A Note From Lara: Holy. Crap. I just watched The Fifth Stage right before starting to write this, and I am literally blown off my feet. I don't think I can actually stand up right now from shock and amazement. But here's just a little Pemma drabble inspired by TFS. Because me being me, I just can't keep away. I'll probably expand on this theory in a longer, more extensive fic, but I have to get this out ASAP.
When Peter came into work that morning, he glanced into the file room, half-dreading, half-hoping that he would see Emma.
She wasn't there.
Good, that was probably better. Peter had blood on his mind today, and he didn't want her to see him like this.
And why is that, hm? his conscience whispered. Those who fight monsters had best be wary, lest they become the very thing they seek to destroy.
Shut up, Peter hissed at the sly voice.
But he still didn't want Emma to see what he might have to do today. Even though he was clearly in the right, even though he had to do this, she brought out a gentler side of him he had thought was long gone. That part of him that he had to bury deep inside, just for the next few hours. Emma brought out the empath in him, and he couldn't be that and do what he had to do.
To do what's right, you have to hide what's good in you? his conscience whispered again, now in Emma's voice.
Peter buried that thought, and moved on to what he had to do...