"Emily!" Nolan Ross yells out for his friend, eyes peeled through the weather for the raft, a sign- anything to tell him that the girl he'd watch grow up into a woman is still alive, had survived whatever had happened here. The boat is gone, leaving him feeling ill as he searches desperately through the choppy water. "Emily!"
Everything is dark, black as if mourning whatever had gone down in his absense, and he feels even worse, the oceanic wind chapping his lips and making his throat raw. "Emily!" he cries out again, ignoring the stabbing pain. "Answer me!"
Nothing vocal follows this, his heart still beating rapidly in the frigid wind, and he vows to send his boat through all of the waves, search every inch of water until he ran out of gas or oxygen, or both, to find David Clarke's little girl, but his thoughts are derailed when he sees a bright flash of light close but yet somehow far away, his breath dying away in his throat. "Amanda," he breathes in a rare moment of numb relief. "I'm coming. I'm coming!" he calls out loudly, pushing the boat to follow the streaks of light now filling the air. "Hang on..."
When he finds her, he's shocked into silence yet again. She's freezing and barely clinging to a half-submerged life raft, tears drying on her face. She looks nothing like the angry, self-assured Emily Thorne that he's used to and, honestly, a little frightened of. For a moment, he sees Amanda Clarke in her, the little girl whose father had been torn away too soon, leaving the broken creature in the hands of Nolan to oversee and take care of, financially and any other way he saw fit. She barely responds to his presence and he chokes on fear, reaching out for her over the side of his boat. "Emily, Emily- you have to reach for me," he beckons her. "I'll pull you to safety. Come on."
She finally responds, reaching out through the darkness for him, and he grasps her wrists, pulling her out of the wreckage of the lifeboat, into his arms, where he holds her and he waits, not understanding. "Where- where's Amanda?"
This breaks through whatever hell she's lost in, her shoulders trembling anew as he holds her, and the sound that tears out of her throat frightens him. "She's, she's dead," she chokes out, punching his chest weakly as his grip tightens. "Carl- he, he... Jack- please, Nolan, tell me- he's not an orphan, please-" Fresh tears pouring down her dark, weary eyes break his heart anew as he considers all of the horrible tragedy from the last few hours, wiping fruitlessly at her face. "Please..."
"Jack was being transferred to a hospital last I saw him," he tells her, stroking her hair gently. "He's alive. They'll give him the best care, I'll make sure of it. Carl won't be orphaned, I promise." Both have experience in losing their parents, one way or another, and he's as determined as she is that that little boy won't have to go through life without at least his father to guide him.
She nods bitterly, tears still dripping down her face as Nolan settles her on the floor of the boat, needing to move to get the boat moving and them back towards shore. Leaving the place where Amanda had taken her last breath after risking everything to save Emily, despite every lousy thing that she had done to the woman she'd once claimed was like a sister to her. It takes her breath away as she considers just how she'd only ever used her as a chess piece in her sick, little game, furthering her into the Graysons' mess and setting her up for this tragic end. "I'm so, so sorry, Amanda," she whispers, her words drifting away on the sea wind. "So sorry."
Blood still stains her fingers from where she'd tried to apply pressure to the woman's mortal injuries before she'd slipped away mentally and physically, her body now floating somewhere in the murky depths below, alongside the Amanda, and it's a terrible thought that the boat and woman both are gone now, forever lost to them all. The loss of Sammy had been the final piece of Emily's childhood connection with Jack, the boat and Amanda all that she'd had left of a fractured grown up existence to confirm that once upon a time, she'd loved and been loved by Jack, enough to let him move on and start a family without her. And of course, she'd loved Amanda too, in her own way, which only now she sees is and probably always was lacking. Her heart hurts in a way that she thought wasn't possible, even after everything she'd been through.
When Nolan returns, she hasn't moved but he scoops her up, holds her close in a way he hasn't in possibly ever. Too weak to be her usual strong self, she clings to him and stares at the dark sky overhead, the equally dark ocean below. "All my fault," she mumbles against his collar, wisps of blonde hair tangling in the rough winds. "This is all of my fault..."
"No, it's not," he mumbles into her hair, breathing in the sea air and thinking it'll probably never be the calming influence for either of them ever again, now reminding them of blood and pain, tears and loss, darkness and horror. Another thing ruined by this place, the Hamptons... "It's the Graysons' fault. It always has been. You're not to blame."
"Maybe not in the beginning," she mumbles. "But my need for revenge caused... caused all of this tonight, and... so much more. Amanda and Carl both could've died only a couple of months ago because of me, and the Graysons finished the job here." Her nails dig into his shoulder as she stares blankly at the sea. "I can't let this continue... I have to..."
"Have to what?" he whispers, rocking her back and forth slightly, but she falls quiet, grows distant. He can do nothing as she pulls away from him emotionally and physically, the bitter, revenge-focused woman once more taking over for the lost, broken orphan girl that he'd first learned of. He aches for both sides of her as she stares at the blood on her hands, eyes narrowing in anger and pain. "Ems? Do what?" he asks quietly, not wanting to set her off by daring to speak too loud or move too quickly.
Her eyes are dead once more, the transformation complete, and he watches with dread as she peers at her stained skin, ignoring his question. "How long until we're back to shore?" As he tries to work through the lingering fog in his mind to figure out the answer to her question, he once more sends up an apology to David Clarke that his precious daughter had become this, and he'd done nothing but encouraged it, unaware of just how low her need for revenge would take her.
Despite it all, he knows, even without the guilt of his own part in creating the cold, broken woman standing before him that he'll always be by her side, his loyalty going beyond the promise he'd made to her father years ago. "Half an hour," he finally offers, slowly picking the pieces of his own psyche up to rebuild himself to be ready for whatever she might plan from here. When she nods jerkily, once more returning to ignore him while lost in her own bloodthirsty thoughts, he grimly returns to the wheel and focuses on the angry sea leading them back to the shore, the horrors of life waiting for them there now.