"Let's go out in flames so everyone knows who we are
Cause these city walls never knew that we'd make it this far
We've become echoes, but echoes that faded away
So let's dance like two shadows burning out our glory days"


It was always Nick and his father and they always remained in Virginia, his path to DC, to becoming an FBI agent, clear and unquestionable. But when he and Emily graduate from the academy and she's assigned to her choice of the Boston office, he requests the same.

He would have followed her anywhere.

"Nick, your family's here. Your dad-"

"Has never needed me around," he assures her the night before their flight to Boston. They moved out of the academy dorms last week and have been staying at an airport hotel in DC for the past few days. "And as long as I'm in the FBI, following in his footsteps, that's all that matters."

"I'm sure he's proud," she murmurs, leaning past the knees she has curled into her chest to comb her fingers through his hair.

"I'm sure." He loves his father, he does, but the man has been absent from his life for so long now, that Nick forgot what it was like to care about his dad's approval.

He hums in contentment as she continues the stroke of her fingers along his scalp.

"My dad'll like you," she adds, fingers trickling down to scratch along his jaw. "My brother."

He cups the back of her hand, turns his face into the cove of her palm to press a kiss to the heartlines running through her flesh. She told him all about her adoptive family not long after they slept together, opening up to him like a flower in bloom, giving him her body and all of her secrets like petals stripped away to leave her bare.

He learns where her drive came from, how it existed even before she gained the love of a mother and father she lacked throughout the beginnings of her childhood within an orphanage, how the presence of a family caused her to work even harder.

"I felt like I needed to deserve it, to earn it," she whispered to him one night, pressing her words into his skin as if she could bury them there. "Like I needed to do everything I could not to lose it."

Psychologically, it made sense, but the idea of her as a little girl, striving to be worthy of a love every child should have, made his heart clench.

He wrapped his arm a little tighter around her and drew her deeper into his side, sealed his lips to her forehead.

"You always deserved it."

"Do I deserve you?" He felt her smile against his chin.

His answer was easy, but solemn, serious. "You deserve the best."

Her fingers curled at his chin, coaxed his lips back to hers.

"Nothing better than you, Nick."

She brushes her thumb to his bottom lip.

"You're family," he admits, kissing her thumb and cradling her wrist. She doesn't respond, but curls in closer to him, nuzzling her face into the cove of his neck. "I want to be with you."

Emily sighs, the heat of her breath warming his adam's apple. He wonders if she's grown to feel the same way about him as she did about her family, if she's too scared of losing him to love him completely. They have fun together, he makes her happy, and the sex is phenomenal, but is it enough?

"I want you with me too."

He rests his cheek to the top of her head. It has to be.


She dominates the Boston field office. He's aware that women can sometimes have a harder time establishing their place in law enforcement, that testosterone and the male ego often reign, but not for Emily. She has no patience for that and she makes it clear the second they're brought on board.

Having him at her side, a partner and defender both, doesn't hurt.

Their unit chief, Adam Radford, takes a liking to the two of them, has no qualms about letting them stick together. Nick's grateful for it. He doesn't think he would trust anyone to watch her back the way he can, the way she watches his.

For another three years, they continue to work side by side. He becomes part of her family, earning her father's approval and her brother's tentative friendship. They create a family of their own within the FBI, finding quick friendship in fellow agents, bonding over the harrowing aspects of the job and its small victories. He's happy, so genuinely happy, but still, he wants more. Wants everything with her.

He buys a ring, simple but stunning, something she could wear all the time. He keeps it in his coat pocket on a daily basis for too many months, waiting for the right moment, needing it to be right.

"Want to go to Marcelli's tonight for dinner?" Nick asks during the drive to a previous crime scene.

They're closing in on a serial killer that favors younger victims and it's been a tough week for the entire team, but Emily seems especially wrecked by the trail of dead children they've had to follow to find their guy.

She hums, noncommittally and not completely listening to him. He extracts one hand from the steering wheel and reaches across the console to place a palm on her knee, thankful when her fingers fall to drape over his.

"Marcelli's sounds fine, babe," she murmurs, circling her thumb slowly over one of his knuckles.

"We're going to get him, Em," he promises her, flipping his palm up atop her knee and catching her fingers. "He'll pay for what he did."

"It won't bring those kids back." She continues to stare out the window, her fingers limp in his grasp. "It won't ease the pain their parents are feeling."

He squeezes her hand. "No, but it can give them closure. It's all we can give them."

Emily finally tears her eyes from the buildings flying by outside and directs her gaze to their hands, curling her fingers around his.

"I wish that were enough."

The sweep they're doing of the old crime scene is just procedure, he doesn't expect to uncover anything tonight and part of him wants to call it a day, take Emily home and hold her until the haunted look leaves her eyes. But they're already pulling onto the street of the apartment complex.

Emily goes in first and he follows, bypassing the elevators to trot up the stairs with her because he knows it's how she kills the nervous energy thrumming through her veins. But when they reach the third floor, she stops at the top step, freezes.

"Emily?"

She lifts her hand, but he climbs the last few steps to be at her side, see what she sees.

"Gun!"

It all happens so fast. She spins, shoves him into the wall of the stairwell seconds before she's thrust backwards. Her body crumbles against the opposite wall, the gun clattering from her hand. He doesn't think, he leaps to his feet, rounds the corner with his weapon already drawn. He shoots without hesitation.

The suspect falls. Nick turns back to Emily.

"Emily," he whispers, dropping to his knees in front of her. She has a hand pressed to her shoulder, blood leaching out between her fingers, but he's more concerned by the way she's clutching her stomach. "Did the bullet - your stomach, is it-"

"No," she groans, dropping her head back against the wall. "Went through my shoulder."

He fumbles for his cellphone, begins to dial for an ambulance, and covers the hand at her shoulder with the seal of his palm. Emily whimpers, bites her lip so hard it blanches white.

"Did you hit the wall too hard?" He presses the phone to his ear, waits while it rings. "Rupture something? Your appendix, kidney-"

"No, Nick," she rasps, trying to curl her knees to her chest. Her hand is slipping out from underneath his, so he wedges the phone between his shoulder and his ear, applies pressure to her wound with both hands. She yelps, squirms for a moment, before she visibly forces herself to settle, fights the fluttering roll of her eyes into her head. "I'm - I think I might be pregnant."

The line connects, but the phone falls to the floor.


She has to stay overnight in the hospital. He sleeps in the chair beside her bed, waking every hour to the nurse who comes in to check on Emily and glare at him for using his badge to bypass protocol and remain in the room with her.

"Nick?"

He blinks awake, startles forward at the realization that it's Emily calling for him. She looks like she's been awake for a while, her eyes clear despite the dark stains of purple underneath, the pale color and waxy quality to her skin.

"Hey," he murmurs, rubbing at his eyes and sitting forward. Her fingers twitch on the edge of the bed and he reaches to reclaim her hand, still pink with the stain of blood that won't completely wash off. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I was shot." He huffs and the corner of her mouth twitches. "Is he dead?"

Nick squeezes her hand. "Yeah."

"Did..." She purses her lips, glances down to the hand splayed over her stomach. "Did the doctor say anything about-"

"You're six weeks along," he confirms, watching for her reaction, waiting. But she seems to be doing the same. "Em?"

"I wasn't sure, I was just... late. But after this case, I wanted to take a test, tell you," she explains, hooking her thumb around his. "I know we never really talked about kids, about... a future-"

"I've always wanted a future with you," he interrupts, swallowing hard and digging into his coat pocket. It isn't how he would have planned it, but it feels right. "I want this baby with you. I want - I want forever with you, Emily."

Nick draws the jewelry box from his pocket with fingers that threaten to shake, flips the lid with his thumb, and holds it up between them. Her eyes flare gold with surprise.

"I've been waiting for the right moment to ask you for a while now," he chuckles, maneuvering the ring from the box. His hand remains steady, so does his voice; he feels more sure of this decision, these words, than he ever has before. "Because I love you. I've always loved you."

"Nick," she whispers, tightening her fingers around his, guiding their laced hands to her chest. Her heart pounds beneath his wrist.

"Marry me," he murmurs, stroking his thumb over the fourth finger of her left hand.

The smile trembles across her lips and she nods. "Yeah. I'll marry you."

His own smile slices into his cheeks, cracks through him after the last few hours of letting the frown lines take over. Nick leans past the railing of the hospital bed to seal his mouth to hers, easing his hand free of her grasp to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"Making you cry, Byrne?" he chuckles, dusting a kiss to the damp corner of her eye.

"Just the morphine," she sighs, reaching up with her good arm to caress his jaw. "Now put the ring on my finger."


She has to wear a sling, hang back in the field, but her shoulder begins to heal without issue and she starts shopping for white dresses. She's assured him that she has no qualms about having a baby before marriage, but she doesn't want to wait so long to marry him.

"We've been together for over three years now, Nick," she murmurs, from their bed. They've been living in a cozy two bedroom apartment in downtown Boston for those three years, but he's been searching the homes in suburbia lately, seeking the perfect place to settle down with his wife, their baby.

He can't believe he's going to be a dad, that Emily's going to be a mom. That they're actually doing this.

"I don't want to wait anymore."

He spits out his toothpaste, drops his toothbrush in the holder next to hers. "You just tell me when and where."

"I just want a small ceremony. You, me, the family," she elaborates, brushing her thumb along the band of her engagement ring and studying her stomach when he turns around. It's still flat, no evidence of her pregnancy noticeable yet. "Before I start to show."

"Are we keeping this our secret then?" he inquires, strolling across their bedroom to climb in next to her.

"Not a secret, just... once everyone knows, it's - real." His brow furrows, but she sighs, already searching for an explanation. "I just never had a mom growing up, not until I was adopted. And she was great, a perfect mother, but what if... what if I'm not, Nick? What if I'm terrible and the baby hates me?"

He shakes his head. "Emily."

"I'm serious," she huffs, catching his hand before he can lift it to her face. She redirects its path to land on the plain of her abdomen. "I want to be good enough for you, for this baby-"

"What are you talking about?" He settles in close beside her, propped up on an elbow, and splays his hand out beneath hers atop her stomach. "I'm not saying being parents will be easy, it'll take work, but Emily, you don't - you don't have to try so hard. We're a team, in this together."

She purses her lips, so unsure of herself in a way he will never completely understand. She has the confidence of a warrior when she's at the FBI office, when she's wearing a bullet proof vest, but here in the dim light of their bedroom, she's soft and unstable with insecurity.

He leans down, brushes his lips over the line of hers.

"I know you," he whispers, bumping his nose against hers. "I love you. This baby will love you."

Emily laces her arm below his shoulder blades, as high as she can lift it right now. "I hope you're right."

"I know I'm right," he murmurs, kissing her mouth when she tilts her chin, parts her lips for him. "Let me show you how sure I am."

She grins, snags his upper lip with her teeth before he abandons her mouth for her jaw, her throat, going lower until she gasps.


Their wedding is short notice and small, but perfect. Her dad walks her down the aisle, she wears a beautiful gown, and when he promises her forever and kisses her after the 'I do's, he means it, believes it.

They honeymoon on a beach in Aruba for a week and she returns to Boston with golden skin and streaks of sunlight still twined through her hair. She begins to show a few weeks after, the small swell of her stomach quickly catching Adam's attention. She hates the idea of desk duty, especially after finally having her shoulder heal and allow her return to the field, but she takes the order without argument.

Emily was right, they never talked about kids, about having a family together; they never even talked about marriage. It was just something he knew was inevitable with her if she said yes, that his life with her would fall into place the way it was supposed to, no thought required.

He never thought about her as a mother, but he thinks about it now. Every time he watches her take a seat at her desk without complaint, every time he sees her trailing a gentle hand over her stomach, talking to the baby when she thinks he's not around. She already loves their child so much, is so fiercely protect of the little life growing inside her; he thinks he falls in love with her all over again in those nine months.

"I hope it's a boy." It's a Saturday and they're both off from work, driving to a secret location he refuses to tell her about. She's nearly seven months into the pregnancy and they're about to outgrow their Boston apartment.

"Yeah? Not a girl?" he asks, sparing a glimpse from the road to watch her cradle her belly.

She hums. "I'd love her just the same, but still hoping it's a boy. I hope he looks like you, has those beautiful blue eyes."

Her hand ascends from her stomach to brush along the back of his neck, combing through the fine hairs at the base of his scalp. He grins, feels the warmth blooming along his throat.

"Way more beautiful if he looked like you," he murmurs, stealing her hand to press a kiss to her fingers. They're almost there, just another mile of gorgeous trees and winding road...

"Rich neighborhood," she comments, slipping her hand from his to draw it back to her stomach. Her eyes are staring out the window, assessing the large houses engulfed in the privacy of woods and picket fences. Backyards and swimming pools, endless space for children to run free and safe.

Nick spies their destination, checking the address on the mailbox to be sure, and pulls into the driveway.

"Is this another house we're looking at?" she asks with a quirk of her brow. They've had the apartment prepared and baby ready just in case, but they've been seeing places on and off for the past few months. Thus far, no house has lived up to either of their standards, and this one isn't necessarily in their budget, but...

"If you like what's inside, it's ours." He puts the car in park, meets her wide eyes across the console. "I knew the price would turn you off, but I did a quick walkthrough of it last week and it's... it's got everything we want and more, Em. I worked out a deal with the realtor, got the price lowered. He's just waiting for me to sign."

She glances back to the magnificent two story house standing tall in front of them, the massive expanse of property that surrounds it, the impressive security system inside that she doesn't know about - a home fit for a family.

"You can always say no, but-"

"If I say yes?" she murmurs, rubbing her stomach and shifting to face him once more.

"Then it's ours."

She bites her bottom lip and leans forward, brushes an unexpected kiss to his mouth that has his chest exalting in relief. "Usually I would kill you for doing this without me."

They sign the deal within the next hour.


Flynn is perfect. He has Nick's eyes, Emily's dark hair, and Nick wants to live in the moment he's able to witness his wife holding their son in her arms for the first time.

"Have you ever loved something so much so fast?" she asks him, her smile so brilliant even as her eyes shine with tears. She's made room for Nick to squeeze into the bed beside her and Flynn is swaddled in the crook of her arm, quieted and gazing up at them.

"Not like this," he whispers, stroking his fingertip down their son's soft cheek. "He's so..."

"Perfect," she rasps, dusting her finger to his chin. "Oh, he's so perfect, Nick."

He glances up from the gorgeous sight of their son, watching his wife tend to him as the baby begins to wiggle and fuss.

"I know, sweetheart," she cooes, adjusting him in her arms. "Shh, I know."

And in that moment, he knows there will never be anything more beautiful than the way Emily loves their son.