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

18. Control

A/N: In keeping with the creepy aspects of the books/show (NAT for one) there will continue to be storylines that are triggering. While not graphic, it can be upsetting. Just want everyone to tread carefully.

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Chapter 18:

Control

Alison sauntered through the kitchen in her bathrobe eating breakfast. The energy from their morning love-making had left her ravenous. She'd already eaten with Emily, but her body craved more.

For a long time she'd had a fear of eating too much, because her parents had instilled in her that she would get fat and ugly. They'd always been concerned about her looks. She looked at large portions as a hearty "fuck you" to her mom and dad now. Beauty was only skin deep.

You two were ugly as fuck inside.

She grabbed a strip of bacon and took a bite as she pulled her laptop to the edge of the table. She was scouring the news for clues. Her girlfriend was on the hunt for a killer, and it wasn't her. That meant that she had to find the psychopath first.

She would protect Emily with her life. She'd found someone she would not only kill for, but someone she would die for. Now that she had love in her life she was not going to let some two-bit hack copycat come between them.

"The question is what to do with you when I find you…" Her fingers hovered over her trackpad on her laptop.

She pulled up a dark web portal that gave her access to police files.

"I really should do something about that once this is all over. Emily and Toby deserve better than some insider leaking information." But for now it served a greater purpose.

She was reading what people were saying about the newest murders. She had a lot of adoring fans.

Is it one of you doing this?

She was hoping that one of the freakshows on the board would brag about the kill, but she didn't see anything she hadn't seen before.

Wish I could shake this guy's hand.

Our boy struck again!

Cops are chasing their tails. No way they'll find him. He's too smart.

He. Him. He.

She wanted to scream. They were probably a bunch of virgins sitting in their mother's basements who would shit their pants if they ever came face to face with her.

She logged out of the site and cleared everything on the incognito browser. She used an app that wiped all traces of her suspicious activity.

She angrily chomped down on the bacon. She could still taste the remnants of Emily's lips on hers. It made her smile.

They'd been having sex for months, but what they'd done an hour ago transcended everything. It had started out as a distraction. Alison didn't want to think about her nightmare. It was scary being naked, metaphorically, in front of someone. What made it worse was that she didn't remember any of it. What if she'd said something that incriminated herself?

That was the most worrisome thing about getting so close to Emily. She'd gone sixteen years without slipping up. She couldn't start now.

She turned her laptop off and closed it. Then she polished off the bacon and had a bagel before heading up the stairs to get ready for work.

She was completely unaware of the hellish day she had in store for her.

It started when she arrived at the hospital. The second she walked into the building she was met with an unfriendly face.

But it wasn't Kathleen.

It was Alex Drake.

"Alexis…" She bit angrily, drawing her name out. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" The word pleasure was a poisonous word rolling off of her tongue.

"Ah, well, you know…bodies are just piling up…" Alex moved forward, invading her personal space.

I will eviscerate you.

"Have some respect." Alison clenched her jaw and forced words she didn't believe, "They were human beings."

Trash human beings.

Though she couldn't say that about the latest victim. She didn't even know who it was. Who had killed the blonde? Was someone watching her? Or did someone stumble across her art? An admirer? A stalker? Someone like the bitch standing in front of her?

"I had to do some digging." Alex puckered her lips.

Even her mouth looks like an asshole.

"Imagine my surprise when I found out the name on the cabin's title. The Carissimi Group. That was founded by your family's money, wasn't it?"

Alison wanted to rip the journalist's head off for mentioning her family. It reminded her of all the times the bitch had hounded her in school.

Alison smiled at her, too big, too wide. A smile that told her she was going to kill her. Figuratively speaking.

"And what, may I ask, is your investment in this?"

"Excuse me?" Alex seemed taken aback.

"What you're doing isn't journalism. It's harassment. It's also quite strange. Your fascination with the dead is a bit out of touch, wouldn't you say?" Alison tried to hit her where it hurt.

"What exactly are you implying?" Alex drew back a bit.

That you're a fucking cocksucker and I hate you.

"On the record…" The doctor smirked, "You've been at every single crime scene…"

"It's part of the job." She seemed to fumble her answer.

Do I make you nervous you conniving little shit?

Alex's reaction was intriguing, but Alison had a hard time seeing the snooty little know-it-all as her copycat. Still, she was a viable candidate to frame. Or at least scare the shit out of.

It was actually kind of perfect. If Alison saw these connections, Emily would piece it together at some point, too. It would be hilarious to see the woman behind bars.

"What about the Poconos?" Alison questioned. She lingered, letting Alex squirm. "How convenient that you made it out there so fast."

She watched for a reaction. She got one, but not what she expected.

Intrigue. Excitement.

Alison had learned to read body language, emotions, and personality over the years. Alex certainly seemed jumpy. Hardly a killer though. Just a journalist who breached ethics.

"I was working on a story in Saylorsburg." The beats between her breaths suggested she wasn't telling the full truth. "I have a contact who alerted me as soon as it hit the police scanner."

There was a hesitation in her response.

What are you lying about? And why?

Alison didn't give her the satisfaction of reacting. Instead she looked down at her nails, as if she was bored.

"What a lucky break for you." Alison sized the woman up, "And here you are now. I thought I told you to stay away from my ER." She glared at the mousy reporter.

Visions of chopping her into tiny little pieces danced in her head.

Alex shrugged innocently and pointed down to a bandage on her foot.

"I twisted my ankle." There was a little smirk on her face that Alison wanted to slap away.

Crazy bitch probably did it on purpose just to get to me. What's next? Is she going to rob herself and to go the police and ambush Emily?

"Hope it's not too painful." Alison feigned sympathy. Hope it fucking hurts. "I wish you a speedy recovery." She plastered a fake smile on her face.

"Actually, come to think of it…" Alex tapped her chin, "…now that I'm here…" she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small notepad. "Care to comment on your relationship with one of the lead Detectives on the Scarlet Letter Killer case?" She licked her finger – gross – and flipped the notepad to a blank sheet of paper.

Alison took a calming breath.

Murder in a hospital is counterproductive. She tried to keep her anger at bay. We save lives here. Killing her in the middle of the lobby would be…problematic.

Though most people hated her, so she'd probably have her own little cheering section. She'd have to designate the first few rows as a splash zone.

"I've got my eye on you, DiLaurentis. You're up to something…"

Alison opened her mouth, about to say a lot of things she was going to regret when she heard a familiar voice call for her,

"Alison!" Aria rushed towards them. "Dr. DiLaurentis!" She sidled up beside the surgeon. "There you are. The entire hospital has been looking all over for you. Your expertise is requested. There is an emergency that needs a consult."

Thank God.

"Take care, Ms. Plunkett." She sneered at the woman and spun in Aria's direction.

"It's Drake." The insult got to her. "Tell me, Doctor, do you and Detective Fields ever discuss the case? The public has a right to…"

"We are trying to save a life here."

Alison was about to open her mouth to say the exact same thing, but her small counterpart had beaten her to it.

"You need to move before we have you forcibly removed." Aria gnashed her teeth together.

Well, this is a first.

Alison had never seen her mild-mannered co-worker step up to the plate and confront anyone aside from the rapist in the hospital parking lot. Alison had no doubt in her mind Aria would have caused Tim Roland some serious damage that night if she'd caught him. But Aria was generally friendly to everyone else.

Alison's eyes burned through the woman. Alex met her stare with an unflinching gaze.

Aria pulled Alison on to the elevator and the doors closed before the reporter could say another word.

"Sorry about that." Alison took a breath. "What's the consult?" And why are you out of your dungeon looking for me to get it?

"Oh." Aria's face softened with a laugh. "There is no consult. You just looked like you needed rescuing from Drake the Snake." She rolled her eyes. "She's such a hackjob."

"Aria Montgomery, you lying little spitfire." Alison pushed the heel of her hand against Aria's shoulder, jostling the smaller doctor.

"She's a completely biased piece of shit hag. Honestly, Alison, any time you need an out from that bitch, let me know."

I regret poisoning you. You don't know how much I regret it, Aria. Never again. I promise.

"God, I hate reporters." Aria shuddered.

Alison saw a strange reflection of distress on her face.

Something more is at play here…

She wasn't sure what to do. Was it crossing a line to ask if she was okay? She knew about Aria's family, but she didn't know much else about her.

Am I a bad friend? I should know more about the people in my life, shouldn't I? Why does she hate reporters?

Alison had hated reporters when she was younger because they had tried to approach her about her family's murder. So she recognized it when someone else had the same trigger.

"That was about more than Alex, wasn't it?" Alison decided to chance it.

Aria closed her eyes and lowered her head, taking a breath before slowly facing Alison.

"Was I that obvious?" She bit her lip.

"What happened?" Morbid curiosity, but she made it sound more like concern.

"In high school there was this teacher…" She licked her lips nervously. "He was young. Cute. And he knew exactly what to say to charm me."

Alison mentally started sharpening her knives.

"He made me feel special. Mature."

"Oh." How the hell did she respond to that? I will chop off his dangle and feed it to him.

"I…" Aria hesitated. "I thought he was different."

Alison felt sweat prickling the back of her neck. She could feel Darren's breath against her skin. Her lip twitched.

Darren bought me things.

He told me I was pretty.

He said I was grown up. Mature.

Memories plagued her.

The boathouse.

He smothered me.

I wasn't ready.

"His ex caught wind of what was happening." Aria huffed out a breath. "She was a TA at my dad's college. She told my father what was going on. Things kind of exploded from there."

"That's…" Alison reached out and touched her arm. "I hope he paid for it."

I'll make him pay. No one hurts my friends.

She paused for a moment and considered something,

I have friends.

"He lost his job. He's in jail now." Aria shrugged uncomfortably.

Perhaps that's why the quirky young girl kept people at a distance. Perhaps that's why she preferred dead people over living ones. Alison understood that.

"I was so angry at my parents at the time. I thought I loved him." She started picking at her nailbed. Alison gently put her hand on top of Aria's, effectively calming the medical examiner down. "It wasn't until I was older that I realized what had happened. What he'd done…"

She was groomed.

She was groomed like me.

It was a strange traumatic bond to share, a club with many members, but no one wanted to be a member. Yet, in a strange messed up way…it was nice to not feel so alone.

"Someone leaked my name to the reporters."

Someone like Alexis fucking Plunkett, I'm sure. She squeezed Aria's hand.

Aria shot her a sad little smile that did something to Alison's heart. It clenched, hurting for Aria.

I hate him. I want to stab him in the nuts.

"The reporters were all over me for my side of the story for years. So, yeah, I do kind of have a distaste for them. They made a horrible situation even more traumatizing."

Alison took a moment to let the information settle. She let Aria breathe, because she knew how hard it was to face past demons.

After a few seconds of silence the surgeon gently put her other hand on top of their joined hands.

"Well, as your friend…not a reporter, if you ever want to talk, I'm here. I uh…" Did she dare tell Aria the truth about Darren? She hadn't even told Emily the full truth. She'd fudged it a bit so Emily couldn't connect the details to the Scarlet Letter Killer. "Something similar happened to me."

Aria's eyes softened in compassion, and Alison knew it was because Aria was having trouble adding the complexities of Alison being groomed to her already traumatic childhood.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you."

Alison didn't even have to think about her response,

"I'm sorry it happened to you."

Aria let out a sigh and nodded.

"The world is messed up sometimes. I do my best to keep a positive outlook…thanks to my mom." Aria chuckled softly.

Her mother was a Grade-A Hippie who had been shocked that her child wanted to go into medicine instead of playing pretend doctor with essential oils and magical woo-woo stones, but she was very supportive of Aria's decision. Because she was a good mother. She was a mother that Alison gladly would have traded her own for. Like Pam Fields, not perfect, but a mother who cared about her child.

"You know, sometimes I see people on my table who have done horrible things…" Aria chewed on her lip.

Garrett. Ian. Tim.

"…and I'm glad they're gone."

A service I gladly provide. Just so no one else has to go through what we went through.

"Does that make me a psycho?" Aria questioned, and the question felt targeted directly to her.

"No, of course not." Alison shook her head. "That makes you human."

Maybe I'm human after all. Or maybe we all have a little monster inside of us.

She wasn't sure which it was. She wasn't sure that it was normal to find joy in death.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. They stepped into the open area and walked towards the intake desk.

The first thing Alison noticed was a certain cunt's absence. Some peppy young blonde was sitting in the old hag's chair.

Kathleen would so hate this.

It made her gleeful.

Kathleen hated her things being touched. That's why Alison took such pleasure in seeing someone else in her seat. She waved politely to the girl, shooting her a smile. The girl waved back.

Well, isn't this lovely?

"Where's Kathleen?" Alison asked.

Please be dead. Please be dead.

"Poor thing is out sick. She hasn't been feeling well all week."

Compliments of your friendly neighborhood placebos. Her heart should be ripe to explode any day now.

"That's so unfortunate. I'd bring her veggie soup, but I think she'd probably just throw it in my face." Alison feigned concern.

"I don't know why she has such a bug up her ass about you. You're like the nicest person I know."

Oh, dear sweet Aria…

The small brunette peered at her watch,

"I've got to get to work. I'm meeting up with Holden later to discuss my findings on Jane Doe and the other guy."

Alison liked that Aria hadn't named Tim by name.

"Hey, do you mind if I hide out with you?" Alison asked.

She knew Aria would be running through her examination of Tim and Jane Doe and she wanted to be there. She wanted to know more.

"Oh, I insist." Aria smiled. "Dark dungeons are far away from crappy reporters and their fake injuries."

Aria swiped her badge and they descended into the morgue. Alison didn't mind the cold air. It reminded her that she was alive.

"Autopsies are mostly complete. I'm just running over everything one final time." Aria reached towards a box of gloves. "Care to assist?"

Always.

They walked over to a marked cold locker. Aria twisted the handle and pulled the door open. She gripped the edge of the steel table and pulled it out.

Jane Doe laid on the table, her nude body covered with a privacy drape. Aria had already done a bulk of the work.

She pulled the drape back to reveal where the woman had been cut open from stem to sternum and stapled back together.

The forensics expert grabbed a clipboard from the back of the door. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a tape recorder to relay the information so she could double check it.

"Female. Jane Doe." Not for much longer. She'll have a name once Emily and Toby get that call. She'll be a human again. A person. "Caucasian. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Approximately twenty to twenty-four years old."

A poor imitation of me.

"The Poconos M.E. puts the time of death sometime between 10 PM and Midnight last Sunday."

Thanks for the alibi, faux me.

She'd been with Emily that night. They'd been fucking at the gym and canoodling in the shower.

Canoodling. Alison thought to herself. What a strange word.

And what a strange sappy person she was evolving into.

"Cause of death – exsanguination." Aria gestured to several lacerations on in her inner thighs, just like the ones Alison had given Ian.

She bled out the same way Ian did.

The copycat had followed her ritual.

But that particular detail hadn't been released to the public. So how did the copycat know to do that?

"Unlike the other body that was found at the cabin, she was killed at the scene. Tox screen came back negative for sedatives. There are no defensive wounds, so there wasn't a struggle. So she was either lured out there or she went willingly." Aria ran a gloved finger along the inside of the woman's wrist.

Alison stared at the body. She walked around the table, examining her from each angle.

Why you?

She looked at the Scarlet Letter carved into her cheek. To the cops, it looked the same. But to Alison she saw the subtle differences. She knew her own signature.

This copycat was so much less than the original. But the doctor could gain a few insights by looking at their work.

The cuts were careful and precise, but not perfect. Someone who had no medical training, but liked perfection.

Control freak.

The way her fingers had been sutured together suggested that there was a specific eye for detail that was driving the killer.

Nosey. Prudish.

The Xs across her breasts were ugly. Foul. It felt wrong.

Who the fuck do you think you are? Alison silently addressed the would-be piss-poor copycat. What gives you the right?

She leaned down and stared at the badly carved cuts on the victim's cheek.

Who are you? The last question posed at her poser.

"What are your observations?" Alison stood up and faced her colleague.

She watched as Aria traced a gloved finger against the slashes in the woman's chest. The short brunette took her time observing the body, quietly logging away her injuries in comparison to the other bodies she'd seen.

"On paper, it does look like the same MO. But…" She touched the letter on Jane Doe's pale white face. The angry red gashes stood out like blood among snow, "…something feels different. I can't quite put my finger on it. The signature is…off."

You're very good, Doctor Montgomery.

"It looks the same as the body I examined. Reynolds, I think? Garrett Reynolds." Alison knew she couldn't agree with Aria. She'd only done one thorough examination. Aria had seen all of them, including photos of her previous kills. But she had to steer her away from the truth somehow.

"There are subtle differences." Aria pressed a fingertip against the edge of one of the gashes in the girl's chest, slipping it down her skin, following its trail. "I guess it's possible that the killer was just pressed for time and got sloppy…"

Never would have happened to me.

"I'll have to do a consult with Holden before I determine anything for sure. It looks like it could be the same killer, but something about this victim bothers me. And I think I know what it is." She sighed and pulled back, looking Alison square in the eyes. She turned off the tape recorder. "It's you."

Alison's heart seized in her chest. Her eyes darted to the instruments laid out on the table. Was she going to have to kill one of her only friends?

"She looks exactly like you." Aria lowered her hands to her side and shook her head. "When I first saw the images I was sent I thought it was you. Even when we were at the scene and I saw you there alive I still thought she was you. Maybe I'm just too close to this one to view it objectively."

For a brief moment Alison felt a sliver of an emotion. She'd just been thinking about killing Aria out of self-preservation…and Aria was upset that Jane Doe looked like her.

Do I feel…guilty…for my impulsive thoughts?

"After what happened out there in the ambulance bay I was worried that the killer might be coming for you next, especially after Tim Roland disappeared. I honestly thought he was the killer." The soft tone in her voice was something that should have made Alison feel something. But it didn't.

She didn't deserve Aria's sympathy. The same brave young woman who had survived being preyed upon by a teacher…the same woman who would have gone toe-to-toe with a rapist…she was a good person.

"You're very kind to worry, Aria, but I don't want you losing sleep over me." She moved to the smaller woman's side. She slipped her gloves off and put her hand against Aria's shoulder.

"You're my friend, Alison." Aria smiled sweetly. "Of course I'm going to worry about you."

You're my friend.

How had that happened?

Alison's phone buzzed from inside her pocket. She reached for it, her face blanching when she saw the alert.

"Shit." The surgeon lowered her head as she peered at her phone.

14-year-old. Stabbed in the chest. En route.

"I've got to go. Incoming trauma." She grimaced. "It's a kid."

"That sucks." Aria exhaled a breath.

An ominous darkness hung in the air. Dealing with emergent patients was never easy, but there was a different kind of anguish that lingered when it was a child.

"Any idea how bad it is?" Aria gnawed on the inside of her lip.

Alison knew exactly what she was thinking. She was concerned the kid would be on her cold steel table.

"Not yet. But I'm going to do everything I possibly can to keep him out of here." She motioned to the wall of freezers.

"You always do." A small hopeful smile. "You're good at what you do."

Let's hope I'm good at the OTHER thing I do, too.

The last thing she needed was Aria connecting the dots about what she did in the darkness.

Alison hustled to get upstairs to get ready.

Her day had taken a hell of a turn. From her moment of bliss with Emily to a trauma patient. A kid at that. She held the fate of a 14-year-old in her hands. Not to mention Alex Drake showing her stupid butthole face.

Could this day get any worse?

The boy was wheeled in six minutes later, his parents rushing alongside the paramedics. Alison was already in sterile gear. Spencer was right next to her, ready to assist.

"Connor, it's going to be okay, sweetie." His mother cried to the unconscious teenager.

The woman was verging between soothing mother and complete hysterical meltdown. Alison could hear it in her voice.

The EMTs were trying to get the bloodflow under control. Alison faced the parents, assuring them they were going to do everything they could for him.

"Take care of him! Take care of my baby!" The woman called as Alison followed the team into the trauma room.

While Alison didn't really have an affinity for adults, she did have a soft spot in her heart for children. It was a reminder that everyone was born innocent.

Her heart caught in her throat when she got a good look at the patient. Shaggy blonde hair. Strong jaw line. A dimple in his chin. Skin pale from blood loss.

Jason.

She was looking at a ghost of her brother.

She froze in place, her heart pounding in her chest.

She thought about the last clear memory she had of her brother. She wished it was something happier. Something like him pushing her on the swing-set at the park or playing hide-and-go-seek.

But the last clear memory she had with Jason was something much more ominous.

o ~ O ~ o

~ Then ~

The treehouse was much less intimidating in the day time. She had never been in at nighttime before. She was usually in bed when it was dark out. But ever since Jason had stormed out of the house with her they'd been there. Out in the woods. There was a stinky old porta-potty near a construction site through the clearing that they'd been using instead of going home.

Alison didn't like it in the dark. The woods were scary at night.

Animals stirred in the darkness. She heard the call of an owl. It sounded close.

Jason had brought a little electric lantern that provided a dim light in the creaky old treehouse. Something rustled in the underbrush outside.

Alison gripped the doll that Jason had brought for her.

"I want to go home." She perched her chin against her knees, which were pulled up to her chest. They had been there for hours.

She felt like a baby admitting it, but she was afraid something bad might happened if they stayed out much longer. Like a monster would come and eat them.

She didn't know the monsters she needed to fear were at her house, which was why she was in the treehouse with her big brother.

"We can't. It's not safe yet." 'It's never safe' was what he was thinking.

"You'll protect me." She looked up at him innocently. "You always protect me."

"I won't be able to protect you from this." His voice trembled. She didn't like it when he got upset. "There are bad people out there, Ali. People who would do way worse things to you than dad."

"He's scary when he's mad." Words that would be eerily prophetic just hours later.

He pulled a book out and started reading to her to pass the time. She liked it when he read to her. He did all the funny voices and everything.

After a while he looked at his watch. He pulled his lip into his mouth and started chewing on it.

"I have to do something. And I need for you to be brave for me for a little while." He reached into his duffel bag and grabbed a flashlight. "I have to go check and make sure it's safe…make sure…" He hesitated, "…make sure they're gone."

"Who? Mommy and daddy?" Alison scooted up on to her knees. The wood was scratchy on her exposed skin. She should have worn pants and not a dress, but they had run out of the house so fast she hadn't had a chance to change.

"No." He rubbed his head. "It doesn't matter." He always said that. And Alison never understood why. "Just stay here and play with your dolly." He scooted towards the opening where the make-shift ladder was.

Her hand shot out over the lantern, casting a huge looming shadow in the small space. She gripped his arm.

"Please don't leave me." She dug her little fingertips into his skin. "I'm scared."

"I won't be long. I promise." He put his free hand on top of hers.

"Why can't I go with you?" She sniffled.

In the darkness of the night she caught something in his eyes. A strange flicker.

"Because I don't want them to see you." His voice came out quiet, a whisper in the wind. "Remember I told you about the bad people?" He was patient and kind in his response. He didn't want to add to her fear.

Alison nodded.

"It's why I lock my door." Sometimes locking her door didn't feel like enough. She saw the way her father's menacing eyes leered at her. It made her very afraid.

"That's right."

"Well, those bad people…they're here. They're at our house. And they'll hurt you if they see you, Ali. They'll hurt you worse than dad ever could. And I won't be able to stop them. I have to make sure they've gone away."

"But…what about you?" Her hand moved into his much larger palm. "Aren't you scared? What if they see you?"

"They won't." He squeezed her hand. "I'll be right back. You be brave." He kissed her forehead like he sometimes did when he was putting her to bed at night.

Alison nodded, tears stinging her eyes.

"If you get scared…" He reached into his bag and pulled out his baseball bat. He'd taught her how to swing it the last few months, "…remember you're not weak and defenseless. You're big and brave and you fight monsters."

Alison nodded again, unable to say anything, afraid she might break into sobs.

She watched him disappear through the hole. She crawled over to the edge and peered at him as he was climbing down. His flashlight waved in a crazy zig-zag pattern until his feet were firmly on the ground.

He walked through the brush and she saw his light fading.

Her heart started pounding really hard.

She scooted back away from the opening, taking the electric lantern and the baseball bat with her.

The light flickered when she moved it and she let out a terrified cry because she thought it might go out. Then she'd be alone and in the dark.

But the light didn't go out. The flickering stopped.

She crawled into the furthest corner away from the door and huddled there.

The owl hooted really loud and it made her want to scream at it to be quiet. There was a crunching noise on the ground, like someone was walking on sticks and breaking them.

She squeaked and hugged her doll. She gripped the bat tightly.

It's just a deer. Jason would tell her.

She shuddered, concentrating on not being scared. The last time she was this afraid she'd wet herself.

She didn't want to do that again.

A cold gust of wind sent shivers down her spine.

After a few minutes her eyes started playing tricks on her. The wind was making the tall trees outside move, branches cracking in the breeze. It created an illusion of dancing shadows in the light of the treehouse. The walls looked like they were covered in claws, reaching out to her. She thought she saw a pale man peeking blearily through the claws.

She shut her eyes.

"I'm not afraid." She whispered. "I'm brave." She gripped the bat as she repeated, "I'm not afraid. I'm brave."

A few minutes passed. She opened her eyes. The trees were still again. She felt like she'd been alone forever.

That fifteen minutes she'd been alone in the treehouse were the longest fifteen minutes of her life.

When she heard footsteps approaching she was too afraid to crawl to the entrance to see if it was her brother.

"Jason?" She whispered.

There was no response.

She bit back a scream.

It's a monster coming to get me.

But a few seconds later she heard his voice.

"Don't be scared, Ali. It's me," he said as he put his foot against the bottom rung of the ladder.

She practically bolted into his arms when he reached the top and crawled inside. He was sweaty, like he'd run home and back.

Her grip was so tight around his throat that he could barely breathe.

He stroked the small of her back.

"Can we go home now?" She broke into sobs, crying into his chest. "Is it safe?"

"We can go home." He had subconsciously omitted the it's safe part, because it was never safe safe at their house.

Jason left their things behind, just in case they needed to make another quick getaway. The police, of course, would find the items later to corroborate Alison's story that they'd been in the treehouse that night.

He helped her down the ladder and they walked home together. He took her around the back towards the kitchen. They could sneak in that way. Their parents would be waiting in the living room.

She heard a crashing noise inside the house.

Maybe they should have stayed in the treehouse.

After they tip-toed inside Alison walked over to the counter. She was thirsty, so she went to get a glass of water.

"Just grab the glass. We'll fill it up upstairs." Jason's voice cut through the silence, which startled her. She knocked against the cabinet and a plate in a drying rack fell over. They both froze.

Thunderous footsteps approached.

Her parents were there seconds later.

Everything was a blur after that, but somehow they'd all ended up in the living room.

"We're leaving."

"Not until you answer my question…"

"This is ludicrous!"

No. No. No.

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them she was once again covered in their blood.

o ~ O ~ o

"Dr. DiLaurentis?" Anne peered at her from the other side of the gurney.

The kindhearted nurse seemed to be the only one in the entire hospital who knew when something wasn't quite right with her. Her worried eyes flickered to Alison's trembling hands.

Spencer noticed the interaction. She saw the look in Alison's eyes.

"I can take point if you need me to." Spencer slowly made the connection.

Fourteen year old boy. Knife wound. Like Jason.

"No." Was all Alison could utter in response.

I couldn't save my brother. I can save this kid.

Alison's eyes darted to the injury on the boy's chest. His pale freckled skin was on full display, shirt ripped away from his sides for treatment. Blood was everywhere.

She usually reveled in seeing blood, but his blood made her gut curl in on itself. A curdling sensation flipped in her stomach. She thought she might vomit.

"Get me a CT." Just as quickly as she'd careened into the darkness of her past she sprang into action, calling out orders and tending to his injuries.

Within minutes they had images of his internal injuries and they were wheeling him into emergency surgery.

It's not Jason.

She scrubbed her hands, staring into the sink.

That boy is not my brother.

She scrubbed harder. She hadn't been this unnerved over a patient since Emily was on her operating table.

I'm in control.

Soap drizzled off her skin and she saw the bubbles swirling down the drain.

An image flashed in her mind.

She was seven, sitting in her bubble bath, trying to get clean. But she didn't feel clean. She stared at her Barbie towel.

The bubbles weren't fun anymore.

She blinked as she reached for the towel. The Barbie towel and her childhood bathroom disappeared and she was drying her hand with a sterile towel right outside her surgery suite as her trauma team prepped the boy for surgery.

I can do this.

She just had to concentrate on the body. The body on the table was just pieces, just parts attached to a flowing blood source.

But…

He's a kid.

He's innocent. He shouldn't be here.

People weren't real to her. At least, they hadn't been for a very long time.

He's a person.

He's real.

She shook her head. She didn't understand what was happening to her.

She had to concentrate. For the sake of the boy.

He's not just a body. His name is Connor. He's fourteen years old. He has a mother and father who love him.

He wasn't like the body of Tim Roland in the morgue. He wasn't like Garrett or Ian or Talia or Sydney. He wasn't like Wilden.

I won't let him die.

The surgery was chaotic before it had even started. He kept continuously crashing. When they finally got him stable Alison opened his chest. Her heart sank when she saw the extent of his injuries.

The tissue damage alone was terrible, but the knife had nearly severed his aorta. His heart was a mess. She knew his chances of survival were slim, but she forced herself to try anyway.

Every time she had a handle on one little bleeder his heart would seize and stop, and they'd have to get it going again before she could continue.

The fourth time he crashed he wasn't coming back from it.

Even so, Alison continued frantically working on him.

"Dr. DiLaurentis…" Spencer softly urged her, trying to stop her.

"No!" She hissed at her. "I'm not losing this kid!"

"There is too much damage. He's been down for too long…"

But Alison couldn't hear her coworker. All she heard was white noise. A buzzing sound. She saw her brother on the table. She saw his blood on her hands.

She massaged his heart, holding his life in her hands.

"Come on!" She screamed at Jason.

Come on, Jason!

"Alison." Slender gloved fingers, also coated with the boy's blood landed softly on top of the blonde's.

Alison looked up at Spencer.

"Let go." Alison growled at her, the look of an apex predator in her eyes. "I can do this. I can save him…"

"Alison, it's not Jason. And you can't…" She sadly looked at the boy on the table, "…he's gone."

Alison jerked her hands away from Spencer's.

"You of all people don't get to talk about my brother! Not here. Not now!" Her outburst drew the attention of the staff in the entire room.

Don't fucking tell me what to do in MY OR!

"Pull it together, DiLaurentis." Spencer warned.

She snarled through her teeth at her fellow surgeon. Alison knew the woman would go to her mother with this.

"Get out of my face." She hissed under her breath. Before I do something I regret.

She clenched the scalpel in her hand tightly. She could so easily thrust it into Spencer's jugular.

No. Spencer is not a killer. She doesn't fit my profile. She is family. She is blood.

Alison threw the instrument down on the tray and shoved it aside.

Get rid of the tools before you use them.

She whipped her head around at the clock and angrily declared,

"Time of death, 11:42 am." She ripped her gloves off and hung her head with a heavy sigh.

She couldn't force herself to look at the boy. She couldn't force herself to see Jason again.

Spencer took a timid step forward, continuing to push her boundaries.

"Would you like me to inform the family?"

Alison could hear the sad compassion in her tone. She hated it. She hated it when people felt sorry for her, but especially when Spencer felt sorry for her.

Alison stood up straight, looking Spencer directly in the eyes.

"I've got it." Her expression was dull, blank. She didn't have it in her to fake any emotions. "I apologize for my outburst."

"Losing children is tough," Spencer said softly.

It wasn't just about that for Alison. She hated the loss of control. She hadn't chosen for that boy to die. It wasn't his time.

"We'll get him cleaned up." Anne tossed a glob of bloody gauze into a medical waste bin.

"Thank you." Alison took a step towards the door.

For a brief moment she thought that Spencer might follow her, but instead she stayed behind to help the surgery team.

The blonde numbly walked through the hallway until she got to the waiting area. She wasn't sure what expression her face was wearing when she approached the parents, but it must have bestowed something grave, because as soon as the mother saw her coming she collapsed into a heap on the floor, wailing and screaming.

A mother knows.

The father helped her to her feet, tears streaming down his face.

That was his boy. His son.

Alison wondered why she didn't feel the same pain that this boy's parents felt. Had she walled off her emotions entirely? What kind of monster didn't feel something when a child died?

Then again, who would want to feel that kind of pain? She had to reel it in. If she got lost in the pain and anger and sadness that normal humans felt she would be buying a one way ticket to a hell she couldn't escape from.

She felt empty when she officially gave them the news. She forced the tears to the corners of her eyes. She feigned an expression of sympathy.

The mother let out a primal keening wail.

I should feel this in my soul. Why don't I feel it?

And was she actually thinking of herself at a time when she should be focused on the parents who had just lost a child?

I want to know who did this to him. I want to make them pay.

Her thoughts contradicted what she'd been considering earlier. Giving up the old her. For Emily.

Maybe just one last time…

She led the parents to a private room, letting them know that someone would be in soon so they could spend as much time with their son as they wanted.

As she closed the door behind her she let the darkness take over. She blinked and she was in the on call room sitting on a cot glaring at her hands.

Her stupid stupid fucking hands that had betrayed her.

I should just cut them off.

It would solve all of her problems. They'd never be able to betray her again, and it would stop her from killing people.

Who am I kidding? I'd probably just start ripping people's jugulars out with my teeth...

"Get it together, Alison," she uttered under her breath.

She needed to find a way to get the control back. She needed to find a way to right this horrendous wrong.

She squeezed her hands into fists, holding them tightly until they started to go numb. When she flexed her fingers the blood started flowing quickly, sending a tingling sensation into her palms and then her fingers.

Faces started flashing through her mind. Her father, screaming at her. Darren Wilden, helping her navigate from the dock to his boathouse. Talia Standival, taking advantage of innocent little girls. Ian Thomas and the knowing look he'd flashed at the camera before taking that drunk girl in the barn. Garrett Reynolds watching all the girls he'd assaulted. Tim Roland's hands around her neck.

But she didn't simply see the monsters. She saw herself, young and unable to fight back…not knowing she should fight back. She saw the little girl Talia had hurt. The young teenager in the barn. Jenna Marshall, Tim Roland's final victim, shaking in her ER and crying.

Then she thought about the stripper. The blonde torn to pieces at her cabin. The person taking her work and making it into something it was not about.

And she knew what she had to do to get the control back. She had to find this person and bring them to justice.

Just one more.

o ~ O ~ o

As Alison was reeling from the loss of her young patient, Emily and Toby were dealing with a flutter of activity after a call was put in about a stabbing at a middle school. Two eighth graders had gotten into a confrontation. One boy pulled a knife on the other.

Emily and Toby heard bits and pieces about it, but they were in their own little world following breadcrumbs that would hopefully lead them to an SLK suspect. They'd been working through the commotion.

When Emily looked at her watch she realized it was almost two in the afternoon.

She reached for her phone, expecting a cheeky text from her girlfriend, but it was just full of news alerts about the SLK and a text from her mother telling her how nice it was to hear from her. She swiped out a reply.

Good talking to you too, Mom.

She'd been trying to have more patience with her mother. Deep down she knew it wasn't Pam's fault that Maya was dead, and she knew that her mom regretted the way she'd handled her coming out.

"No sexting on the job." Toby tossed a pen cap at her. It bounced off of her desk and twirled against the floor.

"It's mom." Emily replied.

"Hey, I'm not here to kink shame. Call her whatever you want." He winked.

"Five hours ago you were begging me not to talk about that stuff. Now you're suddenly interested?"

"I like to keep you on your toes." He put his hands against his knees and leaned back, cracking his back. He made a grunting noise that told Emily he'd been sitting way to long. "How are things between you and your mother?"

"Better." Emily smiled. They were slowly making headway. "I'm going to grab a late lunch it that's cool."

Emily had been waiting half an hour on a response to a message she'd sent to Alison,

You're probably swamped, but I figured you could use a nutrition break. I'm going to swing by with lunch.

She still hadn't gotten a reply.

"You should try that new Caribbean joint about a mile from the hospital. They just had their Grand Opening. I was thinking about taking a friend there."

"You have friends?" Emily poked his shoulder. "Oooh, what's her name?"

He laughed sheepishly.

"Someone I've known for a very long time." He gripped the edge of his desk like a shy little boy. "Doctor Hastings."

"Spencer Hastings?" She threw back her chair and laughed. "Holy shit, are you banging the Chief of Medicine's Daughter?"

"What? No!" His cheeks turned an impossible shade of cherry. For someone who dished out sex jokes, he certainly got embarrassed easily.

He must really like her.

"I'm just messing with you," she said softly.

"We ate dinner on the phone together a few nights ago."

"Wow, you two are taking it really slow. You know regular people go out to dinner?" Emily smiled at him.

"She couldn't leave the hospital. Something about a patient having a rough recovery. She was sitting in the ICU with him. She had a pastrami sandwich. I had linguini. It was nice. We're really enjoying each other's company."

"Enjoying each other's company? Psh, what is this? The 1950s?"

"We don't all jump in the sack at warp speed." Toby rolled his eyes.

"How close are you getting with her?" She was genuinely curious. She wondered if Spencer had told him she was adopted.

"I like her. She seems very practical. Very put together. We really reconnected when I went to visit after Melissa's miscarriage."

The Hastings family was still reeling from the loss, but they were a tough bunch. Spencer and Chief Hastings were burying their sorrow in their work.

"I didn't realize you two were even talking." Emily leaned towards him, intrigued.

"I didn't plan it. Just kinda happened." He shrugged it off.

Such a man's response.

Most girls would want to dish all about the relationship. Most of the time with boys it was the opposite.

He could see that she was itching for more information.

"I'll keep you posted." He chuckled.

"It's all I ask." Emily opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out her wallet and her keys. "I'm going to run by the hospital." She tossed her keys in the air once, then caught them. "I'll be back later."

Toby waved to acknowledge her, his nose buried in his computer. As usual, he was engrossed in his work.

Emily stared at her screen as she walked out to her car. It wasn't like Alison to be distant. Toby's words about jumping in the sack bugged her a bit. She worried that maybe they were rushing things.

Were the 'I love yous' too much?

She tried to shake off her nerves. She ran by the Caribbean joint Toby had recommended and ordered a hearty lunch.

Their afternoon routine had become fairly predictable. Halfway through the day Emily needed a break away from the station, so she'd go find something for lunch and meet Alison at the hospital. They'd chat about their day, swap stories...sometimes swap spit.

There was a slight difference in the pattern when she got to the hospital. Kathleen wasn't at her desk scowling at her, but she did see Alex Drake skulking around.

Doesn't she ever go back to whatever cave she crawled out of?

She managed to duck by the reporter.

She explained to the girl at the front desk that she had lunch for her girlfriend. The girl didn't give her any trouble.

"She's in the on-call room." She was peppy and happy and way too perky, but in a good way. Like a sweet child who had been given too much caffeine.

A step up from Kathleen. The older woman had practically called her a whore the first time they met. And unbeknownst to her...had stolen from dying children.

She walked through the hallways, waving to the nurses and doctors who had become familiar with her face. She made her way to the on-call room.

She quietly cracked the door, not wanting to disturb Alison if she was asleep. She saw the doctor sitting upright against the edge of the cot. She had her hands in her lap and she was glaring at them like they'd somehow personally offended her.

Alison was so lost in thought she didn't hear the door open.

She couldn't stop thinking about how she'd failed…how her hands had failed her.

That boy is dead because of me.

She gently caressed the index finger of her right hand against the tips of her fingers on her left hand. They were smooth, stable. A surgeon's hands, but also the hands of a killer.

Hands could give people away. Age. Nerves. Strengths and weaknesses.

Alison's hands could do wonderful things. Tie sutures. Save lives. Brush through her girlfriend's hair. Gently stroke her cheek. Curl inside of her as she came.

But her hands did other things, too. Less acceptable things. Things that would horrify – had horrified – the woman she loved. They had been covered in blood as her victims died screaming on a table. They had held severed body parts, taunting people.

Oftentimes she would just watch her hands work, as though they had a mind of their own, both in surgery and in the middle of the night when she tortured killers and rapists.

"Alison?" Emily pushed the door open, carting the food into the room.

Alison lifted her head, a strange mask of emotionless neutrality on her face. Emily had never seen her look empty before. It was haunting.

"I brought Caribbean cuisine. I thought maybe we could try something new." Emily dangled the take-out in the air.

"Oh." Alison blinked, and she suddenly came to life. She smiled. "That was thoughtful." She rubbed at the backs of her knuckles. "I'm sorry, I didn't even realize it was lunch time." She put her palms on the edge of the cot on either side of her legs. "Shitty day." A tiny smile, one of relief. "Better now that you're here."

Alison was an expert at shedding her skin like a chameleon.

Time to put on my mask. That's what went through her head every time she wasn't sure what she was supposed to be feeling.

Emily's face twisted into something that looked like intrigue, then concern. She furrowed her brows and pressed her lips together in a tight line.

Realization. Alison recognized it in the way her brows softened...in the way she let out a quick breath.

"Shit." Emily dropped the food against the table and moved across the room quickly, sitting down next to her. "The boy…he didn't make it, did he?"

Alison shook her head.

I should cry. But seeing Jason's face had shut her down…had numbed her to everything.

"Another team is handling the case, but Cavanaugh and I heard it come through on the radio." She put her hand on the back of Alison's neck and gave it a comforting squeeze. "You were the one operating?"

How does she do that? How does she just know things? Alison peered into Emily's eyes, concentrating on her warm palm against the back of her neck.

"The parents said it was a fight in school. That another boy in his class pulled a knife on him. Is that true?" Alison's eyes burned.

Am I crying? She couldn't tell.

Emily answered her silent question by moving her hand away from the back of her neck and wiping away a stray tear.

"Yeah. Kid is fourteen. Way too young to be wrapped up in something like this. He's at the station with his parents."

Alison lowered her head.

She'd never been faced with something like this before.

The young boy was a child-killer, but he was just a child himself.

She had started killing at his age. The only difference was that her victims deserved it. And she never went after another child, though sometimes she wanted to skin the bullies on the playground. And she wanted to murder Alex more than once.

Who am I to judge a child, brain not yet fully developed when I myself am guilty of the same sins?

She fought the rage.

I don't kill children.

But she'd just watched a kid die.

So what do I do about it?

"Jason had just turned fifteen."

Why did I say that?

She put her hands back in her lap again, not sure what to do with them.

"When he…days before…" She stared at her fingers. When she saw them she could still see her family's blood coating them.

Her fingertips dripping, rivulets of blood streaming down her arms.

Where is this coming from?

"That boy…the boy who was stabbed…" Connor. "Connor." He was a human being. A child. Innocent. "He looked exactly like my brother."

Her voice trembled. She watched as Emily put her hand on top of her hands, clasping her fingers.

"I'm so sorry."

"Losing someone is always tough, but children…" Alison pulled her hands away from Emily's.

She wanted her comfort…her touch, but she didn't feel like she deserved it.

I failed that boy – I failed my brother.

But she was only seven. How could she have done anything any differently?

"I know what you mean." Emily was persistent in grabbing her hands again. It's like she was trying to tell her something, but Alison didn't understand what.

A gentle squeezed conveyed everything the detective was trying to say.

I understand.

"Cavanaugh and I have knocked on our fair share of parents' doors. Drunk driving, mostly. Sometimes a mugging or a beating or a freak accident. Seeing the looks on their faces…" She trailed off.

She knew she'd gotten her point across. She understood. That's all Alison needed to know.

"Hey," she tilted Alison's chin up, "I know you did everything you could to save Connor."

Alison sighed, looking away, looking anywhere but at Emily.

"I hate feeling like this." She grumbled in frustration.

I hate FEELING. But feeling is necessary. It's what makes someone human. Can I be human?

Emily moved her hand to the back of her neck again. It calmed her down.

So kind. So pure. My Emily.

"How can I help?"

She'd asked the same thing in bed that morning. But unlike then, Emily couldn't help now. The detective clearly wanted to be there for her, but she couldn't. Not in the way that Alison needed at that moment.

Find me a monster to kill.

She needed to stab something. To maim someone. To right the horrible wrong and bring balance back to an unbalanced world.

Thoughts were swirling in her head. She couldn't kill the boy who'd stabbed Connor. But she could kill another child-killer.

She already had Sara Harvey on her list. The woman who drowned her own baby and then went out partying afterwards. Alison had been planning on killing her before Tim Roland had come into the picture. She'd put Sara on hold to focus on him.

But now, her schedule was clear. And she could focus on Sara again.

It would be coming full circle when she killed her.

Maybe that's how her cycle ended. A child-killer for a child-killer. Maybe the world would balance out after she killed her. Her life felt like a scale that was constantly teetering and if she didn't keep that scale stable the Earth would turn on its axis and she'd fall into a darkness she wouldn't be able to control.

"Ali – " Emily gently moved her palm to the side of the blonde's neck. "Alison – " Her tone somehow softening to a point that Alison had never heard before. "I meant what I said this morning. I'm here for you." She hesitated. "I can tell you're going through something. I also know you're not ready to talk about it, but I can be here for you. You don't have to go through it alone."

Alison licked her lips. She closed her eyes, felt the warm tears there. When she opened them back up she forced herself to look at the girl she loved…

Love…I actually love someone.

The calming look in Emily's eyes quelled her urges.

I don't need to kill anyone.

At least not right now.

"I know you are." Alison's body found the curve of Emily's as she leaned against her. She felt Emily's badge digging into her hip, but she didn't care. She laid her head on the detective's shoulder and sighed.

Emily laid her cheek against the top of Alison's head. She could practically feel her exhaustion radiating off of her. From her night terrors to the terror in the operating room, she had to be beyond tired.

"C'mere." Emily moved up on to the cot, pulling Alison into her arms. She moved down against the mattress, taking the blonde with her.

Alison didn't object.

They laid facing one another, just like they had earlier that morning, eyes on one another as they both connected emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.

Emily brushed her index finger through Alison's hair, tucking it behind her ear and away from her face.

Alison looked at girlfriend, her eyes glassy and wet.

"You never have to pretend with me," Emily said quietly. "You don't have to hide how you're feeling."

That's the problem. I DON'T feel. I don't know how to…

Except with Emily. The brunette made her feel all kinds of things. But that didn't completely shut out the dark thoughts…the urges.

She wasn't ignorant. She didn't buy that love could come along and magically fix everything that was wrong. It wasn't a cure all. At most, it was a bandaid. She'd likely always have the monster inside of her.

But perhaps it could be tamed.

Not by Emily, though. It never worked when someone else tried to change a person.

That person had to want to change.

I want to change.

She looked into Emily's eyes and she felt like it was possible. Maybe she could leave her old life behind. People could be reformed. She wanted to be normal. She wanted to have a normal life.

Is it too late for me?

Am I even a person anymore? Or am I just a monster?

She felt no remorse for the things she'd done. How could that be helped? Medication? Therapy? How could she make things work with Emily?

Emily pulled her into an embrace.

She loves me. Why?

"Food is going to get cold." She barely recognized the sound of her own quiet voice.

"We can reheat it." Emily kissed her forehead.

Alison closed her eyes and relaxed.

Somehow, Emily knew this was exactly what she needed.

To feel connected. To feel human.

Alison liked laying there. She liked looking into Emily's eyes. She felt like she was sharing something special with her.

"You're sweet for being here." Alison smiled at her.

"Where else would I be?" Emily's hand had come to rest against the curve of Alison's side, up underneath her scrubs.

Alison was silent for a moment before she was able to muster up the courage to speak,

"About this morning…"

I love you.

Her eyes drifted down to Emily's lips. She saw the detective smile at the bashful look on her face.

"I've never said that to anyone before."

I've never said it and meant it. I'm broken.

"Really?" In most cases, people probably would have found it bizarre, but Emily said it softly, like it meant something to her, like she was touched by it…like she was honored to be the first to hear it.

Alison nodded. She'd faced down some of the most brutal people in Rosewood, but love absolutely terrified her. It made her mouth feel dry and cottony and her pulse beat in her throat. It made her feel out of control in the best way.

"I thought…" Alison stuttered. "I was hoping it wasn't too sudden."

"Truth be told, I've wanted to tell you that for a long time." Emily admitted.

"Really?"

Emily nodded.

"You're braver than I am. I couldn't get the damn words out." The detective had a look about her that Alison could only describe as "aww, shucks."

How does she do that? How does she make me feel so at ease?

"It's all so new to me. I know how I feel…" Alison gulped. "I know how I feel when you look at me. I see your eyes…" Her eyes bore through her, "…and it's like you see who I really am."

That was the most terrifying part. That Emily looked at her and she wanted to be worth the effort. She wanted to be the person Emily saw.

"I've never felt that before. And if I'm being perfectly honest…" The blonde paused, trying to remind herself to breathe, "…may I be perfectly honest about something?" She stroked the detective's shoulder.

"Of course." The way Emily looked at her made her heart pump faster...made her blood rush quicker.

"I've never experienced this before." Her eyes moved back towards Emily's.

"Experienced…" Befuddled confusion.

She's so fucking cute.

"Love?" Emily tried to guess what she was saying.

"No…this." She trailed her fingers against her tan skin. "Intimacy." She smiled. She quite liked it. "After everything that happened to me when I was younger…" She saw the doors slamming closed in her mind, sealing themselves shut. "I closed myself off. Put up walls."

"You had to protect yourself." Emily didn't begrudge her for it.

I had to protect others, too.

Her greatest fear was that she might hurt someone innocent. Someone she cared about. Someone like Emily.

"In the spirit of honesty," Emily stroked her cheek, "I've never really experienced this either."

Interesting.

"Oh." Her voice bestowed her confusion. Because Toby had told her that Maya was the love of Emily's life. "What about…" She stopped short of saying the girl's name.

The girl who had been drenched in Lyndon's blood.

She wasn't supposed to be there.

"Maya was special to me." There was a sadness in the brunette's eyes.

A pang of something - guilt? - rushed over Alison.

"We loved each other. I was…" She chewed on her words, "I was in love with her. But we were just kids. And after her death I did the same thing you did. I shut down." She sighed. "I suppose we have that in common."

You're nothing like me.

"I know this is moving really fast." Emily cupped her cheek.

"I want it to." The euphoric bliss she felt when she was with Emily far exceeded the thrills of her kills.

Nothing had ever felt this good before.

"I just want to know that you're comfortable with where we are. We can go at whatever pace you'd like." Emily smiled.

"You're so patient with me." Alison traced the outline of Emily's bicep.

"I could say the same thing about you." Emily chuckled softly. "I know I can be a bit pushy…"

"You're not." Alison immediately disagreed.

"I am." Emily proved her point with a wink. "Part of it is my job. I try not to overstep, but I know I can be kind of cocky."

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you." Alison traced her finger against Emily's jaw. "You have no idea how special you are." Special as in you're making a psychopath question her morals and feel things kind of special.

"Well, I am a Special Detective…" Emily tried to lighten the mood.

"See…that." Alison pointed. "That right there is what I mean. You're unapologetically you. And I find that so refreshing. I'm…" Alison paused. A nutjob who cuts body parts off and bathes in blood, "…not there yet."

"You went through something extremely traumatic. I know this…" Emily motioned between them, "…I know whatever we are…I know it's going to take time. And care. And I'm okay with that."

"How do you do it?" Alison cocked her head.

"Do what?"

"You went through a horrible trauma, too." Trauma that Alison could have stopped if she had done things right with Lyndon. "Do you…" She hesitated. The last thing she wanted to do was drudge up painful memories, but she wanted to know if the flashes she had about her childhood were normal. "Do you ever dream about Maya? Or…just…have flashes of her come to you out of the blue?"

Emily sucked in a deep breath. It touched a nerve, and Alison hated that it hurt her. But she didn't know if her experiences were typical human experiences because she didn't know what typical human experiences were.

"Yeah." And Alison could see it in her eyes. The nightmares she had. The flashes back to the scene of the crime. "Sometimes I'll be in the middle of something. It can be as simple as going out to get the mail. And I smell a rose bush…" She'd brought roses that night. The smell. She remembered the smell. "And suddenly I'm back there. It's…vivid."

"I'm sorry." I really am sorry. For everything.

"It comes with the territory." She smiled sadly. Alison thought she saw tears gleaming in her eyes, but the brunette hid it well from her. "I'm sorry that you had to operate on a young boy who looked like Jason. That must have been incredibly difficult…brought up a lot of things for you." Her hand was like a warm spring day on her cheek. She smelled so good.

Alison nodded.

Seeing Connor on the operating table had unlocked something she'd tried to keep at bay for many many years.

I was so stupid. So naïve.

She'd been exceptionally intelligent as a child, but that only included facts and scholarly studies. She'd been incredibly dense when it came to emotional intelligence, mostly because she didn't understand emotions. She'd had to teach herself, especially in the years after Jason died.

Looking back, she understood what could have happened to her had Jason not protected her. She'd flown off the handle at Spencer in that OR because of what had flashed through her mind.

Emily laid beside her, quietly letting Alison work through what she needed to work though. The detective had learned from experience that you couldn't force someone to face their trauma. You couldn't force them to talk. She'd learned that after Maya.

Alison lost track of how long they laid together in silence. Five minutes turned into fifteen. She was lost in Emily's eyes. In her touch. Emily was the only safe place she'd ever felt truly safe.

As she laid there and let the detective comfort her she realized she hadn't even asked about Emily's morning.

That's something people are supposed to do, right?

"How has your day been?" Alison traced the tip of her index finger against the side of Emily's neck. She could feel the throb of her pulse.

Blood. Blood is a life force.

"Did you get anywhere in your investigation?" She peered into Emily's eyes, searching for a reaction.

She saw a flicker of excitement, but Emily's words betrayed her thoughts.

"We don't have to talk about this now."

She thinks it's upsetting to me. She doesn't know…

"I need the distraction." Alison let her palm fall flat against the side of her neck. She could feel the increase in Emily's pulse and it sent a pang of desire to her core.

I need to know if you're on to me.

She had pocketed Emily. She hadn't meant to do it, but the brunette was her informant.

God, I'm using her.

She felt something unsettling in her stomach.

Shame?

"You know Toby would kill me if he knew I talked about cases to you." The wry smile on the brunette's face took her right back to the day they'd met. Flirting in the ER. Now she was laying beside her, a girlfriend, a confidant.

"It's not like I can't get Intel from Aria." Alison didn't like using Emily. It didn't feel good. But for the sake of their relationship she had to know.

"Aria doesn't have the inside scoop." A sly wink.

"Please don't say inside scoop with Alex Drake sniffing around." She scooted closer to Emily.

"Yeah, I saw the bitch outside." Emily's lip curled into a snarl.

She's STILL here? Why?

"She has no life." Alison rolled her eyes. "So, what's the word at the station? Any good news?"

"Some." Emily pursed her lips.

"Oh?" No inflection to indicate it made her nervous. Interest. Intrigue. That's all it was.

"Caucasian male or potentially even a female. We're still narrowing down the age, because right now it could be anyone in their early thirties to their mid-fifties. The killer is very intelligent."

Why, thank you. I was top of my class.

"Someone in a position of power."

I can be a power bottom on occasion…

"We're thinking someone from a rich background."

A trust fund baby.

"The fact that they're using The Scarlet Letter for inspiration points to someone who appreciates fine literature."

Great Expectations is my favorite novel.

"Probably someone religious."

Swing and a miss.

"Narcissistic. Arrogant. God-like complex."

Your words wound me.

Alison's meticulous skills had paid off. They had no idea who they were hunting for.

"Toby joked about it being a cop or a doctor."

Alison went stiff. She tried not to let Emily see her reaction. But the detective didn't miss a beat. A curious expression twisted across her face. And Alison had no choice but to lean in to it. She had alibis for the last two kills, but she couldn't leave any room for doubt.

"You think it could be someone here?" Alison rasped out, gripping Emily's arm tightly. "God, I can't…I can't fathom. After what happened in the ambulance bay...and that girl out at my cabin. Oh my God."

She was impressed with her own acting skills. In another lifetime she could have been an award-winning actress.

Maybe that could be a career choice after I stop killing. I'm great at faking things.

Her fake fear resonated in Emily. It brought out the protective inner beast that Alison had seen the night she was attacked.

"I'm sorry. I knew I shouldn't have said anything…" Emily pulled her close. "We don't know anything for sure, but Dr. Montgomery seems to think that it's probably not anyone in medicine. The work is way too sloppy."

Aria, how dare you mock my fake sloppiness!

"Plus…where would you find the time?" Emily laughed half-heartedly. "It really could be anyone in a high ranking position. We're looking at educators, lawyers, and politicians, too." Emily tried to make her feel better.

"Oh, it's definitely a politician. Snakes. All of them." An attempt at a joke.

One that landed, because Emily didn't just laugh. She belly laughed. It made Alison happy to see her smiling.

"We should eat." Alison propped her head up on her elbow. "I can't sit here wallowing. I have other patients. And my surgery schedule is booked this afternoon."

"Okay." Emily copied the doctor's position, leaning up and holding herself there with her arm.

Strong arms. Alison stared at her tight bicep. So soft around me. Such a contradiction.

Alison liked seeing Emily reflecting her movements. They were in sync.

Sympatico.

Emily pulled herself to the edge of the cot and stood up. She reached out to help Alison get to her feet, grasping her arms as Alison propelled forward. The motion pulled the blonde into her chest.

Alison wrapped her arms around Emily and nuzzled her face near the crook of her neck, a silent thank you for being here.

"So, what's on the menu?" Alison looked at the take-out bags on the table.

"Rasta Pasta with chicken, bell peppers, and penne pasta." Emily walked over to the table and pulled two re-heatable to-go containers out of the paper bag.

Throughout their daily lunches and their dinners they had traveled around the world exploring different cuisines. They knew each other's tastes.

Alison smirked at Emily.

They knew how each other tasted.

She liked the way she made Emily feel. She liked the way Emily made her feel. She felt like she could let her guard down around her. The blonde had never let herself be pampered in a relationship. Not since…

No, Wilden wasn't the same.

He hadn't pampered her. He had groomed her.

After that she'd been distant with others, only dating to keep up a normal outward appearance to please her aunt and her friends. But she never got attached. She was solely independent, even when she'd hooked up with people.

Just like Aria.

So much about the spunky young forensic tech made sense now. Her independence. Why she hid in the morgue. Her disdain for the media. Chasing down a man who sexually assaulted and killed women...

My fearless little friend. How could anyone ever hurt her?

Alison played with the straw in her drink.

I really do need to look that teacher up. Pay someone on the inside to Julius Caeser his ass.

Emily caught a glimpse of Alison's reflection in the microwave door. She carried such a heavy burden. The detective couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Alison growing up in that house with her parents. Afraid of rounding every corner. Jumping every time she heard a noise. Hiding from the people who were supposed to protect her.

The microwave dinged and Emily pulled the food out and walked over to the table. She put Alison's tray down in front of her and then sat down across from her.

Alison wasn't really hungry, but she ate anyway. She knew she needed to eat something. The Rasta Pasta was delicious. She liked the various flavors swimming around in her mouth.

"You always pick the best thing on the menu." The doctor savored the taste.

Emily slid a piece of chicken in her mouth. Her tongue hit the tip of the fork.

Alison found herself staring at her lips. She had become somewhat obsessed with certain parts of Emily's body. Her mouth. Her fingers. Her hands.

Her eyes trailed down…

Her collar bone. Her breasts.

She kept her gaze fixed on the supple round globes poking out against her chest. She loved seeing her when she was aroused, her nipples hard. She enjoyed sucking on them. She enjoyed the taste of her.

Alison ate another bite of food while silently wishing that she was eating something else.

Emily saw her staring.

"My eyes are up here, Doctor." She playfully touched the tip of her tongue to the tips of her teeth. "But you can keep staring if you'd like."

"I can't help it. Have you seen you? I'd like a little something off the menu if I'm being perfectly honest." There was a little growl in her voice.

Emily smiled at the sound of it.

"Doctor DiLaurentis, are you trying to seduce me?" She lifted her brows.

"Every minute of every day."

"This morning just wasn't enough for you, huh?"

"When will you learn?" Alison shook her head with a 'tsk' and nibbled on her pasta. "I can never get enough of you."

She was addicted. Emily was a drug. A drug she had no intention of giving up. She was confident that if someone put Emily in one corner and lined up a row of the most notorious killers in the world in another corner and gave her free range to do whatever she wanted to them and told her to choose one…she'd choose her girl.

Then maybe she'd use the detective's gun on the killers…

"I want you to understand something." Alison pushed her food across the table, over next to Emily's. She swung her chair beside the brunette. "This...us...is about more than just sex for me, Emily. All that stuff I said…about letting people in…"

Intimacy.

"…I've told you things that no one else knows." She put her hand on Emily's arm and they turned to face one another. "I grew up talking to shrinks. But they were more interested in picking my head apart than they were about really hearing what I had to say." Then again Alison had told every single psychologist exactly what they wanted to hear to trick them into believing she was sane. "You're the first person I've ever felt safe with…since…since my brother."

A bloody memory flooded her thoughts. The slit in Jason's throat.

"Jason! No, NO!" Her little hands.

Alison closed her eyes and shook her head.

A warm palm against her face grounded her in reality.

"Hey, where did you go just then?"

Alison sighed.

"Same place I went this morning after I woke up." Alison looked down, fidgeting with her fingers.

Emily opened her mouth, ready to respond, but then closed her mouth and took a thoughtful breath. She needed guidance on Alison's boundaries. She took a bite of her food and chewed on the question for a moment.

"You only have to talk about it if you want to."

"The memory…" Alison reached for her fork. It wasn't as fun and shiny as a knife, but could still be deadly if used properly. "It's…"

Complicated? Sick? Fucked Up?

Emily would never look at her the same. Or perhaps she would. The detective truly seemed to love her.

"I'm not going to ask you to revisit any memories you don't want to revisit." She stroked Alison's back. "But you can't hold it in forever. It will destroy you. Trust me, I went down that path…and I did some things I can never take back."

Alison had to choke back a laugh.

Booze is nothing compared to blood, sweetie.

The blonde knew she was right. She was self-imploding, losing control.

"You already know that Jason was protecting me." Alison squeezed the fork.

Sometimes she wished her parents were alive so she could kill them again. Only this time she'd savor it. She'd remember it.

Why don't I remember killing them?

She shoved the fork into her food and came up with a good sized portion.

"From the things they wanted him to do to you?" Emily dabbed a napkin at the edge of her mouth and turned to face the doctor, giving Alison her full attention.

Alison furrowed her brow, staring at her fork full of food.

"He wasn't just protecting me from my parents." Alison suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She lowered her fork. "I didn't understand what was happening until years later. I was too young."

Far too young to have my innocence stolen. Far too young to be mixed up in the horrifying life my parents wanted for me.

Alison toyed with her food, pushing it around, mixing it up like a child who didn't want to eat her dinner.

"Jason was supposed to be a part of it, but he refused. Time and time again. Their benefactors…" She spit the word angrily, harshly, "…they paid for certain entertainment. Jason and I were supposed to be that entertainment. And not like the fun tap-dancing and puppet show kind of entertainment."

She saw the moment that it registered in Emily's mind. Eyes as large as saucers. Cheeks losing their color. A strange knot she was choking back in her throat.

She looked away from Emily, unable to bear the pity on her face.

I'm not a victim. I'm a survivor. Don't look at me like that. Please don't look at me like that.

Emily dropped her fork, pasta, peppers, and chicken splattering against the table.

"Alison…" It was the only word the detective could come up with.

"My parents were in to some…" She tried to think of the right word, "…sadistic things with their friends. I was too young to grasp it, but Jason knew what these people…what they wanted to do to me. To us. He is the only reason I am still in one piece."

A bit of a lie. She was in several pieces. Shards of a mirror broken and on the ground. Seven years bad luck, some would say. Alison felt like she'd had a fucking lifetime of bad luck since Jason died.

"My brother is the only reason they never got the chance…"

In the blink of an eye, Emily's arm had fallen against the table and she was gripping Alison's hand in hers.

"…to sell you and Jason to them…to traffick you?" The detective's free hand balled into a fist. She looked like she wanted to punch something.

Alison tried to push away the concern she had about Emily connecting the dots of her past. Would it fit into her profile of the killer she was seeking? She didn't think it would. Emily saw her in an entirely unique way. Love had blinded her.

"Sort of." Alison wavered. "It wasn't really that cut and dry. They were like…I don't know…our handlers or something. They were going to make us do a bunch of different things for money. The night they were killed they were fighting about it. My mom thought my dad was going too far…"

It wasn't entirely a lie. Her mother had been concerned when her dad picked up that knife. But it was too late by then. The woman had spent years preening her and forcing Jason to learn about things he would have to do to his little sister.

"I've only recently started to come to terms with some of my childhood. I didn't recognize it at the time." She sighed.

"Of course not." Emily's tone conveyed exactly what she was thinking: You were just a baby.

An angry wave of fury washed across Emily's face. A fire so bright that the blonde was certain that if her parents were still alive Emily would kill them herself.

Alison wasn't sure how to respond. There were thoughts, and there were actions. Emily was fantasizing about killing her parents. Alison had actually done it. Would the good-natured detective have been capable of doing the same?

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to dump all of this on you like this…" But she wanted her to know. She wanted Emily to know everything. She had been holding on to the secrets of her childhood for so long that they were starting to poison her.

She couldn't keep her facts straight anymore. She didn't know what was real and what was just the stuff of nightmares.

Emily squeezed Alison's fingers and put her hand against her chin, holding it up delicately with her index finger and her thumb, like she was inspecting bruises that didn't exist. Emotional scars. Emotional bruises.

"You're not dumping anything on me. You can always talk to me. There is nothing that you're going to say to me that will make me care for you any less."

Not even if I tell you I'm The Scarlet Letter Killer?

"You are the most important person in my life. Those words I said this morning…" I love you. So glorious. So needed. "They weren't empty words. I meant it. I do love you. Very much."

Alison didn't have to fake the tiny smile on her face. She didn't have to fake anything with Emily.

"I love you, too, which is why I want to be honest with you." She'd never been honest with anyone her entire life.

She'd been lying to the world since she was a child. She found the truth to be a slippery slope and she didn't trust it. It made it incredibly difficult to be honest with herself. But she wanted to change that. Of course, there were some things she would have to take to her grave. Emily could never know about the monster inside of her. She could never know about the things she'd done.

She couldn't go back. All she could do was try to do better going forward. The knowledge and foresight she had could be used to keep rapists and murderers off the street. She could still save people. She could use her abilities to help.

Help realistically.

Nothing could change the beast inside of her. But she could change its actions…its meanings. She could define her own actions.

I am in control.

"I don't have a lot of practice with honesty." She admitted, sheepishly looking away. "But I'm working on it."

"Well, if there is anything I can do to help just let me know." The gentle motion of Emily rubbing Alison's knuckles turned her attention back to the brunette.

"Would you…" Alison stopped herself. She was just shy of asking Emily if she would kill her parents for what they'd done, but she watered it down to something more palatable, "…is it okay to feel angry and hurt if your parents betray you?"

"Absolutely." Emily didn't even hesitate, because of course she'd felt that after she came out, after her mother had rejected her. "People should have to take some kind of test to become a parent."

Alison nodded, slowly swallowing a nervous knot in her throat.

"Am I a bad person for feeling relieved that they're gone?" Her eyes darted away, to the food in front of her.

Emily once again touched her face, moving her head so that they were facing.

"No." She was resolute in her response.

"I feel like a freak…"

"You're not a freak, Alison. Trust me. When people do bad things to us it's hard to feel sympathy when karma catches up to them." She mindlessly rubbed her fingers over the scar that her ex-boyfriend had given to her. She remembered getting the news that he'd killed himself. Unlike when she'd lost Maya, when that boy had killed himself she hadn't felt an ounce of sympathy. "My ex-boyfriend…the one who tried to assault me in the locker room…I didn't care when he died. In fact, I felt relieved."

"Really?" Alison had to hide her disdain for the dead boy. She needed to find out where he was buried so she could set his grave on fire.

She'd read somewhere that 1 in 3 women would be assaulted in their lifetime. Sometimes the odds were much worse. She thought of herself and Aria and Emily.

A club that no one wants to belong to.

"Really." Emily kissed her. "There is nothing wrong with you…"

Except I kill people…

"I'm so sorry about what happened to you." They shadowed Aria's words from earlier. People cared about her. It was new. "I really am. But you were so lucky that you got out. You deserved better. You deserved a better childhood. You deserve to still have your brother in your life."

On that, she didn't disagree.

"I feel like I should feel…something…anything…about my parents' death. A lot of it is a blank." Because I blocked it the fuck out. "But…if they hadn't killed each other, I ask myself where I would be."

Screwed. I would be screwed in every sense of the word.

"My dad once told me that sometimes blessings come from tragedies." Emily rubbed Alison's knuckles. "I used to think it was bullshit. But…then…" She lifted her head.

"Then what?"

"I got shot in the chest. It was traumatizing and horrible. But had that not happened…I never would have met you."

A flood of emotions rushed through Alison's veins, making her heart beat faster in her chest.

Sometimes blessings come from tragedies.

Simple words. True. Painful.

Sometimes tragedies illuminated a path that wasn't visible before.

"Is it strange if I don't consider what happened to my parents a tragedy?" Jason, certainly. He was young. He was kind. He was a good person. But her parents…they deserved what they got.

Emily paused to consider her response.

"You know…I work in a system that takes criminals and punishes them as the law sees fit." Her eyes flashed, a hardened expression behind them. "Say a murderer kills a rapist…"

Tim Roland.

"I find that an act of justice prevailing."

"So…where's the line?" Alison had to know. She had to know just how far Emily was willing to go. "Say…" She hesitated, afraid to make it personal. But she had to know, "Say that you had Maya's killer in your hands. How far would you go? What would you do? Would you kill them?"

Emily's eyes flickered.

Grief. Anger. Pain. Rage.

She recognized the rage. She felt the rage. She understood it.

"I have spent almost ten years asking myself that question." She squared her shoulders. She's tense. "I'd like to think that I would follow law and procedure, but…" It lingered, just enough to give Alison her answer, "Emotion plays a role sometimes."

"I understand." Alison touched her cheek. "I get lost in emotions, too." A lie she was easily able to sell. "But I don't know where I'm supposed to be emotionally, considering everything I've been through. I just want to feel…" Anything. I want to feel anything, "…normal. I want things to be normal."

"I can do normal." Emily pecked her cheek. She smelled like chicken and pasta. Alison didn't mind. She had a sparkle in her eyes. "I'll even cook up something normal for us to do for our date night this weekend."

"Oh, intriguing. Do I get any hints?" Alison lifted her brows. Emily had her on the line, but she wasn't reeling her in just yet.

Emily rubbed her jaw, a smirk on her face.

"Close contact." She held her index finger up, signaling the number one and then put up her middle finger next to it, "And music. That's all you're getting."

Alison leaned into Emily, putting her hand against her knee.

Music and close contact.

Hmm, making love to a mixtape? How very high-school of you, Detective.

Was this what I was missing when I was younger?

Why couldn't I have had this instead of my fucked up childhood?

Alison pulled her brows together, tight in concentration.

"I think my family really messed me up, Emily." I'll never be normal.

She laid her head against Emily's shoulder.

The detective threaded her fingers through her long blonde locks.

"Whoever you are...whatever you feel, I want you to remember one very important thing."

"What's that?" Alison perked up curiously.

"I'm in love with you." Emily's soft brown eyes landed upon hers, her lips delicately pressing against hers. "And I am never letting you go."

"Promise?"

"I swear on my life."

I shudder to think what could happen...

Alison couldn't fathom Emily's life being on the line for any reason, but for her? It was a slippery slope. Emily's world was far more dangerous having her in it. The detective's life was in her hands, and she'd do everything in her power to make sure that she would never have to swear on her life again.

But deep in the twisted confines of their dangerous lives...when their worlds collided there would be nothing she could do, because there was only so much that one person could control. No one was ever truly safe from the monsters in society.

---

A/N: I know this one leaned heavy on emotions (supportive girlfriends FTW), so I am offering you all internet hugs.

Given the heavy content and the allusion to human trafficking, I felt it was important to drop the National Human Trafficking Hotline info. Call 1-888-373-7888 or text "HELP" or "INFO" to 233733.