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

17. Wounded

A/N: I know everyone is eager for Emily to find out Alison's twisted little secret life. Patience.

Tread carefully with this one. There's some triggering material.

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Chapter 17:

Wounded

Emily's running shoes slapped the pavement as she jogged through the streets. Light rain misted against her face, mixing with the salty sweat that had gathered there. Her heavy breaths echoed in the quiet morning air.

She ran in time with the beating of her heart. Every beat, a pace forward, a heavy breath. She wasn't necessarily running to anything rather than away from her past.

The two newest victims, Tim Roland and an unidentified Jane Doe were in the morgue at Rosewood General Hospital. The Roland family didn't want to have anything to do with Tim. The ex-wife had signed his remains over to the state to deal with. Emily had seen Chloe in the station holding Grace in the waiting area. The young girl had on a brave face.

They were working on a lead to identify Jane Doe. Holden was consulting with Aria about the woman. She wasn't anyone local to the Poconos, and given the SLK's MO they'd concluded that she had to be from Rosewood.

He'd gone as far as having the body sent to Rosewood so Aria could examine her thoroughly. They'd been chatting on the phone about their findings.

I think he likes her, had been what Emily texted to Toby when she found out last night.

That. And he says he wants to be thorough. Dr. Montgomery has seen the other vics. He wants to make sure these two are consistent with the others, was his response.

And what does Wilkins think?

Clark agrees with Holden. He wants this one in the "solved" column, no matter who gets the credit. Seems like a good dude. Glad they're working with us.

I just wish we had something.

They were no closer to catching the killer than they had been three months ago. It was starting to wear her down. Maya couldn't rest in peace until they knew who was murdering people.

Every time Emily closed her eyes she saw her old girlfriend.

"I can't stay. I'm not built to stay. I have to get out there. See the world."

She'd had such big dreams. She'd deserved to see the world.

"I thought we were going to do that together. We were supposed to go to school and then do those things together…"

The pain. The feeling of abandonment. She'd been hurt.

She reasoned that her pain and her uncertainty had been why she hadn't gone with Maya that night.

"You should come with me."

The soft expression on Maya's face disappeared into a darkness in her mind.

Then…

A sea of blood.

Maya's body.

Blood-curdling screams.

Blood soaking into her jeans.

The smell of rotting flesh.

Emily ran harder, forgetting to control her breathing. She was holding her breath.

Spots appeared in her eyes.

Breathe. She told herself. Breathe or you're going to pass out.

The pavement started to swirl in front of her.

One bottle of bourbon. Two bottles. Three.

Hospital lights.

Grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change.

A pair of headlights blinded her.

The courage to change the things I can.

A car whooshed by her. A cold gust of air blew across her face and she heaved out the breath she was holding in.

And the wisdom to know the difference.

She crouched over, hands on her knees, panting heavily. Sweat drizzled off of her forehead and speckled the pavement below.

Her stomach heaved.

Really should have eaten something beforehand.

She straightened her spine. The scar on her chest felt tight. Sometimes the muscles surrounding the ribs where the bullet had hit her ached when she ran. She rubbed a circle underneath her right breast to soothe the pain and then arched her back.

She decided to walk the rest of the way to cool off. The mist felt good against her face. Her clothes were damp, a mixture of her sweat and the rain.

Her phone buzzed. Toby's contact photo – a picture of him and his German Shepherd, Duke – popped up. Duke was a rescue. He was a great dog. he made her miss her silly old cat, Sunny. It had been years since he had peacefully passed away in his sleep.

"What's up, Cavanaugh?" Her breath was still heavy from her run.

"Uh…you sound out of breath. Did I interrupt a little morning delight?" There was amusement in his tone.

"A lady doesn't kiss and tell." She turned a corner, Alison's house in view. Maybe there was time for them to get in a quick romp in the sack.

"You're no lady, partner." He wasn't wrong. She was every bit as crude and lewd as a common trucker.

Emily laughed.

"I'm on my way back to Alison's place. Went for a morning jog." Her heart was pounding in her ears.

"Surprised you left her side with the killer still out there." He always knew exactly what to say to remind her of their dangerous world.

Always thinking like a cop.

The only reason she'd left Alison was because she wasn't planning on being out too long, and she'd done a perimeter sweep before leaving. Twice.

Like Toby, she also always thought like a cop.

Before leaving, she'd pressed a kiss against the blonde's head and left a note that she'd be back before breakfast.

Alison had seemed distracted lately. Emily wondered if the crime scene at the Poconos had been too much for her. Seeing dead patients in the hospital was one thing, but being actively in the middle of death was another.

"She told me she doesn't like me to hover. Makes her feel like a child. And…well…I know what her childhood was like, and the last thing I want to do is force her to relive it." Emily stopped when she reached Alison's driveway, bending over to pick up the newspaper.

Alison was old fashioned. She liked reading the paper while having her morning breakfast. It was one of her many quirks.

"But you hover so well." Toby loved busting her chops. It had been a sport of his for years.

Emily didn't mind it. It made her feel like she was part of the boys club at work. No one treated her any differently just because she was a woman.

"Did you call for a reason or are you just busting my balls?" Emily leaned against Alison's mailbox, staring down the street, tracking the perimeter.

"Got some good news. The locals out in the Poconos picked up a partial print."

Emily almost dropped the phone. A lead? They finally had a lead? Usually the killer was a ghost. Left no trace.

"About fucking time!" She wanted to raise her fists in the air and cheer. Then she realized it was still dark and people were still sleeping.

"It's not much. FBI ran it through AFIS for us." Automated Fingerprint Identification System database, which scanned millions of fingerprints. "Nothing showed up. But it's something. Apparently they lifted one partial from each body. One was lifted from underneath Roland's knee. The other was on our Jane Doe's buttocks."

"Explains why they didn't light up under UV at the scene." Emily replayed that morning in her head. Aria had been so thorough with the light, but they hadn't been able to get to the underside of either body.

"Exactly," he replied. "They ran the two partials against one another and it's confirmed that the prints came from the same person. Don't have an ID, but it's a start."

"Holy shit, this is amazing." Emily had to resist the urge to jump up and down like a child.

"Thought you might be a bit peeved we didn't find the first break."

"Hell no." Emily felt an energy jazzing through her body. "I'm just glad we have something to work with."

"Kind of odd for him to slip up after this long." Emily could hear the skepticism in Toby's tone. "And to leave a print on both bodies? Makes me wonder if it was deliberate…"

"First of all, don't say him." She curtly reminded him. Other genders were just as capable as men, even when it came to murdering people. "Second, stop theorizing. You're ruining my buzz."

"Sorry, I'm just thinking out loud."

"Montgomery done with her prelim yet?"

"Working on it." Toby replied. "I think she saw what she needed to see at the scene. Holden seemed hell-bent on getting in contact again. I think it's his nerdy way of flirting with her."

"Yes. They're totally sending each other body parts instead of chocolates and flowers." Emily cranked back with a laugh.

"You're one to talk. You and Alison were ready to claw each other's clothes off in the hospital."

There was a beat.

Emily couldn't argue.

"Touche." Good job, old chap.

There was rustling in the background. He was clearly running through some notes.

"We'll talk more at the station." He was mentally already off the phone.

"See you in a bit."

"Enjoy your morning sex." She could practically hear him beaming through the phone.

"I'm hanging up now." She heard him laughing…no…not just laughing. Cackling. She heard him cackling as she ended the call.

"Fuckin' men." She rolled her eyes with a laugh.

She slipped her phone into a pocket in her yoga pants and walked towards the porch, newspaper swinging in hand. Her keys were inside a pocket in her sports bra.

It was wild to her that they'd already swapped house keys. The months had really flown by. They hadn't spent one day apart.

Full immersion therapy. Emily grinned to herself.

She could immerse herself in Alison DiLaurentis all day long.

When she approached the house she heard muffled noises from inside. At first she thought Alison might be up, but something felt…off.

Something is wrong.

Visions of Maya's dead body swarmed her eyesight.

Her heart started pounding.

She reached for the door just as a loud crack filled the air behind her.

She spun around and saw the same eyes that had locked on hers the moment before she was shot in the liquor store.

In the darkness she saw the flash of a muzzle. She instinctively threw her arms up in front her chest and backed into the door, waiting for the pain.

She was on the liquor store floor.

It reeked of alcohol.

Her chest hurt.

Fingers covered in blood.

"I'm going to die." Was her first thought. Her second was about her father. "Dad, I'll see you soon."

But then the darkness faded and an old car making a bunch of racket drove by the house.

Car backfire.

Jesus, Fields, keep it together.

She pressed her palm against her chest, finding no blood.

She was fine, but something was wrong inside the house.

She slipped the key in the lock and opened the door. She heard faint crying coming from the upstairs bedroom.

She threw the paper on to the couch and took several long strides and bounded up the stairs. She wasn't sure what she expected to find, but she was ready for a fight. If anyone was hurting her girl she wouldn't hesitate to use deadly force.

To her surprise, Alison was still in bed. Alone. No one else was in the room. But the blonde was screaming like someone was torturing her.

Emily had seen her have nightmares before, but nothing to this extent.

She kicked her shoes off and moved across the bedroom, carefully crawling next to the weeping blonde. She wasn't sure whether to wake her or not. She'd heard it was important not to wake people in the middle of a nightmare.

I shouldn't have left her.

Alison always slept better in her arms.

Emily wiped a tear that had slipped out from underneath her closed eyelid and kissed the edge of her eye.

"I'm here, Alison," she whispered as she stroked her hair.

My God, she's covered in sweat. How long has she been like this?

Was she dreaming about her childhood? About her parents abuse? About the older man who had taken advantage of her? About Tim Roland in that ambulance? The dead bodies at her cabin?

So much trauma to pack into such a tiny body. And that's only the trauma Emily knew about. She had no idea Alison was deeply concerned about another killer in the shadows.

Emily didn't know that Alison went to bed every night fearing for their safety.

The detective saw Alison's body react to her touch, and she gently wrapped her arms around her.

"You're safe. I'm here." She carefully rolled Alison against her body until the blonde's cheek was against her chest…against her beating heart.

"My Emily." Alison murmured with a smile.

The blonde's breaths came out hot and heavy against Emily's damp clothing, but she was settling. Her arms automatically found their way around Emily's body. Her body shuddered against Emily's for several minutes until the shaking finally stopped.

Emily kissed the top of her head.

Alison was one of the strongest women she knew, but if she ever had to step in and protect her she would scorch the earth to keep her safe.

Emily laid completely still, holding the surgeon in her arms. She stayed perfectly still until Alison stirred ten minutes later.

"Em?" she mumbled into the brunette's clothes, still damp from her run. "You're wet."

Emily cheekily replied,

"For you? Always." She kissed her sweaty head again, threading her fingers through her hair. "You were having a bad dream."

"I was?" Alison picked her head up off of Emily's chest and peered up at her.

"Yeah." Emily slowly averted her gaze. "I went for a jog and when I got back you were thrashing around and crying."

For a brief moment Alison wondered if that's what her victims felt like, but then she remembered she didn't care.

They deserved it.

She felt a surge of something…something she wasn't used to feeling. Embarrassment. Emily had seen her stripped bare and vulnerable. It was humiliating.

It was one thing for her to play the part of needing someone to protect her. It was another thing entirely to lay her wounds bare for Emily to see.

"I'm so sorry I left."

Alison kept her face buried. She didn't want Emily to see her shame. She'd never felt shame.

What is happening to me?

"It's not your fault." Alison murmured against Emily's warm embrace, still refusing eye contact.

"Are you okay?" Emily whispered.

"I'm okay." She nuzzled against Emily. "Thank you," she said quietly, pressing a kiss against her sweaty collar bone. "For being here."

"I wouldn't be anywhere else in the world." She laid her palm against the small of Alison's back. Sweat had drenched her silk nightgown.

"Do you often have night terrors?" She'd spent many nights with her and had never witnessed anything that intense.

"Not since I was a child." She remembered her Aunt Mary holding her and stroking her head, cradling her, rocking her. She remembered screaming that her daddy's friends were going to hurt her. She remembered wetting the bed and seeing monsters in the shadows.

But most of all she remembered her aunt telling her, "Everything is alright, sweet girl" and Alison thinking, "I'm not sweet. I'm broken."

The fact that the terrors of her past were seeping into her mind, now, of all times was baffling. She was happy with Emily. Truly happy. She was starting to think that the urge to kill would go away completely. If her rituals were a sickness, then Emily was the cure.

But her nightmares were sending her careening back to her childhood. Back to a time she'd worked had to forget.

The dreams forced her to reexamine everything about her upbringing. It opened doors she didn't want opened.

Now, what she thought were innocent memories were muddied and tainted into twisted realizations. They were realizations that she'd repressed for many years, but they'd clawed their way out and she was being forced to face them.

Her mind was forcing her back to where it all began, back to the day she'd become an object instead of a living breathing human child.

o ~ O ~ o

~ Then ~

She was five the first time she realized the extent of her beauty. She was sitting in a chair in front of the bathroom mirror playing with her favorite Barbie as her mother hummed and brushed her hair.

"You know, Alison, from the moment I first saw you I knew you were going to be a breathtakingly beautiful girl." She put the brush down.

Alison looked in the mirror, back at her mother's reflection. She swung her little legs back and forth. She was wearing her favorite red and white dress.

"Shall we put some make-up on you?" Her mother smiled at her.

Alison smiled back. She loved playing dress-up with mommy.

Her mother swiveled the chair so that her side was to the mirror. Out of the corner of her eye she watched her mother's reflection as she padded her little cheeks with a light pink blush.

She put the blush down and reached for a small compact.

"Close your eyes, sweetie."

Alison did as she was told. There was a light pressure against her eyelids.

Her mother used something smooth against her skin and then told her it was okay to open her eyes. They felt funny when she did. Slick.

She stole a curious glance at herself in the mirror, seeing light shades of blue when she blinked.

"It's pretty." Alison poked her eye in the mirror, leaving a smudge against it.

"It makes your eyes stand out. Guys will love it."

She made the little girl sit really still as she drew on her eyelids with a pencil. She brushed a sticky black substance on to her eyelashes. Alison didn't like it. It made her eyes feel itchy. She wanted to touch it, but her mother said it would smudge.

Her mom reached for a tube of lipstick. Bright red. The color of blood. Alison remembered the first time she'd seen that color on her skinned knee. She'd been fascinated by it.

"Push your lips out like this, darling." Her mom demonstrated, puckering her lips.

Alison mimicked her mom. The lipstick tickled her mouth as her mother trailed it across her lips.

When she was finished she held the tube in the air.

"You look like a living doll." She smiled.

They heard heavy rapid footsteps approaching. Her dad walked into the adjoining bedroom. Alison could tell he was upset about something by the way he was clutching his knuckles, like he had too much energy. She felt like that when she had a lot of sugar.

"Where's Jason?" Her mother asked.

"Being a little dickhead. I swear that boy likes to piss me off." He cracked his knuckles like he wanted to hit something. "We've got some real interest lined up down the road." What he didn't say was 'when she's a few years older.' "It'd be easiest on her if the boy was the first. He'd be real gentle…he's such a little pussy. We would make double what they usually pay with both. But convincing him might be a problem."

"He'll come around." Her mother's tone was light and airy. She turned Alison's chair around. "Doesn't she look just perfect?"

The angry man with the nervous energy disappeared. In his place there was a sweet doting dad smiling at her.

"Like a princess." He grinned, too big, too wide, like he was looking at a show pony.

"Am I going to be in a pageant, daddy?" She'd only ever seen girls dressed up the way she was for the competitions that her parents watched on TV.

"Something like that." Her dad nodded. "One day…"

Jason came stomping into the room. He looked at his sister's face and then glared at his parents. Without saying a single word, he paced over to her and snatched her hand.

"Come on. We're going to ride our bikes." He looked pointedly at his parents, "Like normal kids."

"But I'm a pretty princess." Alison stared at herself in the mirror. She looked at her brother in confusion. "Do you not like it?"

His tone softened as he looked down at her,

"Princesses can ride bikes, too." A gentle smile.

He started to usher her out of the room. Their father moved to stop him, but Jason whispered something to him through his bared teeth and the older man backed off. Alison didn't hear what it was, but it must have been scary to stop her dad in their tracks. Because their dad could be a scary man.

Jason gripped her hand tightly as he walked down the hallway with her. He pulled her into her bedroom so they could get her changed into something better for bike riding. Alison picked out a pair of jeans and a purple shirt.

Jason reached for a tissue and leaned down in front of her as he muttered something about her parents "trying to make her look grown."

"Let's wipe that shit off your face." He dipped the tissue in a glass of water next to her bed.

"But I look pretty." Her lips quivered.

Jason sighed as he gently wiped her face clean.

"You look just as pretty without it, kid." He reached up and cupped her face, wiping away the remnants of the blush. "Now let's go have some fun."

He reached for her hand.

She took it, like always.

o ~ O ~ o

"Do you want to talk about it?" Emily shifted so she could look into Alison's eyes.

There was something in them that the brunette had never seen before.

Terror.

The detective's face tightened in concern. Alison noticed the expression in her eyes.

You can tell I'm afraid. You can tell I'm wounded.

"It was my parents." Her throat felt like it was closing up. "Emily, they…" She choked back a sob. "They were very bad people."

"I'm so sorry," was all Emily could think to say.

"I think…I think they only wanted me because they wanted a pretty little girl." Her face twisted in anguish. "They would have put me through hell just to line their pockets with money." Her throat burned. She thought she was going to throw up. "Who does that? What kind of person has a baby with that in mind? It's sick. They didn't care what happened to me. They never loved me…"

"Your aunt loved you." Emily reminded her. "Your brother loved you."

I love you… She started to say, but she saw Alison flinch.

Images from the nightmare flashed through Alison's mind. She still wasn't sure if it was a memory or just her mind playing tricks on her. It had felt so real.

When she did a dive into her past she had a hard time distinguishing imagination from reality. Her thoughts felt fractured. She was disconnected from her present…her mind spiraling into her past.

The broken pieces of her dream filled in pieces she'd been trying to hide from herself for years.

She grabbed on to Emily, hoping the brunette would anchor her to the present.

"Alison, what's wrong?"

The blonde felt herself sinking into the darkness.

No.

No, I don't want to.

I don't want to go back.

But it was too late.

o ~ O ~ o

~ Then ~

Two years after her mother had first dressed her up, things had drastically changed at their house. Her mommy and daddy kept pushing her to get all dressed up and pose for pictures with her brother. It seemed to upset Jason, but she didn't understand why.

She didn't realize how delicate her life was, hanging in the balance.

She was seven. Innocent and sweet.

She had been playing with her dollies that day. She loved her dollies.

She was sitting quietly by her dollhouse humming and making a doll with brown hair and brown eyes dance with a doll that had blonde hair and blue eyes.

She'd been moving them into the dollhouse when he burst into the room with a look of madness in his eyes.

When she saw the cold hard look on her father's face she knew. She knew exactly why he'd come there.

She dropped her dolls and leaped off of the floor as he rushed towards her. She scrambled over her bed to the other side of her room.

Her little heart started beating against her chest. She spun around, panting, staring at the madman before her.

For a brief second neither one of them made a move.

"Get over here." A brutal command. "Get over here RIGHT NOW!"

His big booming voice seemed to fill the whole room. She wanted to cover her ears and cry.

"GET OVER HERE!" He screamed again.

Alison shook her head. She didn't know she'd slowly been backing herself into a corner until it was too late.

He rounded the bed and moved towards her. She looked around desperately, nowhere to go. He was within grabbing distance again.

She made a last ditch effort to get away by falling to her hands and knees and crawling between his legs. She could see the door to her bedroom within distance. She thought if she could crawl fast enough…

But he was faster. He spun around and leaned down, finally getting his hands on her, yanking her up by her arm. She shrieked out a pained cry.

"Daddy, let go of me! You're hurting me!"

When she looked at him she saw an angry icy glare telling her that he didn't care.

"If your brother won't do what needs to be done…" like she was some kind of chore, "…I will." He snarled.

Her body started shaking, vibrating in fear. There was something in his eyes that terrified her.

"You two are going learn to listen to us one way or another." He tightened his hold on her arm, a bruising grip. "This is Jason's doing." The man knew the best way to break the boy's spirit wasn't to hurt him, but to hurt his little sister. "I intend to break him down, too. But first…"

She whimpered, tears leaking from her eyes.

I didn't do anything wrong. I'm a good girl. I'm your pretty little princess. Don't you love me, daddy?

She wanted to fight. She wanted to scream. But she was too scared. Something warm and wet soaked her underwear. It ran down her legs and drizzled on to the carpet.

"Now look what you've gone and done!" He was angrier now, even though she didn't mean to.

He sat down on the edge of Alison's bed, flipping her over in his lap.

She squeezed her eyes shut and started sobbing.

She waited for him to hit her.

But there was a flash, and then she was on the floor. Sticky wet carpet that smelled like pee. Her favorite dress soiled.

Knuckles cracking against bone.

Jason hitting their father.

Then she was all alone again.

She started to cry. She felt ashamed. And her body hurt all over. Her tummy felt weird, like she'd eaten too many gummi bears and was going to puke. Her mouth was dry and tasted like puke.

She blinked and she was sitting in a cool bubble bath. It hadn't been cool when she started it. She'd been sitting there for a while.

She loved bubbles. Usually they made her happy. But she didn't smile. She didn't giggle and make soap beards and castles. The frothy white foam surrounded her as she stood up and reached for her Barbie towel.

She knew she needed to get changed, but she couldn't make her feet do what she wanted them to do.

Another flash.

Jason carrying her back to her room, towel still wrapped tightly around her.

Jason loved her. Jason protected her.

She blinked slowly and saw the light in her room dimming. Her big brother glared out the window like there was a mean beast outside. He let the curtains fall.

"Make sure you keep these closed, okay?" He walked over to sit down on the bed next to her.

"Okay." Alison replied. She put her hands in her lap, nervously fidgeting.

Jason put his hands on top of hers.

"You're okay, Ali. I'll protect you." And she believed him.

The light faded into another memory.

Jason groaning, sweating profusely as he threw up in the toilet.

Hushed whispers from her parents. Talks of him going to the hospital.

The immense terror she felt at being left alone with her father.

Jason promised to protect her. He couldn't protect her if he wasn't home.

Jason hugged her tight and told he would be back as soon as he could.

"Lock your door, Ali," he whispered. "Remember, always lock your door if I'm not here. Even when I'm here…lock it."

As soon as he was gone that's exactly what she did. But she still didn't feel safe, so she grabbed her Care Bears blanket and hauled a pillow into the closet and slept there. Bathrooms and closets made her feel safe because there was just enough space for her. No monsters could get in. She stayed in her closet all night and all morning. She didn't leave, not even for food, until Jason came home.

Her mother had given her strict orders not to bother her brother.

He needs his rest, she'd said.

But Alison didn't listen. She crawled into bed with him and cried.

"It's okay. I'm home now, Ali."

"Never leave me again. Promise?"

He nodded. He looked pale. Weak. He was usually the picture of health, but the stomach bug had taken a lot out of him.

There was rustling outside his door and Jason shot up, moving Alison towards the closet. He warned her to stay quiet and cover her ears, but she could still hear her mom's voice.

"How are you feeling, son?"

"Fine." A muttered response.

Her footsteps padded against the ground. A squeaky noise. The mattress. She sat down with him.

"Jason, we need to talk." A sigh. "It's time. Once you're well enough we have to get ready."

"I already told you no. I'm not doing it." Defiance. Anger. And…fear?

Jason was afraid? Why?

"Your grandfather will be disappointed to hear it."

"I hope that old bag of bones fucking keels over choking on his own spit." The hatred and venom in his tone was scary. Alison never heard his voice shake so much. "And honestly, fuck you for going along with it."

The loud sound of flesh hitting flesh. A palm striking a face.

Then a gasp, like she regretted hitting him.

There was a pause.

Jason was the one to break the silence.

"I don't care what you and dad do to me. I won't hurt her. She's my little sister. No one is putting their hands on her as long as I'm alive. Not you. Not dad. Not Grandpa. Not any of your stupid friends. Your little NAT club can fuck off. I'd tell them to suck my dick, but they'd probably just get off on the idea. So just stay away from us."

Alison rocked back and forth, hands cupped over her ears. She was trying very hard not to cry.

She closed her eyes, trying to pretend she was somewhere else.

The darkness took over, and suddenly they were in the kitchen.

"Where the hell have you two been?" Their father pushed his chest out. "Do you know how much you cost this family?"

He was furious. Alison had never seen her daddy so mad, and that was saying a lot since she had seen him mad many times.

"Ken, there will be others. Would you stop yelling?" Her mother snapped.

"Others!?" Now Jason was yelling. "No! I am so done with this shit."

He tugged on Alison's hand, dragging her out of the kitchen and towards the front door.

His back was turned, so he didn't see his father reach for the knife.

But Alison did.

"Where do you think you're going?" The older man barreled into the living room.

"Kenneth, have you lost your mind?!" Her mom screamed, chasing him.

They were yelling again and Alison's head was throbbing. It hurt so bad.

"We don't need him anyway. All we need is her." The way he looked at Alison made her shiver. She ducked behind Jason as her father tried to grab her. "My pretty little princess. You want to make daddy happy, don't you?"

"You keep your fucking hands off of her or I swear to God." Jason flared up angrily.

Alison still had a grip on his hand. She was violently shaking and crying. Her other hand was up against her temple near her eyebrow, like she had a terrible headache.

"I'm scared, Jason." Her voice came out quiet and choked. "I want to go…"

Go where?

Where did they have to go? Her brother couldn't keep her safe forever.

She knew what her daddy wanted her to do now. And she didn't want to do it.

"Give her to me." The knife gleamed in the chandelier.

"Over my dead body." Jason refused to back down.

"You're asking for it, boy…"

"We're leaving." Jason cut him off.

"Not until you answer my question…"

"This is ludicrous!" Their mother threw her hands up in the air. She reached for Ken's arm, but he shoved her away.

"I asked you a question, son. Where are you going?" He swayed with the knife, eyeing the boy, then the front door.

"I'm doing what I should have done in the first place." Jason hissed through his teeth. He was shaking again, and that made Alison afraid. "I'm going to the police."

The lights went out.

Alison couldn't see anything. She was hiding from it.

There was screaming.

Then a flash.

Blinding lights.

And she was standing in the middle of a bloodbath with the knife in her hand, drenched in her family's blood.

o ~ O ~ o

Alison wasn't sure when the tears had started, but she felt Emily wiping them away from her face. She felt a vigorous kiss against her forehead. She clutched Emily's sports bra like a terrified child.

"What is it? What happened? Talk to me."

The blonde was trembling in her arms.

"I don't…" I can't go back there. I can't open that door. "I can't."

"Okay." She's so understanding. "It's okay. You don't have to." Emily's fingers weaved into Alison's. "I just want to help. How can I help?"

Stay with me. Love me. Comfort me.

Alison had never felt the need for comfort before. She didn't even know what comfort was supposed to feel like, but she was certain the answer was in Emily's arms.

She just needed to feel wanted. To feel needed.

"Just…let me in, Alison." She cupped the back of the blonde's neck, her fingers drawing soothing circles at the base of her skull. "Tell me what you need."

Alison swallowed the fear burning the back of throat…that terrifying pain that Emily might not love her if she saw the monster inside of her.

Timidly, the doctor tilted her chin up, her mouth meeting Emily's. Emily cupped her cheek and Alison leaned up to kiss her.

Alison felt resistance at first, and she loved Emily for it, because she knew that Emily was questioning whether it was okay to get physical while she was such an obvious mess. Emily was sensitive to her vulnerabilities. They'd both been assaulted before, and the question of consent was something they each took seriously.

To ease her sweet girlfriend's mind she pulled back and looked into her soulful brown eyes.

"You." Alison whispered before placing another gentle peck against her lips. "I need you, Emily."

"You're sure?" Emily combed her fingers through Alison's hair.

Alison nodded.

It's okay. You're not taking advantage of me.

Emily felt Alison moving, slowly climbing on top of her. The detective gasped into the kiss when she felt a warm wet puddle against her damp pants.

No panties.

The brunette ran her fingers along Alison's outer thigh, slowly dipping inwards.

Alison laid her hands against the edges of Emily's hips, tugging at the waistband of her yoga pants, working them down her legs with the brunette's help. Emily never wore underwear with her yoga pants. It was a treat that Alison had come to love.

Emily pulled her sports bra off.

Alison touched her top lip with the tip of her tongue and raised her brows at the brunette as she lifted her arms and pulled her nightshirt off over her head. Really, it was Emily's night shirt. She'd left it over one night. Alison loved it because it smelled like her.

Alison sensually rocked her body against Emily's, creating a friction between them. Emily watched, marveling at her curves, at her motions.

Their pelvises slowly rocked together. Emily's hands were firm against the blonde's hips, helping her stay upright.

Alison found comfort in Emily's eyes every time they made love. She felt connected. Grounded.

She felt like a real human should feel.

Their slick centers slid together as soft quiet gasps filled the air. Alison leaned down and grasped Emily's cheeks, capturing her lips in a sensitive kiss.

Emily's hand was against Alison's back as they slowly bucked into each other. She started to roll Alison to the side so she could connect with the rest of her body. She needed to feel the blonde's skin against hers.

Alison reacted instinctively, putting her leg in between Emily's. Emily mirrored it, doing the same for her. Their legs tangled together as their bodies moved in tandem. Their chests heaved against each other.

The new position offered them closer contact, something Alison desperately needed to feel. It was a more intimate connection, fitting into each other like pieces of a puzzle.

The blonde curled her ankle around the back of Emily's foot and moaned into the kiss as Emily's fingers trailed down her chest and swirled around her breasts.

The detective lightly raked her short manicured nails down Alison's stomach and drew invisible patterns that sent a wave of goosebumps rolling across her body. Then her fingers were between her legs…and Emily's eyes were locked on hers.

Alison copied Emily's movements until her fingers were against her core. Emily shuddered at the contact.

Emily's fingertips wandered to the scar on Alison's leg, watching as several different emotions flashed across the blonde's face. Her eyes flickered away for a few seconds, pushing away the memory of how she had gotten that scar.

"Alison." A soft hand landed on the blonde's cheek. "Look at me."

When Alison finally looked, there were tears in her eyes. Emily could feel so much pain radiating off of her. She didn't know what to say.

You don't have to say anything, sweetie.

She simply kissed her, and that was all Alison needed to soothe the ache in her chest.

Alison felt as if though Emily was pulling the darkness out of her, her breaths drawing the pain away.

As the brunette soothed her soul, Alison started moving her fingers against Emily's slick center. She felt Emily shudder and mewl into their kiss.

Alison went slow, taking her time. Her fingers dipped into Emily's wet heat at the same exact moment that Emily pushed forward into her, earning the brunette a satisfied "ahh" and a shiver.

Their lips met as their bodies moved. Alison felt like they were dancing, weightless. Nothing but the two of them and music that only they could hear.

The beat of a drum. The beat of their hearts. A rising crescendo. A fire building inside.

Their soft breathy cries were an expression of their love.

Alison felt her orgasm approaching quickly. She moaned and tucked her head underneath Emily's chin, her breath heavy as she curled herself closer to Emily, pushing the detective deeper inside. As she clutched Emily's fingers tightly she slowly looked up into the detective's calm cocoa-colored eyes.

She wanted Emily to see what she did to her body…what she did to her.

When she came she let go of everything she was holding inside.

She let her walls down.

She let Emily in.

The brunette could see the scars of her childhood in her soul. She could see pain. Shame. Fear. Grief. Anger.

So tiny. So helpless. She was a baby.

Emily saw the abuse. She saw the death of her parents. Her brother.

She saw the man who took advantage of her.

She saw the death of her aunt.

She saw Tim holding her down in the back of the ambulance.

Oh…honey, how can I even begin to help you heal? Emily's heart ached for her.

So much pain.

Emily could feel it.

It was staggering.

She tried to swim through the emotions, but she felt like she was drowning. She wasn't sure how Alison managed to stay afloat.

Alison wanted to turn away, wanted to hide. But she didn't.

The blonde let the course of her feelings rush through her. It was invigorating. Her heart swelled with something. Something she had never been able to say before.

"I…" Alison gasped when she felt Emily slowly stroking her insides.

I love you.

She wanted to say it, but she couldn't.

Emily pressed her forehead against Alison's, her hot heavy breath sweet against the surgeon's face.

"I know." She knew exactly what Alison was trying to say. Something she'd also been too afraid to say herself. "Me too."

Alison guided Emily to the edge, her fingers slow and steady, curling gently. With her free hand she cupped Emily's cheek, her eyes bestowing a look,

Three words I can't say.

I love you.

She loved her. She loved Emily Fields.

She is the reason my heart beats. She holds it in her hand.

Her entire body throbbed.

I am hers. And hers alone.

Emily never broke eye contact when she peaked. She whimpered into Alison's kiss. Alison swallowed her cries of pleasure.

And she is mine.

As quickly as their dance had started, it had come to an end. Alison pressed kisses against Emily's exposed flesh.

Emily pulled her close, holding her as if she let her go she might lose her forever.

Alison closed her eyes and smiled.

The nightmare was over. She was in her lover's arms. Safe. Safe from her memories. Safe from her past.

Emily was her safe place.

The silence had an overwhelming kind of power. They didn't have to talk. Their bodies had said all they needed to say.

Alison slowly looked into Emily's eyes.

You see me. You really see me. And you still love me.

"Ali, I…" Emily had seen something she'd only seen once before in the blonde. But even the first time they'd slept together she'd held back everything she wanted to say. "Everything that's happened to you…I don't know how to help…"

"It's okay." Alison whispered against her lips. "I'm okay. You help by being here. Just hold me."

She curled her fingers in between their hot sweaty bodies.

Emily closed her eyes and swallowed a knot forming in her throat. She'd seen a raw version of the blonde. Alison had peeled back her skin and showed Emily her scars.

Something Emily hadn't forgotten was that Alison's newest scar was because of her involvement with her. Tim Roland had put his hands on her. He'd nearly taken the beautiful doctor away from her.

The thought of losing Alison was enough to trigger a wild reaction of fear that she couldn't control.

"You're shaking." Alison stroked her cheek, coating her fingertips in Emily's perspiration.

"When I heard you crying out for help…" Emily touched her face, cradled her cheek, "God, I was so afraid someone was hurting you." It was Tim Roland all over again. "My world…it's dangerous. And I'm terrified that you're going to get hurt again."

Alison flinched, but not because she was afraid. She flinched because Emily had no idea what the true danger was.

Your world may be dangerous, but I'm the true danger. To you.

And this new killer is even worse.

I can't let you get caught in the crossfire. I care about you too much…

"I don't think I could go on if something happened to you." The detective raked her fingers through the blonde's hair, "I know it's only been a few months…and maybe it's too soon, but…" She hesitated.

Say it. Alison begged. She wanted to hear those three little words.

"I think…" She jabbered nervously, like a shy high school teenager completely flummoxed by her feelings.

You're confident when you're ramming the strap in me. No time to get shy on me now, Detective…

Emily pressed her lips together in tight smile.

She wanted to say it.

Before she got the chance, Alison said it for her.

"I love you." The blonde's dainty fingertips grazed Emily's chin, guiding the detective's strong jaw towards her lips.

Emily caressed her cheek and then pulled back.

"Yeah." Emily chuckled, relief flowing through her. "That." She peered directly into her icy blue eyes. She kissed her again, her lips firm against Alison's. She touched her face tenderly. "I love you, Alison." She shook her head with a laugh. "I am…crazy in love you with."

Well, one would have to be crazy to love someone like me.

Emily's face was flushed with vibrant color, and Alison suspected it wasn't just because of the intimacy they'd just shared. She looked…bashful.

"We're really at this stage?" Emily blushed.

"You're the one who hit on me when you were actively bleeding out. You started it." Alison poked her in the ribs. They both laughed.

"I regret nothing." She pressed a kiss against her lips. "Besides, you were so flirting with me. You had sex-eyes."

"I did not!" I did so. Very much so. Unethically so.

She had felt something the moment Emily was wheeled into her ER. She would never forget putting her palm against Emily's chest and savoring her beating heart.

It was a feeling she'd come to appreciate over the past several months. It soothed her. Some nights it lulled her to sleep. She felt like Emily's heart made her whole, like she wasn't broken. It was the heart she'd never been granted. It beat for both of them.

The detective was breaking down her walls, the cracks becoming fissures, and while the dam hadn't completely ruptured yet…it was there building pressure…ready to explode into a raging river.

"How are you feeling now?" Emily rubbed her arm.

Like I could hold on to you forever.

"Less broken."

"Hey," Emily gently gripped her chin and kissed her. "You're not broken."

You don't even know the half of it.

"I know your past is hard for you." Emily stroked her knuckles against Alison's jaw. "You went through unspeakable things. Things no child should ever have to go through. I understand that you can't open that door. Believe me, I do." The detective had shut a few doors of her own. "But if you ever do want to talk about it, I'm here. I'll always be here."

Her soft lips landed against Alison's.

She didn't push her. She never would, which is what made her such a good girlfriend.

"Knowing that means more to me than you could ever know." Their eyes met and Alison slowly blinked before looking away.

"I love you, Alison." This time it was a whisper against her cheek. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too." Alison looked at the clock and sighed.

They had few precious moments together before the world of adulting tore them apart.

"We should call out sick." Alison burrowed into Emily's body. "Have a day to ourselves."

"You know we can't do that." A soft hand against the blonde's back made her quiver. "We both have lives to save. You have surgeries. And I've got to catch a killer."

Alison looked up at her.

You've already caught her, my love. The question is, what do you intend to do about it?

Alison's extracurriculars could certainly get in the way of their relationship. She didn't like to consider the ramifications of her kills. Before Emily it had all been so clear. But the waters were muddy now. She was in love. And that threw a new equation into the mix.

If they stayed on their current path it was bound to end in heartbreak and disaster.

Unless…

What am I willing to sacrifice?

Could she give it up?

Ever since she could remember...it had been a primal need. A force inside of her, pushing her, letting her know the darkness was still there. But maybe now that she had a light…

Emily.

Maybe she could be normal.

Maybe she could settle down, have a family. Maybe she could be a soccer mom. Emily was an advocate for justice. Maybe she could steer her in the right direction, help her catch bad guys without Emily being any the wiser.

Maybe that could be enough to satisfy her needs.

"Tell me what's on your mind." Emily caressed her face.

I would stop killing for you.

I think.

She'd set certain boundaries in her mind. But she never wondered what would happen if she broke free of those restraints.

What would I feel?

What if she leaned in to her emotions instead of walling them off? What if she could control her urges to kill the way Emily controlled her urges to drink?

"Alison?" Emily's fingers dipped into the curve of her temple, gently massaging it.

"Have you ever felt like you were standing on the edge of something?" Alison's gaze slowly met Emily's. "And gravity is pulling you towards some unknown extreme…and you don't want to fight it? You're just there, fighting to maintain a balance so delicate that if you shift one way or the other it could all come crashing down?"

If she let go, truly let go…which way would she fall?

Would she crash into Emily's arms? Or would she drown in the sea of blood that she was so used to?

Emily cocked her head, considering the question.

"Yeah." Emily answered, uncertainty in her voice at first, but then she said with more confidence. "Yeah, I have."

"It was after Maya died, right?" She saw Emily's eyebrows rise in surprise.

I know you quite well, my dear Emily.

"It was." Emily nodded. "It's the first time I ever felt an itch that I couldn't scratch…"

God, I know that feeling.

"My grief was…" She bit her lip. "Overwhelming. I fell into this abyss…this obsession. I wanted to know who killed her so badly that I didn't see that I was drowning."

"Can I ask you something?" Alison snuggled up against Emily's heated flesh.

"Anything."

Alison took a shallow breath in through her nose and looked up at the brunette. She nervously drew patterns into Emily's arm.

"If you had to choose between me…" She chewed on her lip, "…and finding Maya's killer, which would you choose?"

Alison saw something that looked like pain flicker in Emily's gaze. She wasn't quite sure it was appropriate to ask, but she had to know.

"Why…" Emily's brows knitted together, her eyes fixed on Alison's. "Why would you ask me that?"

Alison took a thoughtful breath.

"I think about my past." She tried not to, but it was always there. "I think about it a lot. And I…I don't want to anymore."

I don't want to think about the body count I've left behind, no matter how much they deserved it. Because it could mean losing you.

"I don't know how to move forward…except with you. And I wondered if you felt the same." The blonde pressed a kiss against the edge of Emily's jaw. "I have been thinking about how to separate myself from it. I just…I don't want our past to define our future."

The scowl on Emily's face turned into a sympathetic expression.

"Oh." Emily reached up and rubbed her eyebrow. "Well, it's…" She ground her jaw together. "It's a little different, I think. It's my job to make sure justice is served…"

"But if it wasn't." Alison pushed. "If it was for you…what would you choose?"

Emily looked up, her eyes landing on an invisible spot on the wall.

She considered the question. Alison had a point. Sometimes people clung like hell to the past. But how could she move forward after something so traumatic?

She looked at the blonde in her arms. Alison was her future. As much as it hurt her to even consider it, Maya was her past.

I was selfish for asking. Alison realized.

But after a few seconds Emily looked down at Alison, a timid smile on her face.

"You." Emily kissed the top of her head. "I would choose you. That's not even a question in my mind, Alison. I will always choose you."

It was just what Alison needed to hear.

If Emily could choose her, she could choose Emily. She could at least try to change…to take that leap and see where she landed.

If you can choose me, I can choose you. I can give up my obsession for you.

There was a vibration against the floor. Emily's phone, still inside her yoga pants. She reached into the pants pocket and pulled it out, looking at the screen.

She laid her head back against her pillow and threw her arm across her forehead and grumbled.

"Sorry. Work beckons." Emily started hammering out a reply. "From Holden's request of the second opinion…"

He likes Aria. Alison smirked.

"…and the fact that we got a partial print from both vics…it's been a little crazy." Emily rattled off the words before she realized she was sharing sensitive information.

Prints? They have fingerprints?

Alison froze.

How?

She'd been wearing gloves when she put the stripper's clothes back on her, and she'd been extremely cautious with Tim. There was no way her prints would be on them.

Unless…

Unless someone had seen her and was trying to frame her to up the stakes. But then why kill someone else?

"Do they have an ID on that Jane Doe yet?" Alison tried to appear interested, but not too interested.

"No missing persons that point to who she could be, but we haven't looked at the underground yet. There is a strip joint right outside of town. One of the girls just called in a tip. We're following up today. Apparently one of the pole dancers hasn't been to work this week. She fits the profile for our Jane Doe. We're just waiting on a photo and positive ID to confirm it."

I still can't believe this psychopath killed that stripper. What a fucking asshole. Doesn't know how to follow the rules.

"Toby has a working theory. Something about Roland seeking out his comfort in dark alleyways and strip clubs…"

Score one for Officer Doofus…

That's exactly how she'd found him.

"He thinks that maybe the killer nabbed them both around the same time. Killed him first. Made her wait…" Emily sighed and lowered her arm, groaning into her elbow. "I have to go." Her tone conveyed the rest of what she was thinking, I don't want to.

"I'd ask you to reconsider my offer to call out sick."

Her nightmare had really shaken her foundation. And she was still processing the love that they'd shared, the inherent need. The "I love yous". The rush of emotions. It was a lot for her.

Emily curled her arms around Alison and kissed her forehead.

"Ethics first…"

That might be a problem down the line.

"But I'm just a phone call away." Emily added softly. "I mean it. If you need anything, I'm here for you."

Alison kissed her.

"Get to work." She shoved the brunette's chest gently.

The detective slipped out from underneath the covers, giving Alison a perfect view of her smooth toned ass. Alison reached across the bed and slapped it. Emily turned around and laughed.

"Thanks for the deep dive, Detective." Alison winked.

"Appreciate those skilled fingers of yours, Doctor." Emily winked back.

The wink was so fucking cute. Alison loved it. She stored a mental picture of it.

She watched Emily's ass jiggle towards her bathroom.

She glanced at her laptop. She wanted to do some research about the murders, but not with Emily in the house.

The detective already had a chip on her shoulder about being a danger to her. She would flip out if she found her digging into the murders.

Murders that she had committed. Mostly.

She rolled over in bed. Emily's spot was still warm. She pulled Emily's pillow close and bathed in the scent of their afterglow.

She had never let anyone in, not even her Aunt Mary. It was a first for her. She was used to faking vulnerability. She wasn't used to actually experiencing it.

She closed her eyes and buried her face in Emily's pillow, thinking of the three little words they'd shared.

I love you.

It lulled her into a tranquil state.

She was semi-conscious when Emily kissed her goodbye and told her that she was locking all the doors.

The detective made her promise to be careful when she left for work.

Alison murmured out an okay and I love you. She was asleep again seconds later.

Emily smiled and ruffled her hair, thinking "sex comas are the best" as she walked out of the room.

She wished she had a few more hours to sleep in. She was dragging by the time she got to the precinct.

She barely murmured a hello at her partner as she walked into their office.

She poured herself a pot of black coffee, hoping that would do the trick, but it barely touched her. Her restless night had her practically falling asleep at her desk.

The gentle lull of the AC created a quiet ambiance. The white noise only made her drift further into a state of slumber. The bubbling of the coffee-maker behind the wall. The icemaker right next to it gently swishing, water running to make ice. She was almost asleep when a loud ding from Toby's computer nearly sent her careening out of her chair and into the floor.

"Everything alright there, Fields?" Toby peeked out from behind his computer. He had a twisted grin on his face. "Early morning booty call left you without your solid eight hours?"

I'd rather fuck Alison for eight hours straight than sleep.

"You two better be careful, lest she wind up pregnant." He teased her. He pushed some paperwork aside and reached for a file in his open drawer.

"I think you are severely mistaken in how pregnancies occur." Emily snorted out a laugh.

"You look exhausted. You not getting enough sleep?" He shut his drawer and opened the folder on his desk.

"I never get enough sleep." She murmured into her coffee cup. "Where are we on SLK?"

"The analysis of the partial print came back." He stared at the file that the Poconos PD had shared with them. "We can narrow it down to a race thanks to the detection of ancestral backgrounds. The print had certain characteristics of…"

"Let me guess." Emily interrupted him. "Caucasian. Male." It's always crazy white dudes.

"A small stature Caucasian male. Or…" he peered at her curiously, "…a female."

"Oh, so now you're changing your tune about that?" Emily had suggested that all along, but Toby had rebuffed her.

"You could be on to something. I don't want to overlook anything."

"It must have caused you actual physical pain to say that." She threw a balled up sheet of paper at him with a laugh. He hated to be wrong. He was a very stubborn man.

Toby grumbled out an intelligible response and picked up a bagel that was sitting on a napkin on his desk. He was all business again,

"You think this person has a family?" Toby wondered out loud.

"It's possible." Emily nodded.

"Would be kind of wild to think that the family doesn't suspect…"

"You know as well as I do how good serial killers are at wearing masks. Some of the most prolific killers in history had families. Bundy, Kuklinski, Baumeister, Chikatilo, Keyes. They were so good in their roles that no one had a clue." Emily jotted down the names, trying to find a common element.

How could one person so expertly be two completely different people?

"How could you not know pure evil?" Toby clucked his tongue.

"Because the duality of certain serial killers can be complex. On one hand you have the viciousness. But then you have some who make what seem to be genuine connections."

"Might explain why profilers still can't fit this killer in a box." He flipped through some notes, balancing the bagel and the paperwork. "This isn't someone killing for themselves. They are killing for a purpose. What the profilers do have is that it's probably someone good with a knife."

"No shit." Emily huffed out a sarcastic laugh. "A butcher. A hunter. A chef…"

"They think it's someone from a rich background because of the artful style the bodies are posed. Someone who appreciates fine literature, given they're using The Scarlet Letter as inspiration. It points to someone educated. Most likely someone religious, given the biblical context of the poses and the focus on exposing sins. Narcissistic. Arrogant. God-like complex. Perhaps someone with a job that comes with a position of power."

All things that Alison wanted them to think. When she was young she had the foresight to plant little seeds along the way.

She was playing a role. She wasn't herself when she was performing her rituals. When she wasn't cutting off body parts she was someone totally different. She was a quiet humble doctor who was kind to everyone.

"A professor. A lawyer. A doctor…" He paused and looked at Emily.

Even if Alison had crossed her mind as a potential suspect, the fact that she was with her during the windows of the most recent kills ruled her out.

"Yes, I'm sure the doctors at Rosewood General have plenty of free time to commit murder between the 48 hour shifts and constant patient demands." Emily shook her head with a wry smile. "Unless you think Spencer Hastings is that good at time management. What else you got?"

"Politicians?" Toby looked at his list.

"They murder our hopes and dreams every day. The slimiest of slime." Emily nodded. "Definitely evil."

"We can't even rule out someone in law enforcement." He cocked an eyebrow at his partner, analyzing her.

Emily snorted so hard that her elbow hit her coffee mug. It almost went crashing to the ground.

"Yeah, I'm totally out there playing Lorena Bobbitt on the pervs in town. Started when I was a child."

Toby cracked a smile, teasing her,

"You want to back your innocence up with some alibis, Detective?" He sank his teeth into his bagel.

Without skipping a beat Emily replied,

"Yeah, I was buried inside of my girlfriend making her orgasm around the time the last victim was killed."

Toby coughed and choked on the bread in his mouth. He threw his fist against his chest to shake the food from his throat loose.

Emily grinned in pride.

"Care to question my whereabouts any further? I'm happy to share the details with you."

He looked at her like a little sister, and picturing her in bed made him squirm. He teased her about it, but he didn't want an actual visual.

"Sounds iron clad to me." Toby cleared his throat and gulped down some coffee.

Emily was kind enough to give him a second to swallow his coffee before she declared,

"That's what we've named the strap." She leaned forward, a devious smirk on her face.

"Okay, okay, God, Fields, I get your point. Stop." He squinted his eyes. "I was just fucking with you." He cleared his throat again. "Ah," He shook his head as if he was trying to shake his brain loose, "…let's just uh…get back to the case."

"Not so fast. Don't I get to question you?" Their banter loosened them up a bit. Sometimes they had to go at it to relieve some of the tension of the job. "Where were you on the night in question?"

"Nowhere nearly as interesting as you. I'm afraid my only mistress is my work. Feel free to check my time card. And my browser history." Toby's computer chimed. "Oh, wow." He lifted his brows in intrigue.

"What's up?"

"You remember the request I put in with the IT team to pin down an IP and location on the dark website we suspected Tim Roland of operating?"

Emily scooted her chair next to his, the wheels rolling against the floor until they bumped his chair.

Toby angled the computer so she could see it.

"He registered the domain. Not under his own name. But it was traced back to him. And look who was on it."

Emily scanned the names in the email.

Garrett Reynolds, Ian Thomas - no surprise - and Talia Standival?

"Holy shit." Emily clicked through the information. "Talia?"

"Explains the pose she was in. Wonder what dark stuff she was in to."

Emily shuddered to think. She had been an exotic dancer before becoming a children's dance instructor, so it could have been something she'd done when she was stripping. But…if it involved the children she was teaching…

Emily's heart cinched in her chest.

The playful nature had been completely sucked out of the room.

What if she had done something to one of the kids?

"Think we should look into her past? Maybe someone knew something about her. We could use this to narrow in on our killer." The wheels were turning in Emily's head.

First the fingerprints and now this.

"I've conducted several interviews and they all said the same thing. She was universally loved."

Alison was lucky that Toby hadn't delved deeper. If he had he might have found out that she treated one of Talia's students for a UTI.

It was only when the girl's mother left the room to use the restroom that the little girl told Alison her dance teacher touched her and she didn't like it.

Talia was dead a few weeks later.

Emily pushed her chair back over to her desk and started going through photos again.

"What else do the profilers think?" Emily questioned.

"A lot of the mutilation seems random. The cuts are jagged. Uneven. They think it's someone who doesn't take pride in their work. It's not about perfection."

Also what Alison wanted them to think.

"It's emotional." Emily looked at a photo of Wilden's corpse, completely unaware of the heinous things he'd done to Alison. "Anger. The victims, while outwardly appear to be chosen at random…are chosen for a reason. They're being targeted."

"Like Dexter. The Bay Harbor Butcher. Only went after murderers." Toby nodded. "Guess our guy…" He saw the look Emily was giving him so he amended, "or girl…has a type." He picked up Garrett's file and glanced at the evidence write-up. "I mean, if these people are all guilty of sexually exploiting children…" He drifted off.

Emily flinched. She could hear Alison's screams from her night terror echoing in her mind.

"You okay?" Toby asked.

"Fine." Emily picked up the report Toby was reading.

She blinked, thinking about the fear and pain she'd seen in her girlfriend's eyes as they made love. She thought about a childhood so horrible that even the thought of revisiting it brought on a panic attack for her.

Is this what Alison's parents were trying to do?

She started to grind her teeth.

Maybe people like that do deserve to die horrible deaths.

Of course, she couldn't see what was right in front of her. She couldn't conceive of a world in which her sweet charming girlfriend who took an oath to save lives might be the very killer they were looking for.

Love blinded people to reality. Protected them. No one wanted to believe their loved ones were capable of murder.

But Alison's past did give her an idea.

If anyone had just cause to murder pedophiles...it was their victims. And she wouldn't blame them one bit.

"Almost makes a certain kind of sense to pick off criminals. I mean, is Death Row really any different than what this killer is doing?" Emily hadn't meant to blurt it out loud.

She was surprised to find Toby shaking his head.

"No. Guess not." He didn't seemed phased at all. "Our killer does seem to lean towards that type."

"Wanna share with the rest of us?" A voice from the doorway startled them.

Marco was leaning against the door frame, watching them.

Emily bit her lip, wondering how much he'd heard.

"You going to go vigilante on us, Fields?" He asked.

Her cheeks flushed.

"No sir." Though when she thought about what Tim Roland had done to all those innocent women, including her girlfriend, she felt she would have been capable of killing him herself. "I don't know what I was saying. The whole Death Row thing…" She sighed. "Please don't judge me…"

"I happen to think you're right." He held up his hand, palm forward to calm her down.

"You do?"

"Let me ask you something." He stood like her father used to stand in formation. "Off the record. When your father was overseas, how many people do you think he killed?"

The question was so haunting and straightforward that it was jarring. She didn't like to think of her dad murdering people.

No. It wasn't murder. It was justifiable.

Wasn't it?

He was protecting people…

Was that what this killer was trying to do? In their own twisted way?

Was it ever really okay to kill someone?

Her conscience felt like it was being shredded to pieces. She didn't know who she was anymore.

Maya. Maya didn't deserve it.

Maya was her conscience still speaking to her from beyond the grave.

She looked back and forth between Toby and Marco, who was still waiting on an answer on how many people she believed that her father…the same man who gave her piggyback rides and played tea party with her…had killed.

How the hell do I answer that?

"I…I don't know." Her voice came out strained. "He didn't really talk much about his time over there."

"Nor do I." Marco cleared his throat. "Taking someone's life isn't something any sane person wants to do. Sure…you have killers who do it for fun – because they're bored – or just plain evil. But a majority of kills can be summed up into two different categories."

"Justifiable and unjust." Emily already knew where he was going with his train of thought.

"Another question for you." He tented his fingers and pushed them underneath his chin. "If you saw a known rapist walking down the street…would you want them dead?"

"Absolutely." The quickness of her answer made her flinch. Am I a psycho?

One look at Toby told her that he felt the same way.

"Of course you would." Furey lowered his hands. "Because you know his innocent victims. You know they suffered…still suffer. Your urges spawn from protection. You get that from your father."

"I guess." Of all the things she could have inherited from him. Why couldn't I have just gotten his eyes and his smile like normal people? "But why do we think that way?"

We. Not me. We. Because she could tell that Marco Furey felt the same, and apparently so did her dad.

"Because you know he'd go on to hurt other people, even if he posed no immediate threat in that very moment. So despite the system we have in place…there is still that fear of the justice system failing. And it often does. It can make even the best officer jaded. Hell, we've all done things…" His gaze drifted off. A memory from his past that he was not keen to share. A line he'd crossed that he couldn't come back from. "I don't pretend to be the perfect picture of morality."

His eyes were soft, exactly like her father's, but there was a darkness in them. Her dad had it, too. He just hid it better.

When she looked at her Chief she saw the same kind man who had taken her under his wing with her dad. He taught her how to aim and shoot.

"You keep practicing and maybe one day you can help us hunt bad guys." Marco and her dad had been her first cheerleaders.

"Your Pops and I…we saw some shit. I'm not going to lie. We were Special Ops. Which means we'd get in, do our thing, and get out. No questions asked. We were ghosts. It was some real Shakespearean type shit. We had a job to do and we did it. Was a messy gig sometimes, but it was necessary, you feel me?"

"I never knew that." Emily felt a strange ache in her chest. Sometimes the grief hit her at the strangest times.

For some reason there was a voice in the back of her head telling her to call her mother.

She won't be around forever.

"Because you weren't supposed to know about it." He pulled his brows together and pressed his lips into a tight line, like he'd betrayed some secret manly code. He probably had.

"So…why tell me?"

"Look..." He pulled a chair up in front of Emily. "I've been where you've been, Fields. I understand what it's like to wrestle with a dark part of yourself."

"Did you like what you did?" She looked directly into his eyes, knowing that even if he lied she'd be able to see the truth in his eyes when she asked, "Did my dad?"

"Like is a strong word. It was necessary, and that's it." He was telling the truth. "We signed up to protect people at all costs."

Emily nodded.

"You could have had any job you wanted. NSA. CIA. Secret Service. FBI. Why choose local Detective as a starting point?" She asked.

"Because evil exists at all levels, and sometimes it's just as worthwhile to cut them off at the knees. Stop them from getting to a level that your dad and I saw overseas. We saw some of the worst of the worst. Not discounting what I've seen in my years since retiring the uniform, but it's a different level of pain and torture over there."

"The world doesn't seem to be in short supply of that, unfortunately." Toby looked down at the notes on his desk.

"All I'm saying is…don't let this drag you down. You're a great detective. I don't want to see you beating yourself up."

"But I'm so good at it." Emily flashed him a grin.

"Seriously. Don't let this get to you. That's an order." He pat her shoulder like her father used to do when he was comforting her. "Seen this job destroy too many people. And I made a promise to your old man that I wouldn't let it happen to you."

Of course you did.

"You been holding up okay?" He asked.

"She has not." Toby answered for her.

"I could tell him not to treat me like a toddler because I can speak for myself," she poked Toby, "but he's right. I haven't gotten much sleep since that dead blonde showed up at my girlfriend's house in the Poconos."

"Yeah, sure, that's the only reason you haven't been sleeping you little nympho." Toby murmured with a smirk on his face.

She elbowed him.

"No judgment. I understand why that would rattle you." Furey reached up to straighten his tie. "Alison clearly means a lot to you."

"I love her." Emily had no trouble with the words this time. "I'm in love with her, and she could be in danger. And I have no idea how to handle that."

"How did she do when she was at the cabin?" He peered at Emily curiously. "Was she okay after the visit?" His face was soft, but his tone was very much scrutinizing her. "Is she okay now?"

No. Not really. She's having nightmares.

"It upset her." Emily thought it would be best to go with the truth.

"She shouldn't have been there. Too much to stir up in her mind." He tapped the knuckles on his left hand.

"I wasn't sure what else to do. She was coming with me whether I told her no or not. Had I left her she would have followed me in her car. I thought it would be best if I was with her."

Emily pictured Alison driving like a maniac. Emotional, angry, upset. She would have ended up in a tree.

"That was probably the right call. The girl is very stubborn." He seemed to recall a very strong-willed little girl growing up, and he could only imagine the power of persuasion she had now. "I remember that cabin well. Her aunt took her up there shortly after the murders. I called to check in once a week. It was a nice little place. Strange place for bodies to turn up."

"To be fair, there is no good place for a body to be found." Toby shrugged.

"Space would be kind of cool." It was Chief Furey's attempt at a joke, and it landed.

"Yeah, but the processing and evidence would be hell. Not to mention the Black Hole insurance alone would cost a fortune." Emily fired back.

"So, tell me about our victims in this galaxy." The Chief pointed to the stacks of notes on their desks.

"We're still working on making a connection between the victims. Something came up today on one of them that fits several others." Toby slid a photo of Talia over to him. "Picture-perfect on the outside, but deep dark secrets inside. We think that the killer targets criminals who haven't been caught yet."

"Interesting." He let out a low hmm sound.

"We're trying to figure out the relevance of where the bodies are found to help us understand the perp better." Emily shuffled through some pictures. "Some are killed at the scene, like Darren Wilden and Sydney Driscoll. Others are killed elsewhere." Emily tapped the gruesome photo.

Normal people should be disgusted by this.

But she was intrigued.

"Wilden was the killer's first. Perhaps there was no MO yet. No plans on how to dispose of his body. Or maybe they were still figuring out what kind of killer they wanted to be." Toby suggested. "That doesn't explain Driscoll though. I have no idea what the messaging was there."

"Did anything come up in Wilden's records?" Marco questioned.

Emily was trying to make sense of it, too, but he didn't fit the profile.

"Good college boy." Toby read his file. "Well-liked by his peers. Respected by his teachers. He had a good job out at the docks in Cape May. Even had his own boat, but it was set on fire and set adrift…"

"Which is not weird at all." Emily uttered caustically. "Killer getting rid of trace evidence?"

"Yeah. I vaguely recall that." Marco nodded. "Wasn't my case, but I remember the lead detective chasing that and hitting a wall."

"He was the first. Maybe the killer made a mistake." Toby thought out loud.

"So the cops never found anything?" Emily flipped through her notes.

"Nope. And no one knows what he was up to that summer. He was apparently into boating. Took it out a lot." Marco put the file down. "I can grab that file from the archives and we can go over it again."

"Surprised you want to help us do the dirty work." Emily smiled wryly at him.

"This case has been a thorn in my side for almost sixteen years. I'll put on some jeans and crawl around in the dirt with you in the trenches if it means finding this killer." He pushed up out of the chair and walked towards the door. "Don't have any fun without me."

"The archives." Toby whistled. "Sometimes I forget this case reaches so far back."

"Everything about it started off so strange. Wilden wasn't even a resident of Rosewood. So did the killer follow him? Or was the killer waiting for him? And why Rosewood?" She questioned.

"Some of the vics make sense." Toby rifled through some autopsy photos. "Some don't. We know Ian and Garrett were hurting kids. And whatever this is with Talia…" He waved to his computer screen. "But there is nothing to suggest any of the others had a dark history."

"You'd be surprised." Emily tapped her pen against her notepad, thinking of Alison's past. "You never know what lengths people will go to in order to keep their secrets hidden."

She thought about Alison's childhood. The blonde had confided in her, told her that her parents were trying to force Jason on her…to do terrible things to her. It's what her mom and dad had been fighting about when Ken DiLaurentis picked up that knife and killed his wife and his son.

There wasn't any file on record anywhere about what the DiLaurentis's were trying to do to their kids. Other than a few ER visits that could be "explained" away, Ken and Jessica were clean on paper. But they had scarred their daughter in ways that she might never heal from.

And Emily was the only person who knew the truth.

It stood to reason that the killer knew things about the victims that no one else knew.

Only…Maya and Lyndon didn't fit that profile.

She kept going back to that.

Why Maya? Why was her kill so different?

There had been no signature on her. Only on Lyndon. It's like the killer had to leave in a hurry.

Had Maya walked in on it? Had the killer been taken by surprise and decided to snap her neck on a whim?

"Toby…" She slowly looked over at him, and he knew from her tone of voice what she was getting ready to say, "I need to see her file." She didn't have to specify who she meant.

"Emily, you don't want to reopen that door. I assure you I went through it with a fine tooth comb. Lyndon's, too. There was one stipulation when Furey gave you this gig. You were to keep your hands out of her case. You're too close to it, and you know it."

"It's been ten years. I need to see what it said before you guys redacted it. I need the full picture. Why she…"

"You were a witness, Fields. You know it's a breach of ethics."

Emily bit her lip. She knew he was right. It was her own morbid curiosity. Had Maya had some deep dark hidden secret? Had Lyndon? Had she just been caught in the crossfire?

They hadn't picked up any stray fibers on Maya's skin where she'd been strangled and had her neck snapped. It suggested it was quick, and whoever did it wore gloves.

"Can I just ask you…" Emily treaded lightly. She knew she was pushing her luck, "…was there any indication that either of them were in to something dark?"

A shake of Toby's head gave her a sense of relief. The worst he'd found was that Maya had been sleeping with Lyndon. But he was going to take that to his grave. It would hurt Emily too much to tell her.

"You already know their kills were senseless. Stop letting this killer get in your head." He pressed his lips together in a thick line.

The killer was more than in her head. She was in her bed.

"Yeah." She shook her head, something needling her brain. Something she couldn't quite grasp. All Marco's talk about his time overseas with her father had thrown her off balance. "Yeah, you're right."

"I'm going to take a quick break. I need a breather. You good?" He pushed away from his desk.

She nodded. He stood up and stretched and then moved towards the open door.

She reached for her phone. She scrolled through her text messages, mostly from her friends and coworkers.

Aria had texted, Meeting with Holden to go over findings of Jane Doe.

Emily smiled. That was totally code for a date. Holden was almost two hours away. They could just talk by phone, but they wanted to see each other in person.

She had a message from Hanna, too.

Aidan has been on his best behavior since your "interrogation". Thanks again. I owe you dinner.

Toby's was the most recent, basically telling her to get her ass into the station.

Shall I turn 'paid time off' to 'laid time off' or do you plan on helping me solve this case sometime today?

She had to scroll pretty far down to get to the person she was looking for.

She stared at the contact photo of her mother lovingly embracing her father and giving him a kiss after he'd returned from being overseas.

Her last text had been, How are you?

Emily hadn't answered.

"I'm such a bad daughter." Dad would be so disappointed in me.

She hit the speed dial. Her mother answered after the first ring. She always answered Emily's calls immediately. She would worry about her baby until her dying day.

"Hey, mom."

"Emily, hi!" She sounded so delighted to hear from her. "This is a surprise. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah." Dad just told me from beyond the grave that I needed to call more. Oh, and I'm questioning everything about the morals and values that you and dad taught me. "Everything is fine."

They were still working on repairing the years they'd lost, but they were on their way.

"I was just calling to check in. How are you?"

There was a surprised pause on the other end of the line. Pam was only used to hearing from her daughter once a week, usually the night of their dinner.

"Oh – I'm…" Her tone was a mixture of confusion and suspicion. "I'm fine. How are you?"

"Good." Talking to her mom always made her feel like an awkward little kid again. "I'm good."

"How is Alison?"

A surge of warmth pulsed in Emily's chest.

I love her. I. Love. Her.

"She's great. We're great."

Other than her night terrors and my idiocy of bringing her to a crime scene.

There was an awkward beat of silence. The brunette wondered if she'd ever be able to let her guard down around her mother again.

The distance between them was a form of self-preservation. Her mother had wounded her deeply with her actions and words in her past. Though the older woman had made every effort to repair the damage, no matter how hard she tried there was no way to piece the shattered fragments back together again.

Still, with her dad gone…her mother was all she had. Sometimes she wished it was the other way around.

She hated herself for wishing she could trade their lives. Her mother was far from perfect, but she was trying. And given what Emily knew about her girlfriend's parents…she knew she was lucky to have a mother who cared about her enough to try.

"Em, you still there?"

"I'm still here." She replied quietly.

"Not that I'm not thrilled to hear from you, but is there a reason you called?"

"I…I just wanted to hear your voice." Emily sighed. "I was thinking about dad earlier. I realized we haven't talked much lately. So I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. And to say hello and that I love you."

"I love you, too, Emmy." She could practically hear the smile on her mother's face.

After their conversation ended she held on to those words. Strangely, they were just the words she needed to hear. Because love and kindness were the only things keeping her from going over the deep end.

Things were starting to take a toll on her.

If she didn't have her integrity – then who was she?

She knew she had to keep a handle on the fact that she was not judge, jury, and executioner. She was simply human.

But was it human to want people like Ian and Garrett and Alison's parents dead?

Or did she have an untapped darkness in her?

All she knew was that the terror and trauma in her girlfriend's eyes when she woke up crying had stirred something to life inside of her.

She had seen the scars Alison's parents had left on her. Not just the physical ones, but the emotional impact that would follow her around for the rest of her life. She'd felt so helpless as Alison lied in the bed screaming.

Emily knew it wasn't just her parents either. Alison had told her about the older man who'd used and assaulted her. After everything the poor girl had been through in her childhood, everything she'd survived, she'd been put in the clutches of some man who had stolen what was left of her childhood.

I can see how someone would want people like that dead.

Seeing Alison so helpless…feeling her body tremble as they made love…it drew something to the surface.

An anger.

A madness.

I love her. I love her, and if I could hurt the man who hurt her I would shoot him in the fucking face...and I wouldn't feel a damn thing.

It was terrifying, because she was inside the mind of the killer. She understood the Scarlet Letter Killer.

There was a method to this killer's madness.

You do what you do because it's justifiable. She spoke to the killer in her head. You do what you do to save people.

I get it.

So let's start from the beginning again…

She picked up Wilden's file and started to read through it. She didn't know that she held all the answers in her hands. She just wasn't asking herself the right questions.

---

A/N: Walls are breaking down. Little Alison can't stay buried forever. And as Alison changes, so does Emily. Our honorable detective is questioning her morals, though at least she still has the spunk to spar verbally with Toby.

Note: I get nervous posting the love-making scenes. I'm always afraid I haven't captured them right. This one was highly important because of the intimacy involved. *NERVES ACTIVATED*