Disclamer: I own nothing, everything belongs to their rightful owners.

AN: This is yet another "What If" project of mine. This time it's mostly about Clyde and Emily. I wanted to write a one shot but it became too long so I'm going to split it into a few chapters. It's a little dark I guess. Depends on the reader I think. Also there are a few similar things to a few other versions I wrote before, but they're not conected.

A Thousand Burned Out Yesterdays

Part I

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"Are you going to do it?"

"What do you think?"

With a smile on her face Emily Prentiss leans back against the window of the large office, her gaze on the man behind the desk.

"I think it's dangerous," Clyde tells her, his thick British accent giving the words a whole new meaning. She watches closely as he gets up and crosses the room. His cold blue eyes taking in every inch of her body.

"Dangerous and reckless," he continues when he comes to a stop in front of her. His right hand already on her waist, pulling her against his chest. Closer and closer until she feels the heat that comes off his skin. "But that never stopped you before, did it, darling?"

It's not really a question, Emily knows. She doesn't dare to breathe, while he leans closer, his lips brushing hers. Giving her just a taste of what she longs for since he left her bedroom this morning.

She feels his fingers trailing down the side of her body, his lips kissing his way down her neck and making her eyelids flutter shut.

"God, Emily. You have no idea how much I love you," he breathes against her mouth before his lips come crashing down on hers.

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"For fuck's sake, Emily! It's been six months and you still have nothing we can use against Doyle? How is this even possible?"

Clyde's blue eyes are blazing with anger, he looks furious and Emily can't remember having seen him like this before. They're standing in the pouring rain, hidden in an alley in the dark streets of Milan.

"What do you want me to say?" Emily looks up at him, blinks away the raindrops from her eyelashes. Tries her best to keep her gaze steady.

Clyde scowls at her. "The truth would be a start."

He rubs his eyes tiredly and when he finally looks back at her she watches his gaze soften. His hand reaches for her face.

"Do you want me to get you out?"

It's just a question, but Emily feels her blood turn cold. Terror floods her veins. "No." She shakes her head. "Not yet." She fights the urge to look away. Wishes she could tell him the truth.

He nods. His hand warm against her cheek. His blue eyes filled with love and a longing Emily hasn't seen in months.

It's been so long, she thinks and then before she can stop herself she kisses him. Her hands cupping his face, her lips colliding with his. The two of them stumbling through the dark until they hit a wall. Clyde's hands at her waist, hoisting her up in the air like he'd done so many times before. And Emily's just glad that it's too dark for him to see that the raindrops on her face have become tears.

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It's a sunny morning when the black cars show up out of nowhere. Pulling up into the driveway of Ian Doyle's Tuscan villa, one after another. Telling Emily that it's over. That her work is done. That Lauren Reynold is about to die.

She stands there on the lawn, wondering what had happened. Wondering why she didn't even get a warning.

It isn't supposed to end like this.

I couldn't even tell them goodbye.

Two men in black suits grab her arms roughly, shove her forward in the direction of the nearest car.

Panicked she looks back up at the balcony, meets Ian's gaze one last time. Wonders if she'll ever see him again.

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The person waiting for her in town, right in front of a cheap motel, is Clyde. And without a second thought, Emily slaps him hard across the face when she steps out of the car.

He doesn't even seem surprised and Emily hates the fact that she seems to be that predictable to him. She doesn't fight him when he grabs her arm and shoves her inside the building. They cross a dark lobby, and than an even darker hallway, before Clyde finally pushes her into a room. The second the door falls shut behind them he lets go of her arm and Emily explodes into action.

She feels like she's lit on fire, yells and curses at him for everything and nothing. To her own frustration, Clyde just stares back at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

It's not until she catches a look at her own reflection in the mirror that she stops. Shocked to find Lauren Reynolds staring back at her.

It's silent, the only sound in the room her own ragged breathing. Exhausted, she finally sinks down on the bed. Stares down at her trembling hands. Thinking that they should have stopped this months ago.

"Are you done, darling?"

She looks up, meets Clyde's stare from across the room. His cold blue eyes distant, like he already knows more than he wants to. Maybe he does.

"Don't darling me," she whispers, her cheeks still flushed. Tears on the verge of spilling. "Why did you do it? No one even warned me. They just showed up and took me away. Why?"

"It wasn't my decision, Emily. I had no say in it."

It's not until later when she's alone, standing in the shower, that she allows her tears to fall. A trembling hand pressed against her mouth to muffle the sound.

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She wakes up with a cramping pain in her lower abdomen and the heavy coppery smell of blood hanging in the air. She blinks into the darkness of the room and it takes her a moment to remember that she's still in Tuscany.

She gasps at another wave of pain hits her. Blindly she reaches over to the nightstand to turn on the lights.

The first thing she realizes is that there's blood running down her bare legs. Blood soaking the white sheets tangled between her limbs. And all she can do is stare. Another wave of pain making her cringe.

"Emily?"

She blinks, startled and confused, finds Clyde sitting up on the couch at the other end of the room. "What's wrong?" He sounds alarmed and even from the distance Emily can see the horror washing over his face when he gets a look at the bloody bed sheets.

"Bloody hell," he breathes, leaping up from the couch in an instant. His phone already pressed against his ear.

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They don't talk about it. Not in the hospital, not on the jet on their flight back to London and not when they meet in his office. Yet, everything's different.

Emily wonders why she hadn't realized how much she wanted to have the baby until she lost it. She hates herself for thinking about it, but she can't stop asking herself if it would have made a difference if she had known who the father had been. If it had been Clyde's or Ian's.

And she knows Clyde wonders too. Can see it in his cold blue eyes whenever she catches him looking at her from the distance. The question eating him up from the inside. Tearing both of them further apart.

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They're in Prague, Emily, like always supposed to lure the bad guy into a trap. She's wearing a short dress, that's not much of a dress at all, along with her best "shut up and fuck me" expression on her flawless face. She hates every second of it.

She downs a glass of champagne even though she knows she shouldn't. But she adds a second and a third and is about to order a fourth when she feels a hand slip right under the hem of her dress. The heavy smell of tobacco makes her head spin. A male voice whispers something in her ear. And Emily's frozen to the spot.

She's shoved hard against the nearest wall a moment later, rough hands at the soft fabric of her dress. They talked about it. A hundred times. And she did it a hundred others. But something inside her snaps just then for the first time and she sees red.

There's a gun in her hand. A gun she levels against the guy's head before she realizes what she's doing. Someone calls out her name, tells her to stop. A voice that sounds oddly familiar, even though she can't say why. But it's too late.

There's a loud bang, a ringing in her ears and she feels herself stumbling, falling, until she hits the ground with a thud. The gun slipping from her hands.

She blinks and blinks until her sight gets clear again to find blood all over her. A dead man lying beside her on the dirty floor.

And Emily knows that her career is over.

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She finds herself staring out the window of Clyde's office the next day. Watching the raindrops run down the window pane, the dark clouds looming over London. The cup of coffee in her hands long forgotten.

"Emily."

A hand on her arm makes her turn around. Meeting Clyde's blue eyes.

"How long have you been here?" he wants to know. His brows raised in confusion. Sorrow written on his face.

Emily blinks, shrugs lightly. Places her coffee cup on the edge of his desk.

"You told me to come," she finally answers, before she looks back out of the window. "It's about yesterday, isn't it? They want me gone."

It's not really a question, Emily already knows the answer. After the mess she made the night before in that nightclub in Prague, there was just one possible outcome.

"I'm sorry, Emily."

Emily nods. "So this is the end then."

It's silent for a long time, silent except for the rain drumming against the window pane and the London traffic four stories down.

"I wish I didn't have to do this." Clyde's voice sounds heavy with sadness.

Emily nods. Feels him stepping closer from behind.

"I know," she whispers. Leaning back against his chest. Inhaling the familiar scent of his aftershave. "Me too." She closes her eyes when his arms come close around her. Wondering if he would hold her like that ever again.

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Emily's dancing. Her body moving in perfect sync with the music blaring from the speakers. There's a glass of wine in her hand and Clara in front of her. Clara, a blonde girl with sparkling green eyes and the most dazzling smile Emily's ever seen.

She has no idea what day it is, no idea what time. And it doesn't matter. Not anymore. Not since she left Interpol, not since she left London behind.

She's spinning in circles along with the girl and along with the spinning room. Laughing for the first time in what feels like forever.

Somehow the glass disappears and then both of her hands are buried in the girls blonde curls. When Emily bends forward to kiss her, the girl tastes sweet. Like cherries and cream. Her scent so delicious and intoxicating, it makes Emily feel like she's flying.

And maybe Emily thinks, maybe she is.

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She takes Clara to Italy, to France and all around the world. The money in her bank account enough for her to not worry about it. The beautiful girl the sweetest temptation on earth, her green eyes enough for Emily to make her forget everything she's ever done.

They're in Boston when Clyde shows up in front of her hotel room one night. A blonde little boy on his arm and a dark haired woman at his side.

Emily doesn't bother asking how he found out about Declan. How he managed to get him and Louise to the States. It doesn't matter anyway, the only thing that matters is to keep the boy safe. And there's no other person in the world, Emily trusts more than Clyde.

"I looked pretty good as a dead kid, didn't I?" The boy asks her hours later, grinning proudly up at her and Emily can't help but smile back at him. Silently praying that her bitten down fingernails on the pictures would be enough to let Ian know that his son was safe. That she did what she promised him after all.

"Yes, Declan. Yes, you did." She bends down pulling him against her chest. "I love you, you know that, right?" she whispers. Inhaling the scent of his bubble gum shampoo, wishing she could leave with him.

"I love you, too," the boy tells her, his small arms close around her neck. "And you'll visit, right?" His blue eyes filled with hope, when he looks at her.

"Of course I will," she tells him, even though she knows it's a lie. She doesn't even know where he's going. "As soon as possible."

She gives him a kiss, fighting back tears as she watches him run up the steps to the plane, waving back at her one last time.

She still stands there on the landing strip even when the jet is long gone and there's nothing left but the dark sky and Clyde's hand on her shoulder to remind her that it's time to go home.

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She wakes up to a voice calling her name. Someone holding her shoulders in a death grip, shaking her so roughly, she's sure she's going to be sick.

She blinks furiously, white light blinding her from above. And then there's Clyde.

"Stay with me, Em," he yells at her. "Do you hear me? Emily, stay with me!"

She wonders what he's talking about, tries to remember how she ended up on the living room floor of her apartment. But wait, no, it's not her apartment.

Where is she?

"Emily, look at me. Emily!"

And where is Clara. She'd been with her. Hadn't she? Emily blinks again, tries hard to remember. Realizes it's Clara's apartment, the dark violet walls around her finally becoming clear.

But where is she?

It's then that she hears the sirens. A wailing coming closer. And voices. So many voices, making her head hurt.

She blinks and blinks and then she spots her. The beautiful green eyed girl lying only an arm's length from her. Alarmingly pale. Her eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

"Clara?" she whispers. Her voice raspy and unfamiliar in her own ears. "Clara!" And then she's screaming, trying to get up, trying to get closer. But she can't.

It's Clyde, holding her back. And suddenly Emily remembers. The new London nightclub. White powder on a mirror. Clara looking up at her with sparkling green eyes, telling her that she loves her.

"Clara," Emily screams. Pushing her fists against Clyde's chest, begging him to let go. "Clara!" But Emily knows the girl is gone.

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She's floating in and out of consciousness. Dreaming about a dark haired boy in Rome, about a baby she never wanted. About two lives she ruined in a heartbeat.

She dreams about blue eyes, about a blonde little boy with a face like an angel. About a baby she never deserved.

She's running. Blue eyes turning green and blue again. Darkness looming all around her. Trying to swallow her.

A sweet voice whispering in her ear, telling her to stay. And another voice, a voice so familiar it makes her whole body ache, telling her to come back.

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When she opens her eyes she finds herself in a hospital room. White walls surround her. Moonlight floods the room and Clyde sits on a chair to her right. His hand softly holding hers. He looks tired. And Emily wonders how much time has passed since he found her in Clara's apartment. To her it feels like a lifetime.

"Welcome back," he whispers, his fingers brushing against her skin.

There are a million things she wants to say. A million things she wants to know. But all she manages to do is to look up at him.

"I made a few calls," he tells her. His warm hand still holding hers. "There's an apartment waiting for you in Washington D.C. along with a job at the FBI."

Emily blinks. Not sure if she heard him right.

"Washington?"

Clyde nods. Gives her a sad smile. "I heard you have family there."

Emily stares. Knows exactly what he's telling her. The only family she ever came close to having a blonde little boy, calling her Lauren.

"You're far too young to throw your life away," he adds softly before he bends down to press his lips against her forehead. His eyes filled with so much love, regret and pain, Emily's barely able to keep breathing. Silently she watches as Clyde gets to his feet.

She wants to tell him to stay, wants to tell him that she's sorry. That she always loved him, too. That a part of her always will. But she keeps seeing a boy in Rome, Ian and Declan and Clara and she thinks that nothing good ever comes with loving her. That everything she touches is doomed to die. That the only good thing she can do, is let him go.

"Take care of you, darling," she hears him whisper, before he walks out of the room and out of her life.

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...to be continued.

Disclamer: I own nothing, Everything belongs to their rightful owners

AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, that really means the world to me!And of course a big thank you goes to the amazing clairebare for beta reading!