A/N: I can say from personal experience that, please pardon my language, losing a parent young really fucking blows. - James

"Of course, Emily, take as much time as you need," her professor had assured her.

"I'm so sorry, take as much time as you need. I lost my father in my twenties. If you need to talk just let me know," another said.

"Take as much time as you need."

"Take as much time as you need."

"As much time as I need. How about forever?" Emily wondered on the plane ride home for her father's funeral. She could barely breathe let alone learn.

She prayed for sleep as she stared out the window. Her eyes were directed at the clouds, the ocean, the sun rising and setting, but she didn't actually see any of it; she was too busy staring inward.

She prayed for sleep. She prayed for sleep. In her sleep, she wasn't thinking about her father. Sleep would make the torturous claustrophobia of the ride and her thoughts pass by more quickly.

A tissue floated into her field of sight and it took her ten slow seconds to notice it. She turned toward the offering hand. A young woman, not much older than herself, with curly brown hair, smiled at her.

"What?"

"It's okay. Are you afraid of flying? Everything is going to be okay."

"What?" She couldn't handle more than one word.

The woman tilted her head curiously. "You're crying."

Emily touched her face and was shocked by her own emotion. "I'm not scared of flying." She took the tissue and wiped her face. "My dad just died."

The woman put her travel size tissues back into her laptop bag and rusted around before pulling her hand out again. She held an orange pill bottle.

"What—?"

"Xanex." She handed one to Emily.

"I...Thank you."

Emily didn't know why she had just told a stranger such a personal thing, or why she took the medicine so willingly, but regardless it helped her to sleep for the remainder of the ride, and she was grateful.

Alison slowly placed the paper down on her classroom desk.

"Alison?" She looked up to see Elliot leaning against the doorframe.

"Hey."

"Everything alright?"

"Uh, yeah." She didn't know why she was lying to him. "Old habits," she thought.

"Good."

"Why are you here?"

"I wanted to speak to you in person about your sister."

"Is she okay?"

"More than." He stepped inside. "I think she may be well enough to return home…for good."

Alison's happiness was brief. As quickly as she hoped for her sister's return, she remembered what she had just read.

"Alison?"

She looked back up at him. "That's great news. What do we have to do?"

"We have to request a hearing. The judge has to approve it."

Alison knew there would be a catch, there was always a catch, but the anticipation didn't stop her worry. "What if he doesn't?"

"He will, and once the hearing is granted he will need sworn testimonies, ideally from your friends."

"That's ridiculous," she thought. "Even if Emily's dad hadn't just died….Oh, God! Poor Emily."

"Do you think that they—"

"I can't ask them to do that." She looked back down at her desk.

"Alison, if you want your sister to—"

"I won't ask them to do that!"

Elliot nodded before he quietly left.

Alison circled the section of Wayne Field's obituary that said "Services will be held…and all are welcome," but wondered if she was welcome. Why hadn't Emily told her? Though they hadn't spoken in a while, she thought Emily would tell her.

"She doesn't owe me anything," she realized, "and I know how distracted and scattered she must feel. Maybe it slipped her mind."

She called Hanna.

"Why didn't she tell me?"

"I don't know, Ali, but if she didn't then I think it's safe to assume that she doesn't want you there….I'm sorry."

"Do you need a ride from the airport?"

"No, Mom's going to pick me up."

While Emily stood on the soggy ground of the Rosewood cemetery watching her father's casket, shrouded in the American flag, be lowered into the dirt, Alison was sealing the envelope to a note that she'd written to her estranged friend.

Later, Ali was descending the porch steps of the Field's home hoping to slip away before the family got back. When she looked up, Emily was standing at the bottom of the steps, linking arms with her mother.

"I'm sorry," Ali said, "I was just leaving you a note."

Emily stared at her and Pam didn't respond. Alison awkwardly returned to the table she had set the note on, retrieved it, and offered it to Emily.

Emily stared at her and didn't move, but Pam eventually reached for it and smiled. "Thank you, Alison. I was sorry that you couldn't make it to the service."

Alison noticed her unusually slow and relaxed demeanor. "I was sorry too, Mrs. Fields. If you need anything, my number hasn't changed."

"Thank you, Alison." She yawned and left Emily's side to walk up the steps. "Emmy, I'm going to bed now. I will leave this," she held up the note, "on the table for you."

Emily opened her mouth to respond but found that she couldn't, she glared at Alison. Pam simply nodded and shut the door behind her.

"I gave her a few glasses of wine," Emily finally explained.

"Oh."

"That's all you have to say?"

"I—"

"Why didn't you come?" Emily demanded. Her arms were crossed and she didn't blink.

Alison was shocked. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you?! Tell you! You made it clear you didn't want to talk to me, Ali, I just thought this might be an exception."

"I figured you didn't want me there. You didn't tell me, so I thought—"

"I called you twice!"

"What?" Ali was too shocked to continue standing so she sank down and sat on the top step. She couldn't look up at Emily. "I never…I never got a call." She held her hand over her heart.

"Maybe one of the three texts I sent then!"

Ali shook her head.

"The emails, the letter," Emily listed.

Ali shook her head.

"You're lying!"

"Why would I lie?!"

She turned and shook her head. "I don't know! I don't know, Ali. You tell me. Your address hasn't changed. Your number hasn't changed."

Emily was hyperventilating, clenching and unclenching her hands. "Emily…."

"Why weren't you there?" she sobbed. "I needed you…."

Alison stood up and wrapped Emily in her arms. She felt tears soak through her shirt at the shoulder; she smelled the mixture of a million perfumes from all the family members and strangers who must have hugged Emily.

"Emily," she finally whispered, "I didn't get a letter or a call or anything, I swear to you. I don't know why or how, but I didn't. I would have been there if I knew that you wanted me there."

"I needed you," she corrected.

"That you needed me there." Alison rubbed Emily's back. "I didn't know, I'm sorry." She took a deep breath. "I'm here now, though. I'm here now."

"Nobody else gets it. No one else knows what it feels like, but you know what it feels like."

Alison led Emily to the steps and they sat down next to each other. "People crying at you," she explained, "you having to comfort everyone else even though yours is the greatest loss of all."

Emily nodded.

"Feeling like you're an orphan and your father—mother—is just some kid you have to take care of."

Emily let out a breath that she had been holding. "It hurts."

"I know."

"The girls were there?"

Emily nodded. "They snuck me out of the condolences line and gave me a flask."

Alison smiled. "Of course they did. And Paige?"

"We broke up a couple of months ago, but she offered to come to the funeral."

"Did she?"

"I told her not to."

"Why?"

Emily shrugged. "Just another person to take care of."

Alison pushed Emily's hair behind her ear. "I understand."

"I'm always the one—"

"Taking care of other people."

"Yeah. And I just—"

"Want to be taken care of so you can focus on missing your dad and feeling like shit."

"Exactly."

Alison draped her arm over Emily's shoulder.

"Why did you stop talking to me?"

"I was angry."

"Why?"

"Emily maybe we should talk about this some other time."

"But I'm here now, and I'm afraid you won't talk to me again once I leave."

Alison retracted her arm and folded her hands in her lap. She looked down. "I was angry with you for meeting with Paige."

"Why do you hate her so much?"

"I don't hate her. I hate her with you."

"You're jealous."

"I don't have a right to be. We live so far apart now."

Emily looked up to the sky and bit her lip. "Everyone has a right to their feelings."

"It's not just that I hate her with you, I hate her for you."

"What do you mean?"

"Mushy squash."

" 'It's what's left at the buffet once everyone has made their choice.'"

Alison nodded. "You can do better than her, Em."

"That's mean."

"I can't help it."

"And what are you? Everyone's first choice?" Emily asked. "You were mine," she thought.

Alison smirked. "No I—I'm…not an option."

"Of course," Emily scoffed.

"No! I mean, I'm…I'm not an….I'm poisonous."

Emily turned at this and took Alison's chin in her hand. She tilted her face up and forced her to look. "Don't say that."

"I'm awful."

"No, you are not."

"I'm sorry about Paige."

"No, you're not."

"No, I'm not." Ali sighed. "I didn't mean to make this about me."

Emily shrugged. "That was my fault, not yours."

"What do you want?"

"A drink."

"I can do that." Alison stood an offered Emily her hand. "I know a place."

"Is it called 'my house?' Because I don't feel like going out in public right now."

"Sure. What do you think your mom has?"

The answer was nothing. They dug through the cabinets and found nothing but tea and coffee grinds, though Alison spotted three empty wine bottles in the recycling bin.

"My house?" Alison asked.

"Sure. I might as well get changed while I'm here."

While Emily was upstairs, Alison moved to sit on the couch but noticed that it was covered with sheets and a blanket.

"Is someone else staying with you?" she asked Emily as she came back down the stairs.

"Ah…no. I've been sleeping on the couch."

"Your mom already turned your bedroom into a gym…? That was fast," Alison joked.

"It's weird, I just don't like sleeping in my old room, I think more about Dad when I'm up there alone."

"I know what you mean."

Emily wrote her mother a note and left in the kitchen.

Alison stretched her hand out. "Come on."

Emily was beginning to fade after just a rocks glass and a half of whiskey; she was exhausted from the endless day.

Alison finished her own drink and left the empty glass on the coffee table next to Emily's. "Tired?" she whispered.

"Yeah…but I don't want to sleep. If I sleep this day will be over, and then my father will have been dead for eight days."

Alison placed her hand on Emily's knee and moved closer to her on the couch.

"I just want it to be seven days for a little bit longer."

"Okay."

"I don't want to sleep," Emily said again with a tremor in her voice. She turned her face toward Alison's.

"What do you want then?"

Emily felt goosebumps crawl up the back of her neck.

Alison leaned in to kiss her. Emily grabbed Alison's hips and opened her mouth in invitation.

"You don't have to sleep on the couch tonight, Em," she said after pulling away with a bite to Emily's bottom lip. "Come with me."

Emily followed her to the master bedroom and let Ali lay her down. When she moved to pull her tee shirt over her head, Alison stopped her. "I'll get that."

Alison pulled Emily to sit and slid her cold fingers below the hem of her shirt. She slowly pulled it over Emily's head and as Emily began to lower her arms back down, Ali reached behind her and hugged her close to her body. After a few breaths, she carefully unhooked Emily's bra and moved to pull the straps down her arms. Emily sat and watched her, she found this side of Alison absolutely fascinating. Ali was determined as usual and focused as usual, but she was also cautious and kind. She found it absolutely fascinating and absolutely arousing.

She grabbed Ali's hands before she could move to unbutton her jeans. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"I want to if you want to."

Emily dropped her hands and let her continue. She unbuttoned the jeans, unzipped them, and slid down to the end of the bed to pull Emily's shoes off one-by-one, and then her socks, then each pant leg from the cuff. Slowly, she stripped Emily bare. She leaned over her and kissed her, slipping her tongue inside of her mouth. Emily shivered.

Alison sat on the edge of the bed and pushed her own shoes off. She started to undress.

"Stand up," Emily mumbled.

"Hm?"

She motioned to the end of the bed. "Can you stand?"

Ali smiled when she finally realized what Emily meant. At the end of the bed, she turned around and rolled her pants slowly down her legs, bending delicately and unhurriedly down to her ankles to pull them off. She did the same with her panties, and Emily admired her body hesitantly.

"Roll over," Alison whispered before joining Emily once she was totally undressed.

Emily didn't protest. She felt Alison's fingertips everywhere: her back, slowly kneading at her muscles; her legs, skimming smoothly over her skin; her breasts, squeezing them possessively. She felt Alison straddle her, her warmth and wetness against her ass. Eventually, Alison's hands made their way between her legs. With all of Alison's weight pressing down on her body, Emily felt secure for the first time since the one person who had always protected her had died.

Alison took her body in like an explorer must take in a new landscape: curiously, cautiously. When Alison took a breath, Emily pushed into her, when Alison exhaled, Emily retracted. They did this until Emily felt herself disappearing into Alison, and felt her anxieties wisp away like smoke.

"More. Please," Emily managed.

Alison kissed behind her ear, hot and open-mouthed, she kissed down her neck, down the curve of her spine, her thigh, and up again.

"Roll over," Alison whispered and Emily complied.

When Alison was met with the sight of Emily exposed, legs falling open effortlessly, carelessly, ruby red wetness, it felt like she'd just learned the most delightful of secrets. Her exhilaration outweighed her hesitance, her fear of naiveté. She just dove in, as if she'd done it a million times before. Tasting Emily, circling her tongue, pushing it in deeply, was natural. She let Emily's soft whimpers guide her motions, and when the whimpers became moans she was determined to find a single piece of Emily's happiness and restore it.

Emily gripped Alison's hair and held her steady as she came. Alison was lost between her thighs as they arose from the bed. She'd have frozen the moment if she could, but once the pulsing between Emily's legs subsided, and she relaxed, Alison knew the heavy sadness of her loss would engulf her again.

Alison wrapped Emily in her arms and prayed that she would sleep. "How do you feel?"

"Lonely…,"

Alison squeezed her tighter and held her breath.

"but not alone."

Alison remembered the unshakable lonesomeness she felt after her mother died.

"Loved."

"You are," Alison promised.

wicked gravity: "...why is Rollins there?" - Don't worry! Spoiler alert, he dies. What do you think about the missed phone calls, texts, email, and letter, though?

Guest 9/6: "made me feel the same kind of frustration I felt with the show..." - I can understand that, and I while I like filling in or even slightly changing the plot, I do prefer to keep the characters consistent with the show. That being said, I would argue that Emily isn't oblivious. She knows how she feels, she's just really terrible at expressing her feelings, especially with Alison. She knows why Alison hates Paige, but she also feels totally helpless about it. Alison also walks a line between actually saying what she means, and just implying it as a form of self-protection. I think Emily kind of has a rule of only responding fully when Alison is willing to express herself fully. They both sort of play chicken with each other and always have. I hope this chapter was a little more satisfying, though.

Thank you, everyone, for the kind words and encouragement!