AN- I'm switching pov for this chapter in a major way- pov from someone new, too- hopefully you'll be clear on who is talking in the first few paragraphs.

Also, I wanted to thanks everyone who is reviewing. Reviews always put a great big smile on my face.

Chapter 36: Pride

I take a few nervous steps into the room and smooth down my hair. I can't remember the last time I was at a real funeral. The funeral home we are in is filled with people quietly moving about, their conversations ranging from soft whispers of loss to barely restrained laughter.

I don't see her yet, so I keep moving into the strangely inviting but macabre room.

The casket is up front in the next room: closed. I don't think I would have wanted to see her face, anyway. I didn't skip a day of classes and drive for hours on end running solely on caffeine to see a woman who wasn't strong enough to stand up to her husband or family and love the people she should have.

No. Who I came for is silently sitting on the end of the front row that's reserved for family. He's sitting behind her, holding her hand over the back edge of the seat. Her eyes are on the floor, not bothering to feel pain as most of her mother's mourners skip right over the two of them. He's staring at her like maybe he can somehow make her feel better through his simple will alone. I wish that were the case.

It's beautiful how they cling to each other, and ugly how these amazing people have been shunned from this elitist group. I've never met two better people in my life.

I skip the line for the coffin, preferring not to deal with that, and instead head right to Emma's side. Dr. Grissom sees me first and just watches, with almost a smile, as I put a hand on Emma's shoulder. It's only a second that her tear stained face looks up at me before she'd standing and hugging me so tightly I may never breathe again, but I let her squeeze, and I squeeze back as hard as I can.

"Ash, thank you," she says between sniffles, tugging at my heartstrings.

"What's a roomie for?" I joke as she pulls away, trying to hide her splotchy face. I wonder, somewhat guiltily, if she's crying for the loss of her mother, or because of how separated they are. Dr. Grissom quietly greets me with a real smile this time and a hand on my back. Even though he wasn't physically there a lot for Emma, there wasn't a day that went by when she didn't talk to him, or had some story for me about him. He always sat on her shoulder wherever she went, and she was proud of that.

I asked her about it one night freshman year, and the conversation stayed with me, allowing me to see a side of her I never knew before.

"Em, I thought you lived with your mom?"

"I do." She said curtly, a flash of contempt in her eyes.

"You don't like it, though." It wasn't a question.

"I've always been much more like my Dad." She sighed and turned her chair around to look at me. "My mom's family seems to think that I was a mistake. My mom's usually ok, but she's not a very strong person sometimes. She lets them sway her. I kinda think she might be a little bi-polar some times with the mood swings she has. Anyway, she was the one that took us from California to Vegas, and from Vegas to Jersey. I wanted to stay with my Dad, and he wanted me to stay with him, but there was some issue with custody. He always thought it would be better I stayed with mom, even if she treated me like a maid more than a daughter sometimes."

Emma's melancholy melted for a moment and I watched her smile. "Besides, I can't picture my Dad trying to give me the 'you're becoming a woman' talk."

We laugh for a second at the image, but quickly fall back to our serious tone.

"Didn't you ever tell your dad?"

"No." She stood adamant, her jaw line set. "He feels bad enough without having to think they treat me bad. They don't. It's just... I'd rather be with him."

"So? You're old enough to take care of yourself and make your own decisions! Why don't you go back to Vegas?"

Emma looked profoundly sad. "I'm afraid I wouldn't be what he wants..." her voice dropped to a whisper. "If he thought I was a mistake, too, I wouldn't have anyone left."

Watching her now, as supposed family quietly stalks by doing their best to ignore her, I understand how she could feel so abandoned. What I don't understand is why they treat her like she has the plague. She's one of my best friends, a person willing to go to the ends of the Earth for a friend with the biggest heart I've ever known. I can feel my anger rising, my instinct to protect her coming out full force. I want to drag these elitist snobs out by their stuck up noses and tell them how wrong they are about her.

The anger dissipates in a rush when I look over at Dr. Grissom, and is replaced by sadness. His body tells me he's resigned himself to this treatment by these people, maybe even convinced himself that he deserves it, but it breaks his heart to see Emma all alone. He keeps looking around the room, holding Emma's hand as a constant source of reality, as he searches for someone to console her. He hurts more for her than he does for himself.

Something about watching these two, about knowing them for the last two years, that's shown me more beauty and strength than I ever knew existed.

A priest quietly moves to the front of the room and everyone begins to move to a seat. Emma, four empty seats away from everyone else in the front row of family, stands and pulls her father by the hand, silently sitting him three seats in from the aisle. With a plea of her eyes, she takes my hand and seats me on the aisle, and quietly sits between us, holding our hands like lifelines as the priest begins.

.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.

Emma and I wander down the staircase as the viewing room is cleared to move the coffin to the hearse, leaving Dr. Grissom looking lost at the top of the stairs. I follow her into the ladies room, but stay over by the sinks as she moves into a stall. Two older women move in, their hushed voices and conversation getting louder as they enter the sanctuary of the bathroom.

"Did you see her in the front row?"

"She has a right to be there, you know."

"But after running off like a spoiled brat? She's got some nerve coming here. He does, too."

"Imagine how wonderful Maggie's life could have been if she never met that dipshit."

It doesn't take much to realize whom these two crass women are talking about. I want to split their surgically enhanced noses with a few well placed punches.

"It's a tragedy, really. It all started with one bad choice."

"How much you want to bet she's out in Vegas prostituting herself and doing heroin? I'm sure he's a wonderful role model for her."

Emma quietly walks out of her stall to the mortified faces of the women, washes her hands and, gets a paper towel, all with quiet dignity. Before we leave she turns to their still stunned faces. "I'd ask you not to talk about things you know nothing about. If you want some gossip you might want to think about how Don drove drunk and wrapped my mother around a tree. That's the tragedy here."

Emma turns and walks out in measured steps, nothing else coming from her. At the top of the staircase she walks to her father, and without a word I follow them out to the limousine for family.

.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.

"Even if I didn't like her, Ash, I still loved her."

It's the first thing she's really addressed to me all night, and sitting here in the guest room, me on the couch, her lying sideways in her bed as the sun sets and night slowly creeps in, she feels more secure.

"I know you did," I say simply as I kick off my dress heels. We're still in our black clothes, but we're sprawled out as if we're back in school in sweats on a Sunday, talking about boys. This is just a little more serious, though.

"I guess I thought I'd have more time. That maybe..." She takes a deep breath, and I'm surprised she's not crying again. "That maybe if I was successful she'd understand... maybe she'd want to love me again."

"I'm sure she always loved you, even if she didn't agree with you."

"I'm not sure I can believe that, Ash." her voice is so flat and defeated I want to cry. She quickly changes gears. "When do you have to leave?"

"In a few hours," I wish I didn't have to leave, but I do. "I need to be back to run the dance tonight, and I have an eight am class tomorrow."

"What class?" She asks, profoundly excited in changing the subject.

"My science with Gotlieb: Chemistry and the Modern world." I say, rolling my eyes and laughing at the ridiculous required class. Emma laughs a bit, and it makes me feel a little better about leaving in a few hours.

.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.

I start the engine in my car and look back one more time at the two figures in the doorway. A few tears drop on my cheeks as I pull into traffic and start my drive back to school. I wish I could stay longer, but Emma wouldn't have it. She knows how important school is to me, and a friend's death in the family isn't exactly an excused absence. She practically shoved me out of the house when I started to edge that I could stay the night if she wanted.

I miss her, and it sucks that I can't be there for her now. But I know that she has all she needs with her right there in that empty house with her.

.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.

"She's almost too quiet," I sigh into the cell phone at my ear, idly watching the muted television.

"It's hard for her," Sara says quietly. "And she's a lot like you, Gil. She might just not have the words... I don't know how there can be words for this."

"I..." I stutter, having trouble with words myself, now. My eyes are drawn to the television as I watch the woman run up to the old estate, a lump forming in my throat because I know what happens next. "I don't know what to do for her, Sara."

"You're doing all you can right now: you're there for her." I can hear her smile a little through the phone. "It won't be easy. But she has you, and I'm sure that will be all she needs. Wait- hold on,"

I hear the phone scuffle a bit, and muffled voices. She's taking her break in my office tonight to talk. I practice my lip-reading on the television for a bit, but am foiled when I realize that I know all the words to this part.

"Sorry, it's Nick. We might have a break in our case."

"Go..." I say with a smile, knowing that she'd ignore it if I asked her to stay here and talk to me. "I'll call you tomorrow with our flight information."

We say our quiet goodbyes, and I relax back into the sofa, turning the volume back up on the television so that it's little more than a whisper: Emma should be asleep.

A few minutes later I hear the stairs creek, and I turn to find her softly sneaking down them.

"Hey," I say quietly. She half smiles at me. "What are you doing up?"

"Can't sleep." She ambles toward me, her body screaming that she's tired. I'm sure it's her mind that's keeping her awake after today. She drops heavily on the couch and I wind my arm around her shoulders. She rests on me limply, wrapping her legs up under herself. "What are you doing up?"

"Can't sleep." I parrot back with a little smile. She snuggles into me and we turn our attention to the television. I wince.

"Gone With the Wind." She says simply. We watch as Scarlett discovers her mother's dead.

"We can change this..." I reach for the remote, but she pulls my hand back.

"No. I like this movie. It's one of my favorites."

We sat quietly and watched the epic unfold as Scarlett runs into the fields and closes the first act of the movie. Emma's lips move as she silently quotes Vivian Leigh.

"As God as my witness....as God as my witness they're not going to lick me. I'm going to live through this and when it's all over, I'll never be hungry again. No, nor any of my folk. If I have to lie, steal, cheat, or kill, as God as my witness, I'll never be hungry again."

(TBC...)