A/N: Thank you All of you who have reviewed so far, I really appreciate it. It means a lot to me To anyone questioning this fic, it is a romance fic Emily/Ian, but I am trying to stay true to who the characters are, so there will be violence, sex, and a lot of language so that's why the rating is M, even though it may not seem like it yet. And no, I did not forget the BAU who I love too, they will be brought in eventually… Keep reading and enjoy!

FYI: The whole making Declan eat a whole bar of soap, is that even possible? My parents used to make me eat soap, but it was only a teeny bit, but my parents aren't psychopaths so don't be offended if you really can't eat a whole bar of soap without dying and I false informed you, lol…

Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable.

-Sydney J. Harris

Emily awoke again in the dark. She must have slept for days, it seemed. Her head was aching and it pained her to breathe. And like God once, said let there be light, the room became illuminated in a warm glow, by the silver lamp sitting on the night table. Sitting in an arm chair next to the bed sat Ian Doyle. Emily felt an immediate hatred for him, when she looked at him, not for what he did, but how damn fine he looked. He'd obviously showered and changed into a loose pale blue button up shirt and khaki pants, which made his eyes all the more blue. Stunning, she thought bitterly, while she hadn't showered since the morning they left, her pants were stuck the blood from the massive rug burn she had, and her hair could have had a birds nest in it…she looked like she felt. Like absolute shit, fucking bastard…

"Good evening, Love," he said quietly.

"Says who?" She responded with a raised eyebrow; trying to prop herself up on one elbow to be level with him, but as she did she suppressed a whimper. Oh, fuck me…She screamed in her mind.

Seeing her struggle, Ian stood up and reached a hand behind her, to help her sit up.

"Don't touch me." She warned loudly. He lowered his hand, and sighed.

"So stubborn… So what's the plan? You can't lie in here forever." He said sardonically.

"I'm fine. I can do it myself." She stated firmly. Trying once more to prop herself up on one of the many pillows that now littered the bed. Wincing, she finally made it up to a sitting position. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, noticing the fabric sticking and pulling as her knee bent. Ian stood there patiently waiting for her with an eyebrow raised.

"Where's the fucking bathroom?" She asked irritably.

"Emily, watch your mouth…I won't tell you again." Ian said threateningly.

"Ian, where's the bathroom!" She yelled. She didn't want to play games with him right now. Right now she wanted a hot shower and clean clothes.

He inclined his head behind her, frowning. She rolled her eyes and made to stand up. Her body screamed at her as she tried to stand straight and clutched her side. She limped to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Conveniently, there was no lock. Chloe she thought, remembering as she'd heard how the mother of his child tried to swallow a bottle of pills in the bathroom. She unbuttoned the navy blue shirt she'd worn to work the other day, to reveal the black camisole she'd worn underneath. Taking a deep breath she tried to lift the bottom up, she'd barely lifted it a couple inches before breaking down in tears. It would take forever to get it over her head, in the shape her ribs were in. She turned around quickly as she heard the doorknob turn.

"N-nno, get out Ian. Ian, I mean it!" She stammered. She didn't want his help, after all it was his fault she couldn't even undress her own self.

"I need to make sure your ribs aren't broken." He said ignoring her, walking in anyways, closing the door behind him.

Sighing in defeat she stood there as Ian slowly lifted up her camisole, "Raise your arms, Love," he said gently. Slowly and painfully Emily raised her arms enough for him to lift it up over her head. Tears flooded her eyes in pain and embarrassment. Dropping it to the floor, Ian stared at her side where a massive red, purple, black and blue, had formed about the size of a cantaloupe. She bit her lip in anger and pain. Why me??

Ian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was showing an usual emotion across his face, something akin to grief, and…remorse? Emily tilted her head a little. Opening his eyes they wandered up from her ribs, over her black lace bra, to the stark white four leaf clover that now adorned her chest. Very softly, he brushed his fingers over it, giving her instant goosebumps. Say something Emily! Say something; don't let him touch you like this. This isn't going to end well! Her pragmatic mind, her voice of reason repeated, but she couldn't. She stood motionless as Ian traced her scar with his fingers, while his other hand reached up to cup her face. As much as she hated him, she couldn't help lean into his hand, closing her eyes.

"Emily, my love, what have I done?" He breathed almost like he was talking to himself, more than her.

She didn't answer for a moment she was already letting old memories and feelings, flood her mind. Like a twisted, mental pain killer, she let the memories take over and said quietly, "Are you going to…take care of me?" A question she'd asked once before.

Ian looked at her intently. "Yes, I am." Before giving her a chance to finish their repeat conversation, his mouth was on hers, rough and needy. Emily let herself go. Kissing him back with all the passion and heat that she had all those years ago. His hands entwined in her long hair, but didn't pull, and she didn't pull away; she stood still, moaning a little as he moved to kiss the sensitive spot on her neck behind her ear. She could hear his breathing and she knew exactly where this was heading. And for once, she didn't fight. Slowly she felt his hand go down to her pants undoing them skillfully, one handed and let them fall to the ground. She let him lift her up onto the cold bathroom counter, still kissing him, breathing in his taste and inhaling his scent. She could taste the wine he'd drank, and he smelled strongly of Givenchy cologne. Her favorite of his…

She stopped to undo his zipper and remembered for the millionth time another reason she'd loved him. God save me now, she thought. She was already in pain and she knew by the time they were done she wouldn't be able to walk… She felt him enter her slowly, and she closed her eyes again to enjoy the thrilling sensation his loving had always given her. Soon after his thrusts began to go deeper and she felt her back arch, despite the pain she was in. The pain was in a distant place from the two of them. She felt like she was another person, she didn't feel hate towards Ian, she didn't even feel pain, she felt like…Like Lauren did.