𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞
ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ
𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗮𝘂

     𝐄𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 stands outside the building, leaning against the wall. She feels a burning sensation in the back of her throat as she takes a drag of the cigarette. As she hears the side door opening, she drops the cigarette on the ground and puts it out with the bottom of her boot.

"You pick that up in France?" Derek asks.

"It's basically a hobby over there," Emily replies with a small smile, but it fades quickly. "You know, Derek, I don't even know what to say. To you, to her, to the team."

"The team will be fine," he replies, seeing as almost half of them already knew. "I just want an explanation. I think Noah wants the same."

"I was naive to think I could come back and she would forget about the hiding."

"One thing I learned about her is how much she hates being kept in the dark," he mentions, watching the woman nod.

"I know, but I didn't have a choice. I mean, she has to forgive me at some point. It won't be like this forever."

Derek wonders if Emily understands the weight of what's been done to Noah. He wonders if any of them understand. This won't go away easily, no matter how much they all want it to.

"I've learned a lot about Noah these last few months," he says as he leans on the wall beside Emily. "I started to be able to tell when she was upset or anxious or tired. And I could see when she needed help, too. She was struggling and she didn't know how to move on, or if she would ever move on. And honestly? I don't think she ever did."

Emily peers over at her friend, patiently waiting to learn more about her daughter's struggle, willing to do anything to fix it.

"I kept having these arguments with her. It was funny, at first, because they were just like the ones you told me the two of you would have all the time," he chuckles briefly. "Every time I checked in, it was an argument. It was her telling me I was being insensitive, or everything reminded her of you, or she just wasn't ready."

Emily's eyes rise to the night sky, tears daring to fall down her cheeks.

"When she started her appointments with Dr. Stephenson again, he told me that he didn't know if she was getting better. He couldn't tell if anything was helping. He told me to keep an eye on her and not let her out of my sight," he trails off, but only for a moment, allowing Emily to understand what he's trying to say. "I watched after her, forced her to eat, eased her nightmares, made her do things to take her mind off of it all. She went through a lot—more than you or I will ever understand. She didn't learn how to cope, but she learned how to manage. Adjusting to you coming back won't be easy, but once she realizes how lucky she is that you're still here, she'll understand, but she needs time."

In the round table room, the teen sits at the table with her eyes stuck on the wall. The confusion and frustration are drowning everything out. Her body sits in the room, but her mind is elsewhere in a distant illusion.

"Noah," Penelope sighs softly. "Please, please talk to me."

Penelope sits beside the teen, resting her hand over Noah's and squeezing tight to display her presence. "Please, munchkin, I know there's a lot you're thinking about. It's okay to talk about it."

Noah shakes her head as she mumbles. "I don't even know what to say."

"You can say anything," the blonde says. "Whatever you're thinking, you can say it."

"I'm thinking I was lied to by the people who I care about most."

Emily and JJ walk beside one another, chatting as they enter the bullpen. Emily's fingers brush past JJ's, her craving to have physical contact more hungry than ever. She spent days, months, almost a year without a friend. And even now, JJ is the only one Emily feels safe talking to. With the others, her problems don't matter. What she went through seems like nothing compared to what she did to them—what she hid from them.

"How angry is the team?" Emily asks.

"They're in shock, that's all," JJ replies softly. "But they'll come around. They just need time."

"What about Noah?"

"I don't really know," JJ says with a small shrug. "It was hard keeping the secret from her. I could barely look at her without feeling sick with guilt, so I...didn't visit her much. I feel guilt about that, too, but I just couldn't bear to lie to her over and over."

Emily knows that JJ was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Guilt surrounds her like a dark cloud whenever she speaks about Noah. Emily knows that she may never be able to repay JJ for what she did for her, the secrets that she kept to protect her life.

"Thank you for making sure she stayed. I don't know what I would have done if she had been sent away."

"That was all Derek."

"Well, thank you for everything. Everything you've done for her. And everything you're doing for me now. I know it wasn't easy lying to everyone."

JJ shows with a soft smile as they stand outside of the round table room. "It is really good to see you."

Emily squeezes JJ's arm to silently convey her gratitude. They enter the room, and Emily's eyes instantly find Noah sitting at the table. She feels her daughter's agony, recognizing the blank stare that she's seen a few too many times.

"Do you guys need a second?" Penelope asks Emily.

Noah turns around and glares at her mother. "No," she answers for the both of them.

The rest of the team joins them, diving back into the case. Noah feels like her mind is moving in slow motion while everyone else is racing around her. Whenever they move, Noah sees streaks paired with flashes of that night in the warehouse. She can feel the shiver that runs down her back and the tingling in her fingertips.

Noah hears a distant voice behind her. "There's a woman, who's most likely the alpha, helping Gerace," Derek says, the determination in his tone still evident, even through the panic rising in her chest.

"But she has to want revenge on Doyle," Emily continues his theory. "You'd think that'd help, but it makes the suspect list about twenty people longer."

"Do you know who Declan's mother is?" Aaron asks, looking at Emily.

"Doyle told me she was dead."

"Do we know that for sure?" Dave asks.

"No," Emily says with a shake of her head.

"Who would know?" Aaron questions.

"Maybe Louise, or Liam," Emily suggests.

"Both dead," Derek mutters. "We never got the chance to speak to Louise."

Noah glances up at them, wondering if she should say something, but the panic in her mind tells her to keep her mouth shut. However, Derek catches her gaze, using what he's learned about her to read her expression. He can see that she's holding something back and knows exactly what it is.

Emily looks back and forth between them, trying to hide her jealousy. "What?"

"Noah," Derek says, encouraging the girl to speak.

"I'm not the FBI, I can't help you—"

Derek pulls out the chair beside Noah's and sits down, placing his hands on the table to lean closer to her. "You were a witness that night at the warehouse. We're sitting you down to ask some questions."

"I've told you everything," Noah replies, talking to him specifically.

Derek knows better than to fall for it. "I'd be stupid to think that you let it go, even after I told you to. Did you speak to Louise?"

Noah shrivels in her seat, feeling everyone's eyes on her. It reminds her of when they accused her of Gia's murder, threatening her to tell a truth that's too horrific to come out on its own. The day she was reminded that trust can be lost as easily as it can be gained. She's now come to learn that she was right to be wary of the team.

"It wasn't for very long," she mutters.

"What?" Emily asks in shock, realizing that she's missed more than she thought. "When was this? How did you know about her?"

Noah remains quiet, hoping to keep herself out of trouble.

"Did she say anything about Declan's mother?" Aaron asks, the need for information more pressing than giving her a consequence.

"No," Noah replies as she shakes her head. "She didn't say anything."

"Well, what did she say?" Emily questions.

"She said that she kept everything from Declan because he deserved to start over. And she didn't believe me when I told her Doyle was coming, at least I don't think she did."

"You told her about Doyle?" Aaron asks.

"You didn't?" the teen mumbles.

"When was this?" Dave asks.

"A little over a week ago," Noah replies and sits back in her chair, taking a deep breath.

"You walked up to that house by yourself?" Derek asks.

"How did you explain who you were?" JJ adds.

"I told her the truth."

"You told her about Lauren," Derek says.

"You know, some people don't like to be kept in the dark," she says, her eyes shifting to Emily for a moment. "Sometimes secrets don't keep people safe. And maybe I could have said it differently. Maybe she'd be alive if I would have tried harder to make her believe me."

"There was nothing you could've done to save her," Derek reassures her. "He wanted his son, and he would have done it to anyone to get him."

Noah shifts in her seat again, feeling uncomfortable. "She didn't say anything about his mother. I don't know anything about that."

"We have fifteen women who could be responsible for this," Penelope says as she pulls up the images on the screen. "Does any of their names or faces mean something to you?" she asks, putting printed sheets with the same images in front of Noah on the table.

"Why would they?" Noah asks.

"We can never be too careful with Doyle," Aaron reminds her.

Emily's eyes can't tear themselves away from her daughter. The face that she once admired every day, and the eyes that always reminded her that the night in the warehouse could come. She wonders what she's thinking, wishing she could live in her mind, even just for a moment.

ɴᴏᴀʜ

I allow my eyes to slowly lower to the images of the women. All with dark hair, brown eyes, and a naturally alluring build to their facial structure. They all resemble Emily, just his type. Out of everyone on her Interpol team, Emily was the only one capable of reeling him in. It means that somehow, every moment and every decision was perfectly aligned as if fate itself had sealed our convoluted future.

"We know that these three are dead, but not by Doyle's hand," Penelope says as she grabs a red Sharpie and puts an 'X' through three of the women's pictures.

"The rest are somewhere out there, all possible to have a motive of revenge on Doyle," Dave explains further.

I scan the faces of each woman, but by the fifth picture, something sticks out. My eyes are trained on her face, similar to the others, but with a sense of familiarity to me.

"Her," I whisper as I point to one of the women, my throat going dry. "You can take her out, she's not Declan's mother."

"How do you know?" Emily asks me.

"Because if she wanted revenge like this, she wouldn't have been doing favors for him," I say as I take the red Sharpie from the table, crossing out her photo. "That's Sarah Harmon."

Emily's eyes widen as she turns around to look at the woman's picture on the TV screen. She suddenly recognizes the woman, her face clicking with the name. "Yeah, she's right. That's her."

"And this is Renata," I continue, crossing off her picture. "She calmed me down after a panic attack outside Penelope's theater, and was at the warehouse that night."

"What?" Emily questions with furrowed brows.

I ignore her questioning, realizing something much more disturbing. I put the pieces together, my eyes unfocusing as I complete the puzzle in my head. There's a moment when it clicks, and I stand up, moving around the table to look at the TV screen.

I can feel the knots in my stomach, unprecedented fear settling deep within me. Flashes of memories blind me as my eyes skittishly flicker between all the pictures. So many unanswered questions are floating to the surface, but the clarity is blurrier than the confusion.

I've always had an eye on you, my father's voice rings in my ears. I feel numb, like for once, my feet are stuck still. I don't run because I can't. Everything feels heavy and the realization is colder than anything I've ever experienced. He said he had an eye on me, and he was right, it just wasn't his.

"Noah?" my mother asks, gently placing her hand on my shoulder.

"Noah, talk to us," Derek says from behind me.

I point to one of the women on the screen. "This was my second-grade teacher's assistant," I shakily say and point to another one of the women. "And she worked at the library in Seattle. And she lived at the end of the cul-de-sac for a year."

I don't look back, but I feel the weight of the team's silent shock, each of them connecting the same twisted dots I am. I force myself to scan the next few pictures, my heart hammering until I reach one face—the face—that sends a hollow ache through my chest.

I stare at her, a woman I'd once thought I could trust, someone who had made me feel safe. A woman I thought I knew.

"This...was Max's mother," the words come out like a whisper, but the betrayal burns like fire.

I can feel the tingling sensation as the color drains from my face, my skin going pale down to my fingertips.

"What?" Emily says softly.

I swallow hard, my throat tightening. "That's Max's mom, that's her, she—" I pause, my mind reeling. "She knew Doyle, she knew him, she lied, she—"

The room is silent other than a soft gasp from Penelope. Some of them don't even know about Max. It's the greatest thing I've lost, other than when I thought I lost Emily, of course. It was the most devastating blow, a nail in the coffin that was the wreckage of my childhood.

My breaths become short as I find the air in the room disintegrating. I slowly reach out to the picture, but it's as if she'll hurt me through the screen, I retract my hand and it rests on my chest. My chin quivers uncontrollably, and I struggle to silence the whimpers clawing their way up my throat, tears threatening to spill over like a dam about to burst. My fingers clutch the neckline of my shirt, pulling as if to steady myself, but the fabric feels suffocating instead. My vision blurs, the world around me twisting into a haze as the weight of everything crashes down, leaving me gasping for relief that isn't coming.

I feel the floor being swept from underneath me. No one—not a single person—has ever told me the truth.

I feel exposed, like every secret and vulnerability is laid bare for them to see, and they're all waiting to strike. I don't even know if I can trust myself anymore. The hurt, the anger, the grief—it all crashes over me at once, and I can't tell where one ends and the other begins.

I see Emily reaching to embrace me from my peripheral, but I turn away to walk out of the room, everyone watching me run away, just like I always do.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

Emily quickly snaps back into reality, the motherly instinct coming back to her in doses. She rushes after her daughter, following her footsteps to the bathroom. She swings the door open, hearing retching in the last stall.

"Oh my God," Emily frets, running to the last stall and opening the door, seeing her daughter leaning over the toilet.

Noah feels hands grab her hair, carefully pulling it back. She empties the contents of her stomach, crying at the uneasy feeling. Her hands shake against the floor as her arms struggle to find the strength to hold her up. She can hear distant echoes of a voice, but the ringing in her ears takes over most of her senses.

"Noah," Emily quietly says. "Are you okay?"

"Does it look like I'm okay?!" Noah snaps as she flushes the toilet. She sits on the floor and leans her back against the wall.

Emily's shoulders drop as she sits down as well. "I'm not trying to make it worse—"

"I really don't think it can get worse than this," Noah replies, her words sharper than a knife. "I just found out the mother of my dead childhood friend was a planted spy sent by my father."

Emily remains silent, worried that anything she says will set Noah off again. The teen leans her head back, feeling it thump against the tiled wall.

"God only knows what actually happened," she mumbles under her breath.

"What do you mean?"

"Did he really do it, then?" the teen questions, her voice breaking more with each word. "Did she have something to do with that? Was he a plant too? Was it real, or was it an order? What if he was lying to me too?"

"He was a kid, Noah, he couldn't have been lying to you."

"I would believe anything now," Noah whispers.

Emily takes a deep breath, feeling frustrated. The one thing she always told herself was that her job wouldn't come between her and Noah, but it's blended into their life in an unavoidable way.

"I'm sorry," Emily mutters, feeling like everything is her fault. As she speaks, she reaches out to touch her daughter's shoulder. "I never wanted this to happen, I never thought it was this big—"

The fire in Noah's chest flares again, Emily's words adding gasoline to the heat of the situation. As if the words burned her, Noah moves away from her mother as she stands up. She sighs as she balls her hands into tight fists, her knuckles turning white.

"Noah, I know—"

"You know nothing!" the teen suddenly shouts. "He took away any freedom I've ever had! I've been watched my whole life!"

"And now we have him," Emily replies, trying to stay calm.

"That doesn't change anything," Noah snaps with a cutting glare. "He took the one thing I can't get back. You can't erase the years that he stole from me."

With that, Noah walks out of the bathroom, storming her way to a quieter place. Somewhere she can breathe without anyone seeing how much she's struggling, trying her best to conceal her desperation to fall into her mother's arms. But it can't be that simple, she refuses to let it go that easily.

Emily finds the team in the round table room with dull eyes. "I want to see Doyle."

𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳

Emily stands outside the door between her and the father of her child. The man that she once mistakenly tried to give the benefit of the doubt. Above all else, she trusted that he would never hurt his own child, that much she thought was true. But again, another mistake.

The only thing that builds her courage is the thought of everything he took from her daughter. All the times he invaded her and instead of being a man worthy of knowing his daughter, became her nightmare.

Emily opens the door, making Doyle glance up. His eyes roam over her face and then down her figure. If he was honest, he thought he'd never have the chance to admire the body he once knew so well again. He would never admit it, but she's shocked him.

Emily's eyes are full of rage, practically bloodshot just at the sight of him.

"Of course," he says, his voice gravelly.

Emily's eyes fall to the floor for a moment and she silently curses herself for exposing her emotions.

Ian's smile can't be seen, but Emily can feel it. The smugness that he exudes, even when it's fake, is disgusting. It's a satisfaction that he gets from seeing someone he hurt, and thinking he has the chance to do it again.

Emily steps inside, knowing that his eyes are focused on her. He watches every move, every step she takes. As she lays the papers with images of all his past suitors in front of him, he looks down for the first time.

"Which one is Declan's mom?"

Ian subtly shakes his head, silently declaring that he won't be answering her question.

"Ian—"

"His mother has nothing to do with this," he says.

"Why?" she asks. "Did you kill her too?"

"Because she tried to kill Declan before he was even born."

Emily's eyes wince at the words, but she recognizes a hint of sorrow behind his voice. She can remember the difference between the front he put on for his business versus what he really felt and valued.

"Which one?"

"Is that what you wish you had done?" he asks.

"How dare you—"

"Don't sit on a high horse now, Emily," he grits. "You kept a child from me—"

"Which one?" she asks as she points at the papers, knowing that the objective wasn't for them to fight.

"She's my daughter too. You took Declan from me and he wasn't even yours—"

"Which one?" she repeats, this time more firmly.

"You sent him here, and now he might be dead because of it—"

"I protected him," Emily gives in to his argument. "I gave him a home, a good education, a normal life, I did everything for him. I set him up with a life I knew neither you nor I could give him."

"Is that what you thought you did for Noah too?"

Emily opens her mouth to protest, but she stops herself. She carefully picks up the papers, muttering under her breath. "You said so yourself, it's your son's life."

In the round table room, Noah stares at the board that the team has put together. Pictures of people she once thought she knew with pins above their heads like the lies they held above hers, connected with red string. All of them tied together in one big network created to infiltrate her life. She reads each of their real names for the first time, but all of the aliases they used to deceive her are written just underneath.

She turns as she hears footsteps approaching. Aaron, Derek, and her mother show defeated expressions while Penelope and JJ enter through the other door. Noah peers up at all of them, listening as Dave and Spencer join them as well. They talk about their strategies to get Ian to talk, but Noah knows that none of them would work, especially if seeing Emily didn't shake him.

"I should talk to him," Noah says, making everyone pause.

Emily furrows her brows and shakes her head. "That's not happening—"

"He's my father. I wanna talk to him."

"You've been through a lot today—" the mother continues to disagree.

"Do you want your answer?" she asks, peering around the room at all of them. "If I talk to him, he'll tell me."

"What makes you think that?" Derek asks.

"Because I know what he wants."