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Title: Lack of Guilt
Rating: T, for some dark subject matter
Summary: It's an unwelcome reminder of just how dangerous his job was.
Note: Set before Storm, so just before they are living together. This is not technically prompted. I was listening to The Departed while it played in another room, and had this idea come to me. It reminded me of headcanons made with lessawildmoon, and thus I will blame her for my muse. Thank you, sweetie.

Emma jogged across the street at a steady pace, still feeling the nag of confusion tugging at the back of her mind. She glanced back to the precinct and frowned.

She had gone by the station to essentially bother Graham. It had been three days or so since seeing him, and she wasn't used to being apart so long since they'd gotten their memories. She was trying not to let the crack of something familiar peek through at not seeing him as he had responded to her every text, but she needed to physically see him. Henry was at school, so she thought she'd visit for a few hours before going to pick him up.

But even though it was just past twelve on a Wednesday, Graham was not within the offices she'd come to be so familiar with. In fact, the whole department had been pretty empty. Only the detective that always looked like she'd had a bad day was left, and she'd told her that Graham was at the bar.

On a Wednesday. Just past twelve.

It was safe to say that Emma was nervous. She had no idea what could have happened to send her … Graham to go drinking in the middle of a workday.

When she walked into the bar, she heard the staccato tones of Andie rapidly speaking in Vietnamese. She squinted as her eyes adjusted to the dark. Eddie was at the end, looking into his drink almost in confusion, as he was absolutely ignored by everyone else in the room. Mrs. Nguyen was in a far corner, working silently on paperwork. Emma was not surprised to find Andie fluttering behind the bar while fussing over the only patron she cared to wait on.

She seemed to be finishing her rant, ending in English "and it's not like you ever mentioned it to anyone."

"Andie," Graham sighed, and pulled his hand over his face, rubbing. "It wasn't a big deal."

Andie looked startled, and started into another non-English tirade. Emma only noted one word that she knew, that basically translated to "idiot."

Emma slid into the seat next to Graham. "So, why are you an idiot?" she asked, bumping against him.

Graham's posture changed from stiff and uncomfortable to relaxed and relieved, and a smile crossed his face. He sought out her hand, weaving their fingers together under the table in greeting.

"Oh, and you didn't even tell the girlfriend. Bó tay."

Graham rolled his eyes. Emma's curiosity piqued, even as the label caused something hot to build in her cheeks. It still felt new, to be referred to as "boyfriend" and "girlfriend," despite the markers of relationship they had already made.

He pulled a hand through his hair and gestured to Andie with a flick of his eye. "Andie thinks I should go back to the shrink and actually talk."

"You went to a shrink?" Emma asked with some surprise. It wasn't that she found anything wrong with it, and God knows between the two of them they could keep psychiatrists in business for years, but it never seemed like something he would do. He didn't like talking about personal matters with others beyond their circle.

Graham's face twisted and he dropped her hand to take his drink. He shrugged one shoulder. "It was required."

"Yeah," Andie pipped in, her eyes narrowed. "All personnel are mandated to see to their mental health after an officer-involved shooting."

"Oh," Emma said, nodding in understanding. "I heard rumblings around the station. That guy, Fell, right? That was your department?"

Dr. Richard Fell had gained some press for being the lead in a string of murders from a few years back. She'd heard on the news and around the station that he'd tried to take a hostage and was killed during the standoff. She thought it had still been an active case when the incident occurred, and thus not one for Graham's group. Perhaps all of Fugitive Enforcement had to go to therapy.

Andie snorted. "His department? He was the officer involved."

She turned to him in surprise. He avoided her eye, fiddling with his drink. He grimaced slightly as he took a sip. "Yeah, well," he said around the rim.

Emma stared at him, that fear creeping in deep inside her. Fell, according to reports, had been ruthless. Even though he was gone, she felt the leftover tendrils go out to what could have happened to Graham. Her thoughts were broken as Andie slid a beer to her. She took it without a second thought, chugging a third in one go.

She could feel Graham eyeing her between staring at the amber liquid in his own cup.

It took her longer than she cared to admit that he was looking to see if her reaction would be negative. She swallowed back her panic and leaned in. "Graham," Emma finally said in a hushed voice, sliding her hand along his stool. "What happened?"

His eyes were steel as he fully turned to her. "Supposed to be a quick interview. Fell saw us, so he was prepared. We weren't. He got the drop on Garcia."

Emma winced at the clipped explanation. Something about the sterility of Graham's explanation was concerning to her, like he was trying too hard to only give the facts. Like he'd probably used the same words in the debriefing and to the psychiatrist. She hated that he was doing the same to her.

She shrugged off the impersonal tone and took a moment to focus beyond the words. Garcia was one of the older cops, or "seasoned" as he preferred. He mostly worked from his desk and rarely went on out-of-office interviews, especially after his surgery. "Is he okay?"

Graham smiled slightly. "Yeah, nothing can take him down at the point. He was angrier he missed dinner with the kids."

She nodded. He sounded more natural, the warmth back in his voice. Her hand slid further, resting on his thigh in support. "So, he got to Garcia. What happened next?"

He pressed his lips together, something stormy brewing underneath his calm façade. "He had a blade to him, cut into his neck a bit. He was trying to negotiate with the beat cop to let him take Garcia and go. I had a better angle."

Emma didn't have a chance to consider that he was back to the mechanical storytelling, as she felt dizzy at the realization. "You shot him?"

Graham nodded.

Andie leaned forward, her forearms resting against the cool of the tabletop. She had almost forgotten she was there. "Two shots to the head, not even center mass. Didn't graze Garcia in the least, though he was pressed right into him. Leo says he blames you for hearing loss, of course. Perfect aim, from what I hear. Dead before he hit the ground."

I never miss. Emma felt his words creep into her consciousness and a shiver crossed her.

"He was human waste, but I know there must be something inside you festering off this, Humbert," Andie said with a click of her tongue.

Graham's look was wholly defiant, and the hand that rested on his lap curled into a fist. He said nothing, however, and only took another sip of his drink.

Emma's mouth tightened and she dug around in her pockets. "Andie, what's his tab?"

Andie looked surprised. "For Hero Cop? It's Happy Hour, Bounty Hunter."

Emma snorted and rose, placing a ten on the bar regardless. "Graham," she called softly.

He looked up, squinting at her slightly. She could feel every flick of his gaze as he looked her over, before he nodded and joined her to stand.

"See you later, Andie," Emma said.

"Fine, fine, as long as you get him right again," she said shortly, waving them off.

They didn't say a word to one another as they hopped into a taxi. Graham never took his eyes off her, though, and she tried to piece together the emotions she saw in them. There was something like a challenge in those dark blue depths, a tension and a stubbornness mixing with the uncertainty. It was that that made her realize exactly what was putting him on edge. But with the presence of the cab driver and the palpable silence, she didn't speak up.

When they finally reached her apartment, Graham hesitated once she closed the door. "Henry?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Still in school, yearbook after. I'll text Gia if he can stay with her a couple hours if we need more time."

Graham pulled his arms around her waist and pressed his forehead into hers as he nodded.

She felt like he might need to hear it, so she brushed her hands over his jaw and leaned closer so the words breathed over his lips in place of a kiss. "I love you."

He shivered and bumped her nose with his, his silent response.

She let them bask in the reassurance a moment before she pressed on. "You don't feel bad about it," she said bluntly.

His face hardened. "They all expect me to feel guilty. I don't."

She brushed her fingers along his arm soothingly. A part of her knew, even if he hadn't explicitly told her, and she brushed past the realization and formed it into an explanation. "They think it's the first time."

Graham released a low breath. "I was forced to kill innocent people before, people who didn't deserve an ounce of pain. I never wanted to. I can see each of their faces in my head, in vivid detail, and I know I will never be able to make up for what I did. But Fell … I can't feel sorry for killing someone who threatens …." He trailed off, his brow furrowed as he searched for the right word.

"Threatens your family?" Emma offered.

Graham sighed. "Garcia isn't family like you are, like Henry is. But every one of those people I work with, that I'm friends with, they do feel like how the pack used to."

"Did you ever … for your pack?"

"Yes," was his steady reply. "And I didn't feel guilty then, either."

She tried to look into herself, to find that alarm that should go through her. She wondered if she should feel bad that it never came. Something buzzed within her, but it wasn't that. Instead of dwelling on it, she nuzzled into him, pressing hard into his chest. "You would do the same for me and Henry, wouldn't you?" she mused under her breath. It was more to herself, and she was not expecting a response.

"Worse," he said firmly. "If someone threatened either of you … I don't think you'd want to know what I'd like to do."

His muscles were rigid, his whole body tight as a bow. He hovered in anticipation, and she realized that she hadn't explicitly reassured him in words. She felt more concerned at the danger he'd put himself in than in the idea that he'd be merciless to anyone that wished harm on them. "What you did, and what you'd do … that doesn't scare me," she promised. "But I need you safe and with us."

He slackened and dipped to fit into her. He didn't answer, nothing to placate her fears nor disagree. But he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and knotted his fingers in her hair, and she understood the unspoken "I'll try."

It was the best she could expect. She met his gaze and held it steadily, gripping his forearms tightly. "I would protect Henry with my life, and you know that. And I need you to know that I would do the same for you."

His face changed, worry and rebellion piercing through. "Don't. Please. I couldn't—"

"I couldn't, either," she says, her voice cloying with the emotion she didn't want glaring in. "You might protect me, but I'd protect you right back. You need to know that."

Without waiting for a reply, she tilted her head and brushed her lips to his a few times, until he felt comfortable enough to respond in full. He took a second to nod, breathing a simple, "together."

The word, an echo of a promise made before, caused something bright to pop up into her stomach. She thought that if they both were fighting this hard for each other, maybe they'd both make it through their lives relatively unscathed.

She hoped. She hoped.

At the very least, between them both, Henry would be okay.