Hello, guys!
This is the chapter you all wanted! Emison will start to work their way back to one another after this, but it will take a lot of baby steps. I hope you enjoy it. Just a reminder that Emily is still struggling with anger and guilty, so she's more short-tempered than usual. Also, I forgot to point out last chapter, but I borrowed Lexa and Clarke from The 100 to play as their therapists here.
Hope you enjoy this chapter! Have a nice 2025!
With love,
White Tigresss
Chapter 6 - Steps
Pam watched Alison walk away into the downpour, the sound of rain fading as she shut the door. She turned to Emily, whose trembling shoulders gave away the tears she was trying to suppress. Pam's heart ached for her daughter. Emily had been through so much—more than any young woman should endure—and Alison only seemed to complicate things further.
"Emily," Pam began softly, her voice careful, "are you sure letting her go in this weather was the best choice?"
Emily didn't meet her mother's gaze. She stood frozen in the hallway, staring at the floor as tears dripped silently down her cheeks. Finally, she shook her head, her voice cracking. "I can't, Mom. I just… I can't deal with her right now. It's bad enough trying to deal with the dollhouse and everything else. I can't handle her on top of it."
Pam stepped closer, her tone still gentle. "I understand, sweetheart. But… maybe she could be a friend? Someone to lean on?"
Emily's head shot up, her expression twisting into frustration. "Mom, please don't. Not right now." Her voice was thick with emotion, and Pam immediately backed off, raising her hands in a calming gesture.
"Okay, okay," Pam relented. "You don't have to make any decisions tonight. But, Emily, I can see how much this is hurting you. Maybe at some point, talking to her—just talking—might help you both heal. Together."
Emily hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. She wanted to argue, to push back against her mother's suggestion. But deep down, she knew Pam wasn't wrong. Still, the thought of facing Alison again—of letting her in, of trusting her—felt impossible.
"I'm not sure," Emily muttered, her voice barely audible.
Pam placed a hand on her daughter's arm, giving it a comforting squeeze. "That's okay, Em. Maybe you can talk to your therapist about it tomorrow. Take it one step at a time."
Emily nodded wordlessly, her shoulders slumping as she turned and trudged up the stairs. The sound of her retreating footsteps echoed in the quiet house.
"Goodnight, Emmy," Pam called after her, her voice filled with love and concern.
Emily paused at the top of the stairs, forcing herself to respond. "Goodnight, Mom."
She stepped into her room and shut the door, leaning against it as the familiar sight of her space—so eerily similar to the dollhouse room—sent a fresh wave of unease coursing through her. She wiped at her tears, but the ache in her chest wouldn't fade.
Despite her exhaustion, Emily knew sleep wouldn't come easily tonight. Not with Alison's words echoing in her mind and the rain drumming steadily against her window.
The rain had finally stopped, leaving the night quiet except for the rhythmic drip of water from the eaves. Alison sat at her desk, the blue letter Emily had written years ago laid out in front of her. Her fingertips traced the edges of the paper as though it could connect her to the girl who had written it.
She sighed, pushing back her chair and pacing the room. Every word Emily wrote in her letter was seared into her mind. Alison bit her lip, guilt twisting in her chest. It wasn't just the words in the letter but the truth behind them that haunted her.
Grabbing her phone, Alison scrolled through her contacts and hovered over Emily's name. Her thumb hesitated over the call button. It felt wrong to just let the night end like this, but she knew barging into Emily's life wasn't the solution either.
What am I even supposed to say? Alison thought. That I'm sorry? That I've changed?
Someone knocked on her bedroom door, startling her. It was Jason.
"What's up, Jason?" she asked, her voice strained.
"I was just checking on you," he said. "After you came home soaked like that, I figured you might need someone to talk to."
Alison sank onto her bed, running a hand through her damp hair. "It's Emily," she admitted.
"Let me guess—she's not ready to forgive you yet?"
Alison let out a bitter laugh. "That's an understatement. She didn't even let me inside."
Jason's voice softened. "Ali, you've got to give her space. You've hurt her, sure, but you've also been through hell. Don't forget that."
"That's not an excuse for how I treated her," Alison said quietly. "I dragged her into my mess, Jason. And now... now I don't even know if I deserve to be in her life."
"Maybe not yet," Jason replied. "But you're trying, Ali. And that counts for something."
Alison nodded to herself, a faint spark of resolve igniting in her chest. "You're right. I'll give her time. But I'm not giving up on her."
Jason chuckled. "That's the Alison I know. Just... be careful, okay? Don't push her too hard."
"Yeah," Alison murmured. "Thanks, Jason."
She ended the call and set her phone down. The letter still sat on her desk, a reminder of the work she had to do—not just to win Emily back, but to truly earn her trust.
Baby steps, Alison thought. For both of us.
Emily sat stiffly on the familiar couch in Dr. Griffin's office, her fingers nervously twisting a tissue. She kept her gaze on the bookshelf behind the therapist, as if avoiding eye contact might make this conversation easier.
"You mentioned Alison came to see you last night," Dr. Griffin began, her tone gentle but focused. "How are you feeling about that?"
Emily hesitated, her voice tight with emotion. "Confused. Angry. Guilty. Everything." She looked down, twisting the tissue tighter. "She told me she read the letter I left for her, the one I wrote before she disappeared."
"What was in the letter?" Dr. Griffin prompted gently.
"I wrote about how much she hurt me," Emily admitted. "How she'd kiss me one moment, like it meant everything, and then tell me it was just practice. And then... she disappeared." Emily's voice cracked. "When she came back, she said it wasn't just practice. But by then, it was like my feelings were locked away. And then things got worse."
Dr. Griffin nodded, giving Emily space to continue.
"I feel so guilty," Emily said suddenly. "When she came back, I didn't believe her. None of us did. I was part of the group that put her in jail for a crime she didn't commit. I didn't know she was innocent, but that doesn't make it any easier."
Her hands trembled as she wiped away a tear. "And even after all of that... she broke out of jail. For me. She came to the dollhouse and helped save me."
Dr. Griffin's voice remained calm. "It sounds like there's a lot of gratitude mixed in with your other emotions."
Emily nodded slowly. "There is. But there's also anger—at her and at myself. I'm angry she played with my feelings back then. I'm angry that she disappeared without warning and left me to deal with all these confusing feelings alone. And I'm angry at myself for not trusting her when she came back. For letting her take the fall."
Dr. Griffin leaned forward slightly. "It's okay to feel all of those things at once. Gratitude doesn't erase guilt. Guilt doesn't erase anger. And none of it erases love."
Emily looked up sharply at the word. "Love?"
"Emily, the way you talk about Alison—it's clear she's important to you," Dr. Griffin said gently. "But being important doesn't mean the relationship is easy. Or simple."
Emily exhaled shakily. "That's the problem. I don't know how to separate the good from the bad. Every time I think about forgiving her, I remember the pain. And every time I think about pushing her away, I remember the way she risked everything to save me."
Dr. Griffin smiled gently. "It sounds like what you're feeling isn't just about Alison. It's about what you need for yourself. Have you thought about what you need right now?"
Emily closed her eyes, her voice soft. "I don't know. I just know that I can't trust her right now. Not with everything that's happened."
"And that's okay," Dr. Griffin assured her. "Trust isn't something you owe anyone. It's something you give when you're ready. Maybe this is a time to focus on rebuilding your own sense of safety and stability, so you can figure out where Alison fits into that."
Emily opened her eyes and nodded slowly, a small glimmer of clarity breaking through the storm of her emotions. "One step at a time."
"Exactly," Dr. Griffin said, her voice warm. "One step at a time."
Emily's small steps toward recovery were beginning to show. Although she still struggled to sleep through the night, outside noises no longer sent her into an immediate spiral. That was progress, however small, and Pam had decided it was enough to leave Emily home while she picked up Wayne at the airport.
It wasn't an easy decision for Pam. She knew the trip might overwhelm Emily, with its crowded waiting areas and blaring announcements. But Emily seemed stable, and Pam believed this was another small step in the right direction.
Emily was supposed to stay home, with clear instructions to call or text Pam or her friends if she needed anything. But stubbornness was one of Emily's defining traits, and tonight was no exception.
Ever since she got out of the dollhouse, Emily had been craving a bottle of Gatorade—a small indulgence pleasure she thought she would never again have. She convinced herself that a quick trip to the corner store wouldn't hurt.
At first, everything went smoothly. The walk to the store was peaceful, the cool night air grounding her. Inside, the aisles were nearly empty, just as she'd planned. Emily allowed herself a flicker of pride as she reached for the bottle.
Then it happened.
A car alarm blasted from outside, the shrill sound slicing through the store. Emily froze, the noise transporting her back to the dollhouse, where Wilden had used the same sound to keep them awake for hours on end. Her breathing quickened. She clenched her fists, trying to anchor herself, but the memories surged forward, suffocating her.
Before she knew it, Emily was on the floor, curled up and shaking, her hands clamped over her ears. The world blurred around her, the sharp edges of her panic attack consuming her completely.
"Emily!"
A familiar voice broke through the chaos, and Emily tried to focus.
"It's me, Alison."
Alison knelt beside her, her presence a steadying force. She pressed their foreheads together, her hands gently running through Emily's hair.
"Breathe, sweetie," Alison whispered. "Just follow my voice and breathe with me."
Alison's calm, rhythmic breaths cut through the fog. Slowly, Emily mirrored her, taking in shaky inhales and long exhales. The car alarm faded into the background, replaced by the thudding of her heart and the steady comfort of Alison's touch.
When Emily opened her eyes, she found Alison's blue ones staring back at her, filled with worry. The scent of Alison's perfume grounded her further, and for a moment, Emily let herself feel safe.
Alison was grounding her again without even doing anything. It soothed Emily as much as it terrified her because she was so afraid that Alison might leave again. Then, Dr. Griffin's words echoed in her mind. Trust was something she would give once she was ready.
"Thank you," she murmured weakly.
"Let's get you home," Alison said softly, helping her to her feet. She guided Emily to her car and drove her back to the Fields house in silence.
Inside the car, Alison finally spoke. "Why wasn't your mom with you?"
Emily leaned her head against the window. "She went to pick up my dad from the airport."
"And she left you alone?" Alison's voice was tinged with disbelief. "That doesn't sound like Mrs. Fields."
Emily tensed. "Ali, I'm not some baby you need to look after."
"I didn't say you were," Alison replied gently. "But I know your mom, and I know she wouldn't have left unless she thought you were safe."
"It was just for a couple of hours," Emily said defensively.
"And you weren't supposed to leave the house," Alison guessed, her tone soft but knowing.
"How did you—?!"
Alison gave a small, wry smile. "Em, please. I used to be the queen of sneaking out." Her smile faded, replaced by concern. "I just want to know why you pushed yourself when you weren't ready."
"I was doing fine!" Emily snapped. "I'm not some helpless case that needs saving every time!"
"Em, no one said you're helpless," Alison said, her voice steady. "But you're still healing. And you don't have to do it all at once."
"Amazing, you go out of your way to ask me for second chances, yet you don't seem to trust me right now," Emily huffed.
Alison hesitated, then softened her tone. "It's not about trust, Em. It's about caring. And I'm here because I care about you—more than I can put into words."
Emily sighed, the weight of her emotions pressing heavily on her chest. She reached for the car door but paused, her hand trembling over the handle. She still didn't know if she could give Alison her trust—or even if the blonde deserved it. But her nerves were still on edge and she appreciated that Alison could make her feel safe.
"Ali," she said softly, not looking at her.
"Yes?" Alison's voice was careful, almost hesitant.
"Will you—" Emily stopped herself, the vulnerability in her voice making her heart race. She took a breath and tried again. "Will you come inside? Just for a little while?"
Alison blinked, surprised, but her expression quickly softened. "Of course, Em. If that's what you want."
"It is," Emily whispered, her voice barely audible.
Alison followed Emily into the house, careful to keep her steps light as if the moment might shatter if she moved too quickly.
Emily and Alison walked into the Fields' home in a thick silence, the air between them heavy with words left unspoken. Alison hesitated, unsure of how to navigate this fragile act of trust. Emily, still bristling with unresolved emotions, kept her distance, her eyes darting to Alison as though unsure if she was real or just another fleeting promise.
"What triggered the panic attack?" Alison asked softly, breaking the silence.
Emily's jaw tightened. "That's your first question?"
Alison flinched but held her ground. "I just… I want to understand what your triggers are. I'm not trying to pry, I swear."
Emily exhaled, the sharpness in her posture easing just slightly. "The car alarm," she admitted, her voice trembling. "It sounded like the noise Wilden used in the dollhouse. He'd blast it so we couldn't sleep." Her hand gripped the edge of the counter as she spoke, her knuckles white.
"I'm so sorry, Em," Alison whispered, stepping closer.
"You don't have to apologize for that," Emily replied quickly, shaking her head. "It's not your fault."
Alison's voice softened. "But I can't help feeling like so much of what happened to you was because of me."
Emily's gaze snapped to Alison, sharp and wounded. "So you run away. Is that your solution to everything?"
Alison froze, the words cutting deeper than she expected. "No," she said firmly. "I'm done running. I'm trying to take responsibility."
"By confessing to the police? Hoping someone else can save you?" Emily's voice rose, the accusation laced with frustration.
Alison sighed, understanding where Emily's anger came from. "If going to the police helps fix even one of my mistakes, I'll do it. I don't want to go back to jail, but if that's the price, I'll pay it."
Emily's throat tightened. "Even if it means leaving me again?"
The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken fears. Alison met Emily's gaze, her eyes soft with regret. "That depends on whether you want me to stay."
Emily faltered, a flicker of hope breaking through her walls. "I get so insecure thinking you'll leave again."
Alison staggered back, as if hit by a thousand bricks. Now Emily's behavior made sense to her. "That's why you were so mad at me for talking to the police about the Jenna Thing? Because you were afraid that I would leave you?"
"God, Ali, you can be so dense sometimes!" Emily snapped at her. "Of course I was afraid that you were going to leave. Or worse, go back to jail!"
"I promised you I would come back," Alison argued.
"It's funny how you believe that you coming back erases everything that I've been through the years you were gone."
Alison finally understood. It wasn't only about her leaving now, it was about the years Alison had missed when she was gone. And Emily was right. There was so much that she didn't know about the brunette in those years she missed. And her absence was to be felt.
Alison stepped closer. "I'm not going anywhere, Em. Not unless you tell me to."
Emily looked away, swallowing hard. "It's just… hard to trust that."
"I know," Alison replied gently. "And I know words won't fix it. But I'm here. For as long as you need me."
Emily nodded, the tension between them loosening ever so slightly. The silence stretched again, less oppressive this time.
"I'll make you some tea," Alison offered suddenly, her voice lighter. "Your kitchen still the same?"
Emily blinked, caught off guard, but nodded. "Yeah."
Alison moved with a quiet confidence, her hands familiar with the cabinets and drawers. Emily watched from the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself. As she studied Alison, she realized something unsettling: she knew so much about who Alison used to be, but almost nothing about the person standing there now.
The thought was both terrifying and oddly comforting.
The silence stretched between them as Alison set a steaming cup of tea in front of Emily. The scent of chamomile filled the small kitchen, mingling with the faint sounds of the rain outside. Emily wrapped her hands around the cup but didn't drink, her gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance.
Alison leaned against the counter, her fingers lightly drumming against the edge. It was a rare moment of stillness for her—no snide remarks, no veiled sarcasm. She was just… there. Vulnerable.
"Why did you stay?" Emily asked suddenly, her voice soft but laced with an undertone of challenge.
Alison tilted her head, unsure of what Emily meant. "What do you mean?"
"You could've left after the panic attack," Emily clarified. "But you didn't. Why?"
Alison's lips parted as if she was about to respond, but then she hesitated. For once, she didn't have an answer ready to deflect or disarm. "Because you asked me to," she said finally.
Emily glanced up at her, searching Alison's face for any sign of deceit. She didn't find any.
"And because," Alison continued, her voice quieter now, "I didn't want you to feel like I abandoned you. Not again."
Emily's grip on the cup tightened. The warmth seeped into her palms, grounding her. "You have a way of doing that," she muttered, the bitterness slipping through despite herself.
"I know." Alison's admission was simple, yet it carried the weight of years of unspoken pain. "I can't change what I've done, Em. But I can try to be better. For you. For us, if there's still an 'us.'"
Emily stared at her for a long moment. The sincerity in Alison's voice was disarming, almost unnerving. But Emily's walls were still firmly in place, and she wasn't ready to let them down. Not yet.
"I don't know if I can forgive you," Emily admitted. "Not completely."
Alison nodded, her expression unreadable. "I'm not asking for that. I just… want the chance to try."
The words hung in the air, fragile and uncertain. Emily's gaze dropped to the tea in her hands. She wasn't ready to let Alison all the way in, but for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn't immediately push her away.
"Stay tonight," Emily said softly.
Alison blinked, caught off guard. "Are you sure?"
Emily nodded, her voice firm. "I don't want to wake up alone."
Alison's expression softened, and she gave a small nod. "Okay."
The tension between them eased, just slightly, as they sat in the quiet kitchen, the rain outside a soothing rhythm against the windows. It wasn't a resolution, but it was a start.
As they moved upstairs to get things ready, Alison noticed Emily hesitate at the threshold of her own bedroom. Alison immediately remembered finding Emily in the dollhouse, trapped in a perfect replica of this very room. Her heart sank, realizing how much this space might now be a trigger for Emily.
"Em," Alison began softly, "you're having trouble sleeping, aren't you?"
Emily gave a dry laugh. "That obvious, huh?"
Alison hesitated, then nodded. "I mean... I can't imagine what it's like, sleeping in a room that must bring back so many memories."
Emily said nothing, her silence speaking volumes.
"Why haven't you redecorated?" Alison asked gently.
"I haven't told my mom yet," Emily admitted after a beat, her voice low. "I don't even know how to bring it up."
"Emily, this is your home—your safe space. Your mom would understand," Alison said, trying to encourage her.
"Oh, because you're such an expert at opening up to your mother?" Emily snapped, the words out before she could stop herself. Regret hit her immediately, and she winced. "Ali, I—"
"It's okay," Alison cut her off, her tone surprisingly calm. "You're not wrong. I didn't know how to be honest with my mom, and I never got the chance to fix that. But that's exactly why I think you should talk to yours. You still can."
Emily bit her lip, the weight of Alison's words pressing down on her. Before she could respond, Alison straightened and said, "Stay here. I'll be right back."
Confused, Emily watched Alison disappear into her room and return a few minutes later, arms full of bedding, cushions, and a lamp.
"What are you doing?" Emily asked, half-laughing as Alison awkwardly maneuvered down the stairs.
"We're building a fort," Alison said matter-of-factly.
Emily blinked. "A fort? Like, a makeshift fort?"
"Exactly," Alison replied, a hint of pride in her voice. "I used to make these when I had to sleep on the streets."
Emily froze, stunned by the candid admission. Alison rarely spoke of her time on the run, and Emily realized just how much she didn't know about those years.
She watched as Alison worked quietly, transforming the living room into a cozy retreat. When she finished, Alison stepped back and gestured to the makeshift fort. "It's not perfect, but it'll do."
Emily's throat tightened. "It's... it's perfect," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Alison noticed the tears welling in Emily's eyes but didn't comment. Instead, she motioned toward the fort. "Go on. Try it out."
Emily crawled inside, her smile soft but genuine. "Aren't you coming in?"
"It's kind of tight for two people," Alison said hesitantly.
"I want you here," Emily said, more firmly this time.
Alison hesitated, then joined her, carefully settling in beside her. The warm glow of the lamp bathed the space in a soft light, creating an unexpectedly intimate atmosphere. They lay side by side, wrapped in the quiet comfort of the moment.
Once they were both settled, they stared at each other's eyes and remembered the night they stayed together before Alison was arrested. But that memory soon was crossed out by more latent thoughts.
"What if I have a nightmare?" Emily asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Then I'll wake you up," Alison said without hesitation. "And we'll deal with it. Together."
"Just like that?" Emily arched her eyebrow, slightly distrusting Ali's words.
"Just like that," Alison nodded and smiled, making Emily get lost in the moment.
Emily stared at her, searching for any hint of doubt, but Alison's expression was steady, unwavering. Slowly, Emily reached out, her fingers brushing Alison's cheek in a tentative gesture. Alison's breath hitched, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she slid an arm around Emily's waist, pulling her close enough that their foreheads almost touched.
Neither made a move to close the remaining distance, both understanding that they weren't ready—not yet. Emily closed her eyes, her breathing slowing as Alison's presence anchored her. For the first time in what felt like forever, she drifted into a peaceful sleep, comforted by the thought that, for now, Alison was staying. Her last thoughts before falling asleep were how she wished Alison had kissed her, but she was grateful that she hadn't.