Infatuation

by Forever without him

Doctor Alison DiLaurentis is sharp, a charming seductress. She is also a killer. Behind her eyes there is a darkness. Beneath her smile there are untold secrets. She thought she had everything figured out. But then Detective Emily Fields came into her life. Emily is hunting Rosewood's most notorious serial killer. She never expected to fall in love with her. DARK AU. M

5. Shadows of The Past

A/N: This is the length of a Shakespearean novel. Let's call it flashback central.

Note: This chapter has some blood and gore and allusions to the NAT club.

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Chapter 5:

Shadows of The Past

Alison escorted Emily to the waiting room, where the two were immediately ambushed by a mousy-looking little woman with a camera around her neck and a notepad in her hands.

Alison tried to stay poised when she saw her.

Born Alexis Plunkett in sleepy little Rosewood. She'd adopted the name Alexis Roselyn Drake, Alexis Rose for short, when she moved to New York. She had dreams of writing and starring in something big. When she fell flat on her talent-less face she'd had to settle for working behind the scenes instead.

She'd settled in journalism.

She'd dropped the Rose and started going by Alex instead of Alexis, so she wouldn't be reminded of her failed attempts at catching her big break.

Her thin straight brown hair was tied back in a ponytail. Her glasses sat on the bridge of her nose. She looked like she was acting the part of journalist, not that she actually was one.

Emily thought she was there to ambush her, but the girl turned her attention to Alison.

"Alison." She had a smirk on her face.

Alison tried to tamp down the seething hatred she felt.

"Alexis Plunkett," She knew Alex hated being called by her actual name. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" The word pleasure came out through gritted teeth.

"Alexis Roselyn Drake." The woman's pointed chin protruded as she clenched her jaw. She faced Emily. "Detective Fields. Fancy meeting you here."

Emily looked between the two women. She'd been dealing with Alex Drake for months. Her relentless calls about the murders were driving her crazy. She had no idea that Alison knew her, too.

"You two know each other?" Emily asked.

"We went to the same prep school." Alison faced Emily with a smile.

I want to drive a fucking railroad spike through her head. But what Alison was thinking and what she said were two different things,

"Same grade," the blonde's fake smile took up half of her face.

They had clashed in high school. Alexis had a habit of putting her nose where it didn't belong, making Alison's extracurriculars a bit more difficult.

The girl fancied herself as some kind of investigative journalist, editor of the school newspaper. She couldn't get enough of Alison's backstory. She'd always believed there was more to the story, and she had worked tirelessly to try and get the scoop.

Alison had always heard that high school was the time of people's lives.

For her, it wasn't.

o ~ O ~ o

~ Then ~

By the time Alison was a freshman in high school she had racked up an impressive body count for a teenage girl. Most teenagers were obsessed with pretty dresses and make-up. She liked those things, too, for the sake of blending in and appearing normal. But her true passion was killing people.

She was excited because she was going to be taking a criminology class as one of her electives. She could learn more about how the police operated so she could continue to avoid them. She'd been very careful so far, but she wanted to get better at what she was doing.

It hadn't taken her long to find another mark to kill after Wilden. A few months after she'd killed him she found out about a young druggie named Maggie. A mother who had neglected her toddler son. She'd sold him into trafficking to pay for her habit.

Alison had killed the woman and then gone after the trafficker and killed him, too. Fortunately for the boy, Alison got him out safely before anything could happen to him.

As much as she enjoyed the bloodlust she also liked helping people. It's how she knew she wanted to be a doctor.

She had very good grades in her science classes and was in advanced placement courses at the high school. In addition to the criminology class she was taking a plethora of classes that would mold her into the world's greatest surgeon…and the world's greatest serial killer.

Alison tried to lie low, but her first week at her new school Alex Plunkett ambushed her.

The young blonde had been sitting in the lunch room, swiping a carrot into some ranch dip. Her science textbook was open in front of her to a page on hematology. The study of blood.

Lunch was her favorite time of the day. It was one of the only times when she could be alone with her thoughts. She had made friends in middle school to maintain a social status. She didn't want to be labeled as a loner. Loners stood out. She couldn't afford that. So in middle school she'd pulled a few kids together. Naomi, Nick, and Riley. She knew that they wouldn't know each other beyond high school. They were simply a cover for her. She kept them around, pretended to be friendly. She had to be normal.

When they graduated middle school and went to high school it was just the three girls. Nick had gone to a public high school, and the girls had gone to a prestigious prep school.

To make sure she saw Naomi and Riley as little as possible Alison had hacked her way into the school computer system before classes started. It hadn't taken much. A secretary on her smoke break and a password painfully easy to guess: the name of the woman's cat.

She'd made sure that she didn't share any classes with her friends, and to top it off she made sure that they didn't share a lunch.

The only time they saw each other was in the hallways between classes and after school, when they weren't busy with other activities.

Lunch was a nice quiet reprieve from class.

That is, until on the third day of school an annoying young girl wormed her way into her life.

"Oh my God." Alex plopped her unwelcome ass down right next to her just as Alison was getting ready to take a bite of her aunt's homemade grilled chicken. "It's you. You're her."

Not everyone knew about her past. Her aunt had home-schooled for her a little while to keep other kids from asking her questions that might further traumatize her. Sometimes people found out. Very rarely did they approach her. And no one had ever had the tenacity to approach her in the excited manner that Alex had approached her.

It rubbed Alison the wrong way. Alex thought she could make her tragedy into something she could use.

"The girl who survived." She giggled, like she was talking to a celebrity.

Alison wanted to tell her to fuck off, but she'd worked her ass off in her many many therapy sessions to appear like a perfectly adjusted teenage girl.

"Like Harry Potter." Alex clasped her hands together.

That made her blood boil. Comparing her to a fucking fictional character who was an infant when his parents were killed to being a seven-year-old covered in her family's blood?

"I'm Alex. I think we're in criminology together." She moved closer. She had no concept of personal space.

The girl didn't look like she belonged in criminology. She was an outgoing pimply faced little weasel who seemed attracted to drama. Alison had pegged her as a theater kid, but not a talented one. One that the drama teacher felt bad for and dressed in all black so she could move around behind the scenes without being seen.

If they were in the same class Alison was going to have to look into transferring into another criminology course. She was barely managing to keep it together now. She couldn't imagine dealing with Alex for an entire semester.

"I actually have to switch out for another time." Be polite. Don't tell her you want to shove her face into a fryer. "Trying to make something work for another class I want to take."

"Aw, boo." Alex pushed her lips out in a pout. "I was hoping to get to know you better. You know, I'm working on the school newspaper. We could tell your story. You'd be like so popular."

She said it in a way that made Alison think that it wasn't so much about Alison's popularity as much as it was about Alex's. She wanted to use Alison's tragedy to ride her coattails to the highest social status at the school.

I fucking hate you.

She stared at her fork, dreaming of jamming it into Alex's neck.

Alison forced a smile on to her face.

"Not interested. And I'm trying to eat my lunch here, so please leave me alone."

Alex drew back, looking at her like she'd kicked a puppy. She was offended, but Alison didn't care. In fact, she was so over pretending she cared. The girl didn't have a right to be offended.

"What's your problem? I was just trying to be nice." Alex huffed.

"Nice?" She tried not to raise her voice. You can't cut her throat. Too many witnesses. "You don't know me. You don't know what I've been through. You have no right to sit there and pretend we're friends. I don't have time for interviews. I don't have time for popularity. And I'm not looking to be some subject for you to study. I'm here for one reason. My education. It's very important to me. Don't bother me again."

"Wow, you don't have to be such a bitch about it." Alex sneered.

Alison was about to retort, but someone else butted in first.

"Excuse me?" An angry voice boomed from behind them. "What the fuck did you call her, Plunkett?"

Alison knew Naomi's voice very well. She hadn't been expecting to hear it, considering she was supposed to be in gym class with Riley. But when she turned around she saw her two "best friends" standing there.

Naomi had a temper, which is what the blonde liked about her. She could get angry for Alison. She reached for Alex's shoulder and shoved her aside.

"If she says to leave her alone, you should leave her alone." Naomi snarled. "Otherwise we'll make your life a living hell."

"Yeah, get lost…like your dearly departed dad." Riley hit the girl where it hurt.

A flash of rage washed across Alex's face. Her dad had left her and her mother when she was a little girl. One day he'd decided he didn't want to be a father and he'd taken off.

"It's free country. I can sit where I want. And I have the freedom of speech and freedom of the press…"

"Oh my God, you are such a nerd." Riley shoved her bag on to the floor, forcing Alex to retrieve it.

"Alex, maybe you'd better go." Alison's voice was less menacing than it had been a few minutes ago. She wanted to appear sympathetic. She had to at least pretend she cared.

"Aren't you supposed to be in gym?" Alex didn't back down.

"What are you? A stalker? How do you even know that?" Naomi pushed her.

"I have my sources."

Sources. As if she was actually someone important.

Alison rolled her eyes so hard she was convinced they would stick to the back of her head.

"Maybe you should go before the headmaster finds out you're skipping class." Alex threatened.

"What a narc." Riley grabbed Alison's book. "Ali, come walk us to class so we can return the bathroom pass." She dangled it out for Alex to see their hall pass.

Alison grabbed her lunch and turned her back on Alex, not bothering to say goodbye. It left the mousy little girl alone and angry.

Alison walked the hallways with her "friends" and listened to them bitch about Alex.

"I don't blame you for wanting to switch out of the class because of her. She is annoying with a capital A." Riley rolled her eyes.

"You and your science, I swear." Naomi grabbed Alison's book from Riley and started to thumb through it. "Damn, this is super advanced."

"Yeah. I want all my advanced science classes on my record. It should help me get into medical school." Alison reached for her book.

"You're going to be the most awesome doctor." Naomi smiled. She was good at blowing smoke up her ass. Alison didn't mind.

"So, when I'm like…old and falling apart can I come to you to suck my fat out and give me a new nose?" Riley asked.

"I'd have to refer you, considering I don't want to be a plastic surgeon." Alison faked a laugh. She was good at faking her laughter. She was good at faking everything.

"What do you want to do?" Naomi asked.

Kill bad people.

Alison smiled.

"General surgery."

"Cool." They uttered at the same time.

"Hey, if that Alex girl gets in your face again let us know. We'll mess her up." Riley threatened.

"She's annoying, but she's harmless. I've got it."

She thought she had it, but Alex spent the next four years trying to get her to talk about her family's murder. She pushed and pushed and pushed. She dug into Alison's past by looking at old news reports, which didn't reveal much. She wanted more. She was fascinated by her story.

She tried to talk to Alison in the hallways and in passing, but Alison usually wrote her off. The blonde went out of her way to avoid her.

Her friends asked if she wanted them to shake her down to get her to leave her alone, but Alison told them not to. They always told her she was too nice.

They had no idea...

Having them around wasn't all bad. They bristled up and formed a blockade around Alison any time Alex tried to approach her in the hallways or outside of school. It was tedious and Alison hated it, because she could take care of herself. But she couldn't afford to lose her temper in school. Not with her history.

Graduation was a sweet release for Alison. Naomi and Riley had gone their separate ways, leaving Alison in peace, like most high schoolers often did.

She had hoped to be rid of Alex for good, too. She didn't realize that ten years later Alex would still be following her around, hounding her…sniffing for answers to questions she'd never gotten the opportunity to ask her in high school.

o ~ O ~ o

Alex had written a few pieces on the DiLaurentis murders, but no one really took an interest in her work.

She didn't understand…couldn't understand what Alison had been through. Her journalistic biases looked to paint Alison as someone she was not.

There had been a point when Alison had considered snapping her neck and tossing her off of a building, but the little journalist had too high of a profile, and she didn't fit the rules Alison had set for her kills. As long as Alex kept her hands clean and she didn't rape or murder anyone she was untouchable.

All Alison could do when Alex accosted her in the hospital was to grit her teeth and bear it.

"I hear there was another body found, and rumor has it that the autopsy is happening today." Alex had an intensity in her eyes that bothered the doctor.

"You should never believe the rumor mill, especially when you create it." To Alison's surprise Emily jumped in to put the woman in her place.

Aww, look, we already hate the same people. Alison tried not to grin like an idiot.

"My sources are legit." Alex shrugged with a smile. "So, Doctor DiLaurentis, would you like to comment?"

She looked at Alison in such a strange way. Like she was fascinated by her, but also like she hated her.

It made Emily uncomfortable. She felt an unease of tension creeping up her spine. Perhaps it was because she'd had her own run-ins with Alex over the years, but she didn't trust her.

She felt the urge to put a protective arm around the blonde and shelter her from Alex's gaze, but she didn't. She waited on Alison's cue.

"I don't have time for this. I have work to do. I'll be back to get you for your appointment momentarily, Detective Fields." Alison turned to her, hoping that Emily would go along with the lie.

If Alex found out Emily was going to observe the autopsy she would have a field day with it.

Luckily Emily got the signal.

"Thanks, Doctor." I read you loud and clear.

Alison turned on her heels silently chanting thoughts about not killing Alex.

Emily meandered away from the reporter, but the little nuisance followed her.

"Care to give a statement on the investigation?" Alex begged like a dog whining for table scraps.

"Sure." Emily gave her a Cheshire-like grin, pausing a beat to let the girl get her notepad ready. "It's ongoing."

That was all she said before turning away.

Alex huffed at her.

"Anything that the public doesn't already know?" Alex frowned. She didn't appreciate Emily's snide reply.

"I'm here on a personal matter, Miss Drake. I'm off the clock. This could be considered harassment. I suggest you leave me be."

But she didn't, so Emily pretended to get a personal call. She put the phone up to her ear.

"Hey. How are the bunions, Aunt Claire?"

Alex quickly lost interest and disappeared again.

When Emily was certain it was safe to come out she tiptoed back into the waiting area. She noticed the woman behind the desk staring at her. She was in her sixties. Her hair poked out in all directions. Her beady little eyes were full of distrust. She had a childish frown on her face. The old woman eyed her like she didn't belong.

Emily sat down in a chair and pulled her phone out. She pulled up Toby's number and fished for information.

Any updates?

She got his response seconds later,

Got that doctor's note yet?

Here's your doctor's note. She sent back an emoji flicking him off.

She was going to tell him about sitting in on Garrett's autopsy, but if he could be a hard ass, so could she.

She scrolled through her most recent text chains. Sabrina had been checking in on her. They'd remained friendly after their break-up, though they only ever conversed in text. Her most recent question was just a simple,

How are you doing?

To which Emily had replied,

Still alive, so I'm doing great. Every day is a blessing.

Emily wasn't sure she meant it, but Sabrina liked hearing shit like that, and if she put on a strong positive front there were usually less questions from her ex.

The next text chain from her friend Hanna was less stiff. It started,

Okay, I know I was out of the country and we haven't talked in a while but I still have a phone. Why the FUCK didn't you tell me you were shot, Emily?

Emily couldn't help but smile. Before Alison there had been another feisty young blonde in her life. Hanna had befriended Emily in middle school. She had actually been Emily's first kiss. They'd been practicing for when they got older and had boyfriends, but sometimes the lines between their friendship had blurred and the kisses meant a little more.

In high school, Hanna met her now husband Caleb, and Emily met a boy named Ben, who had later turned out to be bad news. Emily hadn't been with Ben for long before she met Maya.

Emily and Hanna stayed tight throughout high school, but after graduation Hanna had moved to New York. They tried to keep in touch. It faltered a little over the years, but she'd moved back to Rosewood for a job opportunity that Caleb had been offered months ago.

They hadn't had a chance to get together yet, as their jobs kept them fairly busy, but their texts were more frequent.

Emily's response to Hanna's text about her being shot had been a cheeky,

Because I knew you would have hopped on the first flight home from Milan. And I was not going to let you hold that over my head for the rest of our lives.

To which Hanna had replied,

Bitch, please. Special circumstances when one of us is DYING.

Not dying. Not dead. Actively alive and texting you.

The rest of their conversation was just the two of them going back and forth, promising to get together soon.

She looked at Sabrina's text chain again. It felt so mundane compared to Hanna's. But Sabrina really was a sweet girl.

Alison appeared again after a few minutes, having given the mother of her patient the good news about her discharge.

The blonde's face was full of glee. Emily knew that Alison's line of work came with a fair share of bad news. That's why it was so important to revel in the good news.

Emily knew what that felt like. Most of the time her work was nothing but tragedy after tragedy, but every so often there was a glimmer of light. A missing child found. A life saved. It was enough to keep her going.

Emily stood up to meet her. Alison motioned for the brunette to follow her.

As they walked past the front desk they heard a grunt of disapproval from the woman sitting there. The one who had been watching Emily.

"She's not supposed to go back there." The woman's tone was flat, almost robotic. "It's against the rules for her to go back there."

Alison was calm and diplomatic in her response.

"Kathleen, I've got this under control. She's with me."

"It's still against the rules." Kathleen couldn't seem to let it go. "Patients aren't allowed past the double doors."

"I'm not a patient. I'm a detective." Emily started to reach for her badge before she remembered she'd left it in her car.

Kathleen looked her up and down, her eyes narrow and judgmental. She scoffed rudely.

"Dressed like that?" She showed no hint of emotion in her voice. There was something chilling and inhospitable about her.

She might as well have called her a slut.

Alison was fuming. She felt extremely protective of the brunette and she didn't like it that her subordinate was treating her like shit.

But Emily stayed calm. She had such an air of serenity about her.

"If the registered weapon on my hip isn't enough, my badge is in the car. I can get it…"

"That won't be necessary." Alison glared at the receptionist as she spoke. I will fucking slit your throat where you stand if you don't shut the fuck up.

She wanted to grab the ballpoint pen Kathleen was holding and slam it into her jugular vein.

Generally she had a rule about killing people at her hospital. It was too close to home. She'd always been told not to shit where you eat. Basically, it meant not to make waves, not to dirty up a tidy place.

She'd only killed someone in close proximity to her once.

She had a fellow surgeon who had an appetite for young brunettes. She'd never liked the guy. He was an arrogant control freak who had once told Alison he didn't like her. He couldn't stand a powerful intelligent female in charge.

He could have charmed his way into any girl's panties if he wanted to, but he opted for drugs that he stole from the hospital instead. Because he liked the power that came with total control.

He'd prowl the bars around town and he'd get girls good and drunk. He'd slip in a little cocktail he cooked up himself and then he'd take them somewhere and rape them. The drugs caused amnesia, so the girls never knew how to describe him…if they remembered at all.

Alison had tried to talk herself out of it.

Don't kill him. He's too prominent. It will draw too much attention.

But then she realized she didn't have to be the one who killed him. Not the serial killer inside of her, at least. She didn't have to strap him down and torture him and draw attention to his death.

Instead of her normal routine she had decided to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Literally.

She'd created a cocktail of her own. Drugs that mimicked a heart attack.

Young hot doctor being found dead in a pool of his own blood would attract attention. Young hot doctor collapsing after exercising and having a heart attack would not.

She knew his routine. She'd waited until he had a day off, because she knew no one would go looking for him.

He loved to exercise, and that particular morning was no different. He'd made himself a protein shake, which he didn't know had been spiked by his fellow doctor.

Alison had watched from the shadows from a hidden camera she'd placed. When she saw him collapse she'd rushed into his penthouse, making sure to avoid cameras.

The drugs had a slow acting paralytic, so when he collapsed he couldn't reach for his phone to call for help.

He'd been awake when she walked in and found him. She'd stood over him in his fitness room. The walls were plastered with women wearing clothing that was way too tight.

He had gasped for breath and begged for his life.

She had shown him no mercy. What she had showed him were images of the girls he'd assaulted. She wanted their faces to be the last faces he'd ever see.

She witnessed him taking his last breath. She'd watched his eyes as they went glassy and dull.

She didn't mark him. It was too risky.

Once he was dead she slipped out of his penthouse, disposing of the sterile booties she had worn over her shoes.

She had been in charge of his autopsy. She made sure the toxicology report showed nothing of substance. She also made sure his bloodwork showed elevated enzymes pointing back to a heart attack. The evaluation of his heart would back it up.

She hadn't killed anyone else in her years at the hospital, but that was before Kathleen had started treating her like dirt.

Alison eyed the bitch at the front desk, considering doing the same thing to her that she'd done to the surgeon. It had been two years since Doctor Rapey McRaperson had died. No one would think twice about an old woman dropping dead of a heart attack, especially given she was on heart medications.

The woman sat in her chair like a triumphant animal of some kind, like she was some kind of fucking gatekeeper. She gave Alison a smug look and then waved politely to a doctor on the other side of the room. She called out to the other doctor and laughed like they were old friends. Everyone was fooled by her fake persona. But Alison wasn't.

Her eyes narrowed. Kathleen had slighted Emily, and Alison didn't like that. She didn't like it at all.

The things she wanted to do to that miserable old bat…

"Kathleen, this is my call. I have the proper clearance." Alison stood before the woman, unbothered. She towered over her, asserting her dominance.

It was the first time Emily had seen a temper in the blonde. It was sexy. She was firm, but controlled.

"But the rules…"

"I heard you." Alison gritted her teeth. Must. Not. Murder.

The woman didn't say anything in response. Instead she turned her back on them and muttered a childish "whatever."

They walked through the lobby.

"She's a peach." Emily scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, she hates me."

"Why?"

Alison seemed perfectly nice. Of course, Emily didn't know what it was like to work with her, but she couldn't imagine her being rude or disrespectful to the staff.

Cuz she's a fucking psychopathic cunt.

Alison shrugged and gave the detective a tiny smile.

"Maybe I accidentally took her favorite pen."

"Oh, that's definitely grounds for war." The brunette lifted her eyebrows with a smile. "A woman's pen is sacred."

"I sincerely apologize for her comments." Alison reached for her badge to activate the door in front of them. "She has…temperamental tendencies."

The frizzy-haired old bitch scowled in Alison's direction.

Well, fuck you too, cunt.

The woman had hated her since she started at the hospital. She hadn't been an Attending then. Alison wasn't sure what set her off. She'd just exploded over a simple response Alison had given to a question one day. She'd been snotty to Alison over ridiculous trivial things ever since.

She was cold to Alison, but was nice to everyone else. Alison had often wondered if she was a sociopath. If anyone could spot a fellow sociopath it was her. Maybe Kathleen saw herself in Alison and that's why she hated her.

Alison's eyes drifted to an orchid on her desk. Kathleen treated the stupid flower better than she treated her.

She thought about the weed killer she'd sprayed it with a few days ago. It was already starting to wilt.

She couldn't kill Kathleen, but she could kill the shit out of her pet plant. She would add more weed killer to it in the morning to make it shrivel up and die quicker for what she said about Emily.

Emily followed Alison down a long corridor that led to a set of steps. It was eerily quiet. There was a chill in the air. Emily could feel the air of death surrounding them.

"You get used to it." Alison's voice cut into the silence. Emily peered over at her and realized that the blonde was studying her face. "The death that lingers."

She reached for a large heavy door. She scanned her badge and pulled on the handle, guiding Emily inside.

Several automatic lights flickered on. Emily looked at all the morgue cabinets, wondering how quickly they filled up.

How many are full right now?

There was a flash of darkness in her eyes as she pictured Maya in one. Maya. Lyndon. Talia. Sydney. Ian. All the bodies she'd seen over the years.

But the one that hurt the worst was imagining her father locked away in a tiny refrigerated tomb.

Alison stopped at a drawer and glanced at the name on the tab. She grabbed the handle and turned it, slowly pulling out a metal table with Garrett's mutilated body on it.

"I'm afraid I must insist that you wear gloves." Alison pointed to a box that contained sterile exam gloves. "To keep the contamination down, I'm sure you understand."

Emily reached for the box of gloves and pulled a pair out and slipped them on. It felt like she was at a crime scene. Their jobs were similar in a lot of respects.

She glanced at the slashes on Garrett's cheek and had a morbid vision of an evil Zorro, man with a blade marking people with his Z. The Scarlet Letter was similar to that.

She observed his skin. His complexion was darker than most of the other victims, who were fair-skinned. He was of Mediterranean descent. It reminded her all too well of a young black man who was laid to rest with a similar mark on his cheek.

She couldn't forget that night even if she tried. She remembered it in sickening vivid detail. Not even the drinking had been able to wash it away.

For some trauma survivors repression was a tool at their disposal. They used it to survive. But from an early age Emily's father had taught her to face pain head-on.

That hadn't been very easy to do that night.

o ~ O ~ o

~ Then ~

She was supposed to be starting her life with her girlfriend. They were young and had the world in front of them.

But that had all been ripped away the instant Emily found Maya.

The blood saturating her jeans was cold and sticky. What hadn't been soaked up by the carpet was congealed like gelatin. It was all over her hands…her pants. But she barely registered it. She had fallen to the floor screaming, crying hysterically.

Her girlfriend's body was stiff, set in rigor mortis, but Emily managed to wrap her arms around her and pull her into her lap.

Her tears fell into Maya's hair. They dribbled down her lifeless cheeks. Her brown eyes, once full of life, were now dull and empty. Glass staring back at her.

She couldn't stand staring at the terror in her eyes, so she looked away. First she focused on the blood around them. She told herself not to look at Lyndon, just like she'd told herself not to turn on the lights.

She looked anyway, staring blankly at him. She stared at the neat little gash on his cheek. It was odd that her focus was fixed on the cut given his head had nearly been detached from his body.

Blood had sprayed out, fanning in all directions. There were dry spatters of it on the wall, pools of it soaking in the carpet.

The only thing keeping his head in place was a sharp metallic rod driven through the soft area near the base of his skull and into his spine. A head on a pike.

His hands were together like he was in prayer, but they weren't tied. They were sewed together with fishing line.

She felt movement in her arms and for one hopeful second she thought she was wrong about Maya being dead, even though she knew it wasn't logical.

She realized it was her own hand, stroking Maya's cheek. Her skin was delicate, gamey. Like cottage cheese against her fingers.

"I'm sorry, Maya," she squeaked. "I'm sorry for everything. For our fight…" She knew she was talking to someone who couldn't hear her, but she couldn't stop. "I'm sorry I didn't come after you. I'm sorry."

She said it over a dozen times, though she didn't realize she was saying it out loud. Her soft cries filled the room.

She didn't hear the footsteps approaching. All she could hear was the sound of her own heart whooshing in her ears. It sounded like it was breaking. Shattering.

She heard a voice in the distance, only it wasn't in the distance.

"Jesus…" Shuffling, a gagging noise. "Fuck." Then a very soft shaky gasp, "Emily?"

That's when she looked up and saw the officer there.

"Help me!" She begged, as if some miracle could bring Maya back.

She didn't even register that it was Toby. She saw him reach for his walkie-talkie, but didn't hear the words he was saying.

"This is Officer Cavanaugh. We have a 187. Requesting back-up. All units respond." His voice came out calm despite the fact that he was trembling inside.

His best friend was at a murder scene. Her girlfriend and another friend were the victims.

In the middle of the chaos he had the strangest thought,

Will she ever be whole again?

Followed by,

Will I?

He leaned down, careful to avoid the sticky blood-drenched carpet.

"Em…" He reached out to touch her shoulder, but stopped himself. There was something manic in her eyes, like a wild animal. "Emily, we need to get you out of here. You shouldn't be seeing this…" His voice came out hollow. She'd already seen it.

"We fought…" Was all Emily could manage to say.

"What?" The strain in his throat gripped his vocal cords. He lowered his voice. "You can't say that when the other units arrive. Don't say that."

"She shouldn't have been here. I…" Her tears had made her eyes puffy and large. Bloodshot from all the screaming and crying. "This is my fault."

"Emily, seriously…" His voice dire. "Stop fucking talking."

He knew what it would sound like to the other officers.

Dead girlfriend. Dead boy next to her dead girlfriend. Emily covered in blood and talking about a fight.

They would think she'd done it.

He didn't.

But they would.

"I shouldn't have come here." She was clearly in shock. Toby was about to drag her out and sedate her so she wouldn't say something to incriminate herself, but then she added, "She left me…two days ago. I thought she just needed space. She…she wasn't returning my calls. I didn't know she was here…like…like this. If I had known…"

The brunette lowered her head and cried, her face buried in Maya's hair. She tried like hell to smell around the decay. If she closed her eyes she could smell the faintest hint of shea butter. Or she was imagining it.

Maybe she was imagining this whole thing. Maybe it was a nightmare.

She held on to that hope even as the sirens split through the air and flashing lights filtered in through the open doorway.

It's not real.

She begged herself to wake up, but no matter how hard she tried she was still there.

She didn't respond when the other officers arrived. She didn't grant their request to "step away from the body."

Maya wasn't a body. She couldn't be a body. She was Maya.

The house was slowly starting to fill with people in uniform. Toby chewed on his lip. He knew that the detectives were going to get restless. He knew he needed to get Emily away.

"Hey." He kneeled next to her again. "Why don't we go outside and get some fresh air?"

Emily recognized the voice and the face talking to her, but she could barely form a coherent thought.

"I can't leave her." I never should have let her go.

Leaving her is what had landed them in this mess in the first place.

"Em, you have to let go. They have to examine her." His hands were shaking.

He'd never seen a dead body before, let alone two. And on top of that his best friend was traumatized. He hadn't learned how to deal with the emotional impact of something like this at the academy.

Emily closed her eyes and shook her head, like she could just shake it all away.

"Emily, if you don't let her go they're going to have to forcibly remove you." He wouldn't be able to stop them.

Throughout the cloud of grief and pain in her head she uttered out two words.

"Let them."

The officers tried to be patient, but they eventually had to intervene. The visceral scream that ripped out of her throat when they pried her away nearly shook the entire house.

The second they got her out the door she keeled over and vomited all over the bushes. They led her away from the house and walked her to an ambulance.

An EMT shoved a light into her face and she felt like clawing him to pieces. She sat against the edge of the rig, her legs hanging over the bumper. They put a blanket over her, but she couldn't stop shivering.

The scene was buzzing with activity. She felt invisible. People were walking by her like they couldn't see her.

She watched them slowly unwind yellow tape around the house. She felt like she was in the middle of the horror movie. But being the last girl alive sucked.

She plunked the side of her head against the edge of the ambulance rig and listened to the chatter around her.

Two detectives were talking by a cruiser close enough for her to hear. One was a big stout fellow. Buff. Lean. The other was a short female with curly hair tied back in a messy bun.

"Think it's our guy?" He asked.

"Hard to say. Profiles of the victims are different. And the girl was strangled and wasn't posed post-mortem. The boy though…" Her voice trailed off. "The signature is the same. And it's not like it could be a copycat. We didn't release details about the bodies being posed. No way the public could know that."

"Medical Examiner thinks the girl might have been killed first due to the blood spatter. Something about the way it soaked around her body."

Her body.

SHE'S NOT A BODY! Emily wanted to scream, but she was all screamed out. She was exhausted.

"Probably killed quick. Crushed windpipe. Bruising around the neck consistent with strangulation. Severed spinal vertebra." The man continued.

Emily leaned forward, her hands on her knees. She felt like she was going to throw up again.

"They're looking for trace DNA and fabric just in case our killer wore gloves…"

"Which he most certainly did." The female cut in. "We haven't found any fingerprints or fabric on any of the others…" Because latex-free gloves left no trace. "It wasn't a clean kill by any means, but it will be clean evidence-wise, I'm sure. I think our killer was after the boy."

Emily groaned, choking back bile.

If I had just stopped her from coming here…

She closed her eyes, but then she heard someone call her name.

"Emily Fields?"

She blinked and saw a young mixed-race officer approaching her. He was light skinned with eyes similar to Maya's.

The urge to vomit returned.

"Yes." Her voice came out a whisper.

"I'm Officer Calderon. How are you?" He was holding a tablet in his hand.

What a stupid fucking question, she thought.

But offered,

"I don't know."

"Do you feel up to giving a statement?" He questioned.

"I don't know," she repeated.

How long had it been since they'd pulled her away from Maya? What were they doing to her?

"I see." He furrowed his brow, his lips pulled together tightly. "Let's start with something simple. Can you tell me what happened here tonight?"

"Where is Toby?" She ignored the question.

"He's speaking to the lead investigator." Officer Calderon replied.

"I want to talk to him."

"He's being debriefed at the moment. If you could just tell me…"

"No. I need to see Toby."

"I understand." He didn't argue. "He should be along shortly." He glanced at the stains on her clothing. The blood. "I don't mean to push you, but if we're going to solve this we're going to need every piece of evidence we can get."

"I didn't see anything." She stared at him, through him.

"Physical evidence as well," he said softly, gesturing to her pants. "They're going to need your clothes."

"My clothes?" The words didn't mean anything to her. Nothing meant anything to her.

"Yes. For evidence." He put his hand on her shoulder.

When she blinked and looked into his eyes she saw a vision of Maya staring back at her, eyes glassy.

Rotting flesh.

She jerked away from him. He held his palms up in front of her, taking a step back.

Flashes of white burst into her field of vision.

She pushed herself up and frantically looked around the sea of people, searching for her best friend. When she didn't see him she became agitated and started to hyperventilate.

"Hey, easy, why don't you sit back down?" When he touched her again Emily screamed.

"Don't! Don't touch me!" She flung back and started calling for Toby, hoping he'd hear.

Instead of helping her look for Toby, the officer who had been questioning her came rushing towards her, holding her in a bear hug.

"You need to calm down."

She didn't understand that he thought she was a danger to herself.

"Let me go!" It only exacerbated things. "GET OFF OF ME! HELP! SOMEONE HELP!"

She bucked free from his grasp and scrambled away from him. He followed.

"We need a medic over here!" Officer Calderon called. "Can we get some sedatives, please? She's hysterical!"

Just as he was about to reach for her again someone placed a hand on Officer Calderon's chest.

"Lorenzo, back off." Toby gently pressed his palm against the other officer, pushing him away from Emily. "Give her some space."

"She's going to hurt herself." He motioned to the girl.

"I'll talk to her. She's my friend." He had a mask of visible calmness, but when Lorenzo looked into his eyes he could see how shaken the young rookie was at heart.

"You're too close to this. It's all the more reason for me to handle…"

"I already cleared it with the Lieutenant." Toby cut him off. He faced his friend. "Emily…"

The brunette would have slumped to the ground had it not been for her best friend guiding her to his cruiser, away from the lights and fanfare.

He helped her into the passenger's seat and then climbed into the driver's seat next to her. He turned the cruiser on and turned the heat on for her.

The shock had dropped her temperature so much that she had a bluish tint underneath her tan skin. He let her settle, let her breathe.

He watched as her respiratory rate returned to normal. He reached over and grabbed her hand. She didn't pull away.

"You're not okay. I know you're not okay, because I'm not okay either," he said, rather bluntly. "You suffered a horrible tragedy tonight, Em. I get that. I hurt for you." He'd known Maya, too. He hadn't loved her like Emily, but she'd been a friend. "I'm going to tell you something my mom told me before she died."

Emily prepared herself for an onslaught of positive affirmations that she didn't want to hear.

Instead he said,

"It fucking sucks. Losing someone sucks, especially like this. So be angry. Be upset. Feel what you have to feel to get it out." He squeezed her hand. "Just know that at the end of the day, no matter what you say, no matter what you do I will be here for you. I promise you that."

Emily wasn't sure how to react. She felt tears stinging her eyes again. But she didn't feel like weeping. She felt relief that he understood.

Her voice came out hoarse,

"Thank you."

He nodded and then stared at all the people working the scene. He kept his eyes fixed on the detectives that Emily had heard talking about the murders.

"This is not the first time, is it?" Emily blinked and then turned to look at him.

"What?"

"I heard the detectives talking. This is a pattern of some kind. Does this have anything to do with that serial killer they're talking about on the news?"

"I don't know. That's not my division."

Emily turned away from him and leaned her temple against the window.

"They're going to have to take your statement," Toby uttered.

Emily was quiet for the longest time. But then she turned to look at him.

"Not them." Her eyes locked on his. "You. I only want to talk to you."

"I don't know if they'll go for that…"

"It's either you or nothing, Toby." Her voice cracked. "I can't…I can't talk to some stranger. Not about her."

"Okay." He didn't want to see another outburst like he'd seen a few minutes ago. "Okay, I'll see what I can do."

He reached for the door handle and told her to stay put. He walked over to the detectives, who had been joined by the Chief and the Lieutenant. There was a tense conversation. A lot of hand gestures and serious head nodding. Then Toby turned around and walked back towards the car.

He slipped back into the driver's seat, reached for a tape-recorder and then faced her.

"Tell me what you've got." He hit the record button. "Take your time. Just…whenever you're ready."

How could I ever be ready to face something like this?

But the details came out surprisingly easy for her. She walked him through it and then he asked a few follow up questions. She answered without skipping a beat until he asked,

"Did she have any enemies? Anyone who would want to hurt her?"

"No." Emily stared blankly. Everyone loved Maya. She loved Maya.

She thought about the sniveling little weasel who had sold Maya on a rock star life.

"Wait." There was a flash on her face, a look of concentration. "There was a man."

"You saw a man?"

"No." She felt deflated, numb, unsure of herself.

She told Toby about the music agent. It would eventually lead them to a dead end. But they didn't know it at the time. And any lead was better than no lead.

Toby collected Emily's clothes for evidence, offering up his gym clothes as an alternative. They were too big on her, but she didn't care.

He drove her home, where she had to go over the whole thing again with her parents. Toby stayed with her. When they started to ask questions Emily simply got up and left the room.

She disappeared into her bedroom. She heard Toby telling them that the shock would wear off, but not to push her.

There was a rustling noise under her bed. Her cat slipped out from underneath it, meowing at her. He was a big orange ball of love she'd had for the past twelve years of her life.

"Hey, Sunny," she managed to whisper.

He hopped on the bed with her and lounged next to her, bumping his head against her hand every so often as he purred. It helped soothe some of the pain.

The next two days were a blur. She barely left her room. She just stayed curled up underneath the covers. Her dad left a tray of food for her at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but she barely touched it. Her mother hovered outside her door, which made Emily irritable.

By the second night her mother couldn't stand Emily's silence anymore. She'd pushed herself into her daughter's room and sat down on her bed.

Emily didn't want her there. Her mother didn't like Maya. She had been so unkind to her. It made her irrationally angry.

So when her mom touched her forehead and said, "Sweetie, I'm so sorry…" Emily lashed out.

"Stay away from me!" That's what finally got her out of bed.

She stormed out of her room. Her dad was at work, so it was just the two of them.

"Emily!" She'd scuttled after her, "Emmy, I just want you to talk to me!"

But Emily was reaching for her keys and rushing towards the door in her bare feet. Her mother tried to stop her, putting a hand on her arm.

"You never liked her!" Emily yanked away from her. She walked towards the kitchen, towards the back door. "You hated her! And now she's dead! You're probably happy!"

"Of course not. How could you say such a thing?" Her mother spit back angrily. "I wouldn't wish Maya's fate on anyone…"

"Don't say her name to me! Not after all the horrible shit you said about her over the years! Not after you blamed her for my sexuality!"

She made a beeline for the door.

Her mother followed her…right up until Emily picked up a glass and threw it at her. She wasn't aiming for her. She was aiming for the cabinet, but it still startled her mother into a strange submission.

She would feel horrible for it later. She'd behaved like such a brat. But grief did strange things to people.

When she slammed the door it rattled every bone in her body. She paced out to her car, her feet hitting jagged rocks on the pavement. She didn't care.

She drove to Toby's house and walked up the front porch, rapping on his door. When it opened he was standing there, his hair scruffy from being asleep. She looked him dead in the eye.

"I can't stay in that house. Not with my mom. I'm having a fucking panic attack." Her breath was ragged and wild.

He ushered her in.

She saw a six-pack sitting on his kitchen table.

He saw her eyeing it.

"It won't make your problems go away." He warned her as he walked over to the beer.

"I know. But this anxiety is worse than the grief. I can't take it. I can't breathe, Toby. I need something."

He sighed and nodded, letting her know it was okay for her to take one.

"Just one." He didn't want her to form a dependency on it, which is unfortunately what happened down the line.

They plopped down on his couch. Emily shoved the bottle into her mouth and drank the beer in big gulps. She hated warm beer, but it was better than nothing.

"This fucking sucks." Emily glared at the wall.

He'd told her that it was okay to say that, that it was okay to feel that way. He was the only one who understood.

"I know. I wish I could tell you it's going to get better. But I'm not going to lie to you." He still carried the grief of losing his mother.

"Can I stay here?" Emily turned to face him.

"As long as you need." He didn't hesitate to answer.

"Can I bring Sunny?"

"I'd be offended if you didn't."

After she was buzzed she ended up falling asleep. But she didn't sleep soundly. She was plagued with nightmares.

Those nightmares followed her throughout the years. The trauma stayed with her. Maya's death haunted her every day of her life. And the only thing that gave her comfort was knowing that one day she would find Maya's killer.

And she would make them pay.

o ~ O ~ o

"Detective Fields?" Alison's gloved hand was against hers. When had that happened? How long had she spaced out? "Are you alright?"

Alison had seen the blank look on her face. She knew it well. It reflected back at her in the mirror when she thought about her brother.

She saw something in Emily the same way Emily had seen something in her when she flashed back to her past. The heavy breathing. The distant gaze.

Emily blinked in a haze. She'd never frozen looking at a body before.

"Yeah." She shook it off. "It's just…"

Maya. Alison deduced. She was thinking about Maya.

A strange feeling curdled in the blonde's stomach.

What could I have done differently?

She mulled it over.

I should have killed him sooner. Before Maya got involved with him.

"Back in the break room I told you that I understood loss." Emily rubbed her gloved fingers together, staring at them. "Sometimes the grief comes out of nowhere. And it's just…"

She tried to think of the right word, but stumbled.

"Overpowering." Alison finished her thought, her eyes filled with sympathy. And it wasn't her brand of fake sympathy. She actually felt her pain. It was horrible.

"Yeah." It took Emily a moment to come down from her emotions.

Alison didn't push her to talk. Emily had offered her the same kindness when she found out about her family. She told her they didn't have to talk about it if she didn't want to. She wanted to extend the same courtesy to Emily.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Alison was having second thoughts about bringing her in to observe.

If it was opening doors in her mind that were hurting her she didn't want to do it. She knew what open doors did to people.

"Lock your door" had become more than just a childhood mantra for her. She had literally locked her entire childhood behind a door she never wanted to open again.

"I'll be okay. Sometimes I just…go to that place." She didn't know how else to describe it.

That place.

Alison knew that place. That dark place she never wanted to go to herself.

A camera flash.

Her mother trying to still her motions, putting her little hand against her brother's leg. Jason getting mad and screaming at the older woman. Their dad lunging towards him.

Another flash.

A dark closet. Her mother and brother at odds. Yelling. Screaming.

Alison pulled herself out of her thoughts. She focused on Emily. This was about the detective. Not about her.

"I completely understand." Alison knew what it was like to shift into her past. "If you ever want to talk I'll listen." A simple promise she could keep…she would keep.

Emily curled her fingers against Alison's with an appreciative smile.

"I don't mean to hold you up from your work." Emily glanced at Garrett's corpse.

"You're not." Alison pushed the rest of her fingers through Emily's, linking their hands for a brief moment. She wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do, but it felt right. "And going forward I want you to know that I prioritize the people I care about over everything else in my life. If there ever comes a time when you need a moment, I'll never begrudge you for that."

Emily blinked, staring at their joined hands. She'd been so lost in thought that she didn't realize that Alison had gripped her palm in hers. She was holding her hand firmly, holding her in place. Grounding her in reality.

"I'm aware." Emily smiled at her. "I witnessed that firsthand being your patient." Before Alison could correct her, Emily laughed and added, "Former patient."

She gave Alison's hand a gentle squeeze before she untangled their fingers. As far as bonding experiences went, they'd had a very strange road so far. But it didn't matter to either one of them. There was a quiet sort of familiarity and tenderness between them.

They had both momentarily forgotten about the body in the room.

Emily motioned to Garrett. She knew Alison had a job to do.

Alison changed her focus to the corpse on the table. Garrett's face was unrecognizable. Where his lips should have been was a large gaping opening, baring all his teeth for them to see without barriers. The back of his throat was exposed because his tongue was missing. She took note of the fishing wire thickly punched through his fingers and sewed into the appendage between his legs.

Alison had enjoyed that part very much. He had screamed into the rag in his mouth so hard he nearly sucked it down his windpipe.

"Poor bastard." Alison feigned sympathy. She shook her head. "What kind of savage would do this to someone?"

"I don't know." Emily trailed off, her eyes landing on Garrett.

Alison didn't see an ounce of sympathy on her face. Her eyes were cold. Hard.

"Something wrong?" Alison questioned.

Emily thought about what she'd seen on that video. Did it make her a monster that she wasn't sad that he was dead? It didn't make what the killer was doing right, but if there was one less rapist in the world...wasn't that just the way the world balanced things out?

"It's complicated."

Alison saw Emily flinch.

She's seen the videos.

Alison had left them for her to find. A present. A clue to let Emily know there was a connection to the kills, and to show her that Garrett and Ian weren't innocent.

Are you getting the message, Detective? Do you understand why I do what I do?

"Is there something bothering you?" Alison knew she would take the bait. "If this is too much for you we can…"

"No." Emily cut her off. "It's not that. It's…" She looked down at him in disgust, a dark expression in her eyes, "…him."

Alison tilted her head curiously to the side. She pursed her lips.

"What?" Emily saw the way the doctor was looking at her.

"I can't quite figure you out." Her gaze drifted from Emily down towards the body. Then she looked at Emily again. "He was the victim, was he not?"

"I'm not so sure." Emily muttered, but Alison heard it.

She understands.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me?" Alison laid her gloved hand against the steel table.

"Not all victims are innocent." Emily stared at Garrett. Her normally peppy demeanor had changed into something more intense. "Tell me what you see."

"Well…" Alison touched a gloved hand to his chest. "He's sporty. Likes his body. Probably a little too much. He strikes me as someone vain. Maybe even arrogant. Usually men like that tend to believe they're entitled to women. They lure them in with their good looks and fake charm. Older women are less likely to fall prey to that, so I would assume he likes younger women."

Much younger. But she didn't say it out loud. She couldn't give away too much.

"He'll have a healthy heart. His organs are likely normal with no abnormalities, except perhaps his adrenal gland. If we were able to ascertain samples from his penis I wouldn't be surprised to find that he'd had sex recently."

Very recently.

With a sixteen-year-old girl on his lacrosse team.

Fuck the NAT Club.

Fuck Garrett.

Fuck Ian.

Fuck HIM…

Wilden.

She wasn't sure whether or not Wilden had been into the same shit that Ian and Garrett were in to, but he was a sick fucking bastard nonetheless.

Alison tried not to curl her hand into a fist.

"My guess is that the contents of his stomach will be high protein solutions. Red meat. Egg whites. He seems like a young man who likes to partake in bulging up on powdered proteins. Boys buy into that crap. The 'build a better body' through expensive powders that are nothing of substance. He looks like he was active and avid in sports."

When she looked up at Emily she saw her brown eyes widen, impressed with her assessment.

"You can tell all that from a physical exam?" Emily asked.

"You'd be surprised what we can learn about someone post-mortem. The thing about the human body…it doesn't lie."

"You'd make a hell of a detective." Emily cracked a half-smile at Alison.

Alison smiled back. It was easy to profile someone when you spent weeks stalking them. Even so, she would have known all that about Garrett regardless. She could read people. She'd had to learn how to read people at a very young age. She had to know how to read anger.

Thanks, dad.

"I can also detect that you don't have a fondness for him, and I can only assume that to mean there's more to this story…" Alison pushed.

She just needed Emily to give a little.

"I'm not supposed to talk about active cases." Emily pursed her lips.

But you want to.

"And I'm not supposed to allow non-hospital personnel into this area without getting proper permission." Alison gave her a wry smile. "I promise not to tell if you don't. Perhaps we can even help one another."

Emily thought about it. She was wavering. Alison didn't push. She knew Emily would let her in.

"Don't feel obligated." Alison shrugged. "I merely thought we might be able to put our brains together and figure this monster out."

The monster that she was referring to was not herself, but Garrett. But she knew that Emily would assume it was about the Scarlet Letter Killer.

"Would you mind handing me the bone saw over there?" She pointed to the table behind Emily.

"This is the weirdest first date ever." Emily laughed.

"Oh, it's a date now?" Alison lifted her brows in intrigue.

"Hyperbole." Emily smiled and gave her a little shrug. "But you did touch my boobs and then we shared lunch, so…"

Emily stopped when she reached the equipment. The bone saw was huge. She picked it up.

"How well-versed are you in this area?" Emily walked over to the table.

"Forensic pathology was my major before I had a change of heart in school." Alison reached across the table and took the instrument from Emily. "I studied a lot of it."

She'd been studying it since she was seven years old.

"What changed your mind?" Emily asked, tracing a gloved finger over the corpse.

"I prefer to work with living patients."

It wasn't a lie. She got a thrill out of torturing people and hearing their screams. Garrett's, in particular, had been like sweet music to her ears.

Ian was the first target of the two, solely because she'd seen the video of what he'd done to the girl in the barn. But Garrett was complicit. In fact, Garrett not only encouraged Ian in his sick actions, he'd committed sick actions of his own.

They'd joined an exclusive underground club that remained Rosewood's dirty little secret. A club that had been co-founded decades ago. The founder was closer to her than she cared to admit.

Hope you're rotting in pieces you miserable old shitbag.

It was because of him that people like Garrett and Ian could get away with doing what they did.

She'd been following Garrett for a while. He was a high school lacrosse coach for the girl's team.

When Garrett took advantage of a young blind student at his school and raped the girl Alison had set her sights on him.

She watched him for weeks, tracking his every move. He was rigid with his schedule. Morning protein blend. Morning jog. School. Prey on girls who had no way of knowing they were being preyed on. Coach the girl's team. Rigorous afternoon work out. Jerking off in the evening.

He usually watched old videos he'd made with Ian. His stupid homemade pornographic films. Ian had been smart enough to get rid of the evidence. But Garrett was too cocky and vain to do so.

She had surprised him one night when he'd been in the middle of rubbing one out. He'd heard her slipping into his living room, but by then it was too late.

She'd plunged the needle behind his ear, a tiny pinprick that would be impossible to find.

When he was conscious again he was defenseless. He'd only seen a blur of blue eyes after he was able to focus again. He'd barely been able to make out the blonde's figure.

She was wearing a surgical cap and a face shield. She had suited up in a gown and a rubber fisherman's smock.

Alison picked up the fishing line and the lure, her finger hovering above the gigantic needle. She'd reached up with a gloved hand and pressed two fingers against the pulse point on his neck, knowing that the blood would be rushing through his veins.

She'd shuddered when she felt it, tilting her head back and closing her eyes as she blew out a shaking breath.

Blood is a life force.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He'd twisted, trying to free himself to no avail. Just like Ian.

He was trapped.

Trapped like the girls they'd hurt for years would be trapped in their own minds for the rest of their lives.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Who the fuck was she? Was she the angel that Emily saw? An angel of justice? Was she a monster?

She wasn't sure. She settled for the middle ground.

"I'm a fucking angel of death." She'd bared her teeth at him. "Say hello to Ian for me."

She'd shoved a rag in his mouth to muffle his screams before she showed him images of the young girls he'd assaulted.

He'd been helpless to do anything but cry as she ran the hook and lure through his hands and into his dick, like she was suturing a surgical patient. As always, she made it a hack job. It couldn't look too perfect.

To keep him quiet as she went to work on his face she sewed his lips shut before cutting them off and marring his stupid perfect smile that had charmed girls in all the wrong ways. He was vain and cared about his appearance, which is exactly why he needed to die a mutilated version of himself. She'd then yanked the rag out of his mouth and sliced his tongue out. That tongue that had done unspeakable things.

Once he was dead she'd carefully positioned the body on the couch and put the laptop on his abdomen. She made sure it was plugged in and then she put the videos he'd been watching on an endless loop.

She'd left feeling satisfied that there was one less pervert in the world.

She had tried to time the kill around the time that Emily would be coming in to the hospital for her suture removal.

Her plan had been executed flawlessly.

She was staring at her work with the brunette by her side. It was sloppy, but perfect at the same time. It was exactly what she needed it to be.

Emily was staring, too. The detective was taking in every last inch of the body. She was searching for clues. She wouldn't find anything. Alison was sure of that.

"You're awfully quiet, Detective." Alison furrowed her brow. "Are you alright?"

Emily's rigid stance was very telling. Alison had an idea of what was on her mind.

She was doubting herself. She was doubting her humanity. Because she didn't hate that Garrett was dead.

He deserves to be dead, Emily. He was a bad man. Give in to that urge. It's okay to feel it.

"What exactly did this man do to warrant that scowl you're giving him?" Alison questioned.

Emily didn't even realize she'd been scowling. She'd been deep in thought about all the girls Garrett and Ian had hurt.

Was the world any worse off without them?

Sometimes vengeance was justified…

What has happened to my humanity? Emily shook her head and sighed. Had she lost that part of herself when Maya died?

"Garrett Reynolds was not a good man." The brunette stared at the brutalized body.

She could hear Toby in her head,

"DO NOT TALK ABOUT THE CASE TO CIVILIANS!"

But Alison wasn't a civilian. She was Alison. She was a doctor. She was discreet. Emily knew she could trust her.

"Oh?" Alison didn't push for more. She'd learned that less was more. If she asked for more Emily would shut down. If she simply showed an interest the detective might open up more.

"He did atrocious things. Things that make my stomach churn." Emily turned her head, and for a minute it did look like she might throw up. Finally, she looked up at Alison, composing herself. "He hurt young girls."

"He what?" The shock was fake, but the outrage was real.

"I can't disclose anything else. But I'm sorry, I'm having trouble finding sympathy for him."

Alison took her time to absorb the "new" information. Ten seconds wasn't long enough. Thirty seconds was too long. Twenty seconds was the sweet spot.

She cleared her throat after twenty seconds.

"From what I can gather this man sounds like he was a terrible person." Alison echoed Emily's sentiment. "So…he deserved this?"

She saw the brunette struggle with her answer.

"I…he…no." She put the back of her wrist flush against her forehead, a nervous tic. "I don't know. He was still a human being. A monster of a human being. But he deserved the right to a trial."

A spine-tingling bolt of anger shot through Alison's body. Some crimes were unforgivable. Garrett had been an accomplice to numerous rapes of minors. And he'd also done his fair share of raping minors. Even if he had gotten a trial and gone to prison he wouldn't have lasted a day before he was shanked. There was honor among prisoners. Sexual crimes against children wasn't tolerated even by the worst offender out there. She had done Emily and the justice system a favor by killing him.

"He should have had to face the consequences of what he'd done. He should have had to see his victims' faces…" Emily lowered her hand.

Oh, he did…

"Interesting take to have considering you seem to have such disdain for the man." Alison reached for a scalpel on a tray. She pressed it against Garrett's shoulder, drawing a diagonal line down towards his abdomen.

"As much as I wish I was, I'm not judge, jury, and executioner. You can't claim all those powers. We have a system in place." Though her belief in that system seemed to be faltering.

Many times the system failed in horrible ways. Alison knew that from experience.

"Listen, if it was up to me I wouldn't have a problem with someone like Garrett Reynolds biting it like this. But I took an oath…" Emily watched as Alison rounded the table.

The blonde stood next to her. She traced another diagonal line that met the first one, making a V.

I took an oath, too. I just amended it.

"I believe in law and order. Don't you?" Emily stared at the freshly made incisions.

"What I believe in is science." She focused on Garrett's body. "Medicine. I believe that our bodies hold answers to certain questions."

"Think those answers could get me the name of the person who killed him?"

Alison had work to keep from smirking. If Emily only knew she was in the presence of the Scarlet Letter Killer.

She looked up at the brunette, scalpel hovering between them. She was close enough to sever her carotid artery, but she wouldn't do that.

"Unfortunately, that's not my area of expertise. I can profile the victim and I can give you details that might be relevant to the killer, but I believe it falls to you to profile them."

"Relevancy such as?" Emily peered at her, and Alison found it hard to resist her.

"I can't claim to be an expert, but just from observation alone…" She took a moment to observe Garrett's body, even though she didn't need to…even though she already knew every inch of him. "You're looking for someone with ideals. A planner."

She strummed the fishing wire, not realizing that the sight of it was making Emily nauseous. She didn't know Emily had been the one to find Lyndon's crime scene ten years ago.

"The person doing this to your victims is telling a story."

"That's exactly what I've been trying to tell Toby. It's not about the scene or the body or any one element. It's about the entire story behind it."

"You're looking at someone vengeful. Angry." It was easy to profile herself. Fortunately, Emily didn't know the monster inside of her, so Alison knew she had nothing to worry about. "Someone who doesn't care so much about their legacy as they care about saying something with these horrible acts of violence."

She locked her eyes on Emily, waiting to see if there would be spark of recognition.

She knew there wouldn't be. She had been extremely careful in her kills. It also helped that the murders had started when she was a kid. There weren't many female serial killers out there, and even less children that escalated to the point where she was at.

"Yeah, we figured. It's just hard to profile the killer when all the kills are so different…" Emily was biting her lip in concentration.

Alison wanted to taste those lips.

Emily suddenly gasped, and for a second Alison was worried she'd seen through her act. The brunette shook her head and cursed under her breath.

"Please don't tell anyone I let that slip. Especially not with Alex Drake around."

"What? About the kills being different? That's in the news." Alison shrugged.

She'd been watching the news. She'd been watching her work.

"Yeah, but there are certain details that are being withheld from the media. I have to be careful about what I say."

"Not around me you don't." She shifted closer to Emily, feeling her body heat. The hand that wasn't holding the scalpel brushed Emily's hand.

The closeness relaxed Emily. She looked down and saw their fingers dangling next to each other and she had to fight the urge to curl her hand into Alison's again.

We're standing over a dead body, for God's sake. Emily shook her emotions off. But she still wanted to hold her hand…to touch her.

"I assure you anything you say to me is in confidence. Doctor-patient confidentiality." She winked.

"Except you're not technically my doctor anymore and I'm not technically allowed to disclose anything that's not medical related." Emily's eyes were still on their fingers.

"Technically is so boring." Alison made the first move when she reached out and curled her pinky into Emily's, holding it for a few seconds as she smiled, "Pinky swear."

Just like their pinky swear when Emily had been in the hospital.

Emily considered it. Maybe it could help to get a perspective from outside of where they were currently looking. She and Toby had been locked inside of a box looking at things from every single angle and they were still no closer to the truth.

They were still no closer to vengeance…

Justice…

…justice for Maya.

And for all the other victims.

Emily decided the risk was worth the reward.

"It can't leave this room." She tightened her pinky around Alison's.

"You have my word."

"The profiles of the victims are all very different. Men and women of all ages. Most serial killers tend to have a type. For instance…" She took in Alison's appearance. She looked like a typical victim. "Blonde hair, blue eyes…" Emily smiled at her. Alison felt a rush of excitement at the thought of someone stalking her, "young single female…"

"I suppose I'll need to hire some personal security." Alison quipped. "Are you looking for any extra work?"

She peered at the gun on Emily's hip. She imagined pulling Emily into the supply closet and ripping her zipper down, distracting her with some heated finger play as she slowly slipped the weapon from its holster.

It could be fun. It could be dangerous. And she knew that it would make the encounter even more intense. Because fear was a stimulant during sex. It's why BDSM relationships worked. Fear and pain. And anticipation.

But all consensual.

It had to be consensual. If Emily said to stop she would stop. She didn't have self-control in a lot of aspects, but she'd never hurt the brunette...

Would I?

"The way they're killed differs, too. Some are mutilated. Some die from single fatal injuries."

Lyndon.

His throat had been slashed.

"Usually there is a sexual nature to the crimes, but so far none of the victims show any indication of being raped or sodomized by the perp." It was curious she hadn't mentioned the detachments of limbs and appendages or the way the bodies were posed. "Early on, Detective Cavanaugh had a theory that the killer was impotent…"

Alison had to stifle a laugh. Her sex drive was perfectly fine. A few weeks ago she'd been drilling a toy into some girl she'd met at a bar. That girl had no less than six orgasms. And she'd repaid the favor to Alison, letting the blonde ride her until they both nearly collapsed from oxygen deprivation.

She also had an on-again off-again fuck-buddy, Taylor, who never complained. They weren't really a thing. They just used each other for stress relief.

Alison wondered how Taylor would feel if she found out Alison wanted more with the detective.

"He thought that the perp was killing the men because they don't like males to have something they don't. Virile males. His thought was that this person kills the women to assert his dominance. But that theory is kind of shot because of some new evidence that came to light."

The videos. Alison smiled. You're welcome, Emily.

"There is no pattern…"

Oh, but there is. Alison thought to herself.

Every single person she killed had committed some atrocity.

The punishment must fit the crime.

"Well, I take that back. There may be a pattern. We're looking in to it." She sighed. "This killer has been murdering people for sixteen years. And we are no closer to finding them than our predecessors. We can't even get a bead on what the suspect might look like. Older. Younger. Man. Woman."

Emily dragged her fingers against the edge of the steel table.

"Statistically speaking about 56% of serial killers are white males between the ages of twenty-five and fifty. It's a wide range. That still leaves a decent chance of it being someone of a different race. We've just seen so many infamous white male serial killers that it's where our minds go. But we have to think outside the box. Beyond race, we have to think about gender. Males have the highest rate of being serial killers. But there have been female killers as well. It's hard for me to believe a woman could be committing these murders, but I do have to consider it."

"So, you think women to be less…barbaric?" Amusing.

She pressed the scalpel against the corpse. The corpse that had once been a vibrant living person until she had decided he didn't deserve his life.

"I think it would be hard for women to overpower these men without leaving a trace of evidence behind." Emily nodded towards Garrett's body.

"Hmm…" Alison smirked teasingly. "Sexist…"

"It's just a fact." Emily shrugged. "When I'm out there on the streets I know my limits. I know when someone is going to physically have the upper-hand."

"You seem perfectly capable of handling yourself. I can tell you work out." She gave her a flirty grin as she looked at Emily's biceps.

She could imagine those biceps bulging around her body. She looked like she could squeeze the life out of someone.

Alison turned back to the body on the table, making another incision where the other two met, dragging it down his navel to expose his organs.

She looked him over, from top to bottom.

"There don't seem to be any defensive wounds on the body. Have you considered that the killer is subduing them in a manner other than physically?" Alison asked.

"You mean drugging them?" Emily shook her head. "None of the victims have had traces of any sedatives worth noting in their blood."

Alison smiled. Because she was that good. Her first kill had been the lure of her sexuality. Even at fourteen, she knew gross men.

She had graduated to using their own vices against them. She waited until they were drunk or high enough to be amenable to her suggestions. After she got into medical school she started learning about pharmacology. She created a blend of medication that was undetectable in the bloodstream.

Alison went to work on the body on the table. It was quite unique in the fact that she was destroying her own work of art. Once she had the body cavity open and the chest completely cracked she started taking the organs out, weighing them individually.

Emily watched the process in fascination. She didn't say anything. She didn't want to break Alison's concentration. It was only when Alison picked up the bone saw that she even remembered Emily was in the room.

She looked up at her, finding Emily's curious eyes on hers.

"Part of the process is removing the brain." She walked to the head of the table. "Would it bother you if I asked you to assist? Sometimes the skull moves when the sawing starts. Don't feel obligated though."

The request caught Emily off-guard.

Before she could answer there was a sharp noise behind them. Heels hitting the floor.

"Dr. DiLaurentis."

Emily turned around to find a tall thin brunette in a white overcoat that said Hastings on it.

"Kathleen informed me that you were performing this autopsy with an audience." She crossed her arms across her chest and tapped her foot, like a mother would before scolding a child.

Fucking Kathleen. Alison was definitely going to kill that woman at some point.

Emily saw the tension between the two women. It seemed to go beyond the hospital walls. She wouldn't figure out until later that they were related.

The detective had noticed that everyone seemed to be on edge in the hospital…except Alison. She knew it was because of her past. Alison had learned at an early age to let little things go. She had learned there were worse things than a bad day at work.

The hospital could be a very cold place. Alison was a rare warm spot in the middle of a winter storm.

Emily knew the job was stressful, but she couldn't help but think about the hostility that Alison was facing.

Is it pick on Alison day? Because fuck that shit. Emily didn't like it. She felt a protective surge flowing through her.

She shot the doctor a look and then stepped towards the woman and extended her hand as an attempt to make peace…to get her to back off of the blonde.

"Detective Fields." Emily realized she was still wearing the white gloves. She pulled her hand back and pulled a glove off and reached for the doctor's hand. "I'm investigating a murder case. Dr. DiLaurentis is assisting me by conducting this autopsy for Rosewood Homicide."

"Oh." Hastings took her hand and shook it back. "Spencer Hastings."

She dropped her arms to her sides and her entire demeanor changed. She glanced at the gun on Emily's hip, which backed up her story.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." Spencer ran her fingers through her hair and pushed a few strands of it behind her ear.

Alison was fuming.

Because Kathleen didn't tell you, because she's a shit-stirring bitch.

Spencer looked at Alison.

"You should be more careful, Alison. You know how fast rumors fly in this hospital. If the Chief found out you did this without informing her…"

"What is your mom going to do to me, Spencer? I'm the best surgeon they have." Alison didn't seem interested in what she had to say.

"Your mother is the Chief here?" Emily questioned.

"Nepotism wins again." Alison laughed lightly, jokingly for Emily's sake. But she wasn't joking.

"She's worked here for years. She even managed to raise me while going to medical school." Spencer shot a pointed look at Alison, unappreciative of the shot at her family.

Emily noticed a tight expression on the blonde's face. Something about the hit felt personal.

Alison didn't retort.

"Just…make sure you keep the channels of communication open, okay?" Spencer asked.

Fuck you, I don't answer to you. You don't get to keep tabs on me like I'm some sort of child.

"Sure." Alison nodded.

"It was nice to meet you, Detective." Spencer looked in Emily's direction. "I apologize for the mix up."

"Don't worry about it." Emily smiled. "It was nice to meet you, too."

When she left Alison quietly went back to working on Garrett's body. She didn't ask for Emily's help again.

Emily let her work while she attempted to do some work of her own. She thought about Garrett. About Ian and Talia. Sydney. Maya. Darren Wilden.

Connections could be made that most of them went to the same high school. Garrett and Ian knew each other. But Talia and Sydney didn't know any of them or each other, at least not according to statements given by people who knew them. The killer could be a student or teacher at the high school, but it was just as likely that it wasn't.

Then there was the way the killer staged the scenes. Some of the victims were killed where they were posed. Others were taken to a separate location. Some were discreet, out of the public eye. Others were out in the open for everyone to see.

The only thing the victims had in common was the brand on their cheeks. Emily stared at the letter carved in Garrett's cheek. Then she looked at Alison, who was carefully cutting into his body searching for answers.

She didn't realize that she was chasing answers that were right in front of her. Because her heart was already in the palm of Alison DiLaurentis's hands. And the blonde wouldn't have it any other way.

---

A/N: In one corner we have Alison wanting to stab everything in sight. In the other corner we have Emily questioning her humanity. This is bound to end well. Nothing like a little trip to their past (shout out to Book Alison's friends!) to make them appreciate their present. And hey, flirting over a dead body is TOTALLY romantic, right? RIGHT?