It doesn't take long before I regret my harsh words.

Partly because she's the only friend I have, the only person I can talk to. I need her in my life to stay sane, to stay grounded. She keeps me from doing something stupid... But also because I have a feeling I'm her only friend as well. She may have Ian, but I can't imagine she's trusted him with something so big as this, this most shameful of secrets.

I know I need to apologize if I have any hope of earning her trust again. I've learned that Emily Prentiss isn't someone who trusts easily. She gave me that gift very early on and I went and proved her right in that she should never trust anyone because she'll only ever get hurt. I don't want to be the person who causes her to never trust again, to lose her faith in humanity. There's good in people, I know, I've seen it, I've seen it in her, and I don't want her to lose sight of that.

Even if she never trusts me again, I hope I can at least help her to trust someone again.

I haven't exactly thought this through, I realize as I'm knocking on the front door to her palatial almost-mansion on the edge of town. I don't know what I'm going to say, going to do...Mama's right when she says I don't think sometimes. A man answers the door when I knock; something about him reminds me of Carl, though I couldn't have said exactly what. He unsettles me and I forget how to form words for a moment.

When I ask for Emily, he looks like he seriously considers slamming the door shut in my face, which I probably deserve. But he doesn't, even though he clearly wants to. He doesn't invite me inside while he goes to get her, tells me to wait on the porch, which I do, happy to stay as far away from him as possible.

When she finally does come to the door, she's still in her pyjamas and her eyes are red as if she's been crying. She doesn't look at all the put-together picture of perfection I've come to expect from Emily Prentiss. She has a confused – no, alarmed – look on her face when she sees me. She quickly leads me away from the front window, away from the prying eyes of the still watching man.

"What are you doing here?" she hisses when we're settled on the porch swing. She keeps her distance from me. She's not looking at me either, staring at her feet as she uses them to propel the wooden swing.

I'm taken aback by the reaction. "I'm here to apologize," I say slowly, confused by her behaviour, her sudden shyness.

"No, what are you doing here?" she repeats, still not looking at me.

"I don't..." I stammer. "I'm not..."

"He's going to hurt me," she whispers. And I realize we're still being watched, through the window. "He doesn't like it when boys come over. He's very possessive..."

I could smack myself for my stupidity. I shouldn't have come here. She hasn't told me in so many words, but I know enough about the type to know that they don't like to share, that I'd be seen as a threat.

I get up to leave before I can do anymore damage, before I get her hurt, but she stops me with a hand on my wrist. "Stay," she says, voice barely there.

She doesn't have to ask me twice. "I thought you never wanted to speak to me again?" I ask, a little cheekily, but mostly desperate for forgiveness.

"I didn't, but..." she shrugged, doesn't seem to know what she feels. "I'm still very hurt by what you said – it was cruel and you said the things you know I hate about myself..." She gives me a pointed look and I look away, ashamed. "But I need a friend now more than ever," she continues and its as much forgiveness as I'm going to get.

I look at her – really look at her – for the first time. She looks exhausted, like she hasn't slept in days and...afraid? No, terrified.

"Em?" I whisper. I reach out a hand to tuck her messy slept-on hair behind her ear, then stop myself.

"I... I'm pregnant," she rasps. She's blinking too much and I know she's fighting tears. I'm not sure I've ever seen her cry before...not sure someone so powerful even could cry without the edges of the world fraying.

"Pregnant?" I repeat, the word feeling foreign on my tongue. My hand is still frozen halfway to her face. I try very hard to keep all judgement out of my voice. Her forgiveness is still tenuous and I don't want to send her over the edge, away from me. "Is...is it his?" I ask, not sure which 'him' I'm referring to.

"It's Ian's," she confesses, tears spilling over.

I'd previously wondered if they'd had sex yet, but every time that thought entered my head, I felt sick. I guess I have my answer now, judging by the burning feeling in my gut. But I open my arms for her anyway and she falls into me, sobbing heavily into my chest.

I know I shouldn't, but a part of me feels betrayed. She owes me nothing – we're friends, nothing more, even after everything that's happened between us. But still...

"He'll kill me when he finds out," she says seriously when the sobbing subsides.

Now I'm not sure which 'him' she's referring to. But nonetheless, I promise, "I won't let that happen." A thought strikes me then. "Come live with me."

"What?" She's taken aback by the offer. She pulls back from my chest enough to look at me curiously, cautiously.

"Mama won't mind, if you chip in a little. I'd have to tell her why, but..." I'm thinking aloud, my words coming out quickly and cramped together.

"No!" she hisses before I can get any further. Her eyes are wide and frightening in their insistence. "You can never ever tell anyone."

"But..." I start to argue. Silence is going to get her killed...

"No one. Promise me." Her tone is deadly calm and quiet.

"I promise," I vow, even though my gut begs otherwise.