Drowning on Dry Land|| Alex Karev x Grey!Sister OC
A/N This is an idea I had based on the season 3 Grey's Anatomy episode 'Drowning on Dry Land' and it is based around my idea of how I think Alex would react to it happening to my OC. This is also a birthday Story for @goodboybadrep-ooc! I hope you had a fabulous day and I'm sorry this is late ❤️❤️
(NOT MY GIF)
TW: ANGST, FLUFFY IN THE END
Word Count: nearly 1.1k
The Seattle Docks were buzzing with activity. Screams could be heard from all over the place, there had just been a ferry crash. As the doctors from Seattle Grace hospital arrived to help the injured Alex’s senses were assaulted with the sound of the screams from the injured and the very strong unmistakable smell of blood. Alex felt his heart jump, thinking about all the victims they had to go and help.
He took a deep breath as he turned to help his girlfriend and fellow intern Bethany Grey from the back of the rig “Promise me you’ll be careful Grey.” he said gently, his heart soaring as she grinned at him “Always am Karev.” he pulled her back to him quickly and placed a chaste kiss on her temple as Doctor Bailey told them all to be careful and to do what they could while treating people who needed help and then she was gone.
It was three hours later and Alex still hadn’t seen anything of Beth except her jacket, he was busy running around trying to help people to the best of his abilities, he eventually had done as much as he could so made his way back over to where the last few ambulances were when he saw the little girl who he’d seen when he found Beth’s jacket. He moved over and knelt down to her level “Hi, I’m Alex. What’s your name?” she didn’t answer eyes focused on the water so Alex changed his tactic “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Still no answer and he felt a wave of dread wash over him “Where’s my friend? Beth? Have you seen her?”
Alex felt his heart in his mouth following the girl’s line of sight as she pointed to the water “Oh my god.” he stood up and bolted to the water shouting for Beth. He didn’t even bother to kick off his shoes as he dived in to find her. Thoughts raced through his mind ‘What the hell happened? How did she end up in the water?” He swam to the bottom of the water and grabbed Beth tightly but gently swimming quickly to the surface and he got her up the stairs and to the waiting ambulance, he put her down on the gurney and let the EMT put her on a monitor.
“Come on Beth you can do this.” he said barely audibly as he waited for it to register something. Anything. His heart dropped as a long continuous beep rang through the ambulance “No Beth don’t do this” he said just as quietly and then moved straight to start CPR. “Get us to Seattle Grace! Right now! Come on” and with that the sirens started blaring Alex took a deep breath trying to keep himself calm. For Beth, he was panicking. Beth meant everything to Alex; she had made him better. He continued to do CPR as the ambulance pulled into the set down and the doors opened he looked at Doctor Bailey, eyes full of fear as the EMT started rattling off information “This is Jane Doe-” Alex’s mind screamed ‘wrong’ as he continued CPR as they pulled her from the rig “Bailey, it’s Bethany Grey, It- It’s Beth”
Bailey’s eyes filled with sadness as she immediately moved in to take over “Alright Karev, go and find your friends, we’ve got her.” Alex fought to continue helping “I can’t leave her, I need to be there when she wakes up!”
“Alex.” she softened “You will be, I’ll make sure you are . But you have to let us work on her first. Go and find your friends. Be with them.” he stood dejectedly at the window watching as the attendings swarmed his girlfriend trying to save her.
He stood there for what felt like hours, his heart breaking as he watched them trying everything they could, he wasn’t sure when the others joined him, but he jolted out of his thoughts when Izzy and George each placed a hand on his shoulder and Christina stayed back with Meredith who couldn’t seem to tear her eyes from the window “She’ll get through this.” Izzy said quietly “How do you know?” he asked brokenly.
“It’s Beth, you know?” he did know. Bethany was amazing, he loved her so much, he could see a future with her and now he felt like it was being cruelly torn away from him. “I really hope so… god.. I really hope so ‘cause I don’t know what I’d do without her.” He shook his head “Mer, she’s gonna pull through this.” He said as he watched her back away and run out of the hospital “I’ll go.” said Christina quietly as she followed her best friend.
Alex’s face dropped as he watched the attendings start to back away. He opened the door and moved to the end of the bed “Please don’t stop. I need her. Please try again.” Webber looked at him then “Alex…” he felt tears well in his eyes and cleared his throat “Please, it’s not just for me. This will break Meredith. And actually, it's for Beth too. Come on! Look at her! She can do this!”
Bailey looked at him and nodded “One more round.” She stepped forward, getting to work. Alex found himself drifting up toward Bethany’s hand while watching her monitor for change. Finally he heard a faint beep slowly getting louder as her heart beat became stronger “Come on Beth, that’s it. I’m right here.” and he decided he should be on a monitor because he could be sure his heart stopped when he felt her squeeze his hand.
Refusing to leave her side meant that the others had work around him to make sure she was stable, but he did not care. Eventually they were left alone and he sat by her side “Meredith will come and see you when she’s ready Beth.. she’s just so scared of losing you.” he said quietly squeezing her hand
At the sound of her heart rate becoming faster his head snapped toward her looking for any signs of trouble “Beth? Bethany? Can you hear me? It’s Alex.” he waited with baited breath as she tried to form words “O- ow i-t hur- hurts. Karev?” his name sounded like a question when she said it. He chuckled as he paged Doctor Bailey to sort her out some pain medication and a transfer to a more comfortable room and kissed the top of her head “I’m right here, and I’m going nowhere. You're stuck with me Grey.”
Summary: When Emma wrecks her brother’s car and ends up in the hospital, her injuries are the least of her concerns.
Characters: Christian Grey & Emma Grey (sister!OC)
Content Warning: Takes place in an emergency room, car accident, minor injuries
A/N: Sort of requested. I picked the prompt— “How are you?” "I feel like I should ask you that.”—from this list and anon suggested Christian Grey, so here’s a piece with Christian & Emma. Also lol at me taking way too long going through GIFs to find something neutral when the tag for Christian is just endless scrolling of kinky fuckery.
Here’s the AO3 link if you prefer to read over there.
Life in the Shade (Fifty Shades) Masterlist
Emma dreaded her brother's arrival at the hospital, but she preferred the dread to other alternatives. She was happily dreading it simply because the act of dreading meant Christian had yet to arrive. It meant rather than actually experiencing her brother’s arrival, she was merely anticipating it. Maybe it would never happen. Maybe.
Emma held fast to that faint hope, the wish that their mother could successfully deter him from stopping in. It was a misguided confidence, though. Some part of Emma knew it was unlikely that the reporting of her mostly insignificant injuries could convince Christian that she would be perfectly okay, that his presence wasn’t needed.
Emma had begged her mother anyway, begged that she at least try to convince Christian that his presence in her little curtained stall at the emergency room wasn’t warranted.
There was no need for him to clear his schedule.
There was no need for him to move his meetings.
There was no need for him to come to see her.
To lecture her.
To kill her.
Emma hoped he’d refrain from the last one, but she was starting to think it may have been better to have someone convince Christian that she was seriously injured. Maybe then he'd take pity on her, spare her. Maybe.
The chances of that were quite slim though, especially since Emma had been quite lucky. She had sustained a mild concussion and injured her wrist, but it was only a sprain. The bruising and cuts across her face made her injuries appear worse than they actually were, but Emma was perfectly fine, if not a little shaken.
It was Christian's prized Audi that took the real damage. The car that she’d promised to be extra, super careful with. The car that had cost Christian more than all four years of Emma’s university education would cost.
It would probably take her months of part-time work at the publishing house to earn enough to replace just one of his custom floor mats…
A wave of nausea passed through Emma as she heard her brother ask after her through the thin curtain. Christian’s voice effortlessly carried over the chorus of beeping machines and general chaos, meeting Emma’s ears from the nurses' station down the hall.
He sounded perfectly professional, perfectly calm, if not in a bit of a rush. That much was typical. Christian always came off a bit brash, a touch impatient.
Emma’s dread shifted. Her heart pumped harder. She had really hoped their mother would be back by the time Christian arrived. Their mother could temper the conversation, attempting to keep them in line. Emma cursed her for being occupied with actual patients.
Emma’s stomach flipped when she could no longer hear Christian over the sounds of the emergency room, his conversation with the nurses tidily wrapped up. She imagined him moving steadily down the corridor and did what any person with a reasonable measure of self-preserving instinct would do. She rolled over on the hospital bed and feigned the deepest sleep of her life, willing herself to sink into the mattress, to disappear beneath the thin white blankets.
Christian knew his sister wasn't truly asleep when he stepped through the curtain. Emma fashioned herself quite good at the act, and she generally was—she'd been tricking them all for years—but the monitor beside Emma’s bed revealed to Christian a great deal more than her closed eyes and the breaths she willed herself to deepen and slow.
Christian shrugged out of his suit jacket, setting it on the chair as he stepped closer to the bed. He leaned over his sister to observe her face. Their mother had warned him that she looked worse than she was—that the bruising was a good thing—but it still unsettled him.
Even tucked under the blankets and curled away from him, Christian could see that Emma’s color was off. Pale and wan with bruises covering her face, she sported a cut on her forehead that was freshly bandaged over with gauze. A brace wrapped around her wrist, and even though Christian knew that the injuries that looked bad were less likely to actually be bad, it wasn't much of a comfort to him seeing her there in the hospital bed.
Christian lifted her chart from the end of the bed, sifting through the pages only to confirm what his mother had already told him over the phone. Emma had a concussion, somehow the third she’d sustained in as many years. She also had a sprain in her wrist, a deep laceration on her forehead requiring stitches, and a few simple bumps and bruises. Her prognosis was good. She wouldn’t be admitted. She should stay home for a few days to rest and follow up with her primary care, but she would be perfectly fine.
Christian glanced up from the chart and caught Emma looking at him, one eye cautiously squinted open while she studied the expression on his face. She quickly squeezed both eyes shut, tugging the blankets up under her chin when Christian met her gaze.
“I know you’re awake.” Christian rolled his eyes. “No need to keep up the act.”
Emma shifted away from him again, this time turning towards the door, exaggerating her movements as if she was still half asleep, as if she had any chance of fooling him now.
“Emmeline.” Christian returned the chart to its proper place at the end of the bed.
“I’m resting,” she mumbled.
“You should be, but you’re clearly not.” Christian came around to the side of the bed. “So you and I might as well—"
Emma pulled the thin blanket over her head and curled her legs into her body as Christian spoke, a shaky breath rattling through her as a lump formed in her throat. She tried to pull herself together under the blanket. Emma knew she should probably just face him and get it over with, but something in her brother's tone set her off, the way he casually slipped into the same one he used whenever embarking on a grand lecture. All of the dread and anxiety she’d been feeling since the crash had taken over from there.
Emma hadn’t even realized Christian had stopped himself before finishing his thought. Her mind was stuck on a loop. She didn't need a lecture. She had already given herself one, guilted herself worse than Christian could ever manage, and even if a part of her felt she may have possibly, maybe earned herself a lecture...even if she felt he had every right to be upset over the state of his car, she had no wish to be shouted at in the hospital emergency room.
If he’d only give her time enough to think with a clear mind, to come up with a plan to fix it…
Emma had begged and begged and begged to borrow one of Christian’s cars. She had pleaded to be allowed to not be driven around by Ryan. They’d negotiated for what felt like weeks, and when Christian had relented, Emma had promised to be careful. She had promised and promised and promised again, replacing her initial pleas with vows of caution. Pledging to be careful with his car, pledging she would follow the rules, both his and those set by the Washington State Department of Transportation. And now that she’d done this, Emma felt certain her brother would never let her hear the end of it. She’d never be allowed to sit behind a steering wheel ever again. She’d probably never again be allowed to leave the house without the shadow of security detail. He now had enough ammo piled on his side of the battle field to warrant a call for a winner in the war waged between them.
And all this when Emma had thought she was gaining ground, convincing Christian and their parents that she could manage the independence, convincing herself of it, too.
Emma swallowed the lump in her throat and a shiver passed through her drawing a whimper through her lips.
Christian’s instinct was to pull her in for a hug at hearing the sound, but he simply placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. He imagined Emma was beginning to ache by now, the adrenaline and shock finally wearing off as the tenderness set in. He didn’t want to add to that any by tugging at her.
“Em, come on. Talk to me.”
She mumbled something Christian couldn’t quite decipher—a quiet refusal.
“I’m going to need you to come out from under that blanket and tell me what’s wrong.”
Christian gently nudged Emma’s shoulder and she rolled onto her back, the heels of her palms pressed into her eyes as she tried to steady her breaths.
A cheerful voice called out from the other side of the curtain and “knock, knock, Miss Emma,” cut Christian off before he could coax his sister more.
Christian recognized the voice. He forced a straight-lipped smile as the familiar nurse came through the curtain without being granted entry. How his sister had managed to get herself a fan club at their mother’s hospital, he’d never quite understand, but Sarah had been working in that emergency room longer than Emma had been on this earth. She worked closely with their mother and the woman had tended to Emma more than once since the family’s move to Seattle.
In all that time, it had been clear Sarah had never particularly liked Christian, entirely unfazed by his influence or his usual charms. The nurse adored his sister though.
“Is this boy bothering you, Miss Emma?” Sarah looked between the two, taking in Christian’s grim face and Emma’s red, swollen eyes.
Christian snorted at her use of the word ‘boy.’ Sarah was maybe a decade older than him.
“Well, I am her brother. If I’m not bothering her, what else am I good for?” Christian said. “It’s nice to see you again, Sarah.” He bowed his head in a gentle nod.
Sarah raised an eyebrow and hummed, looking at the girl’s chart before coming around to the side of the bed opposite of Christian.
“You as well,” Sarah offered, the words coming out almost begrudgingly. “But this girl was all up in a tizzy about not wanting her brother here, so if I hear you’ve been pestering Miss Em—”
“He’s not.” Emma interrupted with a finalizing sniffle. “Hi, Ms. Sarah.” She wiped at her face before attempting to push herself up in the bed, wincing at the movement. “How are you—”
“How am I?” Sarah laughed before fixing the girl with a look. “I feel like I’m the one who should be asking you that, silly girl.” Sarah turned her gaze from Emma, meeting Christian’s eye over the hospital bed. “Are they sure it’s only a mild concussion or is she always like this?”
Christian glanced between the nurse and his sister, pressing his lips into a straight line once again, his mind settled on remaining neutral. Neutrality was the quickest way through and Christian wanted nothing more than to get through all of this small talk. He wanted to get Sarah out of the room though he couldn’t deny her presence had pulled Emma around sooner than he would have been able to. If it wasn’t for the nurse, he knew Emma would still be perched under the blankets avoiding him.
“Just about,” he offered, watching as Emma proceeded to study the pattern on her blanket, tracing it with a finger. “Is our mother around?”
Sarah nodded to Christian. “I’ll go find her.” She turned to Emma, setting a small remote in her hand. “If he’s bothering you, press the big red button and we’ll have security set him straight, alright?”
Emma nodded, forcing a smile though she could’ve sworn she felt her brother’s eyes boring a hole into the side of her face. She wiped at her eyes and face again as Sarah slipped through the curtain. Emma let out an exaggerated breath before leaning back into the pillow. “Before you start, I’m really sorry.”
Christian shook his head, dismissing it. “Sarah’s never liked me.”
It wasn’t his sister’s fault the nurse had never taken a shine to him. He didn’t care about that. He could take a little harmless badgering at the woman’s hand. It didn’t hurt and he had no illusions about the fact that he was the least likable Grey sibling.
Christian preferred it that way.
Mostly.
Emma shifted, resting on her side, facing away from him once again. She focused on her breath, pulling her mind away from the pain in her limbs, putting her energy into wishful thinking that the peace of the moment could last, that the distraction of Sarah’s entrance and Christian’s subsequent easy mood could stay until their mother arrived.
Christian cleared his throat and Emma stilled, tension thrumming through her even before he spoke.
“You don’t want me here?”
“I…I just…Can you just wait to be angry with me until we’re home?” Emma winced as she turned over to face him. “If you start yelling here…”
She stopped herself as she caught sight of him staring at her, quiet and unreadable, mulling over her words for far too long. Christian was rarely silent about anything, especially when he was angry and it made her nervous. She’d brought him to a new level and Emma mentally prepared herself for a fight, opting for bargaining before things got too out of hand, hoping she could curb things before they really did need to call security.
Christian pushed out a frustrated breath, his gaze settled across the room for a moment before turning back to her. “You think I’m angry with you?”
“Yyy…yes?” Emma offered with caution. “Because I…crashed…the…car?”
Christian nodded. “And that’s why you didn’t want me to come? That’s what all this is about?”
Emma swallowed. Surely an apology was her best move. An apology and some vague, half-cooked plan to fix it would be a sufficient offering considering she was in a hospital bed. She could pay him back. She could work for free.
“Christian, I’m sorry, I’ll—”
“I’m angry with the asshole who blew through a red light,” Christian said, cutting her off, his words overlapping with Emma’s, and running them clear over until she fell silent. Christian hadn’t even heard her. “And I’m angry with my secretary for not interrupting my meeting so I could be here sooner. And with myself…for letting this happen in the first place.”
Emma opened her mouth to interrupt, but she couldn’t find an entrance.
“But I’m not angry with you,” Christian continued. “Ryan said you were abiding by all traffic laws. Never went more than three miles over the speed limit, no texting. You hit the brakes as soon as you saw the car coming at you.”
“Ryan…?” she asked, none of his words quite making sense, the turn of her conversation making Emma’s head hurt as she grasped onto the only thing her mind could hold, the mention of her cursed security detail. “He was following me?”
Christian raised an eyebrow, looking at her with the same confusion and concern Sarah had spared her a few minutes before. “You didn’t think you were just driving around by yourself?”
“I—” She opened and closed her mouth a few times. Emma had absolutely thought she was on her own, but Christian’s explanation certainly explained why Ryan was already at the hospital when she woke up. He had been there with her all along. “But your car,” she said, “it’s—”
“My car is replaceable and very well insured,” he said. “You’re not.”
Christian watched her putting things together. He’d seen the expression a number of times while she worked on homework at the kitchen counter.
“I am, though,” she mumbled.
Part of Christian wondered if his sister’s concussion wasn’t more serious than they thought. How could she not realize that her security detail had been there all along? How could she think he’d be angry with her? How could she tell him she’s replaceable?
“Em…”
“I have insurance,” she offered, the slightest of smirks coming to her mouth as Christian rolled his eyes. Maybe she was fine after all.
“I can stay on mom and dad’s until twenty-six.”
“Very clever,” Christian said as he moved toward the chair beside her bed, searching his jacket pocket for his phone. “Maybe you should get some real rest while we wait for our mother?”
Emma didn’t argue. Though she was feeling calmer now, a deep tiredness had settled in the wake of her anxiety, and she wanted nothing more than to rest, her body feeling tired as she faced him in the hospital bed.
Christian watched her for only a moment before slipping his blackberry out of his pocket and beginning to answer emails. How could he get so many after being away from the office for no more than forty-five minutes?
“Christian?”
“You’re supposed to be resting,” he murmured as he continued typing out a message to his secretary.
“The car drove nice,” Emma offered anyway. “Really nice.”
Christian snorted, looking up from the device to meet her eye for a moment. “It’s a shame you didn’t take her over the speed limit. Now you’ll never get the chance.”
Emma huffed. “Never?”
Christian’s eyes moved back to the device. “Never.”
Emma sighed, watching him again, waiting for him to finish typing. “Chris?”
He glanced up at her again, eyebrow raised.
“I am sorry.”
Christian set his phone down, frowning. “I know you are,” he said, giving her a nod. “I appreciate that.”
Christian could have fought her again, telling her that she didn’t have anything to apologize for, that he was just grateful she was alright, but for whatever reason, those words weren’t settling. She couldn’t hear them, preoccupied with the broken car, almost detached from the what-ifs that had been gripping Christian since hearing of the accident.
He could replace the car. The fine Nappa leather interior, the thirteen-speaker custom sound system, the V10 engine—those were all things he could reacquire with a mere phone call or an email. Sisters on the other hand…family…that wasn’t something money or status could ever replace.
Summary: Emma finds out her brother has been lying to her about her biological father, but Christian doesn’t know everything.
Characters: Christian Grey & Emmeline Grey (OC), w/ Taylor, Ms. Jones, and Ryan.
Content Warning: general angst, cursing, sibling fight (shouting and a bit of manhandling), mentions of past child abuse/ estranged family members, adoptive family relationships, some (canon, I think) overly-controlling behavior from Christian in the name of protecting people he cares about.
Request (by anon): 47 of the I hate you prompts... I am imagining Emma accidentally walking in on her brother’s meeting and being slapped in the face with that 😳 that’s so mean omg
Here’s the AO3 link if you prefer to read over there.
Fifty Shades (Emmeline Grey) Masterlist
Angst Celebration Masterlist
Please take a moment to tell me what y'all think! Reviews and comments are always appreciated. 😌❤️
Emmeline barely remembered the journey across town. She had made it all the way from school to Escala in record time, traversing the city streets with little caution despite the harsh rain...and the rush hour traffic...She had still made it to Christian's doorstep before her psychology class was even due to be over.
She was lucky she hadn't gotten pulled over somewhere along the way. Lucky she hadn't crashed the car her best friend had let her borrow for the purpose. Lucky she had slipped away before Ryan noticed she was no longer learning about operant conditioning.
But Emmeline wasn't feeling lucky.
If she had to place an emotion, something she had yet to even consciously attempt, she would have settled on anger. That was the one at the forefront of her mind, the one to blame for the steady shake in her limbs and the warmth she felt throughout her whole body, the one that had her taking shallow, unsatisfying breaths and pacing in the small space of the elevator as it crawled toward the penthouse.
She wanted to cry, the tears borne out of confusion and hurt and frustration, but she tried not to. She endured the searing pain in her throat and swallowed down everything that meant to consume her. She willed herself to remain focused on her outrage, to which she felt entirely justified. She knew well enough there was something else building up behind the more righteous parts of her anger, but Emmeline wasn't sure she could manage the rest of it. Not now. Not yet.
The elevator doors weren’t yet fully open when she squeezed through. Her mind remained settled on her brother's home office—on getting there, on getting to him, on letting him have it, on letting Christian take on some of what she was holding, some of what he’d settled her with through his lies and withholding…his precious protection. Things Christian seemed to think were well within his right to inflict on those within his grasp simply because he could. Because he had the means and the power. Because he knew what was best. And while Emmeline wasn't sure what exactly she intended to say when she saw him, she figured there was enough bottled up inside of her that everything pertinent would eventually work its way out.
Ms. Jones set aside the salad she was preparing and stepped out from behind the kitchen island to greet the girl. Ms. Jones was staff, but she was practically family. Emmeline knew she owed the woman a modicum of respect—a dash more than the meager slowing of pace she'd allotted as she passed through the kitchen, but she couldn't bring herself to give any. The words she directed the housekeeper’s way lacked any reciprocal greeting, any warmth. Emmeline cut Ms. Jones off in the middle of her hello.
"He's here?" Emmeline asked, nodding her head toward the hallway ahead.
"Miss Grey.” Ms. Jones pressed her lips into a line before giving her a smile. She knew. Emmeline shouldn’t have been surprised. She supposed all of the staff—and probably all of their family as well—knew they were arguing. They knew Christian’s side of things, at least. “Mr. Grey is—"
"Here?" Emmeline suggested. She stopped walking, then she turned and waited for Ms. Jones to confirm. “Christian’s home?” Emmeline forced her hands to unclench as they hung at her sides. She dropped her heavy bag on the counter when Ms. Jones finally nodded, her laptop thudding carelessly against the marble.
She started off once again in the direction of her brother’s office, a gruff thank you tossed over her shoulder to the housekeeper. The pounding of Emmeline’s heart hammered as loud as the click of her heel across the marble floors as she went.
The door to Christian’s office was closed, but not locked and Emmeline pushed the door open without a thought. She had long ago lost count of how many times Christian had gotten after her for not knocking before entering a room, but surely she knew better. His voice always rose whether she was barging into the middle of a private call or a meeting or, as happened most often, interrupting his sacred train of thought.
He had asked after his privacy since the time Emmeline was a little. As an unknowing child, Emmeline was prone to bounding through the bedroom doors of her teenage siblings without a thought. She hadn't understood their exasperation until she was old enough to value it for herself.
Emmeline knew it was a request she should have heeded. Christian often attended to it for her—the knocking, at least. His patience with waiting for her to admit him came with varying results depending on the situation, but he at least gave a bit of fair warning either way.
Stepping over the threshold to Christian’s office, Emmeline prepared herself for a fight. Her body tensed as a few different opening statements flooded her mind. Each of them was not quite right, not nearly enough of what she wanted to say. She hoped the right words would come to her once her brother mounted his argument, but as she stepped forward into Christian’s office, no argument rose to meet her.
A set of unfazed glances was the only thing to meet her sudden presence in the room. Her arrival held their attention for only a second or so before Christian looked back to the computer screen. Taylor’s gaze followed shortly after without either of them sparing a word to acknowledge her.
Emmeline expected her presence to elicit a bit more of a reaction from her brother. Of which sort of reaction...she wasn't so certain, but his indifference somehow felt unfair. It was both condescending and like an assault at the same time. And considering all that Emmeline was holding, the snub made her feel more justified.
Emmeline cleared her throat, straightening her back and shoulders. She grew no taller, no stronger, but the gesture fortified her words, her resolve.
"We need to talk,” she said.
Christian pulled his gaze up again as his sister took a step forward. The tilt of his head posed a question, the heave of his chest an admission of his weariness. They were both gestures Emmeline ignored or missed entirely.
"Not now." Christian shook his head and looked back to the computer. "I'll find you when Taylor and I are—"
"Yes, now!" Emmeline stepped further into the room, her boot stomping down on the hardwood as she went. “Right fucking now, Christian!"
Christian’s gaze remained on his sister this time. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to take another breath. He rolled his neck in a small circle, relieving the tension before he focused on his sister again. "Excuse me?"
Emmeline was nearly at the edge of Christian’s desk now. She was quickly running out of space to close between them with her steps, quickly running out of volume in her voice, too. She felt the threat of untamable emotion rise within her. "Don't act like you didn't hear—"
Christian cleared his throat. A manilla folder sat open beside him, beside the laptop. He closed the folder and laced his fingers, continuing to stare at his sister throughout. His demeanor was so calm and still that Emmeline forgot herself for a moment. A dryness settled in her mouth as her stomach churned. She swallowed a lump in her throat. She wished she could forge on. She wanted to pick up her words right where she’d left off, but she couldn’t quite remember what she’d wanted to say. Not a single one of the points that had flooded her mind while she lingered near the threshold came to her now.
Taylor reached for the laptop and file as he stood up. “I’ll give you two the room, Mr. Grey.”
"No, Taylor. You stay.” Christian shook his head before meeting his sister’s eye. “Emmeline was just—"
Something in hearing Christian utter her full name in that particular tone shook her loose. Emmeline swallowed down the sickness rising in her throat and shook her head. She took another step forward to reach the front edge of Christian’s desk. "I’m not going anywhere. We need to talk and you're not just going to push me off, so don't talk over me and don't act like you didn't hear—"
"Oh, I heard you," Christian said. He pushed his chair back as he stood up.
Emmeline leaned away from him despite knowing the desk was safely settled between them.
"I was offering you the opportunity to take a moment to consider what you will accomplish by barging into my office like this. Would you still like that opportunity?"
Some part of Emmeline paused at his words. It was a threat posed as a calm, yet condescending, question. But more than the words, it was something in Christian's tone that always got to her. Something in the timbre and intonation sent reason and logic and self-preservation out the window.
When he spoke to her like that, it always made an infuriating fight take her over and Emmeline scoffed at Christian’s offer now.
"If either of us needs an opportunity to reassess what they're doing, it's you." Her hands gestured wildly, supplementing her words to release the frustration that speech alone could not.
She swallowed as her brother stepped around the side of the desk, but her eyes didn't stay on him. Instead, she considered the file he’d closed moments before. He’d left it unattended. She somehow knew that file was exactly what she wanted.
No, not wanted—it was what she needed.
It was the file that held the information Christian was keeping from her, the information about the man believed to be her biological father. The one Christian had told her was locked away. The one Christian had told her wanted nothing to do with her. It was information about who he was. Where he was. It was hers for the taking.
Christian had told her only lies about the man, but the truth was right there in black and white. Emmeline fixated on it, her mind imaging the feel of the manilla folder and the freshly printed documents stashed inside, imagining what it would be to read and know the truth. Her distraction lasted only a few seconds at most, but every second her gaze lingered a searing burn grew within her limbs.
Every piece of her was on fire.
She reached for the folder, but Christian stepped in front of her before she could shift. He caught her wrist in his hand and held her close.
"Let me see it,” she said, her voice nearly cracking, the words coming out as a plea more than an order. Emmeline tried to pull out of Christian’s grasp, twisting and pushing harshly though his grip was gentle. She hadn’t realized.
His hands shifted to grasp both of Emmeline’s arms. He tried to move her back, away from the desk. "Em, you don't have any need—" Christian started. His words were gentle now, too, but she couldn’t hear the nuance.
"It's my file..." Emmeline shouted, continuing to fight against him, his hold seemingly searing against her skin. "He’s…he’s my...he's my family, Christian."
My family.
Christian swallowed at the words and he dropped his hold on her. He was almost surprised by the flash of anger they brought on. Those particular words generated more anger and fear than her slipping away from her security. More frustration was borne from the words than her journey across Seattle at 80 miles per hour. The phrase angered him more than the vexing show of attitude and rebellion he was receiving from her now.
"You really think—” Christian gestured to the folder. “—that man is your family?" he asked, nearly shouting it, the slimy film of disgust coating his words so thick that it couldn’t be missed or confused.
Christian wanted to understand where his sister was coming from. Some part of him wanted to empathize. He wanted to see her point of view, but he was falling short. He didn’t get it. Emmeline had never known her biological father. He was a worse sort of human than her mother’s boyfriend had been and that was a trauma his sister actually could remember. That should have been explanation enough for her to understand why Christian wanted to keep him away from her.
And the man had never had any interest in her all these years, not until he found out who had adopted her, what she was worth. Not that the ransom his family could afford to pay came anywhere close to what she was worth to them.
This man, her supposed father, was dangerous. Even after years in prison, the man had connections. He had power. Couldn’t Emmeline see she was better off not knowing him? Couldn’t she understand why he was doing this? He was only protecting her. The less she knew of the man, the less she would feel inclined to connect with him, and the better off she would be.
It wasn’t an easy truth. Christian knew what it was to wonder after his own parents, the father he never knew, the mother he’d lost while still so young. It had taken years of therapy to sort. In truth, he was still sorting it out, and he had over a decade of progress on Emmeline’s journey when it came to that.
There was no threat of them losing her, not legally. Emmeline was too close to her eighteenth birthday. That wasn’t what Christian was afraid of. Not even if she had been younger. No judge in their right mind would pull a child from the family who had raised and provided for her for a decade and a half to settle her in the care of a criminal with no means or prospects.
But Christian knew the man. He knew what he was. He knew the things the man had done, the things they couldn’t put him away for—the murders and the kidnappings that were there behind the formal charges he’d served time for. Christian knew the things he was capable of now. Maybe it wasn’t fair to define a man by the things he’d done, but if the best predictor of future behavior was past behavior, then…
The man believed to be Emmeline’s father was a murderer. A kidnapper. A blackmailer and an extortionist. And Emmeline was worth too much to them for Christian to risk it, especially now that he was out of prison.
He had told her only enough of the situation to keep her safe, to explain the increased security. Christian had told her that someone had reached out and he told her the basics. He figured that would be enough to scare her off of it, but he should have known better.
Had Paul Robbin’s letter come to Escala, or even to their parents’ home, Christian knew things could have been very different. If the letter hadn’t come to his office—to his hands first—Emmeline could have received it. She could have found it. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find his sister come up with a plan to see him, to meet him. It made him sick to imagine what could have happened, what still could.
"Mr. Grey?” Taylor prompted, the interruption pulling the eyes of both siblings as Taylor’s gaze remained trained on the computer screen. “You should see this."
Christian dropped Emmeline’s arm and moved far enough around the desk to view the screen. He pulled the file from Emmeline’s reach as he went. Christian pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment as he watched the security footage on the screen.
They’d been tracking his movements since his release two weeks before. He’d stayed local up until three days ago. It had been unclear where he was heading, but there was no question now. Emmeline’s father was making his way to Seattle. And Christian knew why. There was no other reason for him to leave California. No reason for him to travel North.
He was coming for Emmeline.
And there was no way Christian would let that happen. There was no way that man was learning more than he already knew. Emmeline may have been inclined to indulge in her sympathies…their parents, too, had argued for the more humane reasons to consider allowing her connection with the man who had never even been listed on her birth certificate, but Christian knew better.
"You're to have nothing to do with that man, Emmeline. And it's not going to be a discussion. You’ll take security with you wherever you go and—"
“I’ve already had contact!” Emmeline held up her blackberry, her hand shaking with rage. “You don’t control everything. You don’t know everything. You don’t control everyone!” Christian grabbed her hand and the phone, holding them both still so he could read the wall of text sent from an unknown number, a perfectly crafted message of pleas and promises.
Christian ripped the phone from her hand. “You’re not responding to that. I’ll get you a new phone number and the rest of what I said stands. Increased security. Ryan goes everywhere with—”
"No! You don’t get to just make decisions like that. Taylor, tell him he's—"
"Miss Grey.” Taylor did not need to say more than those two words. It was clear in his tone whose side he intended to fall on, conciliatory even in just issuing her name. Emmeline was familiar enough with the practice. She got on well with her brother’s head of security, but he was just that—her brother’s. Taylor’s loyalty was spoken for, paid for, but that couldn’t stop her from arguing the point.
"You can't actually tell me you agree with him? Just because he signs your checks doesn't mean you can't have an opinion—"
"Emmeline, that's enough," Christian interrupted her badgering, hoping he could stop her. He needed her to stop.
"No, it's not enough. You think you’re in charge of the whole fucking world. That you know best about everything, but if I want to see him, you and Taylor can't just—"
“It’s enough, Emmeline," Christian ground out. "The smart people are talking. It's time to shut up."
Christian wasn't sure if it was the sentiment, the tone, or the step he took in Emmeline’s direction, but she finally listened, finally heeding his request. Emmeline stood before her brother in silence, her mouth pressed in a straight line.
"Thank you, Emma,” Christian said, his tone softer now as he acknowledged her compliance and pocketed his sister’s phone. Part of him regretted the words. He hadn’t meant to say them, but they'd been building up inside as Emmeline badgered him and Taylor. He had needed a moment’s quiet to think, to speak. He needed her to go so he and Taylor could develop a plan.
"Ms. Jones can prepare you something to eat. We will discuss this when Taylor and I finish."
Christian returned to his spot beside Taylor, shifting his attention back to the computer as he leaned into the desk. With her lack of immediate argument, he considered the matter settled, but Emmeline shook her head, following him back toward the desk, regaining the steps she’d lost.
"I'm not hungry," she said, the words quiet, but firm.
"Fine.” Christian took a deep breath. He refrained from shaking his head or pinching the bridge of his nose again though both gestures were calling to him. “Go wait in your room, then. I will come to find you when—"
"No.” Emmeline shook her head. “No. You can't just send me away, Christian. We need to—"
Christian scoffed, turning toward her once again "Alright, you want to talk?"
He pushed himself up off the desk, straightening to his full height. "How about we start with the fact that you're supposed to be in a psychology lecture right now? Or the fact that you tried to ditch your security once again? Or how about that joy ride you took across the city just now? Because all those conversations, along with the one about this goddamned attitude of yours, are happening first...Long before whatever conversation you think you and I are going to be having, so unless you’re ready for those conversations, get out.”
Christian had taken a step closer with every question, his aim to move her back, but Emmeline held her ground, considering her options as her brother continued.
“Emmeline, you can either go out with Ms. Jones or you can go to your room, but Taylor and I have work to do. We’ll talk about this later.”
“I want my phone back.”
“You’ll be getting a new one.”
“And what am I supposed to do until then?” she asked. “I have plans this afternoon and I have to return—”
“No.” Christian shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere. Someone will return Miss Harmon’s car and I’ll get you a new phone, but you’re staying here until we figure this out.”
Emmeline felt the futility of continuing to fight, but she couldn’t let it go. Her phone was gone from her, but the file was still accessible to her and she needed something. “At least let me—” Emmeline saw an opportunity and took it, reaching for the file once again.
Christian caught her arm. “There’s nothing in that file you need to know. The less you know of him, the better.”
Emmeline fought against Christian’s hold as he moved her toward the door, and something seemed to break down in her, all of the still-pent-up emotional energy coming out through hot, angry tears and a surge of energy pulling to release Christian’s grip. Christian recognized the change and he tried to be gentle. He tried to keep the frustration out. “You’re free to go where you please within the building, but—”
Emmeline turned, loosening Christian’s grip enough to shove hard against his chest, angry tears flowing freely as she tried to hurt him, trying to transfer some of her pain through her words and her fists. “Just because you never knew your father, doesn’t mean you can keep me from mine.”
Christian huffed out an incredulous breath. He caught Emmeline’s wrists before she could bang against him another time. “Your room it is, then," he said as he moved his sister the final few steps towards the open door. He easily passed her to Ryan’s waiting arms. "Ryan, please escort Miss Grey to her room.”
Emmeline tried to fight. She still wanted to argue, but it was useless arguing with a closed door. Ryan prompted her, issuing her name and holding out an arm to guide her away from Christian’s office. Emmeline shrugged out of his hold and walked towards her bedroom as the hot tears continued to fall. It wasn’t worth it. Arguing with Ryan was only slightly more productive than arguing with the door. She wouldn’t be getting her phone or leaving Escala. She wouldn’t be getting the file or the truth. Emmeline knew she had lost those opportunities when Christian shut the door in her face, or maybe she had never had them to begin with.
She didn’t even know if she wanted to meet the man who was supposedly her father. All this fighting and hurt was over a man she wasn’t even sure of, only curious about. Emmeline knew it was more about the lies than anything else. It was more about being able to make choices for herself. It was more about decisions being made without her opinions and thoughts being taken into account. It was more about a life’s worth of opportunities she was being denied. As many opportunities as her mother and father and siblings had given her—all of the education and love and support—Emmeline couldn’t help but think they’d taken away just as many, closing a number of doors in her life in the name of safety and what they thought was best.
Maybe Christian was right. Maybe Paul Robbins wasn’t worth it. Maybe he was dangerous and she’d be better off without, but Emmeline had the right to decide on that for herself. She deserved an opportunity to know him if she wanted. She deserved to at least be a person in the room when decisions about her life were being made.
Emmeline slammed her bedroom door as she came through it, not a care spared for how close Ryan may have been following behind her. She knew she wasn’t taking out her frustration on the person she wished to, but the reach of her agency had been so diminished, that she held tight to what power and choice she did have. Despite her brother’s decrees, Emmeline knew it should be up to her to decide which doors—which opportunities—remained open and which she wanted to close.
Summary: Emma is feeling overwhelmed with life and she just wants someone to make it better.
Characters: Christian Grey & Emmeline Grey
Content Warning: Angst, Mental Health Concerns
Request: Hate#37 "You're not sorry. You're never sorry" and/or Angst#1 "Just ... go" --- Emmeline Gray to Christian
Here’s the AO3 link if you prefer to do your reading over there.
Emma felt her brother’s gaze fall on her as they sat at yet another red light, the silence between them growing more uncomfortable with each pause in traffic.
“What?” she finally asked, unable to mask the slight irritation in her tone.
Christian shook his head, turning his gaze back to the shifting light as he stepped on the gas. “Nothing.”
A bit of heat flashed throughout Emma at Christian’s words. She shifted in her seat, tugging to rearrange the constricting seatbelt as she felt the searing heat spread through her cheeks and her limbs, every part of her blazing and hot—and all from one simple word, though it was really more than that.
Things were never that simple.
It was her brother’s response and it was his restlessness, ever so present from the moment he picked her up, his agitation lingering even now on their way home, a residual bit of annoyance that had probably started with the fact that Emma hadn’t been ready when Christian arrived at her apartment.
He had paced the small living room while waiting on her to submit a paper she should have finished the night before. He had sighed and he had hovered. And he had been short with her ever since. He hadn’t actually said the words, but he certainly seemed annoyed.
It was uncharacteristic of Christian that he hadn’t actually just come out and said so. But then again, he hadn’t said much the whole meal, actually, remaining abnormally quiet throughout. He had spent more time looking at his phone screen than paying attention to his sister, leaving the stupid thing sitting face-up on the table throughout the whole meal so he could see any incoming messages or calls, completely absorbed in it for the last fifteen minutes of their meal while Emma sat reading far too much into her brother’s distraction.
Emma had barely touched her meal. She was an expert at moving the food around her plate so it had appeared she was eating and most of the eggplant rollatini she’d ordered a little over an hour prior sat packaged on her lap now. Christian had barely noticed she hadn’t eaten and he had easily accepted her promise to warm it up and try again in an hour or so, but Emma didn’t imagine she’d feel like eating.
The whole outing had left a bad taste in her mouth.
It had been the quietest of lunches and the quietest of car rides both to and from the restaurant, the soundtrack of their afternoon composed of heavy raindrops and silent interludes, with short interjections of small talk. She’d already been feeling down and had been hoping the time with her brother would make things better, but now she wished Christian had just stayed home. It was clear he wasn’t interested in spending time with her.
He hadn’t even been properly bothered by the fact that she hadn’t eaten, had barely questioned it. There had been no pushing, no prodding, no bringing up some transgression reported by the security team. He hardly asked her any questions in the first place...showed no indication he even sensed something was off with his sister when Emma thought it was so clear. In the days leading up to their lunch, part of her had even dreaded her brother noticing, anticipating his overreaction to her mood, but he hadn't noticed. Or maybe he simply didn't care because surely he could see how wrong she was? How wrong she felt? How tired and sad—and scared—she was.
It wasn’t as though she expected Christian to be a mind reader. Emma usually had no problem voicing her concerns or annoyances to her brothers. She sometimes felt like she spent her entire relationship with Elliot spelling everything out, and every explanation given to him was followed by a shrug and an ‘ok, so...?’ but Christian was usually different, so over-informed and over-prepared that he was aware of impending problems before she was.
He usually would have caught this, would’ve already had an appointment scheduled with Dr. Flynn by the time he approached her to check in. Some part of Emma knew she could have—and probably should have—scheduled the appointment for herself, but she hadn’t. She didn’t see Dr. Flynn regularly anymore, but the doctor made himself available when things came up for her, whenever Emma needed to process. He had reassured her it was normal to return to therapy from time to time, to work through life’s transitions and rough spots, to talk through dilemmas.
But Emma didn’t want to voice this. She had asked to take on more responsibility at the publishing company while Ana was on maternity leave. She had insisted on moving into her own apartment. She had asked for all of this. And if it was now too much—too much work and change, all of it on top of being on her own for the first time in her life, that was Emma’s own fault for misjudging herself, and whatever this was, some part of her felt she deserved it.
So Emma held it in, letting it all spiral and build. And now it all felt like too much. She wanted her brother to simply know without her having to say it. It felt selfish and juvenile and overly jealous, but she wanted Christian to stop thinking about Teddy and Ana for long enough to notice her. She wanted him to see the problem and take care of it, to fix it—something she traditionally took issue with—but here he was brushing off her moods with a shake of the head, taking no fault with her untouched entree or their quiet ride home. Taking no fault with her even though Emma felt that everything about her was wrong, and had been getting steadily worse for weeks and weeks now until she couldn’t even recognize herself or her life any longer.
Part of her had to wonder if whatever she was living even constituted a life. She certainly didn’t feel as though she was living, didn’t feel particularly sentient in the execution of her days, merely crossing items off lists—school lists, work lists, life lists—tasks and responsibilities executed with efficiency, but no enthusiasm, any appearance of attention to detail truly no more than a distraction from completing the tasks, any progress she made only urged on by impending deadlines.
Those were the saviors of her life—the looming deadlines—almost bringing Emma to feel something, even if it was only the anxious stress of an impending failure, the disappointment of missing goals and falling spectacularly short of others’ expectations. She had largely given up on her own expectations, accepting others’ ideals as the guiding force in her days, their wishes and decrees somehow more important than her own wants and needs—a lifeline, in a way, though feeble and tenuous and not nearly enough.
Emma felt it welling within her now. The tension that accompanied a deadline bubbled within her as Christian moved them off of the highway, delicately navigating the narrow, crowded streets of her neighborhood. Ryan’s SUV trailed just behind them as they reached her apartment building.
Christian was still shifting the car into park as Emma readied herself to shift out of the car, planning to leave her leftovers behind on the passenger seat, figuring her brother wouldn't notice until it was too late.
Emma fumbled with the handle as Christian pushed the button to lock the doors and she sighed, leaning back into the cushioned seat. “Can you let me out?”
Christian cut the car's engine. “What is going on with you?”
“Nothing,” she answered, infusing the word with the very same nonchalance Christian had oozed a few stoplights back.
“Nothing?” he repeated with a scoff.
“Yeah,” Emma answered. “It’s nothing. Nothing important. And I’ve got more homework and you’ve got…you’ve got Ana and Teddy to get back to so let me out and just…go.”
The lock clicked in the wake of her words. Christian continued to study her and she climbed out of the front seat.
“Thanks for lunch,” Emma muttered before closing the door and heading inside her building. She felt tears prick at her eyes while she jabbed the elevator button, desperate for the privacy of her apartment’s four walls.
Emma sobered as she heard the lobby door open behind her. She sniffled and wiped at her eyes, preparing herself to offer a smile to whichever ill-timed neighbor would be accompanying her on the elevator ride. She could manage that much, she told herself. She could hold it all in and make small talk until she reached her floor.
Emma turned to say hello, swallowing when she realized it wasn’t a neighbor. She couldn’t hold it in any longer when she saw Christian standing there holding her bag of abandoned leftovers at his side.
“It’s not nothing,” Emma said, the words burning her throat as she fought against the building sob.
“I know,” Christian said.
In the minute of so since Emma left his car, he’d already reached out to Flynn. She had an appointment first thing in the morning, but Christian knew his sister needed someone now.
She needed him now.
Christian pulled his sister into a hug, holding her and rubbing her back while they waited for her excruciatingly slow elevator. Christian itched to take care of it now. He longed to voice his opinion that she move to a better building in a nicer part of town, but with one hand full of eggplant and the other holding his sister together, Christian merely made a mental note to follow up on that later.
This was more important—Emma was more important. The rest of the things needing to be fixed could wait.
Summary: Dr. Trevelyan-Grey has certain expectations for her children. For one, she’d like it confirmed on a semi-regular basis that they’re all alive and well. When Christian and Emma are out of contact for a bit longer than she’d like, Mom takes matters into her own hands.
Characters: Grace Trevelyan-Grey, Christian Grey & Emma Grey (OC)
Content Warning: Just the fact that I am not doing any proper proofreading these days!
A/N: Requested - Prompt: That was bad.
Emma stared at the open bedroom door, her heart still thumping in her chest as she tried to process the preceding minute and thirty seconds.
That’s all it had been—ninety seconds at most, but it had seemed longer, impossibly long despite the very sudden nature of it and the quick words. She had been asleep just before, in that blissful Sunday morning state of mind, and then all of the sudden, someone was knocking at her door and without delay, it was being pushed open. Her mother and brother were both there. And then it was over and their mother left and it was all quiet.
Emma had been up late the night before—studying for upcoming exams and then unwinding by watching movies on her laptop until the small hours of the morning. She had been planning to sleep in today, but that was a ruined notion now. She couldn’t imagine returning to sleep after that. Her nerves were far too shot to allow it.
Christian sat down at the foot of his sister’s bed. He seemed to be in a similar state of shock after being dressed down by their mother in his own home at the very sensible age of twenty-eight. Emma would’ve laughed if she hadn’t been included in the lecture.
It wasn’t a completely unheard of experience—their mother was prone to chastising them each in equal measure if she thought they needed it, but Christian was probably the least familiar with it these days, the one she got after the least. Christian was good at managing people and their expectations. He was good at meeting deadlines, and though their mother might show up unannounced to remind him of the virtues of keeping his mother abreast of the happenings in his life so she didn’t have to read about it in the society section, she didn’t often show up with a such sharp tongue to deliver the reminders.
The Grey children were all adults, of course, but as Grace Trevelyan-Grey liked to remind them, they would always be her children. And she liked her children to call her. She liked them to check in. She liked to see them from time to time as well, something her eldest and youngest had been putting off for far too long apparently.
“That was…bad,” Emma finally said.
Christian snorted as he fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Emma did the same, settling back against her pillows as she took a deep breath.
It was still early. The sun was barely up. On a normal Sunday, she wouldn’t have seen her brother for a few more hours. He would have already done his workout and eaten his breakfast and made progress on whatever plans he had for the day. He would’ve been showered and dressed by the time she stumbled down the steps, but right now Christian looked just as unprepared as her—still clad in pajamas, his face still puffy with recent sleep and stamped with wrinkles from his pillow. He clearly hadn’t been expecting their mother to let herself in at dawn and drag him out of bed for a joint lecture.
Neither of them would ever say it aloud out of fear, but the woman was too much sometimes—too over the top. Too dramatic. Like now—this. Coming into Seattle before sunrise because she hadn’t heard from her legally adult children for a week…or had it been two?
Emma honestly couldn’t quite remember the last time she’d called or the last time she’d been home. School and studying and friends were messing with her sense of time, but Christian must’ve had a system for that sort of thing. He had a system for everything else.
“It’s a bit much, don’t you think?” Emma whispered, a brave venture that she regretted almost as soon as it left her mouth. She looked to the door, half-expecting her ranting mother to come back through and pick up where she’d left off.
Christian ran a hand over his face before turning to look at his sister. “You’re supposed to call home every week.”
“You’re supposed to call home every week.”
That was the general rule. Never discussed, yet somehow universally known and lived amongst the Grey siblings. Carrick and Grace needed proof of life on a weekly basis. Text messages didn’t count, not that Emma had sent any of those to her mother or father either.
Christian shrugged. “She’s far more concerned about you,” he offered.
Emma knew that wasn’t true. She knew their mother and father worried over all four of them in equal measure. She’d show up at any of their houses if she felt it was warranted.
“I don’t know. You’re the one she dragged out of bed,” Emma offered. “And I’ve been busy with school. What’s your—”
“Set a reminder then,” Christian countered.
“You set a reminder! You have an assistant to remind you. Just have her put it in your—”
Grace cleared her throat from the doorway and Emma’s pulse jumped again. She hadn’t even heard her mother come back up the stairs, distracted as she was with Christian’s conversation.
“An extrinsic reminder should not be required to prompt either of you to call your parents and let them know you’re alive and well, just as you should not need to be asked twice to get yourselves dressed.” Grace pushed back her sweater sleeve to glance at her watch. “We’re expected at the restaurant in thirty minutes for setup. The brunch starts at eleven. I won’t be late.”
Christian pushed himself up on the bed. “Mother, thank you for the invite. I have some things to take care of at the office today, but I’m sure Em would love to help. If you send me the details, I’ll have Jenna send over a check.”
Emma slammed her heel into her brother from under the covers and Christian’s hand immediately grabbed it, holding her still.
“Mom, I’ve got—” Emma fought to pull her foot free from Christian’s hold. “—midterms. I have—”
Grace folded her arms across her chest, an unamused look on her face as she watched her legally adult children in the throes of a thinly veiled struggle over Emma’s foot. “What you have is ten minutes to get yourselves ready to go. Both of you. Wear something comfortable enough to help with setting up. Bring something appropriate to change into for the event. I’ll be wearing blue. And, there will be none of this fighting today, my sweet children. You will both be on your best behavior, yes?”
“Yes.” Emma kicked at Christian, sending her free foot into his side.
Christian groaned, catching his sister’s other foot. “Of course, mother.”
Emma fought against her brother’s hold, tossing a barrage of pillows from behind her head in his direction.
“Getting it out of our system now,” Emma giggled as one of the pillows hit Christian square in the face.
Grace shook her head and glanced at her watch again. “We’re leaving in nine minutes, children.”
Summary: Emma is ignoring all of her siblings, but Elliot’s not having it.
Characters: Elliot Grey & Emma Grey (OC)
Content Warning: Just the fact that I am not doing any proper proofreading these days!
A/N: Requested - Prompt: Stop ignoring me.
The rattling at the doorknob finally stopped and Emma took a deep breath, allowing the in and out to do its resetting work as she looked back to the clothes she’d been folding and putting away into her suitcase. They weren’t due to fly home from Aspen for two more days, but Emma was ready to go now. And she found the preparation comforting, like she was moving in the right direction.
She glanced down at her phone as it started buzzing—again. A string of messages from Mia covered Emma’s screen as Mia dropped them into the sibling group chat. Emma wanted to throw the damn thing out the window, to put a little more distance between herself and Mia’s never-ending follow-up and Christian’s annoying, clerical messages and—
Emma swiped her finger across the screen as she sent her brother’s incoming call to voicemail. It had been him at the door just then and despite knowing that Elliot had done nothing wrong, Emma couldn’t help but condemn him along with the other two. It was easier that way, to just be angry with the lot of them. To ignore the lot of them.
Emma groaned to herself as Elliot’s goofy grin popped up on her screen once again.
She wished her siblings would take a hint and leave her alone.
She hadn’t answered their knocks at the door.
She hadn’t responded to their texts or taken their calls.
“Leave. Me. Alone,” Emma said while sending Elliot to voicemail for a second time before tossing the phone across the bed.
If she could push aside the anger long enough, Emma could almost see how things had simply gotten out of hand, but some part of her didn’t want to push it aside or view things with a rational mind yet. If she acknowledged that it was just unfortunate timing that had allowed what should have been a brief discussion between Christian and Emma to turn into this…well, then she’d have to admit that she was overreacting. And Emma couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Because she wasn’t the only one overreacting. Christian had overreacted too and he would never own up to that.
But some part of Emma knew it to be true. She knew if Mia hadn’t walked in during the middle of their conversation, she’d still be enjoying her coffee and her breakfast. They’d be making plans for their last day of vacation. If Mia hadn’t said just the right thing to needle Christian and her both, things would be…
Well, different.
Things would’ve been different. Things would have been fine. There was a usual cadence to annoying conversations with Christian, but that was when Mia didn’t insert herself. Pointing out things that didn’t need pointing out, riling everyone for a bit of entertainment.
Emma jumped at the tap on the glass, rolling her eyes as she spotted the same goofy grin on her balcony that had just flashed across her phone screen a few seconds before. She didn’t even want to know how Elliot had managed to make it to her balcony, but there he was waiting patiently for her to pull open the door though it was unlocked and he very well could’ve done it himself if he was so eager for entry.
Emma considered flipping the lock for a moment, leaving him alone on the balcony, but then she spotted the mug in his hand. The mug of coffee she’d left steaming on the table. A peace offering though Elliot had done nothing to disturb the peace in the first place.
Emma pulled open the door, but said nothing, taking her time with securing the lock after Elliot entered the room.
“You forgot this.” Elliot held the mug out, but Emma moved past him back to her suitcase.
She willed her mind to stay on the task of folding rather than on her brother. Emma didn’t have to wonder why he was there. She could assume well enough that Elliot had been talking to Christian and that Elliot had gotten sick of his calls going to voicemail, his texts left on read. Emma wouldn’t be surprised if he had just wanted to swing from balcony to balcony for the fun of it.
“I warmed it up for you.” Elliot set the mug down and reached into his pocket, retrieving a muffin. “And brought breakfast.”
He set the muffin beside the mug after a moment’s pause. Emma glanced at Elliot while he made himself comfortable on the bed, setting his feet on the pile of clothes she had been focusing on as he reclined into the pillows.
She scoffed, grabbing a book instead and thumbing through the pages.
Elliot understood why she was ignoring the group messages. Mia could be annoying. Christian could be annoying, too. But the messages he’d sent her privately? His calls? His knocking at her bedroom door? Elliot hadn’t done anything. It was Christian. And it was Mia. Somehow, it always was.
“Come on, you’ve been holed up in here all morning. Let’s take a walk before it rains.”
Elliot made to pull the book away, but Emma used the tome to smack his fingers away before he could get a decent grip.
“Don’t touch my stuff.”
Elliot tossed one of the throw pillows at her. “Stop ignoring me, then.”
Emma held up the book. “I’m reading.”
He tossed another pillow, chuckling when Emma whipped it back at him enough that the brush of the fabric stung his cheek. “You’re avoiding.”
“Did Christian tell you that?” she asked. “That’s why you’re here, right? Because he—”
“I’m here because you’ve been incommunicado all morning. Holed up in this room when we were supposed to be enjoying ourselves.”
“I’m enjoying myself just fine.”
“Is that your ‘I’m enjoying myself’ face?” Elliot asked, shifting his features to match her own until he saw something tug at the corner of her mouth.
Emma groaned as Elliot broke out into a triumphant grin. “Stop making me laugh!”
“I can’t help that I’m charming. Now, drink your coffee so we can bust out of this place.”
Emma took the mug as Elliot held it out to her, indulging in a warm sip before she glanced back at the open balcony door.
“If you’re up for teaching me a little of your parkour we can go out the balcony and those two will be none the wiser.”
Elliot sighed, his hand going to his chin as he considered it. It was risky. If his clumsy sister fell and broke something, there were probably half a dozen people who would have his head for not telling her ‘no,’ but telling Emma ‘no’ was Christian’s job, so Elliot shrugged.
“Alright, fine, but”—Elliot nodded down toward Emma’s fluffy slippers—“maybe change into some more appropriate footwear first?”
Elliot hopped up from the bed. “And no crying if you break a femur. Deal?”
“You’re an idiot,” Emma answered as she took another swill of the coffee while searching for her sneakers.
Idiot or not, he got a smile out of her. He broke through. He set things right. He did his job.
“But I do love you,” Emma said as she hugged him. “A lovable idiot who brought me coffee.”
Elliot hugged her back. “Well, I enjoy balcony jumping as much as the next idiot, but that doesn’t mean I have a wish to die by the hands of my uncaffeinated sister.”
Summary: When Emma’s studying gets in the way of celebrating Carrick’s birthday, it seems like just about everyone is disappointed, but Elliot gets it.
Characters: Elliot Grey & Emma Grey (OC)
Content Warning: Nothing, I think, unless you’re traumatized by the mere mention of studying at this time of year, which...um would be completely understandable.
A/N: Sort of requested. I picked the prompt— “How are you?” “Well, it’s so nice of you to ask…”—from this list and an anon suggested Elliot, so here’s a piece with Elliot & Emma.
Here’s the AO3 link if you prefer to read over there.
Life in the Shade (Fifty Shades) Masterlist
Technically, Emma was sticking to her brother’s rules for the day. She wasn’t hidden away in the library or her bedroom with only her textbooks, laptop, and lecture notes for company. She was in a spot where everyone could see her. If her mother or brothers or sister or any of their significant others deigned to join her, she would let them, but when she settled herself out on the balcony with her study materials, she hadn’t imagined any of the conversations with her family would last very long.
And that had been true so far.
Christian had opened the door only to question her and roll his eyes—an exasperated ‘you’re really doing this?’ and a reminder that she’d have to come in when the meal was served offered before he headed back inside.
Her mother had been out twice, giving two sharp remarks—the first insisting that if she stayed out in the cold and kept neglecting her sleep as it was physically clear she had been, she’d only end up sick on their Aspen trip. The second was only meant to guilt her inside—her father’s birthday only came around once a year, or so her mother reminded her as if Emma wasn’t already well aware.
Her father had at least been more subtle, simply issuing a wish that she’ll at least join them for the day’s lunch and dessert, dropping an extra blanket in her lap and a kiss on her head, pleased enough with a promise of dinner with her parents later in the week—after the semester was finished and all of this work was behind her.
Mia hadn’t even stepped outside when she arrived, instead choosing to send a string of text messages Mia only noticed seventeen minutes after it was sent during one of her five-minute-long breaks. The only response Emma offered her sister was a ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.
Emma didn’t care that Mia thought she was being lame. And she didn’t care that Christian was annoyed with her or that her mother and father were a little disappointed. Emma had finals—papers to write and edit, exams to study for, presentations to pull together. For all her family’s emphasis on her studies and her grades, they certainly seemed a bit hypocritical now that it was interfering with family time, not that they weren’t about to have plenty of family time what with the holidays and a week away in Colorado, a trip Mia figured would be a lot more enjoyable with her GPA intact.
Emma stretched her arms above her head as the timer on her phone signified it was time for her to take another break—one of the longer, fifteen-minute ones earned after four Pomodoro cycles. She couldn’t believe she’d been at it for two hours already. She’d done the first hour at the kitchen counter, working silently while Mrs. Jones prepared appetizers, moving outside just before everyone arrived, knowing well enough that she wouldn’t have been able to maintain her resolve if she wasn’t already firmly planted on the balcony before things got underway.
It felt like she’d barely made a dent in the studying and Emma was about to forego her break when she heard the door behind her slide open.
“It’s fucking cold out here,” he said as he slid the door closed.
“Thirty-nine,” she mumbled. She’d been reminded by her mother several times of the temperature though Emma had simply insisted that it felt warmer because she was in the sun.
“You have a few minutes?” he asked and Emma held up the phone, showing the timer.
“You’ve got thirteen minutes…” She glanced at the screen. “And seventeen seconds.”
Elliot smirked as he lowered himself into the seat beside her, idly picking up one of her notebooks and skimming through a few pages of her pristine lecture notes.
“Everyone in there’s talking about you.”
“Well, what else is new?” Emma asked as she pulled her legs up onto the seat. It seemed like every time they all came together there was something new making her the topic of conversation. It was rarely something good.
“They’ve even got Dad in on it.” Elliot nudged her shoulder. “Pretty impressive, kid.”
“Yeah, well…” Emma laughed. “I’m sure if I was in there sipping wine, they’d somehow come to the conclusion that I should be studying since I have two exams, four papers, and a group presentation all due this week.”
It was meant to be a joke, but Elliot caught more than the humor—a slight edge nestled there behind her words. “That sounds like a lot, Em. How are you—”
She huffed, her eyes glancing at the neatly penned to-do list on the coffee table. “I’m almost done with drafting the last paper and then—”
“I meant how you’re doing, not the homework. How are you? Are you sleeping? Eating?”
Emma snorted, part of her wondering what the difference was. These days, every bit of her existence felt tied to her remaining assignments. And every time she crossed a task off the list, it was like she was earning a bit of herself back.
The other part of her wondered when Elliot had gotten to be so…well, so like their mother and Christian with their worrying over her wellbeing.
Emma groaned as her phone buzzed on the coffee table, Mia’s face flashing across the screen, but Elliot answered and pulled the phone to his ear. “Miss Grey isn’t available at the moment. Please leave a message after the beep. Beep.”
Elliot hung up the phone and set it back on the table. He sent a smirk toward Mia through the window, her mouth held open in pure surprise and offense as she looked back at them. Elliot turned his attention back to Emma when Mia stomped away. “I’m sure we’ll be hearing about that for the rest of the day. And before you try to change the subject, I didn’t forget that I just asked you a question, so how are you?”
“Well, it’s so nice of you to ask…” Sarcasm laced Emma’s words, a terrible habit she couldn’t drop even if it did feel nice to be asked after by Elliot when everyone else had only wanted to know about her progress or when she’d be joining them. Emma had every intention of continuing on with sarcasm and deflection, but her resolve faltered when she met her brother’s concerned gaze, his eyebrows a bit raised as he waited on a real answer.
She sighed pulling at the sleeves of her sweater as she considered how honest she’d like to be before the words simply started rushing out of her. “Honestly, I’m just...I’m busy and I have so much to do. And I’m exhausted and freezing and I never want to see another Word document or a PowerPoint slide or a highlighter ever again.” Emma knew it was the last push, that by the time Thursday afternoon rolled around, she’d be done and wouldn’t have to think about school for close to a month, but that didn’t make the long days in between any easier.
Elliot tugged Emma to his side, careful to grab the textbook open in her lap and move it aside before she lost her page. “You’re almost there,” he said, “and if they don’t understand why you’re out here, screw ‘em, right?”
Emma snorted at the idea of saying screw you to most of their family. She was sure she’d directed the sentiment toward Christian more than once, but never the others.
“Well, maybe not Mom and Dad, I guess,” he amended. Neither of them would ever truly fault their parents for wishing after more time with their children.
Emma smiled. “It is Dad’s birthday today. And Mom is…well, she’s...”
“Mom.” Emma giggled when they both made the conclusion at the same time, knowing it was explanation enough.
“And they get it. But Mia and Chris—they’ve never done what you’re doing. They—”
Emma opened her mouth to argue, but Elliot shook his head. “Christian’s never studied a day in his life and Mia only ever took classes that were pass/fail.”
He’d consciously left himself out of the conversation, forcing Emma to recall on her own that Elliot had once been the sibling they complained about missing family time—back when he was both taking college classes and working for a construction firm, biding his time until he was ready to open a business of his own. Back then, Emma had been the one her parents would put on the phone to invite Elliot to family get-togethers, hoping the small voice of his littlest sister would bring him home and away from his textbooks.
The timer on Emma’s phone dinged and Elliot squeezed Emma’s shoulder. “I’ll let you get back to it.” He leaned forward to tap the button to begin her next study session and picked up her empty mug. “You want more coffee?”
Emma shook her head, a quiet thanks coming from her lips as she pulled her textbook back into her lap. Elliot pushed himself off the cushion, taking a few steps toward the door.
“And, Em?” He waited for her to meet his eyes. “You should be proud of yourself. You’ve worked hard. Screw the rest of it.”
Emma nodded, a bit of warmth rushing to her cheeks as she realized that she was proud of herself.
Summary: When Emmeline says something to a brother in anger, she punishes herself with guilt. Healing comes in the form of another brother’s understanding.
Characters: Elliot Grey, Emmeline Grey, Christian Grey (mentioned)
Content Warnings: Angst (there’s some comfort at the end of this one), Adoption/ blended family challenges, underage (in the US) drinking, mention of previous abuse/ neglect
Emmeline could still taste the cabernet on her lips even though she hadn't refilled her glass since coming to sit alone in the pool house. The buzz had already settled in, there long before she took the bottle and left the crowd of her brother's birthday party, the alcohol clouding her thoughts, simultaneously slowing it all down and speeding it all up, the waves within her an impatient cycle, a steady exchange of crests and troughs.
There was little difference between that and the heated pool of water she'd set her feet into, or the red wine which she'd poured into her glass, or the music pumping through her headphones. The only difference was that those things were all contained and controlled. Limited.
But Emmeline felt as though she might burst just from trying to hold it all.
She flinched at the shoe nudging her in the side, a chuckle coming from her oldest brother’s lips as her body settled, her widened eyes returning to normal as she caught the beginnings of Elliot’s smile, just a quick flash of his perfect teeth. Emmeline paid him only a few seconds of attention before looking back to the water, headphones still rightly in place, the music louder than whatever joke Elliot had been keen on sharing, something she assumed he had done only because she had seen his lips moving as she turned away.
Rolling his eyes, Elliot slipped out of his shoes and removed his socks before lowering himself down beside his sister, shifting the mostly empty wine bottle from the space between them as he slid closer. Emmeline finally glanced at him again as he finished rolling up his pant legs and slipped his bare feet into the water.
“What are we listening to?” Elliot plucked an earbud from her ear. “Okay, then...I’ll pass,” he commented on the dark classical coming from her headphones, the mournful screech of a violin audible even before he brought the bud near to his ear. Elliot dropped it then, letting the cord fall into her lap, instead lifting and glancing once again at the level of the wine bottle, raising an eyebrow Emmeline didn’t see as her gaze turned once again to the pool’s water.
“So, what did that stupid brother of ours do this time?”
“Nothing,” Emmeline muttered, twirling the empty wine glass in her fingers and watching as the remaining drops of wine painted a red film over the bottom of the glass with each circle. “It’s fine.”
Elliot nodded a few times, considering it as he reached for the glass, pouring out the remainder of the bottle and taking a sip.
“So much for in vino veritas, then,” he said. “You know I’m not an idiot, right, Em?”
It was never a secret when Christian and Emmeline fought, never truly excluded from common knowledge although the two often put on a convincing show of neutrality, all tight lips and hushed conversations set away from the rest of the family, the two of them typically grinning and bearing it as they went through the motions in mixed company. The rest of the family always let them get away with it, let Christian and Emmeline sort through things in their own way when it wasn’t something they could simply poke fun at, when it wasn’t something they couldn’t sort simply by having one or both of them break from their moody character with a genuine smile, the rest of the trouble quickly falling away from there.
“He didn’t do anything,” Emmeline answered, reaching for the glass as he tipped the remaining liquid into his mouth.
Elliot studied her, half surprised she’d answered the way she had. His sister rarely missed an opportunity to call him an idiot and he’d gone through the trouble to set her up so perfectly.
“So, what did you do, then?”
Emmeline swirled her feet in the water, unable to find a response that would grant her a return to solitude, to something resembling homeostasis. As much as she wanted the words off her chest and out of her mind, with the shame of them released from every part of her being, she couldn’t bring herself to say it, not to Elliot, not to a single one of her family members.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to repeat it to anyone. She wasn’t sure she could withstand the pain of further judgment. Christian’s response, or lack of one, had communicated more than enough.
“Other than downing a bottle of wine on your own?”
Wine.
She shuddered.
Part of her didn’t want to even hear the word.
It was what started the trouble in the first place, a silly argument with Christian over a simple glass of wine, her brother’s high-handed insistence on rules and order hitting at the same moment as she finished her first glass, the liquid enjoyed on an empty stomach, prematurely flushing her cheeks and emboldening her words, hardening her stare as he chastised her over something she thought they were well beyond.
Their parents had voiced their assent to her enjoying a drink from time to time, in moderation and in a safe manner of course.
She had been following both bits of guidance.
“Elliot, I just want to be alone.”
Emmeline could’ve gone up to her bedroom, could’ve shut and locked the door and reclined on the bed she’d slept in every night before starting college. She could’ve been there now, staring up at the glow in the dark stars that still adorned her ceiling, remnants from a fascination with stars from over a decade ago.
Emmeline could’ve gotten away with that for the whole night if she’d claimed some sort of illness, feigned a headache or a queasy stomach, but she would have still heard the party music from there and her walls were still adorned with photos, selfies with friends and her family. And in the same way she couldn’t stomach telling her brother the truth, she couldn’t stomach their smiling faces looking back at her either, couldn’t stomach the racing thoughts the pictures would have forced into her mind, the assumptions and prematurely drawn conclusions she wouldn’t be able to talk herself out of with happy faces staring back at her.
“You know your security’s just outside the door, right?”
Emmeline hadn’t realized, but she wasn’t exactly surprised to learn Ryan was just outside. She was so rarely actually alone, so rarely without the shadow of security that it wasn’t anything new. And if Ryan was a few steps away, that meant Christian knew exactly where she was, but chose to let her be, a strategy so rarely employed that Emmeline wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by it, the silent treatment, the laissez faire attitude that was so incongruent she couldn’t recognize it as a strategy settled within her brother’s wheelhouse.
“Come back inside. Everyone’s just getting ready to sit down for dinner.” He raised the glass. “Dad's long winded toasts and all that.”
Emmeline shook her head. “He doesn’t want me there.”
“Dad?”
Emmeline shook her head, no sign of the smile Elliot was hoping for.
Elliot pushed himself up from the pool’s edge. “Christian’ll get over it. Always does, and I want you there. And I’m sure Mom and Dad will notice if you’re not there, so...” Elliot grabbed a towel off the cart and began drying his feet and legs. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s go in.”
He held a hand down to her, but Emmeline didn’t take it, instead covering her face to wipe away the tears, her shoulders suddenly quaking, the tide finally spilling over as she pushed herself back from the pool’s edge, climbing onto a nearby lounge chair and curling away from her brother.
“Em, what’s going on?”
“Just leave it,” she said, the words muffled by her hands. “Go back to the party.”
“I’m not going to just leave you alone like this.”
“You should.”
Elliot pulled out his phone. “Well, I’m not, and if you don’t tell me what’s going on, Christi—”
Emmeline interrupted him with a string of mumbled words, but Elliot didn’t catch it all, didn’t catch her whole admission because she’d hiccuped and then immediately let out a wail what he figured was only about halfway through, her back still to him, her arms still raised to cover her face.
“Em, I can’t hear you.”
She rolled towards him and the words came out as a shout, the annunciation clear and deliberate.
“I told him he’s not my real brother!”
Emmeline’s words echoed in the room, bouncing off the walls and the lapping water and the two of them, their imagined reverberation somehow louder than the heart beating in her chest, but only by a small measure. She stayed quiet, her head to the lounger, silent tears staining her cheeks as she watched Elliot put together what her words meant, connecting the fact that Emmeline saying those words to Christian was no different than her saying the words to him because the tentative ties that bound Emmeline to Christian were the very same ties that bound her to any of the rest of them, a mere legal technicality when it came down to it, a stack of signed papers and nothing more.
But Emmeline hadn’t meant that when she said it to Christian. She had calculated her error as soon as the words left her mouth, the “you can’t tell me what to do, you’re not even my real brother,” immediately shifting something in Christian’s face, the fight in him receding to make room for something else, making Emmeline grow immediately sick with dread and guilt and shame and now that she watched Elliot’s face shift in the same manner, it was once again renewed, the waves of nausea and pain and hurt within her begging for relief.
“Say something,” she insisted after a long silence fell between them.
Elliot took a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “What do you want me to say to that, Em?”
His words were soft, no bite, no accusation or mean spiritedness or judgment, but she didn’t trust Elliot’s calm, didn’t trust it not to correspond to a whole lot of hurt behind his peaceful exterior. She didn’t trust that her brother wasn’t so quiet just because she had caused so much pain with a single sentence, five little words that she didn’t even mean, originally tossed at their brother only because the exact opposite was true.
Christian was her brother and he’d been well within his rights in that role in telling her off about the wine. Emmeline had used the sentiment to rail against him, a tool she’d kept unused for years, something she knew held a bit of weight and power in their family because despite a certain love and closeness shared by the four Grey siblings and their parents, they all held onto a small bit of doubt somewhere, held onto the idea that each of them had come from someplace else entirely.
It was a reckoning that took time and while Christian, Mia, and Elliot had gone through it years ago, had once used the words to get their way without much thought to the person the words were wielded at, Emmeline had never voiced the sentiment aloud, had never used it to get her way or argue against their influence, and she had been too young to remember when the others were going through that phase.
Mia would always talk about a time in the boy’s adolescence when their home had been like a war zone, back when Emmeline was only five and the others were in and out of arguments, a house of raised voices and slammed doors, but truth or exaggeration, Emmeline didn’t remember any of it.
She had her parents to thank for that, and how they navigated it all, she’d never know, but Emmeline understood long before becoming a teenager herself that it was a moody time in life and that it wasn’t usually personal. People said things in anger, but they all still loved each other. Yet despite knowing that, despite living through it three times already, she found the concept difficult to apply to herself, difficult to apply to the current moment.
Elliot crossed to where Emmeline had once again curled up on the chair, pulling her body in on itself in the same way she was set to pull her emotions back inside, keeping it all close in order to keep it together though she was already shaking.
Elliot set a hand on her arm, wrapping his fingers around her elbow as he tried to coax her to sit up. “Talk to me, Em.”
Emmeline’s hair shifted as she gave a gentle shake of her head and she tried to pull her arm from his grasp.
“Just leave me alone.”
“Em, I’m not leaving you alone.” Elliot reaffirmed his grip. “And if you won’t talk to me, I’ll have Chris and Mia come out, and Mom and Dad if we need to. Let me help.”
“I don’t deserve it.”
“Why? Because you hurt Christian’s feelings? You think you’re the first one to pull that line? We still say it to this day. You’ve heard it. You’re not that special.”
Elliot was right. She had heard it passed between them several times. The 'do you know what your sister did?’ and the ‘well, he was your brother first,’ and the ‘good thing we’re not actually related, then,’ all of it uttered with a bit of adoring exasperation.
Emmeline hadn’t said it like that though. There was no adoration in her words to Christian, just venom and spite.
“You don’t mean it.”
“And neither did you. You’ll have to do a lot more than that to get rid of us.”
Emmeline remained unmoved, resistant to his tugging and Elliot released the grip that he’d let grow limp, rubbing her arm for a moment instead.
“What can I do to make you believe me?” he asked, reaching for her wet foot instead. “Should I—”
Emmeline kicked her foot out of his grasp, sitting up and glaring at him with raw, puffy eyes.
“Alright, so no tickling, then,” he offered, frowning at his sister as she settled her chin on her knees, her legs folded up to her chest, the hem of her long dress settled over her feet.
It reminded him of when Emmeline had first come to them as a child, of how they’d find her folded into some small space, maneuvered back in the dark corner of a closet or behind some heavy furniture, settled far under the middle of a king sized bed, tucked away and tucked in on herself, the grip on her own limbs baring white knuckles to whoever found her, a fight offered when they tried to pull her out, to pull her into their arms and out of herself.
He almost expected her to start mumbling the words she’d said to herself back then, the words his mother had explained had probably been said to her over and over again, a steady stream of “suck it up” repeated over and over again until someone successfully got ahold of her, a rush of hot tears coming once the chanting stopped, always followed by the girl falling asleep for hours.
Elliot couldn’t remember her ever acknowledging it after the fact, almost as if she woke up from her naps with the whole scenario wiped from her memory. He had always thought maybe it was better that way
“Well, I’m here, and I’m not leaving you alone, so tell me—”
“It feels like I’m going to break,” she mumbled.
“You’re not going to break.”
“Fall apart, then,” she amended, her lip beginning to wobble even with just those three words, her voice lowered to a low muttering as she continued. “And if you don't hug me right now I think I might.”
Elliot took only a second for his sister’s words to register, to realize she’d offered consent for him to help, actually asked for it, and he pulled Emmeline forward then, letting her settle in his arms, the familiar release of tears and hurt rushing out of her as he held her close, his arms around her allowing for Emmeline to let down whatever fortifications she’d built up to hold it all in, allowing her to let the pain out as the relief rushed in. It was only a few minutes that passed before Elliot realized his sister would be missing dinner, only minutes before he realized that Emmeline’s breathing had deepened and evened out, and she was already asleep.
