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It had started like any other case; horrific death scattered around; the girls way too young to have their lives snuffed out like it meant nothing in a sadistic game by an unsub who had impulses to kill.
Emily knew the job by heart; never get too close, never promise anything unless you knew you could deliver on that promise, always keep control of the team and act fast.
There had always been a weak spot for the young and defenseless, to Emily. The way parents clutched at the images of their kid, begging to have them back before it was too late, the way there was something tearing inside of them at every turn.
Maybe it was the instinct of a mother. Maybe it came from a yearning from a type of love she never had that felt somehow sacred.
So she had read the file like any other, had acted as the chief like any other time, dispatching the team, derelicting duties, finding clues where everyone from the precinct seemed to think there was none, keeping her team close to help with all her duties.
She could see the anguish in the eyes of terrified parents and, shaken by the devoted way they had asked her to please, please find their daughter, Emily had broken one of the rules. She had promised them she would.
They had been so close, the unsub devolving at a pace so rapid he left clues behind at every turn. There was no forensic sophistication, no tentative to hide the trail of blood he left behind.
Like he wanted them to know; he wanted them to find out.
They had made it to the house, doors busted down with no finesse in order to not waste a second more, but the moment they had made it to the basement, he had been there, grinning, the air thick with the smell of iron, permeating every breath Emily took. She had know. The walls were soaked in something evil, and no hope lingered in the corners of the room. Simmons had cuffed the unsub quickly and efficiently, dragging him away, but Emily lingered behind.
How was she to explain she had lied? She knelt next to the young girl, with no care how her pants soaked in her blood, and with unsteady hands, untied the manacles that had held the girl in place, tied to the wall.
Tara had come back inside the minute she noticed the absence of Emily’s presence in the groups climbing back in the SVU’s or occupied in making all types of calls to the local authorities and the CSU.
The sight of Emily had broken her heart. She could almost taste the anguish radiating off of her, the way she cradled the young girl as if there was any chance she was still feeling it. As she got closer, she could hear the soft litany of “I’m sorry”’s repeated over and over again to the girl.
Tara swallowed, crouching behind Emily, and put a soft hand on her shoulder. “Emily. There’s nothing more we could have done. She’s gone, but we got him. He can’t hurt anyone else again.”
At the soft spoken words, she laid the girl back down and raised up, the mask of strength she always wore back in place without a crack. “I failed. I promised her parents…” She said in a sigh, before moving away as if nothing had happened. “He had the time to do it all, like the other victims. Branding, sexual assault, confinement. She suffered and died in pain. We need to do better.” She finally let out, the hard edge to her voice making Tara frown.
“Emily, this was not our fault, not your fault!” Tara exclaimed, worry in the pit of her stomach.
But Emily did not answer. They wrapped the case up, the air heavy with sadness and loss. Emily spoke to the parents, and although no one else could see it, Tara saw the cracks in her usually stoic mask.
The flight back to Quantico was heavy. No one knew what to say. Emily isolated herself in that one seat at the back of the plane and started on paperwork, even if she could feel the worried gaze of Tara on her skin.
There was nothing left to say.
Everyone flitted out as they reached Quantico, having been told to go back home by Emily, to go back to their houses, to their partners.
Tara waited on Emily, who went and knocked on Penelope’s office, to whom she had promised a ride back home before the case since they lived close-by, and Penelope’s car had broken down a few days ago.
As the ride home went on, the car was too quiet.
The street lights lit up the interior in rhythmic, irregular patterns, broken only by the occasional lit gas station. Emily's hands clenched the steering wheel so tight that her knuckles were pale. The tension rolled off of her in suffocating waves. Every line in her body like the tightness in her jaw screamed she was unraveling, one shallow breath at a time.
Tara watched her attentively from the passenger seat, her hands relaxed on her thighs, a picture of calm next to Emily.
In the backseat, Penelope was silent. She had bounced into the car earlier, but now even the bright and vibrant Garcia had been stopped by the oppressive weight hanging in the air of the car.
Emily blinked too long at a red light. Her fingers flexed once against the wheel, seemingly a reflex to help with the stiffness from the tight hold on the wheel. Tara noticed her breathing. It was shallow, controlled, like Emily had to think about every single inhale, had to make herself stay functioning.
She wasn't going to make it home.
Tara knew that with the kind of certainty that came from loving Emily Prentiss with every part of her being. From having touched every sharp edge of her, every jagged scar hidden beneath the armor she wore like a second skin. She intimately knew when Emily hit her point of no return. It was pain, tucked so deep no one but Tara ever saw it.
Tara broke the silence, her voice low but steady. "Garcia," She started, without looking away from Emily, her gaze never wavering in the knowledge Emily was about to break, and she had to act before. Her voice had a sharp edge people did not hear often. "You have two choices, right now. You can stay, and you don't speak about anything you see tonight to anyone, ever, or you can get out now and find your way home, we are about three blocks away."
The silence stretched for a few heartbeats, the light turning green, before a whisper came from the backseat. "I'm staying."
Tara nodded her understanding, knowing Penelope would have seen it, before she turned fully toward Emily, her body language deliberate and clear. "Pull over," she said softly to Emily. "Now."
Emily obeyed automatically, blinking hard, barely breathing. She pulled the car over on the side of the street, deserted at this hour, putting it in park with mechanical movements. Her chest was rising and falling too fast, almost hyperventilating.
Tara didn’t hesitate.
She reached across the center console, her hand steady as she slid her fingers up along Emily's jaw, finding her throat and the frantic pulse she could feel under her fingers hammering away, and wrapped her hand around it. Firm. Grounding. Not squeezing yet, just being there, fingers on each side of her jugular.
Emily shuddered violently.
"Shh," Tara murmured, her thumb stroking once over Emily’s skin. "I've got you, baby. You're safe. I'm here."
Emily gasped , almost like if it was the first real breath she took since the case closed, and her body started to crumble, all the rigid tension in her shoulders starting to unravel.
Tara tightened her grip in a controlled pressure against each side of Emily's throat, and leaned in closer, her voice a dark whisper meant for Emily’s ears only. "You did so well. So good. It's over now. You’re mine, and I’m going to take care of you."
Emily gasped and her hands that were still gripping the steering wheel finally loosened. Her head tilted back slightly into the headrest, exposing more of her throat instinctively, her surrender written in every line of her body. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over, hot and uncontrollable on her cheeks.
Garcia sat, frozen, hardly daring to breathe. She watched with wide eyes but stayed silent, her heart aching at the rawness. She had never seen Emily like this. She had never dared to imagine seeing her unravel that way, she who was always in control.
Tara pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Emily’s mouth, still holding her, grounding her. "That's it," Tara praised, her voice a soothing sound to Emily. "Give it up, sweetheart. Let it go, I’ve got you."
Emily let out a broken noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sob and her whole body sagged, collapsing into Tara's steady hold, the tight ball of pain holding her finally unravelling.
Breathing came easier now, little shaky gasps against Tara’s hand. Her cheeks were wet, her tears having clumped her dark lashes, and as she regained control of herself, her eyes closed against all the sensation and emotional onslaught she felt.
Tara eased her grip just enough to stroke Emily’s throat with reverence, her thumb making little circular motion on the pulse point. "You are everything to me," Tara whispered, her forehead going to rest against Emily's temple. "My brave, brilliant girl."
In the backseat, Garcia’s own eyes burned. She pressed her palms into her thighs, wiping sweat she could feel made her hands clammy. She was utterly still, understanding, without words, she was witnessing something sacred and oh, so secret.
Emily turned her head slightly, her eyes fluttering open to look directly at Tara, before she brushed away the tears from her cheeks. "Home," she whispered, voice raw, "Please."
Tara smiled softly, "Yeah, baby." she murmured, her words muffled as she pressed her lips to Emily’s forehead. "We’re going home now."
Emily took a deep breath as Tara settled herself back in her seat, and with a quick glance to Garcia, an apology poised on her lips, that Penelope saw and refused with a shake of her head, Emily pulled the car back on drive and made it to Garcia’s, in a silence more comfortable than it had been before.
Emily's breathing had evened out, but her hands still trembled lightly. Tara threaded their fingers and let that hand resting lightly on Emily's thigh the entire way, as a grounding presence and a promise.
Garcia said nothing from the backseat. She understood, she had felt it. The profoundness of what Emily and Tara shared, a trust so deep it swallowed you whole. They were each other’s relief and release. They were a safety net for each other in such a graceful way.
They reached the curb of her place in what seemed like seconds, and Garcia hesitated before opening her door, lingering, hesitant.
Tara glanced over the seat. "Go home, Penelope," she said gently a stoftness to her tone that left space for no arguments. "She’ll be fine." She added, a reassurance, a truth that Garcia had needed to hear.
Garcia nodded, her eyes shimmering with emotion. "Okay," she whispered. "Thank you.” she finally said to Emily before disembarking and getting inside.
Tara nodded once, then turned back to Emily. “We go home, now.”
When they reached Emily’s, Tara didn’t speak. She simply stepped out first and opened Emily’s door, clasping their hands together as Emily got out of the car, never letting it drop as they walked towards the elevators and used her pull to guide her inside.
---
The door of Emily’s apartment closed behind them with a soft click.
Emily stood in the entryway, stiff, staring at nothing. Her muscles were tight, not in panic or fear or anguish, but in the cold hollow that came in the aftermath of such emotional upheaval.
Tara stepped close with steady hands as she reached for Emily’s jacket, easing it off her shoulders. She dropped it to the floor without caring.
"Strip," Tara said in a smooth tone, kind but totally in control, her voice smooth.
Emily moved immediately, like her body recognized Tara’s orders even when her mind was stuck somewhere in the haze. She toed off her boots, losing a few inches of height as she did so, before pulling her shirt over her head somehow clumsily and letting it meet the same end as her coat had. She stood there in her pants and bra, something lost in her eyes.
Tara brushed her fingers along Emily’s stomach, making Emily shiver, gasping in a breath, before she helped her unbuckle the belt off her pants and letting the whole pair of dress pants and hardware clatter to the floor.
"Good girl." Tara praised with her voice as smooth as velvet. "Come with me."
She gripped Emily’s hand and led her to the living room, ambiance left low to make the world outside easier to forget.
"On your knees," Tara said, her hand never leaving some part of Emily.
Emily sank down without hesitation, tilting her face up toward Tara with only the tip of her fingers touching the floor for stability.
Tara sat down at the edge of the couch and took Emily’s wrists in her hands. She lifted them, guiding them together so she could hold them both in one hand and let Emily feel the weight of her control. "You don't have to be in charge anymore," Tara said softly, pressing a kiss to Emily's forehead. "I'm taking that weight for you, now. I will do the thinking for you.”
Emily whimpered a little soft, broken whimper.
Tara tightened her grip just a little, thumb stroking over the soft skin of Emily’s wrists.
"You carry too much." she continued to whisper, her breath brushing against Emily’s skin. "It’s not yours anymore, baby. Give it to me.”
Tears welled in Emily’s eyes again, and yet, even as she tried to swallow them back, they started to slip out and run on her cheek faster than she could stop them. She leaned forward, blinded by the tears she was shedding, until her forehead pressed into Tara’s sternum, shuddering sobs wracking her.
Tara rocked her gently, her free hand going to cradle the back of Emily’s head , her fingers tangling in the thick mane of hair Emily had. Her other hand stayed in place, binding Emily’s wrists together.
"You did everything you could," Tara murmured against her hair. "You made a profile and delivered it and you followed the evidence. You arrested him. You are enough, my love."
Emily could not speak, but Tara could feel the tension bleeding out off of her lover with every second Tara held her.
When Emily's sobs finally ebbed away and turned to hiccups, the lingering effect of crying, Tara tipped her head up, forcing Emily to look into her eyes.
"You are mine." Tara said, voice commanding, "And I love you, exactly as you are."
Something cracked open inside of Emily at that moment. It was almost as if the dam had open, letting out the flood of affection. She surged forward, pressing her mouth to Tara’s, desperately, in a wet kiss that tasted like salt and gratitude and aching love.
Tara kissed her back slowly, deeply, controlling the pace, giving Emily a rhythm to match her, forcing Emily to be paced and let the lip-lock be controlled by Tara.
When they finally pulled apart, Emily rested her cheek against Tara’s thigh, eyes closing in a show of well-being, of utter devotion to Tara and the love she was being held in. She trusted Tara, she loved Tara and she knew she could trust her with everything she was not able to say aloud but that resided in her eyes.
Tara stroked her hair, slow and patient. "You are good. You’re so good." She whispered.
Emily didn’t speak. She knew Tara could read every line of her body, and she knew she was telegraphing contentment, love, and trust. The way she was melting in Tara’s touch, the way she trusted Tara to hold her together when she couldn't do it herself.
And Tara would. Always.
----
Tara helped her up from the floor slowly, she was the steady hand Emily needed, as her legs seemed as steady as a fowl.
"Come on, baby," Tara murmured, bringing her tightly in her side.
Emily leaned into her without hesitation, moving as she was steered, her movements following the way Tara guided her.
Tara led her, and every few steps she squeezed Emily’s hand as a wordless reminder that she was there, that Emily was safe. When they reached the bedroom, Tara turned Emily to face her, lifting her head to make Emily look at her. "You did so good tonight," she said softly, sincerity shining in her eyes.
Emily’s breath hitched. There was something about the way Tara praised her that always bled in her bones, that tingled in her spine.
Tara smiled at her, the warm of her filling Emily. "Let me take care of you, sweetheart?" she asked softly.
Emily only gave a tiny nod as an answer.
Tara kissed her, slowly, deeply and all-consuming, guiding her backwards until the back of Emily’s legs hit the edge of the bed.
"I need you to take the rest of your clothes off." Tara instructed gently, stepping back just enough to give her room.
Emily removed the underwear she was still sporting, her movements less jerky than they had been, the fluidity of it better now. Her surrender had been etched into her muscles by Tara. She dropped the rest of her clothes to the floor and stood naked in the light of the bedside table lamps.
Tara's gaze roamed over her, something hungry clawing its way out. "Lie down for me," she said, voice firm.
Emily obeyed, scooting up and lying on the bed, eyes wide as she stared at Tara, awaiting further instructions.
Tara shed her own clothes slowly, deliberately, letting Emily watch. She could feel Emily’s eyes roaming over every inch of her skin she exposed, the hunger she knew she had in her eyes reflected in both their eyes.
Tara, in only panties, climbed into the bed. She straddled Emily’s hips, anchoring her in place.
One hand traced lightly from Emily’s temple down to her collarbone, then lower, across her chest, over her ribs, her stomach. Mapping her with reverent hands. "You’re beautiful," Tara murmured. "You’re perfect."
A shudder travelled down Emily’s body, making her chest heave with the effort to not break again. Emily finally stilled and Tara kissed her deeper, coaxing her mouth open, taking control of the kiss until Emily was pliant and whimpering under her.
"You’re safe," Tara whispered between kisses. "You’re loved. You’re mine."
Emily gasped, desperate, pleading. "Yours." It was almost like she was begging, like her word meant a litany of pleases’.
Tara smiled. "Good girl." She said, and she felt the shudder through Emily.
She shifted lower, kissing a path down Emily’s body, slow and unhurried, worshipful. Emily cried out, writhing under her touch. It felt like too much, reverence, love, like she was something sacred, something she had never been. She had been strong and useful, but when Tara made her feel all of it, the love, the ache of how beautiful and sacred she was, there was something in it that she had always tried to fight against. It was overwhelming.
But Tara knew, and she did not stop. She kissed every scar, every discoloration and freckle, every stretch of skin like it was sacred.
When she finally settled between Emily’s legs, she looked up at her, and what Emily saw in Tara’s eyes made her screw her eyes shut as to not cry again. It was, in that gaze, possession, patience, but mostly, unconditional love.
Tara gave a sharp little slap to the inside of Emily’s thigh when she saw her eyes close, a warning that Emily understood, as she opened her eyes back up. Tara then held Emily’s gaze as she lowered her mouth on her, licking a broad stripe with the flat of her tongue that made Emily’s whole body jerk.
Emily moaned, her hands finding purpose in fisting the sheets, every swipe of Tara’s tongue on her sending a bolt of electricity thrumming through her body. She was too far gone to think, to control any part of herself. Tara did not stop, her mouth steady and relentless on Emily, dragging pleasure out of her. She let her tongue stroke Emily with quiet reverence, taking the time to build her up to make her fall down the edge even more sharply. She mixed up broad strokes and smaller, specific one over her clit, in patterns unpredictable to make it impossible for Emily to discern what she would be doing next.
"That's it," Tara praised, voice vibrating against Emily's skin, in a kiss on her thigh, "Good girl. Take it. Let go." She commanded, before her mouth went back on Emily, teasing her with featherlight licks, making Emily’s hips buck, seeking more pressure, more stimulation. She grinned, before letting herself fully move back and fuck Emily. She braced her arms around Emily’s thighs and took Emily’s clit between her lips, teeth grazing. Emily’s hips canted for more, more, more, and Tra knew she had her on the edge, the soft moans of her lover now only broken by breaths that had to be taken. She gave licks in quick succession, her nails digging in Emily’s thighs as she felt them tightening around her head.
The pinpricks of pain, the graze of teeth, the flicks over her clit made her let go under Tara’s mouth. Emily came with a moan of Tara’s name on her tongue, her orgasm making her come apart violently, tears streaming down her face, pleasure and grief and love tangling together.
Tara kept going through it, slowing only when Emily’s whole body sagged down with little twitches from the aftermath.
She crawled up the bed, gathering Emily in her arms, cradling her close, stroking her hair.
"You did so good, baby," Tara whispered. "I’ve got you. I’ve got you."
Emily clung to her. She felt spent. Cleaner. Like something poisoned had been drawn out of her.
Tara slid them under the blankets and held her, whispering nonsense in her hair until Emily finally fell asleep, in a cocoon of safety and love. Tara followed suit once she was sure Emily had joined Morpheus for the night.
----
Emily woke slowly, blinking against the light creeping in, the bedroom illuminated from curtains that hadn’t been closed the night before.
For a few seconds, she didn’t remember where she was. She felt Tara then, curled behind her, one hand splayed in a protective hold across her stomach, breathing steadyly against Emily’s skin. She was safe. Held. And the memories came flooding back. She remembered how Tara held her together when she couldn’t herself.
Emily exhaled shakily, making Tara stir, her arm tightening possessively around Emily’s waist.
"Morning, love," Tara mumbled sleepily, her lips against her skin. "You’re safe. I’m right here."
Emily closed her eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by a rush of emotion flooding her chest so deeply and all-encompassing, she almost couldn’t breathe. Tara pressed a kiss to her shoulder.
They laid there for a while, breathing together, no urgency in the world beyond themselves in that bed at that moment. Emily curled around their threaded hands on her belly, in the security of it.
Eventually, Tara shifted, propping herself up on an elbow to look down at Emily. "You need food.” She said, her voice still rough with sleep but laced with that commanding tone that always made Emily obey before her mind could even catch up. So Emily nodded without thinking.
Tara kissed her softly before untangling herself from the blankets to step off the bed.
"Stay there, sweetheart." Tara ordered. "I’ll bring it to you."
Emily obeyed, curling deeper into the blankets, too raw and grateful to speak.
While Tara disappeared to the kitchen, Emily let her mind wander for a while, as her eyes trained on the ceiling. The ache inside her was still there and she knew from the years she lived through, it probably always would be, but it somehow didn’t feel so unbearable with Tara’s warmth still clinging to her skin and her smell embedded in the sheets.
A soft buzz from her phone broke the quiet. She glanced over at her cellphone and saw a text from Garcia.
Penelope Garcia :
still not breathing a word, like promised but I just wanted to say, you are so, so loved by so many and especially by her and by me. forever.
Emily’s throat closed up again, but the tears that pricked her eyes and that she swallowed back weren’t painful. They were just full of love and safety, and the terrifying, beautiful truth that she wasn’t alone.
She still was blinking them away when Tara returned, a tray held carefully in her hands. There was scrambled eggs, a few pieces of toast and two cups of coffee on it. Emily breathed out, unused to little acts that felt so intimate. “Thank you.” She breathed out.
Tara set the tray down and sat beside her, brushing a hand over her hair. "You’re going to eat, drink your coffee and we’re going to stay right right here all day and do absolutely nothing unless we need to." Tara said, commanding, her tone gentle but firm.
Emily managed to choke out a watery laugh, scrubbing her face to remove the remnants of sleep, of tears from the previous night. "I’m such a mess." she said hoarsely.
Tara leaned in, kissed her forehead. "You’re my mess." she corrected. "And you’re perfect."
Something inside Emily surrendered completely to the love she knew Tara carried for her. She leaned into Tara’s touch. She had no walls up, and no desire to build them back up at the moment.
"Love you," Emily whispered.
Tara’s eyes softened. "Love you too, darling. Always."