Rewind

Emma had tears in her eyes as she sat slumped beside the desk on the floor. The callously torn paper in her hand with the familiar scrawny script was making her skin crawl.

I'm sorry, Eric, it said, but I can't do this. I can't marry you when this clearly isn't working out between us. Forgive me.

She read it, over and over again and even through the blurry vision of her, she knew she'd written it. But what she couldn't make sense of was -- how could she have written it? How hadn't it worked out between them that she had to leave him? Why didn't Eric ever mention this to her? Why?

She was about to sniffle when she heard the unmistakable click of the knob turn, making her go stiff. Even though everything in her body seemed to have come to a standstill, her heart hadn't. And Emma was sure with the loudness of it, it was probably going to give her away.

"Emma?" came the voice from across the room. She didn't reply, even though he waited.

By and by, she heard him snap the file he'd been going through shut and walk towards her. The sound of his footsteps had an urgency to them and before long he was kneeling down next to her, concerned gaze fixed on her which soon morphed into a look of anxious horror.

"Emma," he breathed.

Throwing the file down on the floor, he reached out and cupped her face in his hands with the most gentle touch, like she was the most fragile person he'd ever seen. With feather like touch, his thumbs brushed away the streaks of wetness moistening her cheeks.

Her red rimmed eyes lifted up to meet his gaze. Her erratic heart missed a beat or two with all the concern she could see there in his eyes.

"Honey, what's wrong?" He asked her, eyes mapping her face and her body as if looking for the reason for the tears in her eyes.

For a lawyer he sure didn't have a sharp eye. He hadn't yet noticed the letter she was not supposed to see was there in her hand. But then again, it could've been because that hand was safely hiding beside her, the note all but crumpled up in her hand.

The worry she saw in his eyes brought a fresh batch of tears to her eyes. Her heart squirmed inside her chest and sank deeper. How could she have thought of leaving him? Leaving this man who behaved like his life depended on her? How could she have even entertained such a cruel idea of torturing him? Because that was what it had to be, the cruelest way to hurt someone who loves you with all their heart. Did she not love him? If not, then how come her world revolves around him now? How come all she can think of is him? How come all she wants is him? How come the thought of even leaving him felt like impaling her heart with a knife and then twisting it over and over? How could've she been so heartless?

"What's wrong, Emma?" The question came out more like a plea when he asked again, having gotten no answer the first two times. "Did you hurt yourself? Did you fall down?"

She shook her head, catching his hand that was fiddling around her face, brushing the stray hairs away from her face as well as wiping the tears that streaked down, in her hand. Her heart thrummed painfully in her chest.

"Eric," she croaked, her throat choked up and even with the fairly ventilated room she hadn't ever felt so suffocated before. Sniffling, she swallowed the painfully large lump clogging up her throat and tried again, "how did I end up having the accident?"

She'd heard the story a thousand times from different sources. She'd read it in the papers, she'd heard her doctor's curt version of how Emma'd been speeding and made an abrupt cut veering the car off the street and ramming it into a van; her mother's version of how Emma'd been driving down to see her; her little brother's version of how Emma'd been speeding off to lose the gangster chasing her. And with all the things they'd talked about in the last few months, Emma and Eric had never talked about that night. That accident.

And, she could see now why they hadn't. With Eric's hands abruptly pausing on her face, his eyes marginally widening along with his lips parting, and his entire body freezing, it was clear he didn't want it to come up. Ever. He would've more likely forgotten about it like it never happened.

And, Emma wanted to do that, too. She wanted to do that so badly, but somehow, she couldn't. She couldn't bring her mind to rid the image of the note crumpled up in her hand; the plethora of possibilities why she could've left him; the guilt. She needed to know, she needed to know why she did what she did. And even after all that, how could he forgive her and accept her back in his life? Wasn't he one bit mad at her? Didn't he hate her? Why didn't he hate her?

There was a static silence that filled the room. Not uncomfortable, just deafening. Even through the foggy vision, Emma could see the change in Eric's face. There was worry alright, but it was different kind. Like, he was afraid of something.

"Tell me, Eric," she pleaded, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze when he surely was going to look away. "Please?"

His features were schooled a little too well. For the first time in the time they'd spent together, Emma got that feeling which she had gotten the first time she'd seen him at the hospital after she'd woke up. Like she didn't knew who he was. Like, he was a complete stranger.

"Emma," he breathed again, and she closed her eyes just absorbing the way her name sounded on his tongue. The way it made her heart jump when he said it. The way it sounded beautiful when he said it. He swallowed hard.

She knew he was stalling. She might've lost her memory but she'd learned enough about him in the last few months. She could read Eric Hansen like the back of her hand.

That's why, opening her eyes, she spoke, "I really want to know, Eric. I've heard everyone telling me how it happened. Please --" she sniffed, looking down at her lap where she was playing with his hand, the tears still spilling, "-- please, tell me why it happened."

Eric, whose eyes had been down on the way she was entwining fingers with his, looked up to meet her gaze and he did, he knew it wasn't fair of him to keep it to himself. Just because he was afraid of losing her again didn't mean he could keep her in the dark about this. He knew he had to tell her and he also knew it was high time he did.

So with one last breath, he memorized her face, embedding every feature, every curve to his memory. Locking his jaw, he nodded.

"No sugar-coating," she added with a teary-wry smile shifting a bit as he settled down beside her.

Sides pressed against each other, their entwined hands sitting half on her leg, half on his, Eric rested his back against the desk and took a really deep breath. His heart was heavy, each fibre of his body was screaming at him to not do this. But he knew he had to.

So with an enormous effort, he turned his head to her and barely managed to whisper, "you were leaving me."

It didn't help the tears in her eyes though she'd already figured it was something like that. It was clearly mentioned in the note, for God's sake.

"Why," she choked out.

Exactly, why would she do that? Especially to him?

His eyes dropped down to their interlocked hands, his thumb rubbing the skin of her palm as he shrugged.

"I don't know."

And that only made her feel worse.

She swallowed a strangled sob when she heard him intake this sharp breath as if he was ready to add more. He wasn't done. And, she listened intently because really, after all that she'd put him through, she could do this for him.

"I...just remember coming back home that night," he continued, subconsciously leaning in as he spoke lowly, "only to find the place a bit...different. It didn't feel warm like it used to, it felt cold. And, I knew something was wrong. I couldn't tell what until..."

"...you found my note," Emma completed for him, bringing forward the hand with the paper. Figuring what it was, Eric's eyes snapped up to meet hers.

"Emma, where did you--" but even before he could complete, she was a sobbing mess.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed while he without any hesitation pulled her to his chest, patting her head. He tried hushing her, but it was a lost cause. "I'm sorry I was looking through your drawer without permission."

He paused, and Emma felt it too. Then he pulled her back from his chest and Emma was expecting him to lash out at her, scream at her for breaching his privacy. But all he did was look at her with vaguely amused eyes and a chewed off smile.

"I love you," he chuckled, but he meant it with all his heart.

And Emma stared at him, feeling her heart wrench in her chest. And with all the questions floating in her head right now, all she could manage to choke out was, "Why?"

He was a bit thrown by her question. It was unexpected and he was unprepared. Usually, in a courtroom he would have each question prepared, he would be sure of all the questions his opponent could bring forth, he would be prepared with answers for them too. But this question, this one little syllable had left him speechless.

That was what he liked to call the Emma-effect. Every now and then she would do or say something that would completely throw him off. He loved how unpredictable she was, he loved how she kept him on his toes. However, even with all those things he loved about her, he still didn't know how to tell her 'why' he loved her.

She was still waiting. Troubled as her eyes were, they kept roaming over his face trying to make sense of everything. Like, she was stuck on this huge algorithm that could save the world. Her world.

Her eyes fell down to where she felt his hand graze her wrist. His palm slid into hers and entwined their fingers together again. Emma looked up at him, but he kept his gaze down on their joined hands resolutely.

After a few stuttering heartbeats, he began, "I was paralyzed when I read your note. I couldn't move, much less speak. I remember how I thought that it was the end. Nothing could ever be worse than that." He gave their hands a gentle tug, a wry smile curved up his lips. "Well, I was wrong." Looking her squarely in the eye, making her catch her breath, he spoke with every ounce of seriousness in him, "the worst feeling was sitting outside the operating room, watching the doctors rushing in out but not saying a word, it was the feeling of helplessness, the feeling of not knowing if I'd lost you for forever."

He fell silent, eyes dropping down to their hands again. She kept watching him, watching how hard it was for him to say all this. She could clearly see the hurt; he was reliving that day.

"Forty eight hours," he continued after that long pause, voice a soothing decibel, "for forty eight hours you were in there and I stood next to the door entirely numb. Everyone else was reacting in some way. But all I could do was blankly stare up at the light. I'd already lost you twice in that time when your heart had stopped beating and I remembered myself asking if I was even going to be able to live your heart stopped once and for all. And something about that thought was so...killing that I'd--" he swallowed, "--I'd decided if you didn't make it through the night...neither would I."

Emma bit her lip, her grip tightening on his hand, the thought of him no longer existing was so tormenting.

He smiled. "But I realized, that I didn't want to die this way. Instead, I wanted to live with you. Die with you some day, but not like this. So I prayed for you, I prayed for you to fight--fight and comeback." He let out a shaky breath and looked her squarely in her eyes, making her heart stutter in her chest. "I can't tell you why I love you so much, but I can tell you why you had decided to leave me."

Emma held her breath. There was a reason. And she just hoped it wasn't the one where she'd fallen for someone else.

"It was because of me," he admitted. "The idea of marrying you had given me a sort of stability. And, so I decided I could concentrate more on work because clearly as my fiancée you weren't going to go anywhere anytime soon. I used to spend hours here," his eyes ran around the room, "my office. Then, whatever time we had together, all I would be thinking of would be my cases, the other projects that I could take up, and it'd piss you off because I never really cared to give you attention. And, every time I'd promise to not let that happen again, I'd mess it up even more. And, you had been so patient with me, Emma, I can't thank you enough. You kept putting up with me. But, I guess I can't blame you that you'd had enough waiting on your part. You kept forgiving and I kept faltering on my promises. I just learned to keep them the hard way."

Emma was speechless as she watched him. His voice was contrite, regret was plain in it as well as his face that he hadn't lifted. She wasn't sure what to say, or do to make him feel better. Sure she could kiss him, but it seemed a little weird thing to be doing given the situation and she'd been controlling herself because she wanted to listen the rest of it. Or maybe she just wanted to hear him talk, his voice.

"Then there you were," he continued, wistfully, "lying in your bed in the ICU out of danger but barely. And, I couldn't enter. Not when I felt like it was all my fault."

Emma suddenly realized what was happening. He wasn't just downcast because he'd nearly lost her in the past, he was also blaming himself for it. And, in in spite of the tone, she found it hilarious how both of them were so insecure, so scared of losing the other all the while totally oblivious of the similar state the other was in.

She wanted to comfort him in some way tough and the best she could think of at the time was to scoot closer and rest her head on his chest. There, that felt like home. He released her hand to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her closer and she wrapped hers around his too, feeling how perfectly her body fit again his. Like a missing piece of puzzle.

The steady thrum of his heart was soothing, a sort of music to her ears that she could listen to on loop all her life and never get tired of it. As she sighed against him, feeling at home and warm, he tightened his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

"It wasn't your fault," she told him after several long, silent moments. "If anything, I was the one driving when I was crying."

His hands caressed her hair mindlessly. "I was the one who drove you to take that decision."

"I was the one who could've stopped the car to the side and cried first."

"I could've kept my promises so you never would've left."

She tilted her head up and found him already staring down at her, brows arched up and eyes full of lamentation. "Stop beating yourself about it." She kissed his T-shirt clad chest.

"I wish I could."

"But, you were there," she began, breaking he silence. "The day I woke up..."

"That's only because after learning all that had happened, you father gave me his piece of mind."

"What did he say?"

"He had told me that I was an idiot, I didn't deserve you and yet for some reason, he knew that you loved me a little too much and I loved you just as much. He told me that you would've wanted me to stay, wanted me to fight for you, wanted me to fight to you to keep you. Because love isn't all rainbows and butterflies. It takes work to keep it alive, else it wasn't holding onto." He took in a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. "I didn't want to lose you. So, I fought for you."

And he had. She remembered how he'd fought with her that night at dinner to just give him another chance. How he wouldn't leave her alone despite her harsh words. It melted her and brought a smile to her lips.

"Maybe you love me a little too much," she teased him.

"Some people are worth that," murmured against her hair.

"Weren't you," she croaked. The nerves had made her voice all weird. clearing her throat, she continued, "weren't you the least bit mad at me for leaving?"

When he didn't reply for several minutes, Emma tilted her head to look up at him, stopping the patterns she was drawing on his chest. Eric had a dazed look over his face as he started off into distance up ahead.

He shook his head, frowning a bit. "I was too petrified to care. I didn't want to lose you. And, even if I hadn't been, honestly, I couldn't blame you for leaving me. Hell, I would've left me without caring for the chances you'd so generously given me, love."

"So you still love me?" I asked, resting my chin on his chest so I was looking into his eyes.

His lips quirked up into a brief smile. "To the moon and back."

She grinned. "You're a cheesy bloke."

He leaned down, meeting her halfway and judged her nose with his. "Your cheesy bloke."

She laughed; she couldn't agree more. She leaned up to make her lips meet his both of their lids shutting close instinctively. It was a small three small pecks at first, but then, as the need grew, Emma fisted Eric's T-shirt in her hand so she would have some support, while Eric on the other hand, cradled her face in his palms, holding it sohe could deepen the kiss. And, as his tongue traced her lip, a shiver glossed down her spine and she eagerly opened her mouth for him, pressing herself further into him until she was completely in his lap. Well, almost was until she bumped her head against the desk.

The loud thud didn't miss Eric's ear and he was laughing in a matter of seconds while Emma groaned.

"Stupid desk," Emma grumbled pressing her palm to the sore spot.

He cupped her face again, his thumbs stroking her cheeks ever so gently. His fave was free of any signs of humor, but his eyes were slight with amusement.

"Shall we take this to the bedroom." He smirked.

Straddling him, Emma leaned in so much that their noses were barely brushing. "I don't know," she spoke, dragging her finger down his chest. The gesture alone made him lose his smirk and catch his breath. "I've always fancied the idea of doing it in an office."

And then she closed the hairsbreadth difference between them and kissed him so hard, so good that they were both breathless when she pulled back. A self satisfied smirk made home on her lips when she felt him grow beneath her.

He was still dazed from the kiss and she was quick to get off him in a matter of seconds. The dazed expression turned to a lost one when she stood up, adjusted her clothes and her hair.

"But I'm kinda famished. I'm gonna go order something to eat." Before lone, she was striding towards the door, smile on her lips when she heard Eric groan.

"Fucking tease," she heard him grumble as he got up to his feet.

•••

Dakota Johnson - Emma

John Krasinski - Eric