A/N: Hi all, a quick reminder about feedback (I do so love your reviews). Pleeeeease be nice to me. I am a total headcase when it comes to criticism. I don't really write to hear criticism. I just write for the enjoyment. I write to share for free a world that I enjoy.
In response to the guest (I love you, too. Thanks for reading) who mentioned Alison and Emily falling for each other too fast not being realistic, I counter that point. In some cases, when you know…you know. When you're attracted to someone it can be instantaneous. Doesn't mean "love" at first. Just means they're attracted to each other. They were kissing and giggly in love when they were young in the show. Same for the books. I run with that theme. I don't think my stories have them falling in love at the same pace.
I do appreciate reviews, but I'm in a very tumultuous time in my life. I have a lot going on, none of it good. I already struggle with the inner critic, and I can't tell you how often I think of just giving it up because I'm in a mental headspace where I can't handle simple reviews that might not seem overly-critical to most. I hold on to them and obsess. Every negative is amplified in my head.
The angry inner critic gets louder and louder every time I write.
I just wanted to be real with you all about that.
This story is called "Infatuation" for a reason. This is not a slowburn. They're going to flirt. They're going to connect. In this story the way that they connect is extremely important because a huge part of Alison's character arc is a tether to a world she's never known before, because of the way she's shut out her emotions. That link to reality comes in the form of Emily Fields (something Alison does not understand). Not saying they're going to fall in love overnight, but they're definitely attracted to each other. But they're two very broken people with sordid pasts, and they will be helping each other through it.
If you've ever seen Dexter, imagine it as a Dexter/Rita situation. Emily is Alison's Rita.
Note: Sensitive subject material in this chapter (and basically every other chapter in the story...). I'll always warn you if it's extremely dark content.
Chapter 3:
The First Spark
Alison had the nightmare again.
A small child. A towering shadow. A booming voice. A presence she couldn't escape.
"Get over here. Get over here RIGHT NOW!"
A hand reaching for her, an angry palm headed towards her ass.
A blur
"What the hell are you doing?" Her brother's angry voice. "You're a fucking piece of shit."
The smell of urine. The cold wet carpet. Her favorite dress being all gross and covered in pee.
Another blur.
Sobbing in her brother's arms.
"Why did he do that to me, Jason? Does he not love me?"
"Hey, how could anyone not love you? That rat bastard doesn't know how to love anything. And what he was doing was not okay…"
She woke to the sounds of pounding on the on-call room door.
"Dr. DiLaurentis!"
How long had she been asleep? She'd had back-to-back surgeries all morning. She was working a double shift. She'd completely lost track of time.
She remembered slipping into the on-call room. She remembered locking the door…
"Lock your door, Ali."
And then she remembered collapsing on the bed, visions of the brunette in her mind. Her fingers had dipped inside her scrub pants as she imagined the detective there with her. Curtains of long dark hair fanned out against the pillow. A supreme fantastic journey of ecstasy.
The crime scene had turned her on.
The detective had sent her over the edge.
She looked at the clock. It was seven o'clock. She'd been asleep for four hours.
"Dr. DiLaurentis! We've got a trauma! We're going to need you!"
For a moment Alison was paralyzed, just as she'd been in the dream. She was stuck to the hard crappy mattress. The sweat coating her body soaked through the underside of her scrubs. She could feel the sticky substance underneath her breasts. Underboob sweat was the worst.
"Be right out!" Her voice came out strained.
She heard her brother's voice.
"You're okay, Ali. I'll protect you."
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus on her breathing. She couldn't very well have a panic attack while there was an active trauma on the way.
In the darkness she heard another voice. This one different. Her mother.
"Just let me show you something."
Another breath.
"Mom, I don't want to…"
Her brother.
"You have to learn. Let me teach you."
Alison shook her head vigorously, trying to shake the fragmented memory away.
Focus.
Compartmentalization worked wonders.
Alison took several strides towards the door. She unlocked it and grabbed the handle, slinging it open. She rushed to the supply closet and grabbed a trauma kit. She washed her hands and put a gown and gloves on and ran towards the entrance of the hospital just as the ambulance pulled up.
"Law Enforcement Officer. GSW to the chest." The nurse rattled off what the ambulance had called in. "No exit wound that they can find. I've already called the OR."
The Operating Room, the calming center of her life. Whether she was saving a life or taking one, it was a safe place. Of course, when she was taking a life she never used the hospital to do so. She took the hospital with her and made her own OR.
She'd come a long way since torturing and killing a slimebag named Darren Wilden in a little Airbnb in the middle of nowhere right on the town line.
Prior to killing him she'd spent the summer with him with him in Cape May. She'd convinced her aunt she was going to the beach with friends. It wasn't hard to do. Her aunt lived to please her. Overcompensation for what she'd been through when she was younger. Whatever Alison wanted Alison got. Mary was sweet. A little naive. It's how Alison got away with so much.
She'd gone to the seaside resort for an adventure. Instead, she crossed paths with a college boy.
She was thirteen. He was twenty-five.
She thought it was love.
It wasn't until later that she realized what it truly was.
After what he'd done it was only fitting that he be her first kill in a long line that would soon follow. He was part of the reason she focused on honing her skills on pedophiles.
She'd brought tools to help her, poached from a medical supply delivery truck. She'd studied how to keep his DNA off of her. She'd done everything right.
The handcuffs held him in place. The ball-gag she'd shoved in his mouth had muffled his screams when she all but circumcised him.
The power that had come from taking his life and exposing his crimes was a rush akin to nothing she'd ever experienced before.
But today wasn't about taking out Rosewood's trash. It was about saving a life. Someone needed her. And she helped more people than she hurt.
First Do No Harm.
…to innocent people. She'd added her own addendum.
"Any idea what kind of shape our patient is in?" Alison adjusted the blue gown she was wearing.
"We're about to find out." The nurse nodded towards a wave of flashing red lights.
Alison watched as the ambulance's back doors flung open. The EMTs pulled a gurney from the back. A woman was lying on it. Her shirt and bra had been cut away from her chest, though the paramedics had done their best to keep her breasts covered. The EMTs had applied blocks of gauze that were compressing the blood loss from the gunshot wound. Blood was starting to seep through the gauze.
A tall buff detective in a suit and tie sporting a gun and a badge on his hip squinted against the sun, making a visor with his hands.
"We're at the hospital now. I'll keep you updated." He squawked into a walkie-talkie in his hands. He clipped it on his belt.
He hopped down off the back of the rig and grabbed the patient's hand. He walked next to the woman on the gurney, his hand in hers. Alison's eyes darted to his name badge as they crossed the hospital threshold.
T. Cavanaugh.
He was too focused on the woman on the gurney to see Alison watching them. He stroked her hand.
"You're going to be okay, Emily…"
Emily. What a pretty name.
Alison peered down at the body on the gurney. Normally she saw people as several parts to a whole. But not Emily.
The woman had the most expressive brown eyes she'd ever seen. She was looking around calmly despite the hectic situation. She was in control. She was assessing everything, like any officer would.
It was hard to make out what her face looked like underneath the oxygen mask, but Alison could see through the clear silicone material.
What she could make out of the woman was beautiful. Her jaw was perfectly aligned. She had eloquent and distinguished facial features.
It took a moment for Alison to recognize her. When she did she almost let a little gasp slip out.
The Detective.
It was the detective she'd been watching last night.
It was the detective she'd been watching since Talia.
She was here.
Up close and personal.
There was a moment of shock. Then a flush of anger.
What had happened to her?
Who had hurt her?
She'd fucking murder them.
Quite literally.
She'd felt so drawn to her out in the field and she couldn't figure out why. She was intrigued because she felt something she'd never felt before. She'd never experienced true attraction or compassion or empathy. Emily made her feel all those things, and Alison didn't understand why. How could she go from feeling nothing to feeling in general? It made no sense.
Fucking Hormones. God, I need to get laid.
Emily was no different than every other ordinary woman in the world.
Except she was.
The brunette was alert despite the injury and the chaos around her. The EMTs had placed an IV and it was pumping her full of fluids.
"Twenty-nine year old female. Emily Fields…"
Toby grunted, a bit annoyed that they'd skipped her title. She'd worked hard to earn that title. He wanted the hospital to know how important Emily was to their town. But he didn't say anything.
"Gunshot wound to the right thorax. She's passed out a few times, but she's been alert since we got her into the ambulance." An EMT glanced at Alison. "Some meth-heads decided to rob a liquor store. She was shot trying to clear the scene."
He sounded incredibly annoyed by what the druggies had done.
Alison was beyond annoyed. She made a mental note to find out the names of the fuckers involved. She would make them pay.
"She got a shot back at the asshole." T. Cavanaugh added, a look of pride on his face.
Good.
The doctor finally made eye contact with the detective for the first time. She thought she saw something flicker in her eyes.
It looked like…attraction? Maybe Alison just wanted it to be attraction.
She wanted to know more about the detective.
She was curious about her.
About why she made her feel the things she felt.
It wasn't love. That would be silly. It was fixation of sorts. A tether to some kind of feelings she'd never felt before.
The EMTs rattled off Emily's vitals as they rushed through the hospital doors. When they reached the second set of double doors Alison glanced at the officer holding Emily's hand.
"I'm afraid you'll have to wait in the waiting room."
He scowled at her.
She scowled back.
She wanted to say, "This is MY fucking hospital" but instead she calmly made a promise,
"I assure you I will take very good care of her."
The man didn't seem to want to let go. Alison thought she could sense something more than just a police partner vibe from him. But she didn't have time to stand there and analyze him.
Emily needed her.
"I'll be right here, Em." He leaned over her as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm not going anywhere."
Definitely more than just coworkers.
Emily gave him a single nod, almost as if they were in the field and she was responding to a regular comment and not bleeding on a gurney. She was so calm.
She's in shock.
Cavanaugh let go when he knew she'd heard him.
Alison and her team took her back into the emergency room.
"Emily, my name is Alison." She'd slipped into her first name by choice. She wanted Emily to latch on to that. But then she added. "I'm Doctor DiLaurentis. I'm a surgeon here. We're going to take care of you, okay?" She asked as she walked alongside the gurney.
Emily thought she recognized the name for some reason, but she couldn't place where she'd heard it before. Her brain was a fog. She stared into the doctor's crystal blue eyes.
"You have beautiful eyes." The brunette managed a weak smile underneath the oxygen mask.
Be still my fucking black dead heart.
The doctor maintained eye contact as they wheeled Emily into a room. She spoke to her trauma team, but her gaze never strayed from Emily's eyes.
Beautiful.
Soulful.
Full of passion.
She could see a world of expression beyond the fear in her soft brown eyes. There were swirls of sienna and flecks of gold that were a perfect contrast to her beautiful olive-colored skin.
Her eyes were kind, but hardened by life. Alison could see pain in them. Pain that wasn't caused by the gunshot wound.
She's perfect.
The perfect specimen of a woman.
If females could get boners she'd be pitching a tent in her scrubs.
Alison held her gaze as she put her stethoscope against her chest to listen to her lungs and heart. The sound of her heart made the blonde throb in a strange way. It was a surge of adrenaline she only felt when she was slicing into her victims.
The only problem with the brunette's heart was that it was beating erratically.
Emily's body was quivering beneath her touch. Waves of pain surged through her. Alison could see her trembling. Her jaw was set and rigid. She groaned underneath the mask, fogging it up.
Alison pushed pain meds immediately, silently cursing the EMTs for not giving her enough.
Fucking inept assholes.
She brought in a portable CT to try and get a feel for how bad her internal injuries were while her team tried to stabilize her. She found the bullet lodged between the intercostal space of her ribs. It was between her right lung and her heart. An inch deeper and she'd be dead.
I will fucking murder those deadbeat druggies.
She was mentally preparing a scene in her head. A place. A method of kill. A disposal site…
She had to shake her anger off. She had to stay focused for Emily's sake.
"Detective Fields…"
She saw Emily's entire face scrunch up in pain. She tried to say something, but her words came out garbled.
"Emily…"
Alison touched her hand, trying to keep her focused. It was a miracle that the brunette was still conscious. It was as if she was afraid if she closed her eyes that she might not open them back up again.
Alison gently squeezed her hand.
"We've got you." Alison looked her square in the eyes. "I've got you."
For a moment, the hint of distress on Emily's face dissipated. Her eyes scanned Alison's body.
Underneath the mask, she smiled.
She took a shallow breath and squeezed Alison's hand back, "You bet your perky little ass you do."
The nurse hauled back, nearly dropping the unit of blood she was hanging and roared with laughter. Alison felt her cheeks getting hot.
Holy fucking shit.
Cocky, bold, and…a bit saucy.
Alison loved the confidence, though she was quite certain some of it was the drugs.
A flood of something rushed through the doctor's body. It was something she hadn't felt in a very long time.
Affection.
She hadn't cared about anyone since she was a child.
She saw a sudden flash of her brother's face. His hand squeezing hers.
"It's okay, Ali. I've got you."
She couldn't dive back into her past. Not now. She took a breath, trying to center herself.
Emily needs me.
She glanced at the brunette again.
Am I attracted to her?
Emily was really hot, but Alison had never been a slave to her sexual desires. She'd been with other men and women before. She wasn't much for emotion, but she appreciated the laws of attraction. She liked a good looking body. On and off her surgery table.
Emily's body was what the teens would call bangin.
Focus…
"The good news is that it's not nearly as bad as we initially thought. The bullet didn't puncture any major organs. It's just below your muscles, lodged in between your ribs." Her lips formed a serious thin line. "Now, for the bad news." She sighed, "If it shifts it could cause major damage to your heart. I'm afraid you're going to need surgery to remove it."
She watched as the brunette's eyes widened. She couldn't tell if it was fear or shock. Normally she got off on both. It gave her a rush to be so close to someone…to see the fear in their eyes. But she didn't feel that way with Emily.
She saw Emily's shaky hands gripping the sheet.
"Hey, listen to me. I'm the best surgeon in this entire state." She believed it. She knew it to be true. "I'm going to get you through this." She knew better than to make promises that she couldn't keep, but she did it anyway.
She saw Emily relax a little.
"Is there anyone you would like for us to call?" Alison touched her arm, testing her boundaries.
Emily stared at her gloved hand against her flesh, quietly wishing that the barrier wasn't there. She wanted to feel the warmth of the doctor's touch. Despite the surrounding circumstances she couldn't help but notice how sexy the blonde looked. It gave her something to focus on other than the pain. She needed that distraction.
"Emily?" Alison tried to draw her out of her thoughts, repeating, "Do you have anyone you want us to call?"
She watched as Emily took a moment to think about something, a hesitation, like maybe she wanted to call someone. But she shook her head.
Interesting. Not close with her family. Or perhaps they're dead.
Like hers.
"Would you like us to update your partner? He's in the waiting area."
Again, Emily seemed to have trouble focusing on the question, but after a second she nodded.
Alison sent a nurse out to let the other officer know they were taking Emily into emergency surgery.
For a few brief moments they were alone in the room. Emily weakly reached up, bloody fingers fumbling over her oxygen mask. She pulled it down and looked up at the blonde standing over her and tried to say something.
"B…beautiful eyes…you have…" Her eyes fluttered shut. The pain meds were kicking in.
If she didn't have a bullet in her chest I would so fuck her right now.
Alison saw her oxygen levels going down and she reached to put the mask back on.
"Emily, I'm going to need you to stay with me a little bit longer." Alison touched the undersides of her eyelids, lightly pulling them down with her fingers. She shone a light into them to look for a reaction. Her pupils reacted, shrinking in the light.
Emily blinked and grabbed her hand.
"I'll stay with you forever." The brunette looked her square in the eyes and uttered with a drunken smile, "You're an angel."
An angel of death. Alison thought to herself, but she smiled at the brunette.
"Just a doctor doing my job." She straightened the oxygen mask over her mouth and nose again.
Emily curled her fingers around Alison's hand. She blinked in a haze, groggy. She muttered out something Alison couldn't understand, but she heard the last three words, a repetition, "You're an angel."
She is high off of her ass.
But Alison still appreciated the remarks.
She had to pry herself away from Emily as her team got her prepped in the operating room. She felt a strange sense of responsibility for the woman. She'd promised to protect her. She'd promised she would never let anyone hurt her.
She'd failed.
She felt empty as they wheeled her away. She felt angry. Helpless. She didn't like the loss of control. She'd never liked the loss of control.
Bad things could happen to people if they lost control.
The blonde stood over a sink overlooking the operating room as she thoroughly scrubbed her arms and hands. She stared at her reflection in the glass window.
I'm in control.
Deep breath in.
I'm in control.
Deep breath out.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd been rattled by a surgery patient. She had always looked at patients in a context outside of humanity. They were no different than fragments of broken equipment being sent to a repair shop. They were broken things that needed to be fixed.
But not Emily.
She's real. She's a person.
She used the brush to scrub at her skin. A few little bubbles flickered on to her face and she saw a flash in her mind.
I'm in control.
But the memory had already slipped its way into her consciousness.
She was a child.
She remembered thinking she hadn't done anything wrong. That she had been a good girl all day playing quietly in her room.
It happened so quickly. It was murky.
"GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!"
Her father yanking her up and hauling her over his lap, his palm hovering over her pee-stained panties.
She couldn't remember what happened next, but suddenly her brother was there.
Fourteen years old. Enraged, his face hot with fury. Fists trembling.
There was the cracking sound of knuckles hitting a jaw.
Her father chasing Jason down the hallway.
Her seven-year-old self sitting on the floor in a pool of her own urine, crying.
She blinked and then then she was in her childhood bathroom.
Bubbles in her hair.
Wrapped up in a Barbie towel, unable to move.
She had always loved bubbles, but that day she wasn't smiling and giggling. She was staring at her reflection, a cold look on her face, like a part of her was dead. The part that loved bubbles.
There was a flash, and then Jason was carrying her to her room. She remembered hugging him and she never wanted to let him go.
"I thought he hurt you. I was so scared you were never coming back."
A knock on the surgery suite door startled her. It drew her out of her thoughts. She was back in the hospital again. Her hands were dangling over the sink, dripping with soap.
"We're almost ready for you." The door opened and a masked nurse entered the room.
"Thank you, Anne." Alison smiled at the older woman.
She liked very few people at the hospital. Anne Sullivan was one person she didn't mind occupying her space. She'd been around the hospital longer than most people. She'd been there on Alison's first day. She was quiet and friendly and she did what she was told.
"Dr. DiLaurentis, are you alright?" She'd caught her in some of her more vulnerable moments before. She always seemed to know when something was upsetting her.
Alison was always able to play it off as being worried about her patients.
"Hmm? Oh, yes." Alison finished scrubbing her hands just as Anne handed her a sterile towel. "It's just such a shame that there are people out there who commit such atrocities."
She glanced at Emily on the OR table, sedated and hooked up to tubes and machines that were monitoring her vital signs.
"There is a lot of evil out there." Anne nodded in sympathy.
The right side of Alison's lip twitched as she held back a smile.
You have no idea.
She tied her hair up and placed it under a surgical cap and then finished scrubbing up. She started getting gowned and gloved up.
She usually disappeared into her own head before she walked into the surgery suite, but she was fully present and aware of every single motion, every single step, every single breath. She looked at Emily. She looked at the tube in her throat that was helping her to breathe.
She looked at the surgical instruments laid out for her. She looked at the scrubbed area of the detective's body, nude underneath the surgical drape. All Alison could see was the area where the bullet went in and a large margin of skin around it.
She tried to tell herself that Emily was just another patient as she reached for her scalpel.
But she's not. She's more than that…
Seconds later she was holding the scalpel above Detective Fields…above Emily.
Breathe.
She wasn't sure why she was so nervous.
She narrowed in on the surgical field. She pressed the tip of the blade against the hole where the bullet had entered.
Some gunshots were messy, but not this one. It was a clean neat little entry wound. Emily was lucky she'd been wearing a bulletproof vest. Though the armor-piercing ammo had bypassed the vest, without that barrier Emily would be dead.
She'd be dead…
She tried to stop her hand from shaking. She slowly drew the scalpel across her skin between her ribs.
Control.
Blood rushed out.
I'm in control.
She watched as Emily's blood poured out of her body. And she remembered,
Blood is a life force.
It was warm. It was comforting. It was something she knew quite well.
Life.
She held the life of this woman in her hands. It didn't normally scare her. She always did her best by her patients. She'd practiced since she was a child.
Before Wilden she'd started with earthworms and then graduated to frogs. It was nothing that biology students wouldn't do. She crossed the line at hurting domesticated mammals. She had her own set of rules when it came to how she taught herself things over the years. Practice would never be on Pepe or on any other pet.
Alison looked down at the crimson stains on her gloves.
I have her blood on my hands.
She'd had a lot of people's blood on her hands over the years. Today was the first day she didn't want to have someone's blood on her hands.
The detective's blood was supposed to be inside her body. She was supposed to be out in the field. She was supposed to believe she was the hunter, when in reality she was being stalked by a higher predator. She was supposed to be playing Alison's game.
But it wasn't a game anymore.
I have her blood on my hands.
As she stared at the bright red stains covering her gloves she realized something.
They were linked, whether she wanted them to be or not. Her life would forever be connected to Emily's. Without her, the detective wouldn't survive.
She looked at the brunette, her lips pulled aside by the tube in her mouth. Her eyes shut, serene.
Alison felt something, but she wasn't sure what.
This woman mattered.
She mattered.
But why?
Alison buried herself in her work. She concentrated on the body. Not on the woman. Because if she concentrated on the woman she wouldn't be able to do her job.
Her eyes stayed glued to the field as she worked. She doled out orders to her surgical team and they followed them exactly, just as they always did.
Because of her skill and the skill of her team she was able to reach the bullet. No doubt the cops would want it for evidence. She pulled the slug out with a hemostat. She rolled the instrument over a few times to observe the bullet before dropping it into the metal basin, where it made a clink against the silver bowl.
The tinny sound reminded her of the sound she'd heard after she changed out blades when punishing Ian Thomas.
But she couldn't think about that. She had to focus on the woman on the table. Her eyes honed in on the blood oozing out of the incision. Her hands were cautious and meticulous as she started to survey how to stop the bleeding and close the wound.
She was interrupted by the wailing of the machines at the head of the table. All eyes darted to the screen.
No.
"Blood pressure is dropping. She's hypotensive." The anesthesiologist furrowed his brow.
This shouldn't be happening. This is routine. The bullet is out. We're almost done.
Alison frantically looked in the surgical field for the cause of the sudden drop. There had to be bleeding somewhere.
Find the blood.
She tried to stay calm.
Look for the source. Look where it's flowing from.
After a few seconds she found the source and quickly tried to work to tie it off. The machine showing the waves of her heart rhythm suddenly stopped.
"Lost her pulse."
Blood is a life force.
Alison felt like her heart had stopped, too. Her eyes flickered to the screen monitoring Emily's heart.
No…no. Come on.
Alison put her scalpel down,
"Push epinephrine."
The nurse pumped Emily full of adrenaline, but nothing changed.
She matters.
"Starting compressions." Alison's veins felt like ice.
She furiously pumped her chest as the nurses readied the defibrillator to shock her.
"Clear…"
Everyone pulled their hands away as the pads made contact with Emily's skin. Emily's body arched and her chest lurched as the electricity flowed through her.
"Nothing." Alison looked at the machines, her mind a frantic mess.
Alison pumped again. Harder. Faster.
She pushed furiously.
A flash appeared in her field of vision. Tiny bloody hands shaking a fourteen-year-old's corpse. The shock of seeing her brother was almost enough to knock her off of her feet.
"Clear."
Alison almost didn't hear the nurse calling for her to take her hands away from Emily. But she did just as they put the pads against her chest again.
Alison started pushing again.
They went through the cycle three times, and then…
…the machines were suddenly whispering instead of screaming. The waves on the screen fluctuated in a steady motion.
And Alison could breathe again.
I am in control.
"Sinus rhythm."
There was a collective sigh of relief. Alison let out a shaky breath. She noticed her hands were trembling. She took ten seconds to collect her emotions and then she turned her focus back to getting Emily out of the operating room alive.
When the surgery was over they wheeled her to the Intensive Care Unit. Alison wanted to go with her, but she had to get out of her surgery gear.
And she needed a minute to breathe.
She walked into the locker room, thankfully finding it empty. She walked over to her locker, opening it, staring inside, and then slamming the door. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against the cold metal.
She'd almost lost her.
She'd promised her.
And she'd almost lost her.
She'd lost patients before. She didn't like it...having that control taken from her. But it didn't usually get to her like it did with Emily.
Something was happening to her. Something was pulling her focus.
She sat down on the bench and lowered her head into her trembling hands.
It was a strange contradiction that she took life away, but when life was taken from her without her permission it nearly destroyed her.
She didn't realize she was hyperventilating until she heard the echoes of her gasps. She forced herself to take slow controlled breaths.
She closed her eyes, but when she did she saw her mother aiming a camera at her. Her brother was grumbling from beside her, his arm wrapped around her shoulder.
"Give her little kiss on the cheek." Her mother instructed the boy.
Alison blinked, trying to focus on the lockers, trying very hard not to let that day in, but she heard her dad and her brother fighting.
"Fuck off." Jason had firmly grabbed Alison's hand and pulled her away from the couch.
"What did you say you little shit?" Their father leaped to his feet from his chair.
Jason had lowered his voice to a whisper and looked at his kid sister,
"Run. Go hide."
When she opened her eyes the lockers were spinning around her. Dancing. Taunting her.
She took a shaky breath.
"Get it together, Alison," she uttered to herself.
But she was having trouble keeping the rage from consuming her.
How dare the universe try to take someone from her that didn't deserve it? She angrily threw her surgical cap against the lockers.
"Bad day?"
The voice cut into her, making all the hairs on her body stand on end.
"Doctor Hastings." Alison's spine straightened when she saw her in the doorway.
She was tall. Slender. Her straight brown hair was up in a ponytail. And she always had a smug look on her face. She even walked smugly.
Alison had never really gotten along with her fellow attending. They'd known each other since high school. They'd gone to the same prep academy. An elite boarding school that Alison absolutely despised.
Spencer Hastings had never liked her. They were both strong-willed and stubborn. Both extremely smart. Competitive.
Alison had to fight the urge to kill her every day.
Spencer was a little shit about her intelligence. She'd been that way in school, too. Top of her class. Pretentious. Thought she knew everything. There was no middle ground with Spencer. It was her way or the highway.
"Almost lost a patient." She knew it would get the uppity bitch to shut up. "Her heart stopped on the table."
Tiny little lines formed in Spencer's brow. She pursed her lips in thought. She lowered herself next to Alison on the bench.
"She going to make it?"
"God willing."
And she meant it. She wasn't sure of her belief systems, but if there was a God she would not be so merciless as to take out someone like Emily Fields. If there was a God, she was most certainly a woman...because people like Emily Fields existed. No man could create an exotic beauty that perfect.
Take me first. She pleaded in silent prayer. Take me in her place. She's innocent and God knows I'm not.
"It's hard." Spencer licked her lips, thinking about her words very carefully, "…doing what we do."
Alison gave her a precarious look.
"The trick is not letting it consume you." When Spencer looked at her there was something in her eyes Alison had never seen before. Concern? "You have to find an outlet."
Alison thought of Ian Thomas thrashing around. She thought of the blood gushing from him. She thought of Sydney Driscoll and the way she'd floundered on the ground like a fish out of water, a river of blood running into the very pool that she loved so dearly.
The irony.
"I have hobbies." Alison shrugged, trying not to smile.
My 'hobbies' get exactly what they deserve.
Spencer cocked her head and looked at her like she was trying to piece a puzzle together.
"You worry me sometimes, Alison." She sighed, and it sounded genuine. Was it genuine? "I know you suffered a great deal of tragedy in your childhood."
Most people knew better than to talk about Alison's childhood. Half the hospital didn't know. After all, nearly 23 years had passed and many horrific crimes had happened since. She was the cause of some of those incidents. Bloodshed had a way of getting lost in other bloodshed.
The other half of the hospital knew her history and they dared not speak of it.
But Spencer was different.
Spencer had a line on things.
Her Aunt Mary was Spencer's biological mother. The girl had been a product of an affair. Mary had given Spencer up at birth, leaving her to her biological father and his wife to raise her.
Alison had never gotten along with her. They didn't find out they were related until their senior year of high school.
Spencer had no idea how lucky she was that she'd escaped their family.
"I didn't have the luxury of being invited to family events." Spencer continued. "I was never good enough. I wasn't part of the family…"
"Spencer…" Alison's voice came out soft. Almost broken. She did it to save you…
Spencer held her hand up, palm forward. She shook her head.
"I've made my peace with it. The woman who raised you was not my mother." Mary had taken on an incredible responsibility when she took Alison in. She hadn't asked for it. She also hadn't turned it away. "My mother is Veronica Hastings. She took me in knowing I wasn't hers. She loves me. She's my family."
Am I your family? Alison wondered.
"We're not close…you and I. I know that. But despite that, I still want the best for you." Spencer tucked her hands into her scrubs. "I don't belong to your side of the family…."
Count your blessings for that.
"I know my place…"
"She gave you up because it was the best thing for you at the time." It was the best thing in general. In the long run, Mary had been protecting the child.
There was a darkness tainting their family. A twisted secret that no one knew. Spencer would be as screwed up as Alison had Mary not given her up for adoption. And if it wasn't for Mary stepping in to raise her, Alison was certain she'd be a total mess.
"She was saddled with me." Alison shuffled her feet against the floor.
"Your family was killed, Ali. Your brother…" Her cousin and half-brother, though she hadn't known it at the time. "I commend her for stepping up." She took a sad breath. "But I'll also never forget that I was never good enough for her."
They were horrible, Spencer. They were horrible and she was protecting you…
"It wasn't your fault. I know that…" Spencer rubbed her hands against her scrub pants. "But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt to see you two together after I found out. I was written off and pretty much told by her actions that I wasn't part of your family."
Alison nodded. She buried her hands in her pockets. She'd often wanted to tell Spencer the truth about their grandfather and his dirty little secrets, but she'd promised Mary she wouldn't. She promised Mary that she would protect Spencer from the truth, too. Because the truth was something that would ruin her. Their family's history would go to the grave with Alison.
"Are you happy?" The question seemed to come from nowhere, but Alison needed to know.
Spencer seemed just as surprised at the timing. She pressed her fingers together as if she was in prayer. Then she pushed her fingertips against her lips in thought. After a few seconds she lowered them.
"I was better off."
You have no idea...
Her relationship with Spencer was complicated. She hated her, almost to the point where she wanted to murder her.
But Spencer was off-limits for two reasons.
One…because they worked together, and it would be too messy to get rid of her.
The other reason was because despite the fractured pieces of their lives, they were family. They were linked. She'd lost enough family. She wasn't interested in losing more.
"Losing her must have been hard." Spencer picked at an imaginary piece of lint on her scrubs.
Alison didn't respond. She didn't know how to respond. It was one of the very few times in her life she'd felt, and felt deeply. She didn't like to think about it.
"How bad was it?" Spencer placed her hands in her lap and looked down at them, unable to face Alison as she asked the question. "In the end?"
Alison closed her eyes and let out a sigh.
"It was metastatic osteosarcoma." Bone cancer. She'd been the one who diagnosed Mary. "And by the time the mets had spread to her lungs…" Her eyes started to burn. She fought back the tears. Her Aunt had been nothing but skin and bones in the end. Alison had taken care of her until her dying day. "It was bad. Really bad."
Alison let out a shaky breath. The only death that had affected her as much as her brother. It had been two years since Mary had died. She had been the mother that Alison never had. She had protected her from the moment she took her in.
And thank God…or whoever…for that.
"She fought until the end."
The end meaning the day that Alison gave her the drugs to kill herself. Ironically, a murder that a murderer had no interest in taking part in. Yet, it was the only thing she could think to do. She had watched the older woman struggling for breath. She had seen her whittling away to nothing. Mary had begged for mercy. Mary told her to think of it as a kindness,
"It's a kindness. Assisted Suicide. Putting me out of my pain."
Spencer glanced at the wall, not sure what to say. She'd only known bits and pieces about what was going on with Mary. Alison was a very private person.
"I'm sorry I didn't come to the funeral."
"You had no obligation." Alison shrugged. She stared at the surgical cap on the floor. She pushed herself to her feet. "I have to check in on my patients."
"I hope your surgery patient makes it." Spencer didn't follow her motions. She stayed seated on the bench, like it was somehow her place.
Alison quickly made her way out of the locker room. She rushed through her evening rounds, glancing at her phone as she waited on updates about Emily.
She saw several officers escorting out a bald white guy. He was handcuffed to the wheelchair with a cop on either side of him. As soon as the nurse stopped pushing him forward the officers roughly uncuffed him and yanked him around to pull the cuffs behind his back. Alison caught a glimpse of his bruised face and a tattoo by his right eye.
Detective Cavanaugh approached the officers, a purpose in his stride.
He's piiiiiiissed.
"Yo, I got a fucking bullet wound in my leg. This is excessive force!" The man complained.
"And I've got a fucking partner in surgery with a bullet in her fucking chest," The Detective roughly grasped the man's shirt, which had streaks of blood on it. He pulled him so close that when he spoke his spittle splashed on the man's face, "Count your fucking…" Mocking the way he'd said it, "…blessings and get moving."
The man who shot Emily.
"Cavanaugh…" A short Hispanic officer put his hand on the trembling Detective's shoulder.
Cavanaugh flung his hand back and let go, taking a step back. His fists were vibrating at his side.
Punch him, Officer Dickweed. Kick him in the nuts.
"Get him out of here. They're waiting for him at the station." The Detective growled and spun around on his feet. He stormed out the door.
Alison knew that look. He needed some air. And to hit something.
The man in handcuffs limped alongside the officers. His eyes caught Alison's across the room for a brief moment.
You're mine, fucker.
She was a predator in the wild, protecting her pack.
She kept his gaze until he was out of her sight. Anger seeped into her veins. She felt the way Emily's partner felt. She wanted to murder him.
Instead she distracted herself with her chart notations. Once she was done with her evening paperwork she walked through the ICU. She rushed by the rooms searching for the detective.
She found her several minutes later. When she reached her room she pulled up her chart. Vitals were normal. Stable.
A survivor. Like me.
Alison crept into the room. It was quiet, save for the whooshing of the machinery surrounding her.
Her long black hair was splayed out against the pillow. There was one strand out of place, like a wild rebel against her face. Alison reached down and tucked it delicately behind her ear. She kept her fingers in place against Emily's cheek. Her skin was so smooth.
"What are you doing?" A voice behind her made her jump.
It was posed as an innocent question of curiosity, but she still took offense to it.
When she spun around she saw the detective from the waiting room standing in the doorway.
Cavanaugh. She remembered his name.
She was good with details.
"Checking her vital signs." Alison gave him a tepid look, like he was the one at fault for interrupting her.
"Isn't that what the machines are for?" He pointed to the stats on the beeping screen.
He noticed details, too. He was a cop. It was his job. It was incredibly annoying.
"I'm not an expert or anything…" He glanced at Alison, eyeing her, "…but isn't the pulse in the neck and not on the cheek?"
"Circulatory test. Checking her capillary refill time." Alison shrugged, trying not to be smug, but enjoying using words that T. Cavanaugh wouldn't know. "Besides, machines aren't always reliable."
She pulled on a pair of gloves and then turned around and laid her fingers against Emily's throat…her long delicate neck…skin thin and ripe and seasoned.
She touched the pulse point on Emily's neck, feeling the rush of her blood beneath her skin. The throbbing there was matched by a throbbing sensation in Alison's core. She let out a shaky breath, fighting back the moan that was building in her throat. It had been a very long time since she'd been so turned on. She wasn't sure how to control it. Usually she only felt it when she was cutting some fucker's wang off.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you." Officer Dipshit interrupted her thought process. He walked into the room. "I worry."
"I would imagine so." She had been commended for her bedside manner her entire career, but she wanted to scream at him to get the fuck out.
"Toby Cavanaugh." He reached his hand out to shake hers, a peace offering.
Alison gave him a little shrug and a smile and pointed to her gloves.
"Have to stay sterile."
Toby lowered his hand and nodded, understanding.
"Thank you for everything you've done for her, Doctor..." He searched for her name, but she wasn't wearing her lab coat.
"DiLaurentis."
He cocked his head. She saw him chewing on her name. A spark of recognition, but he couldn't remember why.
After a few seconds the intense look of concentration faded from his face.
He reached down and touched Emily's hand. It made the good doctor want to snap his neck.
The bond they had clearly ran deeper than work partners. He looked at her with a softness that most coworkers didn't share.
Her boyfriend, perhaps?
She wanted to snap his neck even more.
Didn't the police force frown upon fraternization?
"She's like a sister to me." Toby squeezed her hand.
Alison let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. The look wasn't physical attraction. It was a familial bond.
"How long have you been partners?" Alison asked.
"How do you know we're partners?" He lifted his right eyebrow, glancing at her inquisitively.
For a moment Alison thought she'd pushed too hard. In poker you had to be careful about not showing your cards. She was worried that she had revealed too much of her hand. Did he know she'd been watching them? Did he know what she did in the shadows?
Am I going to have to kill you to keep you quiet?
The man smiled, then laughed. It was an icebreaker.
"We've been partners for four years, but I've known her since she was seven and I was ten." That explained the big-brother act. "The Sheriff was iffy assigning us since we're so close. Can make you more distracted in the field, but I think he felt bad about what happened when she was younger…" He stopped talking abruptly, like he was going to say too much. "She wore him down. She has a way of doing that."
He touched her arm, and Alison hated it. She didn't want anyone touching her.
"Emily has a way of talking her way into anything she wants." The Detective had a wry smile on his face.
I bet she could talk me right out of my clothes.
The brunette shifted in the bed. Alison watched closely, making sure the pain relief was sufficient.
"Mmm…Maya," she uttered in her sleep. "Maya, please don't go."
Intriguing.
She faced Officer Maybe-not-so-Dipshit only to see that all the color had drained from his face.
"Maya?" Alison asked.
The man looked unbalanced on his feet, like he might faint. His face contorted into a blanket of grief.
He'd seen something horrific in his past, though not horrific by her standards. Nothing made her flinch.
"Oh." Alison forced out a grimace. Over the years she had learned how to mimic what she saw in others. "That's not a good look."
"No." Toby kept his gaze fixed on his partner. "It isn't."
Maya.
Why did that name sound so familiar?
"How long ago did she pass away?" Alison asked.
That captured his attention. He furrowed his caterpillar eyebrows at her and set his jaw, scrutinizing her.
"How do you know she's dead?"
"I'm a doctor." She ran her fingers over Emily's IV line, checking it. "Believe me, I recognize loss."
"Right." If he didn't believe her he didn't show any indication of it.
Then again, maybe it was believable because she'd suffered a true loss at a young age.
"It was ten years ago." Detective Cavanaugh stroked Emily's hand, trying to soothe her. There was a brief glimpse of pain that resonated with Alison.
He'd known this Maya too.
Maya.
Why was that name so familiar?
"Maya." Emily cried the name again, wept it like she was psychically holding her dead body in her arms.
Toby's entire body tensed up. For a large burly detective he looked quite weak.
"She must have cared for her very much." Alison didn't miss the way he squared his shoulders.
At first she thought he was going to shut down. His face screwed up in pain. He had a sad, but thoughtful look in his eyes. Then something more. There was fire. There was anger.
Emily twitched in her sleep. Without thinking, Alison put her hand against her arm, quietly shushing her.
Her touch seemed to help.
She peered at the man, who still hadn't responded to her statement. She sized him up, but he was hard to read. The way he pursed his lips. The way his forehead scrunched up in tight little lines of concern as he looked at Emily. The way his eyes held a strong gaze on her.
Not the first time he's been in the hospital with her.
He ran his palm over her forehead, brushing some hair away from her face.
Alison almost leaped for his throat. She was ready to tear out his jugular for touching her. But then she saw the tender look on his face. He was looking at her like a father might look at his ailing daughter.
He was the type. The self-appointed hero who swooped in to play the authority figure. She knew men like him. She hated men like him. But she didn't hate him.
Yet.
Without taking his eyes off of Emily and without looking at Alison he spoke,
"Maya was the love of her life."
Alison wasn't sure why he was telling her this. To address her question? To get under her skin? There was an edge of warning in his tone.
"And she didn't pass away." He spit the words like they were insulting. "She was murdered."
His eyes were still on the brunette. If he had told her to get a reaction out of her he wasn't doing a very good job. He wasn't even looking at her.
Alison wasn't sure what was most exciting about the statement. The fact that Emily liked girls, the fact that she attracted danger, or the fact that there was a murder involved.
"Emily became a cop because she wanted to find out who murdered her girlfriend." He chose that exact moment to face her, to look into her eyes.
He looked at her as if he knew. But that was impossible. Maybe it was just the cop in him. He analyzed. He scrutinized.
Alison didn't move. She didn't react. In fact, she analyzed him. She scrutinized him.
"That's awful about her girlfriend." Alison carefully calculated her reaction. She needed to appear sad, horrified, but also respect Emily's dedication. "Did you find the person responsible?"
He turned to face Emily again.
"No." He moved his hand away from her arm. "But we will. We're working on it."
"It's not a conflict of interest?"
She saw him smile. The first hint of a genuine emotion.
"Nah, like I said earlier, Em has a way of getting what she wants."
Well, I like to hear that.
Alison ran her fingers against a tube that was sticking out of her chest.
"Did they catch the men who did this to her?" She checked for kinks in the tube.
"Why do you assume it was men?"
Oh, Detective Cavanaugh, don't you know that curiosity killed the cat?
"It's always men." She chose that exact moment to look him square in the eyes. Even if she hadn't seen the shooter in the lobby she would have deduced a man did it.
"They're in custody." Toby nodded. He glanced at his knuckles, as if he'd been the one to deliver justice personally.
He flexed his fingers and Alison saw several scrapes and bruises and she realized...
You punched him. You punched the guy who did this to her.
She imagined him storming out of the liquor store while the EMTs put Emily on a stretcher. She imagined him spotting the man with the tattoo near his right eye. She had imagined it exactly right. Because Toby had spotted the officers hauling him off of the ground as the EMTs were loading Emily into the ambulance. And he had paced over and started wailing on his face.
Suddenly Alison didn't hate him so much anymore.
"One is already in lock up." Toby lowered his hand. She had no doubt it was sore from connecting to the shooter's jaw. "The other just left here in a cruiser. Fields got a shot off. Hit him in the leg."
Too bad she didn't blow his fucking head off.
"It slowed him down enough for us to catch him. The shot was through and through. No bone involvement, so your hospital released him to our custody. He's probably getting a little roughed up as we speak. The boys at the station don't take too well to criminals who hurt one of our own."
Good. Hang them in their cells.
"I'm glad you caught them." Alison put her gloved hand against where the tube was running into Emily's chest. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to step out for a bit. I have to change some of her bandage dressing."
He lifted his furry eyebrows again.
Why were his eyebrows so annoying?
"Surprised you're doing scut work. Isn't that normally reserved for the interns?"
He was ribbing her, giving her a hard time. He didn't realize he was pissing her off. His banter was rubbing her the wrong way, but she simply smiled politely,
"I like to do things for myself. I'm a bit of a perfectionist."
Plant the seed.
A perfectionist wouldn't leave sloppy cuts on bodies. She went out of her way to make sure her work on her victims was not perfect.
Most guilty people would feel anxious being alone with a cop. But it stimulated her. She thrived off of the high, knowing she was playing her part in the world perfectly. She blended in. She was charming. Normal.
She watched as he brought his fingers up to his chin and rubbed the stubble there.
"Hmm. Perfectionist, huh?" He peered at her. "Same here." He smiled.
He dropped his hand, glancing at Emily one last time before slowly turning and walking out of the room.
Alison closed the door behind him for privacy and then she walked over to the brunette's bed side. She grabbed the supplies she needed and then pulled back Emily's covers and opened the front of her gown. Blood was starting to seep through the gauze, which was to be expected. She glanced at the blood running through a tube, pumping into Emily's body. The transfusion would stabilize her.
She's going to be okay.
She pulled back the soiled gauze around the chest tube and gently started to pry it away from her skin. The stitches holding the tube in place were immaculate. She was quite impressed with her work.
God, I'm good.
She looked at the incision. The bullet hadn't been lodged very deep, thankfully. It hadn't hit any major organs. Even though the bulletproof vest she was wearing failed to stop her from getting shot, it had stopped her from being killed. It had slowed the bullet tremendously.
There were drug dealers out there with bullets that could pierce through armor. She made a note to add them to her list.
Alison took a mental image of Emily's injuries. Her chest was a swirl of purple and blue and red splotches. She couldn't tell which bruises were from the bullet and which were from her chest compressions.
Oh, sweetie, you're all banged up.
She pulled her gloves off and tossed them in with the medical waste. She ran her finger against the incision. She traced the lines of the detective's muscles. She hadn't really had a chance to stop and look at Emily during surgery. She was in really good shape. Her muscles were tight. Her abs were perfectly defined. Her buff physique would do her well in her recovery.
She was tempted to touch her breasts. She'd never felt that for any of her other patients. Or her victims. Nothing about what she did was sexual. She liked operating because it made her feel powerful, in charge. But when she looked at the beautiful woman in front of her she felt a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Her fingertips landed against the edge of Emily's incision right below her breast.
Emily mumbled something in her sleep. Then she opened her eyes.
"Ah, you're awake." Alison smiled. Most people would have ripped their hand away from someone's chest if that person woke up and found them touching them, but Alison simply traced her fingertip along the side of the bruised flesh. She grazed the tips of her perfectly precise sutures. "Welcome back to reality."
The response she got was not the one she was expecting. Emily lifted her brows, still half drunk. She had a tiny smile on her face.
"Did I die and go to Heaven? Because I'm looking at an angel."
A fucking pick-up line? Was she serious?
Oh, Detective Emily Fields. You naughty girl.
"I actually crawled my way up from hell." It was funnier than Emily knew. "How are you feeling?"
"I don't know. You're the doctor. You tell me." She smacked her lips together. They felt dry.
"You had quite the bullet wound, Detective…"
"You can skip the formalities. Your hand is literally on my boob."
Emily couldn't feel much, but she could feel Alison's finger's tracing the incision near her breast.
Alison pulled her hand away, her cheeks burning, turning bright red.
Was she flustered? Alison DiLaurentis didn't get flustered.
"I was just checking your incision."
"Hmm." Emily lifted her brows again. "Check all you'd like."
Oh, God. Alison had to press her thighs together and suppress a moan.
This woman was going to be the death of her.
Suddenly, Alison wasn't upset about her game of watching her from the shadows being over. They were starting a new game, and Alison liked it already.
Alison slowly finished changing her bandage dressing and then closed her hospital gown.
Emily closed her eyes for a few seconds and then opened them back up. Her eyes met Alison's.
"It seems as though you've taken an interest in me."
How did this woman have the wherewithal to flirt? She'd died on the operating table hours ago.
"Well, I'm not going to lie." Alison reached down, her fingers pressing against Emily's wrist, checking her pulse, "You're quite captivating, Detective Fields. I'd really like to get to know you better."
"Are you asking me out on a date?" A happy drunken look washed across her face.
"Only if you're going to say yes." Alison slowly curled her hand against Emily's. She wasn't checking her pulse anymore.
"So…you're attracted to me?" A crooked smile.
She's your patient, Alison. You just pulled a bullet out of her chest.
"I'm quite enjoying this banter, Detective Fields, but this is the meds talking." Alison gave her a sweet smile.
"Definitely not the meds." Emily argued. "And it's just Emily."
"I met your partner." Alison tried to change the subject, because if she didn't she was going to end up grabbing Emily's fingers and shoving them into her scrub bottoms.
She was so insanely hot, even hooked up to all the machines. Normally patients looked small...weak and helpless. Alison liked that. She liked that they needed her.
Emily didn't look helpless at all. She was calm. Serene. Appreciative of life.
She's been faced with her own mortality before.
Alison was curious about her story. Why she was so calm in the face of death.
"Mmm." Emily blinked slowly. "Don't let Toby fool you. He's really a big teddy bear."
"A teddy bear who seemed quite intent on mauling me." Alison chuckled.
"He worries." That was exactly what Toby had said to her. "So, am I going to live, Doc?"
"As long as you follow Doctor's orders." It was her turn to be cheeky and oh God, was she flirting with a patient? A girl she didn't even know?
That's what normal people did, right? Flirted back when they were being flirted with?
This is so not ethical.
She almost burst into laughter at the absurdity of being unethical. She did a lot of things that weren't ethical.
I kill people, for God's sake.
A tapping sound came from the door.
Emily nodded and repeated,
"Like I said…he worries."
Alison was annoyed by the intrusion, but she walked over to open the door anyway. She expected to find Detective Eyebrows there staring at her.
But when she opened the door what she saw was an older version of Emily. The woman cleared her throat and let out an anxious breath.
"Is this Emily Fields' room?"
"Mom?" Emily used her palms to try and push up against the bed. She was still numb from the surgery, so she laid back down, grunting quietly. "What are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here?" She repeated Emily's words back at her in disbelief. "My child was shot! And I had to find out through the news! You should have called me!"
She rushed to her bedside.
Alison thought back to how she'd asked Emily if she wanted them to call anyone for her before the surgery.
Emily had said no.
Why wouldn't she want her mother to be called?
"Sorry. I was a little busy dying in surgery." Her tone was dry, rash.
It was a sudden shift in the detective's mood that Alison hadn't been expecting. She watched curiously.
Strained relationship with her mother.
Easy to isolate.
The older woman turned towards Alison.
"Pam Fields." She extended her hand eagerly. "Thank you. Thank you so much for saving my daughter."
Please don't hug me.
Fortunately, Pam didn't seem to be a hugging type, though if she was Alison was certain she'd be wrapped up in the woman's arms in a giant bear hug.
"I'll give you some time." As soon as Alison said the words she knew they were a mistake. Emily was looking at her like she didn't want her to leave her with her mother. "I have other patients. But I'll be back."
A promise to the brunette.
She politely said a quiet goodbye to the mother and then faced Emily. She looked exhausted.
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to keep the visit brief." Alison put on her doctor voice as she looked at Pam Fields. "Detective Fields here has been through an incredible ordeal and she needs to rest. And the visiting hours in the ICU are limited so patients can get the healing care they need."
Alison hoped it would be enough.
Emily shot her an appreciative nod.
Alison smiled at her as she left the room.
Emily was safe.
Emily was alive.
But something was still nagging her.
Maya.
Something about her name rang a bell.
The name followed her around, a whispering echo in the hallways of the hospital all night.
It wasn't until she got home later that she realized the relevance.
Murdered ten years ago. Killer never caught.
She pulled out her computer, searching Maya and Rosewood. There were dozens of profiles on the name and town, but it was a news story that caught her attention.
When she clicked on the article she recognized the young girl's face. And what's more, she recognized the small locket that she was wearing around her neck.
She dug around in her files on her computer until she found a protected document titled "Things to Do".
She scanned the page until she found what she was looking for.
Lyndon James. Age 21.
Maya St. Germain. Age 19.
It all came rushing back to her.
Maya didn't bear her signature on her cheek. She hadn't deserved to die. That entire night had gone to hell when Alison got to Lyndon's house.
She couldn't have known that Maya had told Emily that he was her cousin. He was definitely not her cousin. She'd been sleeping with the boy. She had been cheating on Emily.
She was also not supposed to be at Lyndon's house that night.
A/N: Imagine them telling this as a meet-cute story to their kids. "Your serial killer mother and I met after mommy got shot by a meth-head. I seduced her on the way to the operating room."
Writing Spencer/Alison was almost as fun as writing Toby/Alison. And yes, you will see glimpses of the other Liars.