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BossLady (x2): Lol, no worries about it cutting off! Also, omg, yes, that is my exact headcanon for their dating life. They already feel so connected that asking for a traditional date would feel a little stilted. There may eventually be a ficlet for that ;)
Title: Failure and Archetypes
Summary: For once, the 20th found one before Emma could.
Note: Anon asked if we could see slightly tipsier Graham or Emma. We've seen fluffy Graham, now's time for angsty Emma. Something about recent episodes and spoilers made me want to address one thing I've mentioned only in passing in this verse: Emma's title.
He put the file between his teeth, hitting save on the document still on his screen while pulling on his jacket.
"Clocking out?" Simmons questioned. He leaned back, letting the bones of his spine crack noisily.
Graham nodded and tucked the papers in the crook of his arm. "Yeah. I'll drop these with Miller before I go. Unless you want a last look?" he said.
Simmons rubbed his temples. "Please, don't tempt me. I hate this case," he said thickly.
"DNA comes back Tuesday," he reminded.
"Doesn't stop Miller from wanting every other piece turned over in the meantime. 'It's gotta be airtight this time around.' Like we don't usually work ourselves raw on these cases," he said grouchily.
Graham sighed and gave a half shrug. "Departmental screw up. Makes the 20th look better."
"I know."
A blip on the computers a few paces away drew their attention. Garcia leaned over his screen with a grimace. "It's Lightly. He says they found Delabert. I thought that was Robbery's division?"
Graham dropped the file on the table and went to join Garcia. "Yeah, it was. Emma was working that rundown, been on it for months. What's Lightly doing on it?" Lightly worked in Homicide; the case shouldn't have crossed his desk.
Garcia whistled through his teeth. "That's why. They found him at the girlfriend's apartment. Looks like a murder/suicide."
Graham froze. "What?" A cold grip seized him, how close Emma had been to that guy within the last few months.
Garcia's head bobbed. Simmons had come in closer, and even Lazo's head popped up from her station. "Nasty scene. Lightly … Lightly said he told the recovery agent about the development." Garcia's gaze turned upward, focusing on Graham. Graham felt the others do the same.
He took in a shaky breath and fished out his phone. He found that the email Lightly sent was sitting in his inbox, but there was nothing from Emma. No email, no call, no text. He swallowed thickly. "I—"
"Go home. I'll get the file back," Simmons said simply.
He nodded numbly, scooping up the papers he needed.
"Humbert." Lazo helpfully tossed his keys at him, and Graham couldn't even find the will to smile in acknowledgement as he caught them.
Emma had known that girl. Emma had sympathized. Emma had cared.
He barely remembered the taxi ride home, having forgone the subway in an attempt at solitude. He had only sent one text, but so far it went unanswered and unread.
He walked down the hall to the apartment, still checking his phone as he went. A lock clicked open as he did, and his head shot up. He saw Henry's face peek out of Sam and Ritu's. "Graham," he called in a whisper.
"Hey kid," he greeted. Henry scurried out and came into his arms easily, hugging him loosely.
"Mom's not great," he said solemnly. One shoulder shrugged up, though his face remained worried. "She picked up me and Avery, but she was real quiet. She asked Aamer to watch us until their parents get home. Mr. Wilson's on his way."
He looked around him, finding the teen setting bowls of top ramen in front of Avery and the empty place that was Henry's. "You'll be okay?"
Henry nodded. "Aamer won't hang with us, but he'll make sure we're fed and safe."
He smiled and pushed the hair off his forehead. "You have your stuff? Homework finished?"
He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Yeah, Graham. All set."
He nodded. "Okay. See you tomorrow, then. I'll take you guys to school, okay? Have fun."
"Thanks." He hesitated in the doorframe before finally giving a half smile. "Make sure she's better, okay?"
The corner of his lip quirked, and a low sigh escaped him. "I'll try. Be good, kid."
He nodded and the door shut behind him. Graham turned toward their home, feeling a bit of tension curl its way into his spine.
When he entered the apartment, it was dark. No lights were on, and only the barest hint of the last of the sun was peeking in through the blinds. He took off his jacket and set it and his stack of papers to the side. Silently, he walked toward the bedroom.
"You're home."
He glanced to the corner of the living room, finding Emma slouched against the wall. A bottle of whiskey lay cradled by her side, the other hand resting against her temple. In the dark of shadows, she looked grey and drawn, her eyes red-rimmed but dry.
He hesitated a moment before leaning against the back of the couch. He pressed his lips together and bowed his head. "Lightly let us know."
She nodded and brought the bottle to her lips, taking a deliberate swig. "Four months."
He let out a low breath and sat on the ground so he was facing her. "I know. He went off-grid. There was nothing you could do."
Her gaze rose, settling on him with barely contained fury and sorrow. "'Nothing I could do?' I kept hitting dead ends, and taking on new cases in the meantime. I didn't put the effort I could have, and he killed her. She trusted me to find him. All that time, and I failed and—I'm supposed to be the—" She cut herself off, and brought her fist to her mouth.
His eyes bounced across her face as he realized where the end of her sentence lay. He swallowed, thinking about the title that had been forced so heavily upon her. He carefully chose his next words. "You are. One person's evil doesn't negate who you are."
She shook her head and took another long drink. "I'm supposed to be this big Savior. I'm supposed to bring back happy endings, to help people, and I just … I get close, and then—"
"Hey, stop. You have done those things, and you continue to do those things. You've saved so many—"
"I didn't save her. I didn't save you," she said plainly, meeting his eye straight on. "Don't you dare say otherwise, not again. Not when I was too damn stubborn, too blind, that I couldn't stop her from killing you." She covered her face, a sharp exhale leaving her, a hitch in the next breath.
The protests felt heavy in his chest, the want to comfort her mixing with the knowledge that being too reassuring on this would only make her push back harder. Carefully he scooted forward and turned, leaning against the wall next to her. He rested his knee against hers, making sure she could feel his presence. "Okay," he said slowly. "You didn't save me. You didn't have the chance, and I died."
She sniffed and nodded. She pulled her hands though her hair. "See. Not so hard."
He left his hand palm up near her side, leaving the offer there but not reaching for hers. "Just because you have that title, that destiny, whatever you want to call it, it doesn't mean you're infallible."
She stared forward wearily. "All the happy endings, they said. Instead, all I bring is my bad luck," she said thickly. "I thought I was, I really did. At least for Henry, you know. But more and more I just find—"
"What? That we struggle sometimes, we fail sometimes, but ultimately this life is happy? It's real, this life, and that comes with all the realities of it. Unless I'm wrong. Are you not happy?" he countered.
She looked at him and her hand slipped into his. "I am. I promise. I just …." She paused and swallowed another mouthful of the liquor.
"It's not a picture-perfect fairytale, not like the book tries to make things, and not even like it was back then," he said. He twined their fingers and brought it up to kiss along her knuckles. "I like it better, though. And just because we have these times, doesn't make you any less of a –"
"A savior? A savior that can't even manage to save her tru—her l— … well, you know." Her face soured as she drank, blinking rapidly.
Graham thought about the label that rested a little more comfortably along their relationship, but still seemed so impossible. He knew she didn't like to mark it in those quixotic terms, that she liked feeling it more than saying it, so he didn't take offense to her stammering. "I did come back, you know."
She huffed. "Yeah. And yet I still keep losing people."
He played with her fingers, twisting them along his own. Quietly, he offered, "maybe you're not the savior anymore. Maybe that ended when the Dark Curse broke."
She grimaced and her lashes brushed across her cheeks.
He bumped her shoulder. "I'm not saying it's true. I'm just saying you wouldn't need the title to make you a good person, Emma. And I think I can speak for Henry when I say that it doesn't make us love you any less if that were the case."
Tentatively, her eyes rose. Her gaze traced his features, and he let her have the moment to discern the truth in his words.
He waited another beat before continuing. "You did so much for everyone, and especially for me, but okay: you didn't save my life back then. You didn't get the chance—"
"Or I failed," she muttered darkly.
He raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Okay, let's say you failed. Do you also believe me when I say Henry loves you?"
She huffed. "Yes." There was something in there, though, the worry that always seemed attached, like she wasn't enough for her kid.
Determinedly, he twisted his body toward hers. "And do you believe that I love you?"
Her face softened and she nodded. "Of course. I love you, too."
He rested his forehead on hers, their noses touching slightly before he pulled back a fraction. "Then you don't have to worry about being some archetype. You're such a good person, Emma, and that echoes in everything you do. Knowing you take it this hard when you 'fail' … well, that's just reinforces who you are."
"Which is?"
"You are you. You don't have to be anything else, not for us."
She huffed a short sound of amusement, and shied away from his gaze "For someone who claims to be not good at the talking thing, you pick some choice words."
He knew she was only trying to hide from the seriousness, so he decided to play into the teasing. "Only with you. Maybe Henry sometimes," he said. He pressed his lips to hers in a shadow of a kiss. "Take the loss this time. One miss doesn't take away the wins you've made before."
She closed her eyes again, but nodded. "She just …," she trailed off.
"You saw yourself in her," he finished. Marina had been nineteen, trying so hard to scrape together the funds to get her boyfriend, a thief, out of jail. There were a few easy similarities to find, even though there wasn't enough for full parallels. The lines intersected only minimally, but he had seen the way Emma's soul had steeled whenever she spoke of the case.
She nodded and scrapped the bottle closer, almost as if she was cradling it. "It's not fair," she whispered.
He shook his head and rested it on top of hers. "No, it's not. But it's also not your fault that that man took her life," he said.
He kept a part to himself, the part that was morbidly pleased that Grayson Delabert was dead. Emma had been so close to crossing his path over the months, so close to finding him. If he was capable of killing someone that cared about him, he didn't want to consider what could have happened if. He was still stamping down the protectiveness that had initially consumed him when he heard the news.
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "We can go to the service, but only if you want. Whatever way you need to mourn, I'll help."
She shifted and rested her head against him. "I don't know yet." She pushed away the bottle, before looking up with big eyes. "Take me to bed?"
He nodded and tucked her into his arms. He lifted them from the floor and carried her to the bedroom, feeling as she melted into his embrace. It would take a while before she could actually cry for what happened, he knew, but he'd take the chance to care for her now, when she was letting him. "Shower first?"
She shook her head. "Just want to sleep."
He untied and removed her boots, and she lifted her hips to help rid herself of her pants. She opened her arms to him next, the request clear. "Let me get you some water," he said, and started to get out of bed.
"No," she said firmly. She grabbed him by the tie, pulling him back into her arms. "Just—just hold me, okay?"
Unable to deny her, he fell easily to his side of the bed. She rolled into him with her head positioned just so, ear on his fourth and fifth ribs. He sighed and curled his arms around her. Faintly, he could tell she was trembling in an effort to keep her emotions at bay. "I'm so sorry, Em."
She was silent a moment before she nodded wearily. "Me, too." A kiss pressed against his chest, and she fisted his shirtfront to pull him even closer. "Thank you."
He waited until her breathing had evened out, enough that she wouldn't be awake enough to protest, before whispering into her hair "you're more than enough, Emma. Just as you are."