Fallout.

chapter forty-five , I Just Want to be Perfect

a/n : this episode is based on Station 19's episode of season 6 episode 8 'I Know a Place'

This chapter takes place during Season 3 Episode 9 of 911.

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Emery had reorganized the entire apartment.

It's not like she had anything else to do. Even if she was still working, she probably would've found time to move everything around anyway. Emery had finished washing the baseboards and moved the couch 5 times.

Emery stops washing the ceiling when she hears a knock at the door. She exhales a small breath and climbs down the ladder. Emery pads through the apartment and pulls open the door. Her body tenses at the person in front of her.

"Emerson, Hi." The man gives her a small smile. "I don't know if you remember me, but I'm--"

"Dr. Sai Martin." Emery cuts the man's introduction off.

He raises his brows, "You know my name?"

"Yeah. After you and my so-called 'team' ambushed me with you. I decided to see what I was up against." Emery inhales.

Dr. Martin tilts his head, "Up against." he slowly nods his head. "They just wanted to help you."

"Yeah, funny way of showing it." Emery forces out a chuckle. "What're you doing here?"

"I wanted to see if you would like to talk."

Emery blinks, "Talk. To you? The reason I quit is because my captain made me choose between therapy or my job."

"Well, I figured since you have nothing else to lose at this point...who could it hurt?" Dr. Martin shrugs.

Emery stays silent for a moment, she looks to the side not even bothering to answer. Dr. Martin looks at the apartment and sees all the cleaning products scattered across the floor and the ladder in the middle of the hall. "Where's your father?"

"Not here," Emery answers, her tone was unwavering. "He's staying somewhere else. I insisted on it."

"You...told your dad to leave?" Dr. Martin raises his brows.

Emery presses her lips into a firm line and nods. She looks Dr. Martin up and down. "Aren't you a little young to be a psychologist?"

Dr. Martin chuckles, as he readjusts his satchel. "You and I are definitely around the same age."

Emery quirks a brow in annoyance. "Look, I get you might be good at your job. But, I don't need help." she throws her arms up and laughs. "I'm great."

Dr. Martin sighs, "Listen, Emerson. I carved out the whole day today, which wasn't easy, so I'm hoping I can come in."

"You think I'm going to let you in because you decided to rearrange your whole day around me?" Emery snorts. Dr. Martin presses his lips together and bunches his shoulders saying "Why not?".

Emery's spine straightens. He was so calm it made her feel like it wouldn't hurt to let him in. "Fine. Come in." she steps aside. "Hope you don't mind the smell of cleaning products."

Dr. Martin smirks, "Thanks." he steps inside the apartment. He gets a better look at the apartment and his nose twitches from the smell of bleach. "Could we open a window?"

Emery nods her head, "Yeah--yeah, right. Good idea." she rushes off towards one of the windows and opens it. Dr. Martin takes notice of Emery's frizzy ponytail. She was wearing boxers with a large graphic tee. Her eye bags were darker and deeper. Then he noticed the gauze that was wrapped around her right palm.

Emery opens another window and she lets out a small breath. Dr. Martin looks back at the woman, "How long have you been up, Miss Sharpe?"

"You can just call me Emery or Emerson." She chuckles. "And...I don't know." Emery snorts. "If you're asking this week? I got 5 hours. The last 3 weeks? I got 16 hours." She swallows. "Should I open more windows? I'm gonna open more windows."

Emery walks away, leaving Dr. Martin to look around again. He lets out a small breath. Today was going to be a long day.

"So, can we sit?" Dr. Martin motions to the couch.

Emery looks at the couch that has a few pillows and blankets on it. "Let me clear a spot for you."

"You don't have to its—"

Emery was already on her way over to the couch and started to fold the blankets.

"Emerson..."

"Yeah?"

"Can we have a seat please?" Dr. Martin's voice was soft and he had a small smile on his lips.

Emery exhales a breath, "Yeah, of course." She motions her head over for to the couch and Dr. Martin sits down.

Silence fills the room and Emery taps her fingers against her knees. She looks around the room, "Sorry, I didn't have a chance to clean."

"It's nice in here. Cozy." Dr. Martin gives her a small nod.

"If you say so..."

"Now," Dr. Martin sets his bag down and sighs. "Where should we start?"

...

"Shouldn't the investigators be done by now? We all know it was an accident."

"Saw her yesterday," Eddie says. "I was on my way into Frank's, and ran into her outside the building. She seemed okay, just sad."

"You can't blame her for that."

"Or for anything."

"How's therapy with Frank?" Buck asks. "Haven't seen him in a while."

"Seems good." Eddie frowns and slowly nods his head. "Though I'm not really sure he and I are...clicking."

"You should try talking to Rosemary," Chimney suggests. "I went to her after the stabbing--she was great."

Buck slightly opens his mouth and points at Chim. "Is that the one I slept with?"

"No, she doesn't work for the department anymore." Bobby says his tone firm.

Tom and Eddie look at each other before looking back at Buck.

"You slept with your therapist?" They inquire.

Buck shrugs, "I was, uh, going through a phase--hey didn't you just go through one of those?"

"Yeah, yeah." Eddie rolls his eyes. "Was this during the time you and Emery were going through that phase?"

Buck blows air out of his mouth. "I mean...I dunno." he looks to the side.

Everyone exchanges a look. "Buck, you do know that we all know now, right?" Chimney reminds the boy. "You don't have to avoid the topic anymore."

Buck looks at each of his teammate's faces before letting out a breath of relief. "Oh, my god, you guys have no idea how bad I've wanted to tell you."

"Well, Not to brag or anything but I figured it out a while ago," Bobby says. "Your guys' eye contact was intense."

"You know what?" Tom frowns and slowly nods his head. "I noticed that intense eye contact between them, but I figured it was because they hated each other."

"Wait, when did it even start?"

"Like a year ago." Buck sighs. "You remember that karaoke night we had at the bar?" he looks at Chimney.

Chimney's eyes almost pop out of his skull. "Emery was the mystery girl?!"

Buck nods his head. Chimney shakes his head, "Unbelievable."

"I can't believe there even was a 'you and Emery'." Chimney felt like his head was going to explode. "I mean, yeah, sure I made that bet with Hen. But it's only because I really thought I was right."

I'm his best nonchalant Thomas way, he asks. "So, do you like her? O-Or was it just...nothing?"

Everyone looks at the boy for a moment and he blinks.

Buck inhales a deep breath, "Uh, well...I don't think that matters anymore." he chuckles.

Tom nods his head, "Right, right, right--because she hated your guts." he then shrugs. "Actually, I think she hates all our guts now."

Silence settles around the group. Tom notices the solemn energy and he exhales a small whine. "Oh, god, I made things sad." he raises a hand about to start itching, but Chimney grabs his wrist and lowers it back down.

"No, you didn't." Chimney assures him. "You just told us the truth, bud. And we appreciate that."

Everyone nods their heads. Tom lets out a breath. "Okay, good. Because it does seem like she was pretty pissed at us."

"What are we going to do?" Eddie asks.

Everyone looks at him in shock. Eddie raises his brows, "What?"

"Nothing, just surprised you want to help her after...what she said."

Eddie looks at his hands. "I'll admit, what she said hurt and for a few hours I was pissed. Then I realized that Emery wasn't wrong and...she's also in pain." He shrugs. "Hurt people hurt people. And Emery does need help."

"I mean, are you pissed at her, Chim? For calling you a bad friend?" Eddie looks at Chimney.

"No, I mean. I know she's just hurting." Chimney nods his head. "The question is...Emery quit in order to get away from us." He shrugs. "She may not have meant it now, but she did say that we weren't her family."

Buck looks at the ground, his worry practically drowning him. It took everything in him not to go to Emery's place and check on her. But he knew that if her father was living with her, her well-being would be taken care of. So, he's just glad he didn't have to worry about that aspect.

He wanted to rush to her so badly. But Buck knew that he couldn't save Emery. That's not what she wanted. Emery had to save herself if she wanted to get better. This time he couldn't help like he did with Amaya.

☆

"So, who told you where I lived?"

Dr. Martin looks at the girl.

"Or did you just so happen to search me up?"

"Is that so crazy? I mean, you did that with me."

Emery quirks a brow. "But someone did tell you I needed help, right?"

Dr. Martin nods his head. Emery opens her mouth, ready to ask who it is; but the psychologist sprawls again.

"If I told you who it was would it really change anything?" Dr. Martin asks.

Emery lets out a small yet bitter chuckle. "Honestly? No. I would still be...just as pissed."

"Em, I think...somewhere deep down, you'd be grateful for whoever called me." Dr. Martin says.

Emery looks to the side and softly scoffs. Her left-hand covers her injured one.

"What happened to your hand?"

Emery blinks and looks at the psychologist. She then looks at her wrapped hand and huffs. "Uh...cut it when I was moving my couch." she chuckles. "Stupid thing splinters."

"You should get a new couch."

Emery raises her brows and a bitter laugh comes from her. "Wow, you might be right, doc." she nods her head. "You know what? I think after this session talking about my stupid ass couch--I'm healed." she holds her hands up and laughs, but the laugh was filled with animosity.

"We should wrap this session up early, so I can go get that couch."

Dr. Martin chuckles. He knows Emery wasn't telling the truth about her hand. But he wasn't going to push her. The last thing he wanted was to push her early on in the session.

"Nice try." Dr. Martin tilts his head. "You can get a couch later."

"Now...when do you think the first memory is of you wanting to be perfect?"

Emery softly huffs, "Seriously?"

Dr. Martin nods his head. "Seriously."

Emery thought this was stupid. And Martin could see that she wasn't in it. But he was patient...and stubborn.

Emery looks at the ceiling. "I...didn't win my second-grade spelling bee." She scratches the side of her nose "And my mom didn't talk to me for about a week."

"She would've ignored me for longer if I hadn't..." she trails off her words. Dr. Martin leans forward, "If you hadn't what?"

Emery inhales a shaky breath and looks at the therapist. "If I hadn't sabotaged the competition at my math decathlon the following week." She looks at her bruised knuckles. "He was my best friend."

"How did you—"

"Told him his cat died." Emery sighs, she folds her arms and then unfolds them, unable to stand still. "He was a wreck—this place is a mess, it's never a mess..." She looks around her living room. "I think I should pick up a few things—"

"Things are fine the way they are, Emerson." Dr. Martin softly speaks. "What did your mom think?"

"About what?"

"Sabotaging your best friend."

"You mean the competition?" Emery snorts.

Dr. Martin raises his brows, "Were they your best friend before your competition?"

"Well, yes, but they're not my friend anymore." Emery clicks her tongue. "He stopped talking to me."

Emery stays silent for a moment and a lump forms in her throat. "She had never been prouder."

Dr. Martin keeps his eyes on Emery. She swallows the lump in her throat. "My mom. She was proud that I did whatever I could in order to win."

"But to me, it wasn't just winning..." Emery pulls at the end of her t-shirt. Her chest begins to tighten. "D-Do you want some coffee? I could make you some."

Dr. Martin's eyes stay soft as he shakes his head. "No thank you, Emery."

"If it wasn't about winning for you, then what was it about?"

Emery's leg begins to bounce but she grips it, she begins to dig her nails into her leg and shakes her head. "I think...I really need to change my gauze." she inhales a breath, her hand starting to hurt.

"Emerson. If it wasn't about winning, then what was—"

"I-I don't know—now, can I please—"

"Your living has been like this for however long you've been cleaning." Dr. Martin chuckles. "I'm sure you can handle a few more hours of it staying like this."

Emery's eyes brim with tears and she tangles a hand into her curly frizzy hair. Her breathing begins to fall ragged. "My mom saw me as perfect that day." She exhales a small cry. "I wanted to...be perfect."

"My mom was proud to call me her daughter." Emery wipes her tears out of her eyes.

"My perfect daughter."

"But when she treated me like I was a stranger...no one understood. No one helped me."

"Not even your dad?"

Emery's lips quiver and she looks at the floor that was practically shining from the three times she had mopped them. "He would just watch..." she sniffles. "I would get so mad at him. But if I said anything I wouldn't be... perfect." Her voice breaks.

"I wanted to be worth fighting for." Emery lets out a cry, her chest slowly beginning to untighten. The room settles with silence and her face heats up with embarrassment. Emery sucks in her cries and covers her mouth, silencing her cries.

"It's okay, Emerson." Dr. Martin gives her a small smile.

Emery's eyes slightly widen. His smile was so warm and reassuring. He reminded her so much of Amaya. The tightness in Emery's chest sprung loose and so did her tears. She lets out a sob and inhales a deep breath like she has been holding it in for so long. Too long.

"I just...I just want to be perfect—I want to be perfect." Emery's cries become much more violent and she leans forward, her arms wrapped around herself. "I want to be perfect, I want to b-be perfect..." she continues to repeat through her sobs.

...

"It wasn't your fault."

Hen keeps her eyes on the paper in front of her.

"System logs show that you pushed the button," Bobby assures her. "Your light was green when you entered the intersection. Her light never changed. Looks like it was the circuit board on the streetlamp. One of the relays was fried. You did everything right."

"And she's still dead." Hen voices, her tone small.

"But not because of you," Bobby states. "I know it doesn't feel that way, that you feel responsible--"

"Bobby, I'm the one that drove into her." Hen sets the paper down, her guilt not settling. "You can show me a million pieces of paper th-that says it's not my fault, but it's still gonna feel like it is.

Bobby's shoulder sag and his eyes soften.

"Did you know she played cello?" Hen's eyes fill with tears.

"It was an accident, Hen," Bobby says. "You've been cleared by the Department. You can return to duty whenever you want."

"Uh, I don't know when I can come back." Hen softly speaks. "Karen and I are going away for a few days, and, uh...I think I'ma need some time."

Bobby nods his head, understanding. "Take as much as you need."

"We'll be here when you're ready."

Hen's lips twitch into a small smile. Having to handle her own turmoil and grief made Hen think about the girl she thought of as a little sister. "How's Em doing?"

Bobby inhales a breath, his body tensing. "I don't know," he admits. "She hasn't talked to me...I don't think she's talked to anyone."

"What about her father?" Hen pulls her brows together.

As soon as Bobby's eyes met hers, Hen could see the rising worry. "He doesn't live with her anymore. She told him to stay somewhere else."

Hen let out a small breath of disbelief, she couldn't stand knowing that Emery was going through this rough time and she couldn't do anything to help her. Even though Hen wasn't there when Emery quit, she was shocked that she had. Being a firefighter was everything to Emerson, so if she quit without hesitation. What does that say about her mental health?

"Maybe I should stay..." Hen speaks. "so, I can help find a way to help Emery or at least get her to talk to us."

Bobby shakes his head, "No. You don't stop your healing to focus on someone else's." he advises. "Help yourself first, Hen."

☆

"I have an issue with forgiveness."

Dr. Martin crosses his legs. Emery was now wrapped in a throw she had folded and refolded earlier. She was sitting cross-legged on the couch with a cup of Green tea in her hand that Dr. Martin had made for her.

This was the first time in the day that Emery had decided to start up one of the conversations.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

Emery goes to shrug, but she stops. Talk about your feelings.

"Because my mom could hold a grudge." Emery inhales. "If you never forgive then you Never forget."

"That's what your mom used to say?"

Emery chuckles at Dr. Martin's astonishment. She nods her head. "Yeah. She is a stubborn motherfucker." She sips her tea, the warmth soothes her now hoarse throat.

"But, so am I..." Emery inhales. "I hated when she would say that she and I were the same because I thought she was the most terrible person to ever walk this earth." She softly scoffs. "But now I see how I treat everyone around me."

"Ignoring them, insulting them..." Emery's eyes burn. "My mom never forgave me for anything."

"And you want to be perfect." Dr. Martin says. Emery nods her head, "Yeah, I do."

"Do you genuinely think that being perfect means not forgiving anyone?"

"That's what my mom thinks," Emery says. "So, maybe it should be right." She looks into her mug of tea. "That's what I used to think, anyway."

"And now?"

Emery sighs and sets her mug down. "Now...I just want everyone to know that I'm sorry." She wipes her eyes. "I mean, everyone at the intervention...they're my team—my family."

Dr. Martin doesn't reply or react, he just looks at her; waiting for Emery to come to the conclusion herself.

"I l-love my family." Emery softly cries. "But I know I hurt them." She shakes her head. "And I've been spewing about how much I won't forgive Buck—it's so hypocritical."

"Do you want to forgive him?"

Emery inhales, "It would make my life a hell of easier." She chuckles. Her smile then lessens and she shakes her head. "But right now...I don't—I can't."

"And that's okay." Dr. Martin says. "You don't have to forgive or forget...but you can let go."

Emery keeps her shaky brown eyes on his. "There are some things that you should forgive just for your sake."

"Don't let anyone have that kind of power over you."

Emery looks down at the crescent moons that are embedded in her thighs. "I thought he and I were going to..." she trails off her words and chuckles. "Be something. More."

"That's why you feel so betrayed."

Emery sighs, "It's stupid, I know."

Dr. Martin shakes his head. "Love isn't stupid, Emerson."

The girl tilts her head to the ceiling and lets out a loud and obnoxious sigh. "I'm not in love with him." She looks at the psychologist. "I mean, I saw myself moving to that direction but..." she looks at the doctor and snorts. "I have a lot of shit to work through."

Dr. Martin chuckles softly. "Well, at least you're admitting that now."

Emery looks at Dr. Martin and lets out a small breath. "I'm not okay. I know that..." she looks at the ceiling and begins to fidget with her hands. "I haven't been okay since...my dad was diagnosed."

Emery lets out a chuckle. "I think people think that I started spiraling after Amaya died. But, it was a while ago." She covers her face. "When I went off my meds."

Silence settles between them. Emery's lower lip begins to quiver and she presses her thumb against her injured palm. "I burnt my hand on the stove." she admits. "On purpose."

"Do you know why you did it?"

Emery bites her lower lip and nods her head. "I felt...feel empty. Like I'm never gonna get out of this hole of hopelessness." she wipes her eyes. "I wanted to feel just something."

"Emerson, why'd you lie about it earlier?" Dr. Martin inquires.

"Because I've been here before," Emery admits. "I've talked to a psychologist before. I opened up to them, then I ended up on a 72-hour hold." she scoffs. "I promised myself I wouldn't have that happen again."

"Even if it's to help you?"

Emery hesitates. Dr. Martin smirks and Emery rolls her eyes. "I can't believe I cried and...snotted over you." she chuckles. Dr. Martin softly laughs.

"How are you feeling after that?"

"Mortified," Emery admits. "Light...raw." she holds up a hand. "A little shaky."

"Could you look around for a moment for me?"

Emery looks around her apartment, taking it in.

"How does your place look?"

Emery pulls her brows together. "Good. Clean." she chuckles. "I could've sworn it was filthy."

"And your hand?"

Emery shifts her weary brown eyes to her wrapped palm and she pulls her brows together. "It...doesn't hurt as much as I thought it did." she shook her head and couldn't stop the small laugh. "Why doesn't it hurt as much as I thought it did?"

"Sometimes physical pain, when it builds like that--the pain can be attached to a part of you that needs attention."

Emery tilts her head, "P-Part of me?"

"In this case, I would guess that it was the 8-year-old part of you." Dr. Martin states.

Emery raises her brows. "The 8-year-old part of me?"

"Yes."

"I don't understand."

Dr. Martin slightly leans forward. "Tell me more about the spelling bee you lost and the math decathlon you won."

Emery inhales a deep breath, she then exhales. "My mother...hated me for losing." she moves her head from one side to the other. "She hated me for not being perfect." she corrects.

"So, when she ignored me and treated me like I was nothing that whole week...I promised myself from that point on that I would be perfect for her and to..." Emery's throat begins to tighten, but she clears it. "...to be worth fighting for, for my dad."

"You wanted your mom's love and the only way you thought you could receive that is by being perfect."

Emery could feel her voice begin to shake before she even spoke. "Yes."

"And you wanted your father to fight for you--to care for you." Dr. Martin starts. "The way you thought you could have that is by being perfect."

Emery nods her head, "Yes."

"You put everyone ahead of yourself, in order to make yourself feel better."

Emery's face heats up and she looks away from him. "That makes me sound like an asshole." She softly huffs. "But yeah..." she nods her head. "I would lift others up to make myself feel needed because I...never experienced that when I was younger."

"Can I ask you to do something for me?"

Emery wipes her nose and nods. "Y-Yeah, of course..."

"Can you look in this mirror for me?" He sets the small stand-up mirror on the coffee table. "Look in that mirror and talk to yourself—your 8-year-old self."

Emery looks at Dr. Martin with a blank expression. Dr. Martin softly smiles his face saying "amuse me."

Emery's shoulders sag. She reaches for the mirror and looks at herself. For a moment, Emery could've sworn she saw herself when she was younger. Braces, glasses, french braided pigtails, and a baseball cap. Before the perfectionism. Emery couldn't remember being as happy as how her 8-year-old self looked.

"You're perfect the way you are..." Emery softly lets out, her voice begins to shake. "You don't have to hurt the people you love for others' approval."

"I...I approve of you if that makes you feel any better." Emery's eyes begin to blur with tears. "I love you. And to me..."

"you're perfect." Emery inhales her soft cries. "You're safe now. You can rest."

"You are loveable win or lose. You are perfect no matter what."

Emery couldn't stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks and Dr. Martin couldn't stop the tears from forming in his own eyes.

☆

Emery stays seated on the couch as Dr. Martin puts his jacket on. "You did amazing work today, Emerson."

"There's more to do, and we'll work together...if you still want to--"

"I do." Emery quickly speaks. She looks at her hands and nods her head. "I want to keep working with you if that's all right."

Dr. Martin softly smiles, "That's more than okay." he nods. "We'll work together once a week over the next few months at least."

"And I could talk to the union about letting you back to work, on desk duty at the 118. If that's what you want."

Emery looks at the psychologist and slightly opens her mouth. "I want to call my dad." she fidgets with her fingers. "Can I call my dad? Can I...tell him I'm sorry?" she then exhales a harsh breath. "I want to tell everyone that I'm sorry."

"I know you do." He nods his head. "And you can do whatever you want to do. But can I ask you a question?"

"When was the last time you got a full night's rest?"

Emery couldn't even answer the question, because she honestly couldn't remember.

"I think you put your father and everyone else through a lot."

Emery nods her head with a lump of guilt in her throat.

"If you want to take my advice on this--"

"I do." Emery chuckles.

"Take care of yourself and work on yourself first." He throws his satchel on his shoulder. "See if you can rest a little first."

Emery lets out a breath as she stands up. She and Dr. Martin walk over to the front door. "I love my dad," she says. "I know I talked about him not fighting for me when I was younger, but now..." she looks to the side. "He hasn't stopped fighting for me since we've reconnected. I love my dad."

"I love all of them."

"I do not doubt that, Emerson." Dr. Martin looks at the girl.

Emery keeps her eyes on Dr. Martin's soft ones and she could read the advice on them. She couldn't help but chuckle. "See if I can love myself first?"

Dr. Martin breaks into a genuine smile. "I love it when they learn."

And a genuine laugh leaves Emery's lips.

"I'll see you next week, Miss Sharpe."

Emery nods her head, she opens the door for Dr. Martin and he walks out. "Yeah..." she inhales a shaky breath and a grateful smile forms on her lips. "Thank you."

Emery closes the door and she softly laughs while wiping tears from her eyes.

She was able to sleep peacefully that night.

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Dev Patel as Dr. Martin

author's note.

LET THE HEALING BEGIN!!! <3

Also I just finished writing this a few minutes ago, so there still might be mistakes 😭

words : 4841