Part 3
Disclaimer: I wish, but no, don't own the characters/show.
Author's Note: Here's the last piece, as fluffy as the first was angsty. Hope you enjoy!
The plane ride home is a bitch.
She can't get comfortable, her arm is in a sling and her shoulder hurts like hell, but she refused to take any of the pain meds they'd given her so she only has herself to blame for the latter. She'd had enough of them for a lifetime from the last time she'd been in recovery thank you very much.
At least now she doesn't have to deal with the worried looks everybody's been throwing her, the adrenaline of their last case finally having worn off so everyone's either sound asleep or close enough. Not that she isn't appreciative, she really is, but it's hard to shake the feeling that she can only trust herself. Even after everything that's happened to prove her otherwise, it's the most persistent of her demons.
Luckily she's taken an aisle seat so it's easy to get up and try to walk off the pain, and also to try and walk off the uncertainty that gnaws at her.
She's made a circuit from one end of the plane to the next before an all too familiar hand stops her.
"Sit down, Emily."
She makes to sit in the seat opposite him, but his grip steers her into the seat right next to his, and he doesn't stop there.
The hand that stopped her now slides around her shoulders carefully, adjusting her so that she's practically lying back against his chest, his other arm moving to wrap around her stomach, heavy and reassuring.
If she hadn't already, she surely melted against him when she felt him whisper against her hair.
"You're safe, you're with the team, you're with me."
Exactly how he can know so much just because of her walking up and down the jet speaks to more than just his profiling skills, it tells her he knows her, better than most. She's not sure what to think about that. Which is why just because she's finally getting comfortable, doesn't mean she doesn't want some answers.
"With you?"
"Of course."
"You know, I mentioned something to Rossi a while back about second chances, that we don't always get them in life, that we have to seize them when they do, take the plunge, is that what you're doing?
The arm wrapped around her tightens slightly.
"Maybe. Maybe it was you almost taking a plunge today that was the catalyst. What do you think?"
He's nervous, she can tell by the tension in his voice and arm, and he has a right to be. What he's suggesting is a big deal, a big deal beyond their feelings. And she wants it, she realizes. Heaven help her, she wants it so much. She hadn't been lying to Rossi, second chances; much less the third she'd been given recently, don't come around often. How long would be before her good luck ran out? Before there were no more chances? She couldn't let that happen.
"I think it's new and wonderful and I'm scared shitless that I'll screw it up, but we won't know unless we give it a shot. You?"
"I'm scared too, but not as scared as I was of losing you today. Slow but steady?"
She shifts to meet his gaze, his eyes are dancing, that gorgeous closed-lip smile on his face.
She smiles back, "Sounds good."
And it's enough, enough to know that he shares her own amazing but bewildering feelings. It's enough, for now.
She dares to settle back deeper into his side, and he moves to accommodate her as she lets her head rest against him, her eyes suddenly heavy.
"Sleep, Emily," he gently commands, and she does.
Fin