent tears turned to sobs she couldn't control as Nolan moved his hands to her shoulders, holding her tightly. He could feel her body begin to shake beneath his fingers.

"I'm so sorry, daddy. I almost…I'm so sorry." Her voice was a whisper as her fingers stroked David's symbol again. Silence coated them until she turned and let Nolan guide her back to the couch. She curled into his arms, still crying. He didn't make a sound, no words of comfort that he knew would be useless; no cries from his mouth even as tears streaked down his cheeks. Half an hour later he was still holding the woman, his arm numb and his eyes burning red, when he looked to see her chest steadily rising and falling, her breathing even. She had fallen asleep in his arms.

"Emily?" She shifted, but didn't wake. He slowly tilted her body downward until she'd changed into a sleeping position on the couch. He found a blanket and laid it over her. As he was pulling it around her shoulders, his eyes fell to her face. A tear was making its way from her right eye, down her porcelain cheek. Even in sleep, the woman was hurting. He hesitated, then brushed it away, blinking back his own tears of shock, weariness, and pity. "Goodnight, Ems." He whispered as he slipped out into the frozen air, thinking how small she looked. How innocent, curled up into her couch. He knew she would need him tomorrow.

…

She found him in his study the next night. As usual, she hadn't bothered with knocking, and Big Ed knew by now to simply let her pass. This led Nolan to tease him about being scared of the lithe woman, and he wondered what would happen if she were to turn on him one day; Big Ed would be useless. He tried not to think about it. She stood in the doorway of the room, watching him, his eyes glued to the glowing computer screen, his long fingers caressing the wireless mouse on the desk.

"Nolan." His head popped up, resembling a blue-eyed gopher. She gave a thin yet genuine smile, but his unaging forehead creased in worry beneath those blond bangs. He stood up at his mahogany desk as she entered the study.

"Hey, Ems. Are you...how are you?" It sounded like such a lame question, and he regretted it instantly.

"Could use a drink." she eyed the liquor cabinet tucked safely behind the sofa. "You?" He simply nodded. But as she opened its oak doors and pulled out a bottle of tequila, he grabbed her arm. A fear stirred in him of the past night's events awakening the 18 year old Amanda inside Emily; the girl who burned away her feelings with the bitter sting of partying and alcohol, who spent 6 months ignoring the wealth of evidence of her father's innocence that Nolan had delivered to her. He couldn't stand to watch her become that girl again.

"You don't need to pretend for me, Ems." His voice was gentle, soothing. She felt herself slipping, giving into it like she had the night before. She slid the bottle back into the cabinet and closed its doors, leaning against them. Then she slowly stood up and sank into the sofa. Nolan frowned. His tone turned anxious as he said, "Come with me. I...I want to show you something." Confusion was something Emily was slowly becoming used to, so she followed him from the study to his bedroom. She took a second to take it in: fresh, light blue sheets covering the bed, a large bay window looking out over the beach and inky black sky twinkling with stars, a long, thin table littered with electronic gadgets, and a closet taking up the entire fourth wall, engraved with a dolphin. A framed picture of the water mammal hung above his bed. She smiled. The room couldn't have belonged to anyone but Nolan Ross. She watched as he knelt and ran his hand along the wall space next to the closet. His long fingers latched onto something and he pulled, revealing a sliding door and a metal safe. Making quick work of the combination, he snapped it open, but before she could fully analyze its contents, he took out a single picture and closed his own box of secrets. He stood, holding the photo out to her. Its time in the safe had preserved it. Her fingers stroked its silky surface.

"Your father gave it to me, it wasn't in the box. He...I wasn't supposed to let you see it. He didn't want you to be reminded of her." She didn't react to his admission. He watched her chocolate eyes scanning the photo, taking it in. A blonde woman a few inches shorter than David was standing next to him, smiling into the camera, holding a little girl with tight curls of the same color. They were in the city, in Central Park with all the other happy families. Emily stared at the woman, her long-lost mother. She couldn't take her eyes off her. Memories came flashing back, hundreds all in a matter of seconds. A slice of cake for her 5th birthday, an afternoon window shopping, visiting Daddy at work. She was determined not to cry, determined to use this picture, if at all, for business only.

"Who took it?" Nolan could hear her voice breaking, knew she was fractured inside.

"I don't know." he whispered. "Some passerby. It was just a random day." Nothing is random, she had once told him. She struggled to remember a life before everything had a purpose, an end point that had to be met. Honestly, Nolan thought, if she was manipulating him, if her turning to him for comfort was an act, then she was doing a damn good job. The man was needy and alone; he was hard to con directly – as Tyler had learned – but not hard to mold over time, like putty in the woman's hands. He'd overestimated her; lately she'd been thinking that her relationship with Nolan was starting to resemble the picture: real. Suddenly a thought occurred to Emily. Her head snapped up.

"You knew about this? About her?" Accusation and betrayal laced her tone. He was shocked.

"No! God, Ems...no. I only had the picture. I wasn't supposed to let you see it, but I don't know. After what happened I... I thought it was to help you remember happier times." Of course. He wouldn't betray her by hiding this from her. She knew that. He'd never betrayed her, not after their first fight, after she exposed his tryst with Tyler, nor the numerous times she pushed him away, told him to stay the hell out of her life. He didn't listen. Today she was grateful for that. They sat on his plush comforter together; her eyes never leaving her mother's face.

"Where do you think she went?" Her question was asked with childlike curiosity.

"I know how to find out." Nolan responded, thinking of the video he'd hidden in his safe, but Emily shook her head.

"I can't, not right now. I can't look at that woman's face." That woman might be dead at this very moment, Nolan thought. He'd been following news of the plane crash all day. No known survivors at this point. He took Emily's hand.

"We have to at some point. Ems, don't you want to know?"

"Yes! How can you even ask me that? But I..." He squeezed her fingers, a gesture of support. He wasn't expecting it when she laced hers with his own. He tried not to let the surprise show on his face, not wanting to break this small physical bond. He reached his other hand to her chin, tilting it up towards him.

"You won't be alone in this. I promise." She knew she wouldn't be. He wouldn't leave her. He had been by her side from summer until now, when the sun had given way to gray skies and falling snow. He'd seen her physical strength; she'd used it against him. He knew her weakness, her rage and her love for her father. She knew his neediness, his money that made him an outcast even in the Hamptons. They could make each other break with a single sentence. She thought of the picture, with her happy little family before everything had been shot to hell. That life, that girl, was Amanda, not her. She was not Amanda, the little blonde who played on the beach with her dog and the boy she was supposed to love. She was not Emily, the immaculate socialite who had been engaged to the golden Harvard boy; the beautiful woman who could destroy a life in seconds. She was somewhere in between. That fractured part of Amanda that had changed into Emily, that had kept the soft little girl somewhere inside her. Nolan knew her. He knew that girl, and the one Emily let show on the outside. He knew her better than perhaps, even her own father had been able to, because of the decade of her life that David had missed. He'd seen her as his little angel when he died, unaware of the destruction she was capable of. Emily grew all too aware of this as she sat on Nolan's bed, their hands intertwined, their faces inches apart. She didn't think she would do it. She hadn't considered it, hadn't planned it. Emily Thorne doesn't do anything without planning. But Amanda...she closed the gap between them, capturing his lips between her soft pink ones.

His brain didn't know how to react, but his body did. His lips parted easily, receptive to her touch. His hand slipped out of her grasp and found its way to her hair, clutching her soft blond waves. She gripped the same golden locks at the back of his head, pulling him toward her on the duvet. His arm slipped around her waist as their lips molded to each others'. He would be lying if he said he'd never considered it, never looked at her and wondered what it would be like. But it was so much better. Better than his dreams. After a minute or so of this heaven, Nolan felt the connection breaking. She slipped out of his grasp and stood, running her tongue over her lips, her hand covering her mouth. He stood with her.

"I...I didn't mean to.." It had been a while since anything had truly flustered Emily Thorne, but this had. He didn't know what to say to her, what to tell her to make her feel better while hiding his own disappointment. She watched him struggle within his own mind, wanting to protect her feelings over his own. It turned out he wouldn't have to. Whether it was his consideration for her in this moment that drew her back, or whether she simply realized what had been building between them since Memorial Day, it didn't matter to him when she reached out and pulled him to her again. Their lips found their way into their old embrace, as did their arms and hands. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, inciting a moan of pleasure. Nolan pressed his body tighter against hers, forcing Emily's back against the wall; she inhaled the scent of his too-sweet cologne. Their kiss deepened, his hands skimming from her shoulders to her hips, hers locking around his neck. She moaned as his lips left hers and found their way to the delicate skin of her neck. Her nails dug into his back as he placed soft kisses along her collarbone. Right as his lips reached the soft spot above her left breast, she grabbed his hair and pulled him up to her again, her lips craving his taste. She pulled back from their kiss, not even an inch between them as her manicured nails unbuttoned his royal blue shirt, which, she noticed, made his sapphire eyes shine even brighter. His lips hovered over hers and he let her name escape them in a sigh,

"Amanda." Instinct, damn it. He waited in suspense for her reaction, cursing himself, silently pleading with her to ignore it. But she couldn't. Her fingers froze on the last button as Amanda ran through her mind at a mile a minute. It should have evoked feelings of anger, she should have pushed him away, her eyes darkening again. But hearing it from him now...she felt safe. She felt warm, at home. Amanda was a part of her, and both parts were here now, in Nolan's house, in his bedroom, kissing him. She undid the last button, and pushed the shirt off his shoulders, running her soft hands over his sculpted torso. The moan that came from his lips was equal parts relief, and pleasure from her cold hands against his chest. His skin was warm beneath her fingers as they slipped around his neck again, closing the gap. For the first time, he noticed what she was wearing: a somewhat low-cut but not immodest, eggplant-colored cotton dress, loose enough to skim her perfect curves. He unzipped it and slid it off her body. In a moment that he'd anticipated for months, if he were being honest, she pulled him down onto his bed.

…

Nolan woke up to the scent of roses, puzzled for a moment before remembering whom he'd shared his bed with last night. He turned on his side to see her asleep, her breathing steady beneath his cerulean sheets. Her hair was spread around her, one hand resting on her stomach, the other tucked under the pillow. It'd been a long time, since Tyler actually, since he'd had someone in his bed. Someone to hold during the night instead of sleeping alone. Nolan leaned forward and gently kissed her awake. Her gorgeous brown eyes fluttered open and she looked at him sleepily. A shy, boyish smile spread across his face as he took in her half-asleep form. Emily wrapped an arm around his neck and quietly pulled him down for another kiss. He happily obliged, sheets slipping low on his hips, until his elbow bumped something and an unmistakable sound filled the room. Victoria Grayson's regal voice bounced off his surround sound system, announcing her presence. He pulled away from Emily's sweet lips and looked up, half-expecting the supposedly dead woman to appear in his doorway, her condescending smile directed at them. But instead he was greeted with his high-def tv glowing with the queen's face in black and white. Emily sat up and pulled a remote out from under his arm, the one he'd bumped into. Hitting pause, she turned to him, covered in one of his robes: a silk purple one. He felt heat rising to his cheeks.

"I put the video in last night, around 3. You were asleep." She'd watched him intently, his breathing steady, one arm laid over her stomach, comforting. A part of her was shocked that she'd done it, she'd actally slept with him. But another part knew it was coming, knew it was right.

"Did you watch it?" concern laced his voice but she shook her head. He took her hand, their fingers intertwined, making a gentle smile spread across her face. "Do you want to?" She nodded. They sat up, propping pillows against the headboard, as he picked up the remote. She nestled her head into his shoulder, gazing down at their connected hands. He wrapped his other arm around her, the fabric of the robe sliding under his hands. "Ready?" He couldn't help but notice the change in her voice as she said her next words. How different they sounded after their night together as compared to barely touching on her covered couch.

"Let it play."