Sorry for the brief hiatus: school is kicking my butt.
This is the final chapter but thank you so much for reading my story. I have sent out some requests for help with future instalments to this series so hopefully I can churn out chapters faster and work through writers block more quickly.
Chapter 8
Clyde Easter stood frozen outside Emily's hospital room, his hand poised to knock but unable to make contact with the door. The antiseptic smell of the hospital hallway burned his nostrils as he wrestled with indecision. Had he made a mistake in leaving her alone? The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across his face, accentuating the worry lines etched around his eyes.
He exhaled slowly, steeling himself. "Come on, Easter. Man up," he muttered under his breath. His knuckles rapped softly against the door, the sound echoing in the quiet corridor.
No response.
Swallowing hard, Clyde gently pushed the door open. The hinges whispered a soft protest as he entered, his gaze immediately drawn to Emily and the tiny bundle nestled against her chest. She looked up at him with tear-streaked cheeks, her eyes reflecting a mixture of sadness and fleeting joy, a stark contrast to the formidable agent she once was.
Emily's gaze flickered to him, her expression unreadable. Clyde's heart clenched. Was that resentment in her eyes? Disappointment?
"I, uh... I can come back later if you'd prefer," he offered, already half-turning to leave.
Emily's voice, hoarse but firm, stopped him. "No, it's fine. Come in, Clyde."
He hesitated a moment longer before crossing the room, hyper-aware of every squeaky floorboard beneath his feet. As he approached her bedside, Emily's scent - a mixture of hospital soap and her familiar jasmine perfume - washed over him.
"How are you feeling?" The words tumbled out before he could stop them. Clyde winced internally. What a bloody stupid question.
Emily's lips quirked in a humourless smile. "Like I've been hit by a truck. Physically and emotionally."
Clyde nodded, unsure how to respond. He perched on the edge of a nearby chair, the plastic creaking under his weight. "Listen, Em, about earlier-"
"Don't," Emily cut him off, her voice sharp. "I don't want to talk about it right now."
Clyde's jaw clenched, but he nodded again. "Right. Of course." He drummed his fingers against his thigh, searching for something - anything - to say. The silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable.
Emily cradled the newborn in her arms, her gaze drifting to the tiny bundle nestled against her chest. Clyde's eyes followed hers, taking in the sight of the infant wrapped in a pale pink blanket, a shock of dark hair peeking out from under the soft fabric.
"She's beautiful, Em," Clyde murmured, his voice soft with awe. He leaned forward, unable to resist reaching out to gently touch the baby's impossibly small hand. "She looks just like you."
Emily's breath hitched, a complex mix of emotions flashing across her face. "She does, doesn't she?" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "God, Clyde, I never knew I could love someone so much."
Clyde's heart ached at the raw vulnerability in Emily's voice. He watched as she traced her daughter's delicate features with a trembling finger, her touch feather-light.
"Have you decided on a name?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light despite the heaviness in his chest.
Emily shook her head, a sad smile playing on her lips. "No, I... I thought it would be best if her family chose her name."
The unspoken weight of her decision hung in the air between them. Clyde cleared his throat, desperately searching for a way to lighten the mood.
"Well, I must say, she's got your nose," he quipped, forcing a grin. "Poor thing."
Emily let out a surprised laugh, the sound brightening the sterile hospital room. "Shut up," she retorted, but there was no real heat in her words. "My nose is perfectly fine, thank you very much."
"If you say so, darling," Clyde teased, relief flooding through him at the brief moment of normalcy.
Emily rolled her eyes, but her smile remained. She glanced at the clock on the wall, her expression faltering for a moment before she schooled her features.
"Tell me about London," she said abruptly, her tone deliberately casual. "How's the weather? Still perpetually gloomy?"
Clyde recognized the deflection for what it was – an attempt to savor these precious moments without dwelling on the impending goodbye. He played along, launching into an exaggerated description of London's latest torrential downpour.
As he spoke, he watched Emily drink in every detail of her daughter's face, her fingers never leaving the baby's tiny hand. The joy of new motherhood warred with the anguish of knowing their time was limited, and Clyde felt utterly helpless in the face of Emily's quiet grief.
Emily's fingers traced the delicate curve of her daughter's cheek, her eyes never leaving the infant's face. But as Clyde's anecdote about London trailed off, a heavy silence settled over the room. The weight of unspoken decisions hung in the air, suffocating in its intensity.
"I can't go back," Emily said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper. She tore her gaze away from the baby, meeting Clyde's eyes with a fierce determination. "To Interpol, I mean. I just... I can't."
Clyde leaned forward, his brow furrowing. "Emily-"
"No, listen," she interrupted, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I've been thinking about this for weeks. I need something different, something... cleaner. Maybe the FBI."
"The FBI?" Clyde echoed, surprise colouring his tone.
Emily nodded, her jaw set. "Back on the East Coast. A fresh start. I need work that's black and white, Clyde. No more grey areas, no more compromising my morals for the 'greater good.'" She spat the last words out bitterly, her grip on the baby tightening imperceptibly.
Clyde exhaled slowly, processing her words. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows across Emily's face, accentuating the weariness etched into her features.
"You're certain about this?" he asked softly.
Emily's laugh was sharp, tinged with a desperate edge. "Certain? God, no. But I know I can't keep doing... this." She gestured vaguely, encompassing the hospital room, the baby, the weight of secrets and lies that had brought them to this point.
Clyde nodded, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder gently. "Then we'll make it happen," he said firmly. "Whatever you need, Emily. I've got connections in the Bureau, I can put out some feelers-"
"You don't have to-" Emily started to protest.
"I want to," Clyde interrupted, his voice brooking no argument. "You're not alone in this, darling. Let me help."
Emily's eyes glistened with unshed tears, and she blinked rapidly, looking away. The baby stirred in her arms, letting out a soft coo that seemed to echo in the charged silence.
"I don't deserve your help," Emily murmured, her voice thick with emotion.
Clyde leaned in, his expression fierce. "Bollocks," he said firmly. "You deserve the world, Emily Prentiss. And if I can give you even a fraction of that, I'll do it gladly."
Clyde's hand lingered on Emily's shoulder for a moment longer before he reluctantly pulled away. The weight of unspoken emotions hung heavy in the air between them.
"I'll give you some time," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "To say goodbye."
Emily's eyes snapped up to meet his, a flicker of panic crossing her features before she nodded, her jaw tightening. "Thank you," she managed, her voice strained.
Clyde moved towards the door, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room. He paused at the threshold, glancing back at Emily cradling her daughter. The sight sent a pang through his chest.
"I'll just pop down to the gift shop," he said, forcing a light tone. "Perhaps some flowers?"
Emily's lips curved in a wan smile. "That'd be nice," she murmured.
As Clyde stepped into the bustling corridor, the cacophony of hospital sounds washed over him – beeping monitors, squeaking wheels, the low murmur of voices. He made his way to the waiting area, sinking into an uncomfortable plastic chair. His mind whirled, grappling with the enormity of Emily's decision and his own tumultuous emotions.
A middle age couple caught his attention, their excited whispers carrying across the room. A small boy, no more than five, clung to his father's hand, bouncing on his toes. Clyde watched as a nurse approached, her face wreathed in smiles.
"They're ready for you now," she announced.
Clyde's breath caught as he realised what was unfolding. He observed, transfixed, as the family was ushered into a nearby room. Through the partially open door, he caught a glimpse of a nurse presenting a tiny bundle – Emily's baby – to the beaming couple.
The father's voice carried, thick with emotion: "Welcome to the family, little one."
Clyde's fists clenched involuntarily, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions surging through him. Part of him wanted to intervene, to snatch the baby away and return her to Emily's arms. But he knew, with a painful certainty, that this was for the best – for Emily, for the child, for everyone involved.
He rose abruptly, abandoning thoughts of the gift shop. Emily needed him now, more than ever.
Clyde's hurried steps reverberated in the quiet hospital corridor as he hastened back to Emily's room, his heart racing with a mix of worry and determination. The empty-handed gesture he had considered making was abandoned as he pushed open the door, his gaze locking onto Emily's slumped figure.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Without hesitation, Clyde crossed the room in three long strides and enveloped her in a tight embrace.
"I'm here, darling," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I've got you."
Emily's fingers clutched at his shirt, her face buried against his chest as she finally allowed herself to break down. Her sobs were raw and guttural, years of pent-up pain and loss pouring out of her.
Clyde held her tightly, one hand stroking her hair while the other rubbed soothing circles on her back. He fought back his own tears, determined to be the pillar of strength she needed right now.
"It's not fair," Emily choked out between sobs. "Why does it have to hurt so much?"
"I know, love," Clyde replied, his accent more pronounced with emotion. "It's bloody unfair, all of it. But you're the strongest person I know, Emily. You'll get through this."
She pulled back slightly, her tear-stained face looking up at him. "How can you be so sure?"
Clyde cupped her face gently, his thumbs wiping away her tears. "Because I know you, Emily Prentiss. You've faced down terrorists and psychopaths without flinching. This... this is different, but you're still that same fierce, stubborn woman."
A watery chuckle escaped Emily's lips. "Stubborn, huh?"
"Incredibly so," Clyde replied with a small smile. "It's one of your most infuriating and admirable qualities."
Emily leaned back into his embrace, her sobs subsiding into quiet sniffles. Clyde continued to hold her, his mind racing with ways he could help, protect her, make this easier somehow.
As the evening wore on, Emily's exhaustion became evident. Her eyelids grew heavy, her responses slower. Clyde gently eased her back onto the bed, pulling the thin hospital blanket over her.
"Get some rest, love," he said softly. "I'll be back later."
Emily nodded, her eyes already drifting closed. "Thank you, Clyde," she murmured. "For everything."
Clyde squeezed her hand one last time before stepping out into the hallway. As he made his way towards the exit, he caught sight of the adoptive family leaving, the newborn nestled safely in her new mother's arms. A bittersweet ache filled his chest as he watched them disappear through the automatic doors, knowing that Emily's daughter was embarking on a new life – one that didn't include her birth mother.
With a heavy sigh, Clyde pushed through the doors himself, the cool Seattle night air hitting his face. The city lights twinkled in the distance, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil he'd just witnessed. He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts and steeling himself for whatever challenges lay ahead in supporting Emily through this difficult time.
Clyde's eyes narrowed as he watched the adoptive family load into their SUV. His jaw clenched, a mixture of protectiveness and determination flooding his veins. Without hesitation, he strode to the curb, arm outstretched.
"Taxi!" he called, his crisp British accent cutting through the evening air.
As a yellow cab pulled up, Clyde slid into the back seat, his gaze fixed on the SUV pulling away from the hospital.
"Follow that vehicle," he instructed the driver, "but keep your distance."
The cabbie raised an eyebrow. "You some kind of cop?"
Clyde's lips twitched. "Something like that," he replied enigmatically.
As they wove through Seattle's streets, Clyde's mind raced. Was he overstepping? Emily hadn't asked for this. But the image of her tear-stained face, the raw pain in her eyes, spurred him on.
"I promised to protect you both," he murmured under his breath. "Even if you don't know it."
The SUV turned into a quiet suburban neighbourhood. Clyde instructed the driver to drop him off a block away, handing over cash with a generous tip.
"Thanks, mate. Have a good night."
Stepping out, Clyde melted into the shadows, years of training kicking in as he moved silently towards his target. He found a vantage point behind a large pine tree, its needles rustling softly in the night breeze.
From here, he could see the family entering their home – a charming two-story with a wraparound porch. Clyde's keen eyes took in every detail: the house number, the make and model of cars in the driveway, the security system sticker in the window.
"Good," he thought. "At least they're taking precautions."
As he watched, a light flickered on in an upstairs room. Through the gossamer curtains, he could make out the silhouette of the adoptive mother, cradling the baby.
A lump formed in Clyde's throat. "She'll be loved," he reassured himself. "That's what matters most."
After committing the address to memory, Clyde finally allowed himself to relax against the tree trunk. The rough bark pressed into his back, grounding him in the reality of what he'd just done.
"This is madness," he muttered, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "What am I playing at?"
But even as doubt crept in, Clyde knew he couldn't walk away. For Emily's sake, for the sake of that innocent child, he would keep watch. Silent. Unseen. A guardian in the shadows.
With one last look at the house, Clyde straightened his jacket and melted back into the night, his steps purposeful as he headed towards the main road to hail another cab.
Clyde's steps left imprints on the freshly fallen snow as he made his way through the tranquil night on these Seattle streets. The snowfall had left a pristine blanket over the city, muffling the usual sounds of Seattle's nightlife. The neon signs of late-night establishments glowed softly against the white landscape, their colourful reflections dancing in puddles that had frozen over in the frigid temperatures. He paused at the corner, his mind racing with the weight of his self-imposed mission.
"I'll keep her safe, Em," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the distant hum of traffic. "Both of them."
As he raised his hand to hail a cab, Clyde's phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out, squinting at the bright screen.
A text from Emily: Where are you? Everything okay?
Clyde's thumb hovered over the keys, his brow furrowing as he debated how to respond. He couldn't tell her the truth – not yet. Maybe not ever.
He typed back: Need some sleep. On my way to the hotel now. Get some rest, see you in the morning.
A yellow cab pulled up, and Clyde slid into the backseat, the leather cool against his skin. As the driver pulled away from the curb, Clyde leaned his head against the window, watching the city blur past.
"You alright, man?" the cabbie asked, glancing at Clyde in the rearview mirror.
Clyde met the man's eyes, forcing a wan smile. "Just been a long day."
"Ain't they all," the driver chuckled.
As they navigated through the late-night traffic, Clyde's mind raced with plans and contingencies. He'd need to set up surveillance, perhaps hire a discrete security team. And somehow, he'd have to do it all without Emily finding out.
"I'm in too deep now," he thought, his jaw clenching with determination. "But I'll be damned if I let anything happen to that child."
The cab pulled up to his hotel, and Clyde paid the fare, adding a generous tip. As he stepped out onto the sidewalk, he took a deep breath of the crisp night air, steeling himself for what lay ahead.
"Whatever it takes," he whispered to himself, his eyes scanning the bustling street as if searching for unseen threats. "Whatever it takes to keep them safe."
With renewed purpose, Clyde strode into the hotel lobby, already formulating his next moves in this high-stakes game of protection and secrecy. The road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but for Emily – and for her daughter – he was ready to face them all.
Thank you for reading and follow along for updates on my next story!