Hello, guys!
There's a lot to talk about in this chapter. Hope you enjoy the sweet and the sour.
With love,
White Tigresss
Chapter 14 - Memories
Emily knew things were supposed to feel better now. But they didn't.
She sat across from Dr. Griffin, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her nails pressed against her skin. She had agreed to this session—had even known she needed it—but now that she was here, words felt heavy on her tongue.
Dr. Griffin, as always, was patient. "You've had a lot happen in a short amount of time," she said, watching Emily carefully. "Have you given yourself a chance to process it?"
Emily exhaled slowly through her nose. "I don't know. I guess I've just been... keeping it together."
Dr. Griffin tilted her head. "Keeping it together for who?"
Emily hesitated. She wanted to say for myself, but that wasn't true, was it? She thought about Alison—about how fragile she had seemed after dinner, how Emily had held her close until she fell asleep. She thought about Jason, tense and withdrawn. Even CeCe, despite everything, had looked like someone desperate to belong.
And then there was herself. Holding everything in, because if she let it out, she wasn't sure she'd know how to stop.
Dr. Griffin gave a knowing nod, as if she had seen this thought flicker across Emily's face. "I know you, Emily. You carry a lot for the people you love. But emotions don't just disappear because you push them aside. They leak through—sometimes in ways you don't expect."
Emily swallowed. A prickle of unease ran down her spine. "What do you mean?"
"Maybe it's exhaustion that won't go away. Maybe it's snapping at someone when you don't mean to. Maybe it's waking up in the middle of the night with your heart pounding." Dr. Griffin paused. "Does any of that sound familiar?"
Emily looked away. Her chest felt tight because—yeah. It did.
Emily let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Yeah," she admitted. "All of that sounds familiar."
Dr. Griffin's expression remained steady, reassuring. "Then let's talk about it. What's been the hardest part?"
Emily shifted in her seat. "I don't know where to start. It's like—it's not just one thing. It's everything." She rubbed her temples. "I feel like if I start unraveling one thread, the whole thing will come undone."
"You don't have to unravel everything at once," Dr. Griffin assured her. "Let's take it one step at a time. What's been weighing on you the most?"
Emily's throat tightened. She knew the answer immediately, but saying it out loud made it more real. She glanced down at her hands, fingers still tangled together.
"I'm scared," she confessed finally.
Dr. Griffin waited, giving her space to continue.
"I keep waiting for something to go wrong," Emily admitted. "For Ali to decide I'm too much, or for my panic attacks to flare up again. Or for me to—" She cut herself off, shaking her head.
"For you to what?" Dr. Griffin prompted gently.
Emily's jaw tightened. "For me to be the one who breaks things," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dr. Griffin leaned forward slightly. "Why would you think that?"
Emily let out a humorless laugh. "Because it's happened before."
Memories flashed through her mind—Paige looking at her like she was drowning, Maya slipping through her fingers, every relationship she had wanted so badly to work but somehow lost anyway. She had loved fiercely, but it had never been enough to make people stay.
"I want to be there for Alison," Emily said. "She says she wants to be there for me too. But what if I mess it up? What if I become too much for her?"
Dr. Griffin let a moment of silence settle before responding. "Emily, do you think love means never struggling? Never having moments of doubt or difficulty?"
Emily frowned. "No, but—"
"But you think love means if something goes wrong, it's your fault," Dr. Griffin finished for her.
Emily looked away, heat creeping up her neck. "Maybe."
Dr. Griffin softened. "Love isn't about perfection, Emily. It's about showing up, even when it's hard. Even when you're scared."
Emily swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I just don't want to lose her."
"Then maybe that's where we start," Dr. Griffin said. "Not with what might go wrong, but with what you can do when things get tough."
Emily took a slow breath, nodding slightly. It wasn't a solution, not yet—but for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like she had to hold everything in alone.
Emily sat with Dr. Griffin's words for a moment, turning them over in her head. Not with what might go wrong, but with what you can do when things get tough.
It sounded simple when he said it, but actually putting it into practice? That was different.
"So… what do I do?" she asked hesitantly.
Dr. Griffin smiled, as if he had been waiting for that question. "First, you recognize that fear is part of the process. It's not a sign that something is wrong. It's a sign that something matters to you."
Emily exhaled. "It matters a lot."
"Then let's talk about what happens when that fear creeps in," Dr. Griffin continued. "What's your instinct when you start to feel like you might lose someone?"
Emily hesitated. "I hold on tighter," she admitted. "I try to fix things before they even go wrong. And if I can't, I—" She swallowed hard. "I push away first. Before they can do it to me."
Dr. Griffin nodded. "That's a protective response. But what if I told you love doesn't need you to fix everything? That sometimes, it just needs you to stay?"
Emily let out a small, shaky laugh. "That sounds terrifying."
"But also freeing," Dr. Griffin pointed out. "You don't have to be perfect, Emily. You just have to be there."
Emily leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling for a moment. "So, if I feel myself panicking… if I start thinking Alison is going to leave, or that I'm going to ruin things… what am I supposed to do instead?"
Dr. Griffin's voice remained steady. "First, you notice the thought. You remind yourself it's just a fear, not a fact. And then, instead of acting out of panic, you act out of what you actually want."
Emily frowned, considering that. "What I want is to believe this thing with Alison can last."
Dr. Griffin nodded. "Then you choose actions that support that. Not actions that come from fear."
Emily let out a breath, rubbing her hands over her jeans. "I'm not sure I know how to do that."
"You're already starting," Dr. Griffin assured her. "Just by talking about it. And by making the choice to show up, even when it's scary."
Emily blinked, surprised by how much weight that lifted off her chest. She wasn't fixed. She wasn't suddenly free of her fears. But maybe… just maybe… she didn't have to let them control her.
Dr. Griffin glanced at the clock. "We're about out of time, but I want you to try something before our next session. The next time you feel yourself slipping into fear, pause. Just long enough to ask yourself: Am I acting on what I'm afraid of? Or on what I actually want?"
Emily nodded, committing the words to memory. "Okay. I can try that."
Dr. Griffin smiled. "That's all I ask."
As Emily stepped out of his office and into the cool evening air, she let herself take one deep, steadying breath. I don't have to be perfect. I just have to be there.
Maybe, for now, that was enough.
With that last therapy session in mind, Emily chose to focus on redecorating her own room. She couldn't stay in the barn for too long, after all, nor did she want to. Her father, Toby, and Jason would do the heavy lifting once all of the things in her room were packed.
That's why Emily found herself among many boxes, trying to swim through the memories of growing up in her old room, now tarnished by the dollhouse. Wilden had even replicated her growth marks on the wall, which her mother had lovingly kept. They'd have to paint over it too.
"Wow, and I thought I had a lot of stuff," Alison sighed as she helped Emily move her things into the boxes. Emily didn't require her help, but Alison wasn't about to let her deal with this alone. She knew the kind of memories that redecoration would stir up, having gone through the same process when she came back to Rosewood.
"I guess I never realized my mom kept that much stuff," Emily replied absentmindedly as she stored away the CDs Toby had given her in junior year.
"Your mom?" Alison raised an eyebrow at her.
"Don't question it, Ali," Emily joked back.
Alison just laughed and moved to the next box. Some of Emily's things were already packed, which made the process easier, but they still had to open each one to label them.
When Alison lifted the lid on her next box, she gasped in surprise. It was filled with Emily's swimming trophies.
"Em, look at these!" Alison grabbed a couple and held them up. "I bet you miss swimming so much! Why did you never go back?"
She realized she had said the wrong thing when Emily's face twisted into something unreadable. That's when it hit Alison—she had missed something while she was on the run.
Emily swallowed hard before answering. "I can't swim anymore, Ali. Wilden ran me over with a car once."
"What?!" Alison stumbled back, shock and anger rushing through her all at once. She felt a sudden hatred for Wilden for taking away something so important to Emily. Still, she forced herself to focus on being helpful. "Em, I'm so sorry. Maybe there's some kind of therapy, or—"
Emily cut her off quickly. "There isn't. Paige tried to get me to do physical therapy so I could go to California with her, and it didn't work. It was one of the reasons we broke up."
Alison nodded silently, realizing she had overstepped.
"Please, don't make this more painful than it already is," Emily said, her voice quieter. She faced away from Alison, as if turning her back on the conversation itself. "I've already made peace with the fact that I won't be able to swim the way I used to."
Alison hesitated, then walked over to her. She knew Emily didn't want her to fix anything. She just wanted support. So Alison placed a delicate kiss on Emily's shoulder, hoping to offer comfort.
Emily flinched.
Alison immediately pulled back. "I'm sorry, I—"
Emily barely heard her. Her mind had already retreated. The shoulder Alison had kissed was the same one Wilden had shattered when he ran her over. It was the same one he had grabbed, twisted, hurt over and over in the dollhouse.
The memories rushed back too fast. The cold floor of the dollhouse. The restraints. The way her body had betrayed her, weak and useless when she needed to fight. She felt her breathing start to shift, her chest tightening.
She focused on the present. The warmth of the room, the faint sound of Alison shifting beside her, the scent of Alison's perfume. It wasn't the dollhouse. It wasn't Wilden.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak. "It's not about something you did, Ali."
Alison stayed quiet for a moment, watching her carefully. Then, instead of pressing further, she nodded. "Okay. Do you want to keep going, or do you want to take a break?"
Emily closed her eyes briefly, then turned back to her. "Let's keep going. I want this room finished."
Alison didn't argue. She just squeezed Emily's hand briefly before reaching for another box.
Later that evening, the boxes were stacked neatly against the wall, labeled and ready to be moved. The room felt hollow now, stripped of so many memories. It should have been a sign of progress, but to Emily, it just felt like another reminder of everything that had changed.
Alison sat on the edge of the bed, watching Emily stand by the window, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the glass. She had been quiet ever since their earlier conversation, and Alison could tell she was still caught up in her thoughts.
"Come on," Alison said, pushing herself up and walking toward her.
Emily turned slightly. "Where?"
"Out," Alison said simply. "A walk. Fresh air. Something to help you breathe a little easier."
Emily hesitated, but before she could think too much about it, Alison reached for her hand. The touch was warm, grounding, and Alison didn't give her a chance to pull away. She just intertwined their fingers, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Emily exhaled, nodding. "Okay."
They slipped out of the house quietly, stepping into the cool night air. The streets of Rosewood were quiet, just the occasional rustling of leaves and the distant hum of a car passing by.
For a few minutes, they walked in silence, their hands still clasped together. Alison gently ran her thumb over Emily's knuckles, offering a silent kind of reassurance.
"I hate that he took that from you," Alison said eventually, her voice quiet but firm.
Emily swallowed. She didn't have to ask who Alison meant.
"I do too," she admitted. "But I can't keep thinking about it forever. I can't keep wishing things were different when they're not."
Alison glanced at her. "You say that like it's easy."
"It's not," Emily said. "But I don't want to be stuck in it."
Alison nodded. She understood—maybe more than Emily realized.
After another moment, Alison slowed her steps, pulling Emily gently to a stop. Before Emily could ask why, Alison turned toward her, lifting a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
"You know you don't have to go through any of this alone, right?" Alison murmured.
Emily felt warmth spread through her chest. "I know."
Alison leaned in then, pressing a soft kiss to Emily's hair. The touch was light, lingering, and it sent a small shiver down Emily's spine.
Emily closed her eyes for a brief moment, letting herself sink into the warmth of it, before turning her head slightly—just enough to meet Alison's gaze.
She smiled. "Thanks for today."
Alison squeezed her hand again, grinning. "Always."
And as they continued walking, hand in hand, the weight on Emily's shoulders felt just a little bit lighter. They walked in comfortable silence for a while, their fingers loosely intertwined. The evening air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp leaves and fresh-cut grass. Emily focused on the rhythmic sound of their footsteps against the pavement, letting it drown out the noise in her head.
Alison gave her hand a small squeeze, wordlessly grounding her. Emily glanced at her, and for a brief second, she forgot about everything else—how the dim street lights reflected in Alison's eyes, the way her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, how she looked at Emily like she actually mattered.
"You're really quiet," Alison finally said, her voice softer than usual.
Emily exhaled a small laugh. "I'm always quiet."
"Not with me," Alison countered, bumping their shoulders together playfully. "Usually, you call me out when I say something ridiculous."
Emily huffed. "That's because you say ridiculous things a lot."
Alison smirked. "And yet, here you are, holding my hand. I must be doing something right."
Emily shook her head, but she didn't let go. Instead, she slowed their pace. "I was just thinking… I never really talked about what happened to me. Not fully."
Alison turned her head slightly, her grip on Emily's hand tightening. "Do you want to?"
Emily hesitated. There were things she had locked away for so long that saying them out loud felt impossible. But there was also Alison—patient, waiting, not pushing but not letting go either.
"I don't know," Emily admitted. "I feel like… if I say it, it'll make it real all over again."
"It's already real," Alison said gently. "You don't have to say anything, Em. I just don't want you to think you have to go through it alone."
Emily swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn't trust her voice, so she simply nodded. And Alison, as if understanding, didn't push for more.
Instead, she lifted their joined hands and kissed Emily's knuckles, slow and deliberate. Then, leaning in, she brushed a lingering kiss on Emily's cheek, her lips barely ghosting the skin before trailing behind her ear.
Emily closed her eyes for a second, absorbing the warmth, the comfort. When she opened them again, Alison was looking at her, a quiet question in her gaze.
Emily let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her fingers instinctively tightening around Alison's. The warmth of Alison's lips against her temple lingered, grounding her in the present.
"Better?" Alison asked softly, her voice almost hesitant, like she wasn't sure if she was doing enough.
Emily nodded, managing a small smile. "Yeah. Thanks for being here."
Alison smirked playfully, nudging Emily's side as they kept walking. "Where else would I be?"
Emily rolled her eyes, but her grip on Alison's hand never loosened. They strolled in comfortable silence for a few moments, the quiet hum of Rosewood's evening settling around them. The sound of leaves rustling in the breeze, the faint murmur of distant cars—it all felt so… normal. And for the first time in a long time, normal didn't feel suffocating.
Emily glanced at Alison, who was gazing ahead, lost in thought. "What about you?" she asked. "I know this whole thing with CeCe… it's a lot."
Alison hummed in acknowledgment, swinging their hands lightly. "Yeah," she admitted. "I keep trying to figure out how I'm supposed to feel about it. There's so much I don't know, so much I didn't even think to ask before. But—" She turned to Emily, squeezing her hand. "It helps having you here."
Emily's heart did something traitorous in her chest. She tried to play it cool, but Alison's eyes had that way of seeing right through her.
"I'm not going anywhere too," Emily assured her, her voice steady.
Alison's lips curled into a softer smile this time, something real. She stopped walking, gently tugging Emily to face her. For a moment, they just stood there, the golden glow of a streetlight casting them in warm light.
And then, with a teasing glint in her eyes, Alison leaned in—brushing her lips against the tip of Emily's nose. It was featherlight, barely there, but it sent a pleasant shiver down Emily's spine.
Emily chuckled, shaking her head. "What was that for?"
Alison grinned. "Just felt like it."
Emily exhaled a laugh, nudging Alison's shoulder. "You're impossible."
Alison smirked. "And yet, you're still here."
As they continued walking, the tension that had been weighing on Emily's chest seemed to ease. The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and the distant hum of cicadas. Alison's hand was still firmly in hers, and Emily found herself focusing on that small but steady comfort.
They didn't need to say anything for a while. Just being together, existing in this moment, was enough.
Eventually, Alison broke the silence. "So, where's all this stuff going?" she asked, referring to Emily's room. "Are you keeping everything or doing the whole 'new start' thing?"
Emily tilted her head in thought. "A little of both, I think. I don't want to erase my past, but I also don't want to be stuck in it."
Alison nodded, understanding. "That makes sense."
Emily smiled softly. "Yeah. Just... making space for better things."
Alison nudged her playfully. "Like me?"
Emily laughed. "You'd love that, wouldn't you?"
Alison smirked. "I do tend to take up a lot of space."
They slowed to a stop near Emily's porch. The streetlight flickered faintly above them, casting Alison's features in a warm glow. Emily turned to her, and Alison's gaze softened. There was something unreadable in her expression, something vulnerable.
And then, without warning, Alison leaned in again, pressing a soft kiss to Emily's cheek.
Emily blinked, startled but not surprised. Before she could say anything, Alison moved slightly and kissed her forehead.
Emily narrowed her eyes. "Okay, what are you doing?"
Alison hummed in amusement and, as if to prove a point, pressed another kiss—this time to Emily's jawline.
Emily exhaled a laugh. "Are you playing bingo with my face? Because I think you've kissed every spot but one."
Alison grinned, clearly pleased with herself. "Oh?"
Emily arched an eyebrow. "Yeah. Feels like an incomplete game."
Alison pretended to consider that for a moment before she finally—finally—leaned in and closed the gap between them, pressing her lips to Emily's in a soft, unhurried kiss.
It wasn't rushed or desperate. It was warm, familiar, like something that had been waiting for the right moment to happen. And now, it just did.
When they pulled apart, Emily let out a breathy laugh. "There. Now you win."
Alison smirked, her voice barely above a whisper. "I always do."
Emily shook her head fondly, but instead of pulling away, she leaned into Alison's warmth, content to stay there just a little longer.
No labels. No expectations. Just this. And for now, that was more than enough.
Despite their sweet moment afterward, Alison could still feel the weight of Emily's loss. Not being able to swim competitively anymore wasn't something Alison could change, but she could try to give Emily a piece of it back.
And if there was one thing Alison DiLaurentis knew how to do, it was grand gestures.
So while Emily was out visiting Hanna, Alison spent hours transforming Spencer's barn into something magical. Blue lights cast soft ripples against the walls, mirroring the illusion of water. She had draped sheer fabrics to resemble waves, even played a track of gentle splashing in the background.
By the time she was done, she had no idea if it would actually make Emily feel better—but she hoped it would.
When Emily returned, Alison drove them back to the barn, unable to hide the anticipation in her voice.
"I have a surprise for you."
Emily shot her a curious look, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "Ali, you didn't have to do anything."
Alison just smirked. "I wanted to."
She parked, then gently covered Emily's eyes, guiding her inside. The moment she flicked on the lights, she let go.
"You can open your eyes now."
Emily blinked, taking in the soft glow of blue, the way the barn felt like it had been submerged in something dreamlike. Her lips parted slightly, her breath catching—before something shifted in her expression.
The awe faded, giving way to something else. Something sadder.
Her shoulders stiffened, her fingers curling into the sleeves of her jacket.
Alison saw it instantly. The realization hit her like a wave—this wasn't just about swimming. It was about everything Emily had lost, everything that had been taken from her.
And Alison wasn't sure if she had just given Emily a gift… or a painful reminder.
"Okay, I get the feeling that this was a bad idea," Alison's voice cut through the tension, the vulnerability in her tone hard to miss. "I'm just not sure why."
Emily bit her lip, trying to find the right words to express herself. "Ali, this is beautiful."
"But...?" Alison pressed, sensing something unsaid in Emily's voice.
"Maya did the same thing too when I was out of the swim team."
Alison's stomach dropped. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She knew about Maya — she'd learned about her through CeCe during her time on the run, when she kept pestering her about Emily's life. Maya, Emily's first girlfriend.
Alison's heart sank, and a knot twisted in her chest. She had always known that Maya had a special place in Emily's life. Part of her always feared that Maya would be the one Emily chose if she were still here. That she would still be the first choice, even over her. The thought lingered like an invisible weight.
"Ali," Emily said, her voice gently pulling Alison back from her spiraling thoughts. Alison hadn't even realized how far away her mind had drifted. She blinked rapidly, trying to focus.
"It must've been a good memory," Alison commented out loud and regretted it as soon as the words left her lips because Emily blushed. And then she knew that Maya was Emily's first time.
Her ability to read people, to know things she didn't want to know, sometimes felt more like a curse than a gift.
"Do you wish she was the one who came back from the dead instead of me?" The question escaped her mouth before Alison could truly process it.
"Alison!" Emily called out more firmly this time. "This is the question you should've never asked."
The blonde smirked in self-depreciation, "That is my answer, I guess."
Emily took a deep breath before speaking, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside.
"It's not. I wish neither of you were gone. I wish Maya wasn't dead, I wish you hadn't disappeared. I wish I hadn't been hurt by all of that in the process," Emily replied. "But I'm so thankful that you're alive and here, even when you say things like that."
Alison took a step back, the intensity of Emily's words catching her off guard. Her mind spun. She was grateful Emily could say this to her, but it also reminded her of how much she had missed while she was away. How much she hadn't known.
She stared back at her, marveling at how Emily had grown and how she would've never talked back at her when they were young and that was one of the reasons they wouldn't work it out at the time.
"I'm sorry that I'm messy and I still haven't processed Maya's death completely, but she was a part of my history. She supported me when you couldn't. I'm not blaming you for that, but she did help me become who I am today and I'll always cherish that," Emily continued. "If that's gonna scare you away, then you'd better go and we'll call things off. But if you can't accept that," Emily's voice trembled just slightly, "then I'm afraid it'll show that you're no different than Maya—someone who couldn't accept all of me, even the messy parts."
"I don't want to call things off," Alison replied almost instantly.
"Then what do you want to do?" Emily questioned, her voice quieter now, but still firm.
Alison sighed. She considered calling it a night, letting them sleep off the tension, and handling things in the morning. But she knew herself too well—she wouldn't be able to sleep with the sour taste of an unresolved fight. And if she knew Emily at all, neither would she.
She had to face this head-on.
"I'm sorry," Alison said, stepping closer. "That question… I was a jerk for even asking."
Emily didn't reply immediately. Her arms folded across her chest, a subtle shield between them.
"I don't know if you'd rather just sleep it off," Alison continued, her voice gentler now. "But I still want to talk about it."
Alison hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward. "I want to know about Maya."
Emily inhaled sharply.
"Everything," Alison added, quieter this time.
Emily didn't know if she could give her that. Not now. Maybe not ever. But the way Alison looked at her—not with jealousy, but with something raw and uncertain—made her wonder if maybe, just maybe, she had to try.
One of the things I didn't like about PLL is that they glossed over Emily's injury and Maya's death. I feel like those topics had a huge impact on Emily's character development and we should've been given scenes where she talks about them with Alison. But, of course, Maya offers another layer of complications.