A/N: Hey guys! It's been a while, so I figured I would post this one-shot I wrote yesterday. It takes place a few months into Emily and Mark's relationship. I'd like to thank the lovely Roccesc for being my beta and urging me to post it. :) Hope you all enjoy! And let me know what you think!

Her Safe Place

She could hear him calling out her name.

Lauren, Lauren, help me!

But she couldn't find him. Couldn't figure out why he sounded so terrified.

Please! Lauren!

She ran through the building-which she soon realized was an old warehouse-looking in every room. She finally rounded a corner and came face to face with Declan and men dressed in black.

They had a gun against his temple and he looked impossibly too young with his big blue eyes and his curly blond locks. It was exactly what she was afraid of, that he would get hurt because of his father. Because of her.

She blinked and suddenly there was a little girl with curly brown hair standing next to Declan. But he wasn't Declan anymore, he was older. He was Mathew. Another blink and the men holding the guns were Ian and Liam, but they were pointing the guns at her.

"She destroyed our lives," Doyle said, handing the gun to his son. "Now it's time to destroy hers."

Mathew pointed the gun at her. She tried to beg him to stop, to remind him that he isn't his like his father, but the words wouldn't come. Because Ian was right, she did ruin them. She tore apart the only family she had any chance of ever having.

The sound of the gun was deafening and time seemed to slow down as the bullet came towards her. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, as it flew through the air.

The force of the blow knocked her onto her back. Her stomach was in searing, familiar pain. The wound felt far too large to be caused from the small bullet. There was so much blood. Too much blood, seeping onto the ground beneath her. She felt herself giving up, losing her will to live. She had nothing to live for anyway. No family. No one to miss her when she was gone. She made sure of that. She could feel the tears running down her cheeks as the pain intensified. Her mind was beginning to cloud as everything grew dark.

But then a voice cut through the fog, a hand on her shoulder shaking her, shaking her hard.

"Emily! Emily you need to wake up," he was saying. "It's only a dream. You're okay. I'm right here, Love."

Emily gasped as she woke up, immediately pulling away from his touch. Her hands flew to her stomach, checking the old, healed wound. She swore she could still feel the pain, like it had just happened. But her mind was playing tricks on her.

"Are you alright, Love?" Mark asked again.

Love.

Hello Love.

She tried to banish the thoughts from her head, but her breathing still hitched, her chest constricted.

"Don't call me that," she rasped out. "Please, anything but that."

"I'm sorry," he replied quickly. "Can I do anything? Get you anything? A tissue maybe?"

That was when Emily realized she was crying, and she couldn't get her breathing under control. She didn't want him seeing her like this, didn't want to explain the reason for her nightmare. Because he was blissfully unaware of her past. He didn't look at her with pity or judgment. And she didn't think she could handle it if he did.

That was when she started to sob. Awful, shoulder wracking sobs. And she couldn't stop. Mark reached out for her again, but she flinched away.

She hated herself in that moment. Hated that he was seeing her like that. That he was seeing the fucked up version of herself, the one she hasn't let people see in years. And that just made her cry even more. She felt the bed dip and saw Mark leave the room. He came back a few seconds later with a glass of water and a cold cloth.

"You're safe here, Emily," he told her quietly. "No one is going to hurt you."

He reached out for her again and this time she let him put his hand on her shoulder. He stroked it gently as her sobs began to subside. He handed her the facecloth which she used to wipe her face. She could feel the blush creeping up her neck, taking over her tear stained face.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She cleared her throat and Mark handed her the glass of water. She took a small sip before placing the cup on the nightstand. "I'm so sorry you have to see this."

"It's okay Darling. Don't ever apologize," he replied.

Emily managed to get her breathing under control and took another sip of the water, feeling the awkward silence settle over them. She knew what he wanted to ask, could see it in his eyes. But she couldn't bring herself to tell him. Not yet anyway.

"I'm here if you want to talk," he told her, probably sensing that she wouldn't answer his questions. "I'll listen. But if you don't want to talk, we can just lay here."

Emily nodded, not trusting her voice in that moment. So they both lay back on the bed, and after a moment, Mark wrapped his arm around Emily.

"It was my ex," Emily said quietly after some time. "The one who… who gave me the scar."

She couldn't tell Mark too much, but she wanted to give him some kind of explanation.

"Sounds like a shitty bloke," Mark commented.

"He was," Emily replied. "He also used to call me Love. That's why I freaked out when you said it earlier."

"I won't ever call you that again. I promise."

Emily looked up at him for the first time since waking up. She saw the worry etched into his features but she could also see the emotion, the love, in his eyes.

"Thank you, for tonight, for waking me up." She swallowed. "Thank you."

"Always."