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    Summary

    Maybe it's the lack of anything resembling attention that's thrown her off her game. Can't quite figure out how to accept it, how to want it, how to let herself enjoy it. Not that wanting it should be a problem, but—feels like one.

    Sometimes.

    No one with a functional brain signs up for this job thinking they won't get hurt eventually. It's just a question of how bad. Maybe it's something you can patch up on your own, or maybe it's the kind of hit that'll leave you flat on your back, you-need-a-hand-to-get-up.

    Haley's hand, oh—yes, that's right, ends up being that for her, and no she did not see that coming. A saint. Haley's a saint. A walking halo, and, please, for the love of all things holy, don't let Haley catch on that Emily's been nursing a three-year crush on her husband.

    Crap.

    -

    emily takes a rough hit, and naturally, it’s a hotchner (actually two) swooping in to help her back on her feet.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    10,855
    Chapters:
    2/2
    Comments:
    70
    Kudos:
    234
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    35
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