Disclaimer – I don't own, just borrowing for fun

Author Note – It's been a while and I'm sorry. I've had this idea for a while but other stories got in the way of writing it.

You Can Never Go Home Again

She feels like a business associate waiting to be summoned as she stands in the elaborate foyer of her mother's home. She hasn't been summoned, she's there of her own free will because she thought it was right to do this in person rather than over the phone. She can only imagine what she put her mother through. Her arrival caused a stir nearly twenty minutes ago and the staff all but disappeared to the back of the house, save for a few security officers who linger on the landing above as the head of security went to fetch her mother from her room upstairs.

The only option for Emily is to wait. She doesn't want to imagine her mother's reaction; the downside of being a profiler means instinctively understanding that pain. Instead she paces the foyer, curling and uncurling her hands as she resists the urge to bite her nails. She's never felt comfortable here and doubts she would if she and her mother were on better terms. Her eyes wander around the hallway, trying to remember if anything has changed since the last time she was there. She can't see anything obvious. Then again it's been more than a year.

Out of all of her mother's homes, this is her least favourite. She's slept here and some of her childhood keepsakes are stored somewhere on the grounds but she's never lived here or at least it never felt like it. When they first returned from Italy, she was still reeling from what happened and instead of internalising that pain, she projected it in an attempt to protect herself, hurting her mother and some of her staff who had seen her grow up over the years. She spent a lot of time hurting here. Amid a tense atmosphere she managed to finish the last years of high school then all but bolted. It wasn't till college and she was out from the watchful gaze did she begin to realise the hurt she had caused, but she chose to avoid rather than mend her relationship with her mother. Though she has come to rely on their distant relationship as a way of protecting her mother from her work and the possible backlash. Especially recently.

Footsteps shuffle on the walkway which overlooks the entrance and Emily doesn't need to lift her head to see the head of her mother's security peering at her, waiting for Elizabeth to emerge from her room. Somewhere upstairs a door opens and closes and Emily hears someone approaching, still she doesn't look up, she doesn't need any more disapproving looks. She's had her fill of them in the last week, hell in the last twenty minutes since she arrived at least five members of her mother's staff have ventured past her, having no choice because of their duties, each of them eyeballing her disdainfully. Part of her wants to draw on the adolescent bravado she used to push them all away and remind them she isn't a ghost who's come back to haunt them but years and experience have almost destroyed that part of her, even if it hasn't done the same to the scared little girl it was protecting.

"Emily."

Her head snaps up at the sound of her mother's voice floating down from the walkway. Her mother stares back at her, eyes wide, glazed over steely as she grips the hand rail so hard her knuckles begin to turn white. Emily bites back a gasp. She can't believe how her mother has aged beyond her years since she last saw her, her worry guarded by the scorn on her face. Beyond that Emily can see how tired she is, how weary. Emily wants to look away but she can't; this is all her fault.

"Mom."

Her mother flinches at the word, then in an instant she recovers from the faulted before wordlessly continues her descent. Emily watches her, acutely aware of the security guards watchful gaze. Charles has been with her mother since she was a teenager and has been more dedicated than any other member of staff. He's a trusted confidant and Emily knew he would be the one her mother would turn to when she was gone. Emily wouldn't have trusted anyone else to tell her mother of her return, no one else would have allowed her a private moment to collect herself. Elizabeth reaches the bottom of the stairs and stops to take in the vision before her.

Emily's first instinct is to cower back and she does a little, ducking her head under her mother's unwavering stare. Her recoil only lasts a few seconds, ended by Elizabeth clicking her tongue and brushing past her. She doesn't bother to invite Emily to follow her, the order is more than clear when she calls out to the security team. "No one is to interrupt us."

Emily hastily falls into step behind her, hurrying to keep up as Elizabeth leads the way to her office. Elizabeth breezes into the room at the back of the house, holding the door open for Emily to enter barely able to refrain from slamming it closed as soon as Emily does so. She's never been so blatant in her anger. Usually, Elizabeth is more composed, socially aware even in their private moments. Going so far as to refer to Emily's adolescent indiscretions as just that, rarely granting a harsher punishment than sending Emily to her room, which Emily would then sneak out of. Then again, Emily had never let her believe she was dead for seven months.

"Sit," Elizabeth orders as her steely façade slips and she paces the room in front of Emily.

"Mom," Emily starts but a sharp flinch from Elizabeth stops her. She presses her back into the chair and waits for her mother to talk.

Mid stride she begins, "You let them tell me you were dead." Two steps forward, turn. "I had to hear," she scoffs a bitter laugh without looking at Emily. "About it from Aaron, then he told me to stay away from it. All of it."

It's Emily's turn to flinch. She doesn't know how to explain she was still in a coma when that decision was made, nor does she know how to explain she would have probably gone along with it even if she wasn't.

Elizabeth spins in front of her and paces towards the window overlooking the garden. Elizabeth stops, looking out beyond the shrubbery and the lawns. She sighs tiredly, as if she's given up. "The last seven months have been…" she trails off softly. Her light brown curls bounce lightly as she shakes her head. "Then you turn up here when you've been back for nearly a week."

Silence stifles the room. Emily drops her head and fights the urge to cry. She hasn't allowed herself the relief, not even when she was hiding out in Paris, constantly looking over her shoulder. Maybe it would have been better for everyone if she had stayed in France. She knew this would be different from her reunion with her friends but the reality is so much worse than she imagined, far more daunting as her mother, for once, is unwilling to suppress her anger.

"In all of this did you ever think about how I would feel hearing you're alive from a colleague? A Senator, no less?"

Emily cringes, her mouth gnarling into an ugly grimace. She should have known word of her return would have spread quickly through her mother's friends, they gossip more than teenage girls. It happened so fast, it was almost a blur. First returning for Declan, then searching through Doyle's past to find his biological mother, Doyle dying, then the hearing was called so quickly they could barely catch their breath, let alone reconcile their feelings with the revelations but she should have taken some time to at least taken the time to contact Elizabeth. A simple apology is all she can think of, but it's nowhere near adequate for the situation.

"I knew what Doyle was capable of, I didn't want him to-"

"I knew what he was capable of Emily," Elizabeth counters, whirling to face her. "You think I was going to let anyone stand in the way of finding out who murdered my daughter?"

Emily retreats back into her chair, ducking her head once again wishing Elizabeth would stop telling her what happened after she left. Her mother wasn't finished though. "They were readily offering information, but I heeded Aaron's warning. Charles discretely gathered the information from trusted sources."

Relief floods through Emily. It was dangerous and she knew Charles wouldn't leave an obvious trail back to Elizabeth. Still…

"He would have killed you."

Elizabeth let out a bitter laugh. "I've known men like him Emily," she told her, barely containing the growl in her throat.

"He wasn't like those who picketed the embassies, mother, if he ever thought you were planning any sort of reprisal…" Emily shook her head.

"I wasn't talking about them; I was talking about…" Elizabeth trailed off. Emily cocks her head to the side as she studies her, the forlorn look in her eyes, the regret and hurt that goes past the pain Emily has caused her the last seven months. "I took a lot of assignments before you were born, dangerous ones, so trust me when I say I have known men like him," Elizabeth seethes, staring Emily down till she bobs her head once. "Besides his focus wasn't on me, he was focused on his child, the one you died to protect, the one who knew you were alive."

Emily allows her eyes to slip closed, picturing Declan as he lay on the tarmac watching Doyle die. It was right to come back, if only she could spare everyone the pain of finding out she was alive.

"But you knew that," Elizabeth added quietly but with no less authority. Emily opens her eyes, meets Elizabeth's immediately, and nods once, in agreement, in apology. Elizabeth's eyes soften and she settles against the window, crossing her arms across her chest. "Is the boy safe?"

Emily nods again. Declan's safe, if not still traumatised by what he's seen and been through. He's joined Tom and going to stay with him till his assignment is over. He needs stability and familiarity. It's the best place for him, especially when Emily has nowhere to live except a hotel; Morgan and Rossi both offered their spare rooms, but it didn't feel right. She has thought about having Declan live with her, but this isn't a fairy tale, they don't get to live happily ever after, especially now that he's old enough to comprehend his past and everything that goes with that. She has no idea what to tell him when asks about his biological parents, Tom has the facts and it will be easier if he's told that. Though she knows Declan well enough to know that won't be enough for him, he'll want to hear it from someone who knew them. She expects his call one day, he's too curious, expects his anger when he realises her role in his father's demise, expects the apology when he calms down.

Elizabeth exhales slowly, resignedly. "I can understand why you had to go into hiding but I don't think I can forgive you for not telling me or allowing me to be told you were alive."

"I was as good as dead anyway, they may never have found Doyle," Emily justifies. "They, I, needed him to trust the lie, for that others' had to as well." 'Not just you,' she adds silently.

"Oh, I believed it," Elizabeth promises. "I wasn't allowed to visit your grave, I was followed every minute of the day, there was no privacy to grieve," she breathes out shakily, blinks away the tears forming in her eyes. "And then you waltz in here as if nothing has happened."

"I thought it would be better than phoning, guess I was wrong," Emily says. "I never should have put you through that."

Her mother sighs, long and laboured. Emily's heart tightens. "Don't get me wrong, I am happy you're alive, that you're here, I am, but it is going to take time to get used to especially when I haven't been able to reconcile your death." Elizabeth drops her chin, a quiet sob escaping.

"Mom," Emily says rising from her seat, her arms spreading as she prepares to embrace her mother. Elizabeth holds up a hand to stop her.

"It would be better if you go," Elizabeth says, meeting Emily's eyes for the final time, her tears pooling on the rim of her eyes.

"Mom," she pleads but Elizabeth shakes her head.

"Emily, please, this isn't like staying out past curfew or embarrassing me at a dinner for my associates, I need time. Please leave."

Emily stares at her for a long beat but Elizabeth is unrelenting. She steps backwards, avoiding the chair as she reaches out for the door. "I'm sorry Mom."

"I know," Elizabeth huffs, her lip twitching slightly. "You're my daughter and I love you, I just don't know how to forgive you."

THE END