A/N: Another chapter? It hasn't even been 2 months yet! Lol… omg. You guys if you haven't read/submitted anything over on Tumblr for the fic war going on… Beware its BRUTAL on the feels, but its sooooo good and I hope it lasts forevahh. As for the whole controversy of Jeanne Tripplehorn joining CM, Im skeptical… but I am withholding judgment until we meet her. I really liked Seaver when she joined, but that might have been partially because Emily like, vouched for her so in my mind I was like, Okay Prentiss says shes cool, so give her a chance and I ended up really liking her! So anyhoo. LONG RANT ASIDE: here's another chapter.


Ian sighed in aggravation as Lauren threw food all over the high chair tray she was in. She was throwing yet another temper tantrum, the 2nd one that day in fact, and he was reaching his wits end. He placed the cut up pieces of chicken back onto her tray and rubbed his temple, he was getting a migraine and he had nowhere to go for peace.

He didn't have to work because it was Sunday and in that town it was illegal to sell alcohol on Sunday unless it was at an actual restaurant so the bar was closed. It was just him, Declan, and Lauren. Declan was over across the table watching, shoving his face with chicken to keep from laughing. Ian glared at him, the little bastard thought it was sooo amusing to watch him try and deal with a temperamental 2 year old girl. Ian took a deep breath, he'd been working so hard to keep his temper in check lately since Emily had left, he felt sure he would qualify for sainthood in a few years. He hadn't so much as raised his voice, and he felt quite proud of himself for holding things together here. The kids were safe, fed, bathed, taken care of, with the help of Misty while he was working… but aside from that he'd been doing okay.

That's what he'd been trying to convince himself of, because thinking of Emily hurt too much. He felt if he kept busy, he wouldn't have to think about her. That was becoming more and more difficult with each passing day though… She'd been gone a week and a half now, and as much as he didn't want to admit it… he missed her.

They'd spent nearly every day with each other for the last 3 years and with her gone and the thought of not knowing when she would come back. It hurt… a lot. He still couldn't believe she left. He couldn't believe he had let her leave. It was so… against his nature, but he thought about what Matt had said, he hadn't done it for himself. He'd let her go, because as much as he hated it, possibly resented her for it, he knew it was the only way she would be herself again. He'd let her go and prayed to God she would come back to him, and maybe things could be the way they were… before.

He hadn't let her talk to Declan or Lauren on the phone because even though she begged and pleaded he couldn't risk her getting the kids hopes up, because they were his priority now and if she cared so much, she could come home. End of story. She called every couple days, hoping he'd change his mind, but he wouldn't. He couldn't.

He wasn't even taking her phone calls right now, because after their last conversation, he'd been so angry he'd about lost it in front of everyone.


*Ringgg* Ian heard the phone ring from inside the house.

"Aye, can someone get that? Its Emily." He'd asked. Matt, Izzy, and Misty were over and they were having a backyard cookout on the grill and camp fire. He'd promised Declan that they could all sleep outside in the tent he'd set up.

"I will, Ian." Izzy said walking into the house where his phone was sitting on the kitchen counter.

"Hello?" Emily had said.

"Hey, its Izzy, hold on lemme take ya outside, Ian's grilling." Izzy had said carrying the phone out to him.

"Yeah it's Emily," she said handing the phone to him. "She said not to burn this house down. Something about y'all's house in Ireland…" She said shrugging. Ian smiled shaking his head. Figures she'd have to bring that up. It hadn't been a*big* fire… he'd simply left the steaks on too long because him and "Lauren" had been… otherwise occupied.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Hi…" came her quiet voice from the other side. She sounded better today, not as depressed.

"Are you safe?" He asked, as he always did.

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm feeling a little better today. How are things there?" She asked.

"Fine, we're cooking out… then me, Declan, and Lauren are gonna camp out in the backyard." He said absentmindedly flipping the burgers.

"C-Can I talk to him?" She asked pathetically. He sighed. She was using that voice she'd always used to get what she wanted, and usually it worked, but they'd been through this enough already.

"No."

"Ian—"

"Emily, not now." He said through gritted teeth. When in the background he heard a male voice say, "Emily? Who is it?" Followed by a, "Prentiss whats wrong?"

Ian dropped the tongs onto the grill. Fucking Agent Morgan.

Then suddenly he asked, "Emily, where are you?"

"Oh, I'm at uh, Derek's." She said flippantly, trying to derail his train of thought.

"Where have you been staying?" He said through a clenched jaw. He'd been under the assumption she'd been staying with Garcia, but he'd never thought to ask before.

"Oh, umm, well Morgan let me stay here… I just came here because it was closest. I had no gas money to get to Garcia's…" She said, and he could tell she was biting her lip, as was her habit.

He put the phone down away from his mouth and yelled, "SHIT!" to no one in particular.

Taking a deep breath, he put the phone back up to his ear. "Emily. I swear to god… if he tries anyth—"

"Ian!"

"—I Will not hesitate to fucking murder that prick and send him and you straight to FUCKING HELL!" He said raising his voice, walking away from the grill into the house where it was a little quieter and much more private.

"Ian!"

"So have you slept with him yet?" Ian asked snidely.

"No! Ian I would never—"

"Oh yeah? What about umm Jacksen whats-his face… OH that's right his real name was Clyde Easter, right?" Ian said bitterly. "Or do you not remember the bullets I put in both of his legs when I caught you two together at the Black Shamrock, eh? Making out with him in public, after we'd already been together, what 9 months?" He said throwing that up in her face.

"Ian! Its not like that, I was only doing that to make you jealous! To make you want me more! I would n-never hurt you like that again, I swear!" She cried.

"Too late… you left, didn't you?" He said, hurt seeping into his voice.

"Ian, I'm sorr—"

"SHUT UP! DON'T APOLOGIZE! JUST FUCKING FIX YOURSELF SO YOU CAN COME HOME!" He screamed. He threw an empty plate at the wall, listening to the beautiful crashing sound it made.

"I-Ian?" she said after a minute of silence…

"Emily. I'm gonna give you one warning. You let another man touch what's mine, and I will eliminate them. Permanently. Don't test me." He said with a deadly calm.

"Ian… Do you still want to get married?" She asked almost in a whisper.

He stood still, both hands planted on the counter. He didn't know how to respond. Yes, of course he did. But he didn't want to be the one to concede this fight. He just wanted her back. He missed her, missed holding her, missed… every part of her.

"We'll see." Ian finally answered. "We have some things we need to deal with if you come back."

"Like what?" She asked.

"Like, you need to grieve for your son, instead of denying your only living children the love they deserve." And with those words he hung up.


That had been four days ago, and she'd called twice, each time he'd ignored the call. He knew he was being an ass, but he honestly didn't care. She could text or leave a voicemail saying she wanted to come home, and he would be there in a heartbeat to bring her home or send money so she could get back. But, talking on the phone was getting them nowhere but hell. So he'd spent the majority of his time busying himself with the kids, working, fixing broken shit around the house. Anything so he wouldn't have to think about her, so he wouldn't miss her so much.

A couple hours later he laid down in bed, on the pillow she slept on, and he swore it was like she'd just left… As he fell asleep he looked at the electric candle in the windowsill. He left the light on, even in the daytime. It was a tradition they'd started back in Paris when they'd first moved into one of his villas there. Whenever one of them was gone, and the other was alone, they left a light on. So the other person could find the way back home, back into the other's arms. Years and years later, he still left a light on for her, praying soon she would find her way home.

And like a sign from god, his phone began to vibrate.

A text, that read simply, "Can you bring me home?"