A/N: some dialogue taken from the episodes Ambush, Contact, and Intel

This started out as a one shot, but it kind of evolved into more. I doubt this will be any more than two chapters, though

amnesty (noun) - a forgetting or overlooking of any past offense.

...

"Truth is the only safe ground to stand upon."

- Elizabeth Cady Stanton

It's an odd feeling, knowing all of the facts and bare bones about someone, but still not being sure about who they are, as a person.

Even in the wake of learning Emily's true identity, Daniel figures that there has to be some truths that remain, things that were innate to who she was, no matter what name she went by.

He recalls the way she would clean at night whenever she couldn't sleep. Or how she always seemed to be wearing white but he is pretty sure her favorite color is any shade of blue. And of course, Daniel will always remember being able to sense the kind of mood she was in by the way she kissed him, whether she was angry or upset or even feeling a little melancholy, even if she'd never tell him the full reason behind those emotions. Those are the things he believes to be true; after all, there was only so much about herself that she could fake.

(At least that's what Daniel wants to believe.)

But then again, what he doesn't know about her could probably fill the shelves of the expansive library at Grayson Manor.

He doesn't know what she wanted to be when she was little; doesn't know if she ever had the chance to imagine a life ripe with the possibility of being anything she wanted before his parents put an end to her childhood in one fell swoop.

Finding out that Emily Thorne is Amanda Clarke asks more questions than it answers and even while it fills in a few of the gaps and blanks regarding the life of his mysterious ex-wife, there is still so much that Daniel doesn't know about her.

And try as he might to fight it, there is still so much more that he wants to know.

It's probably strange — at the very least it's twisted, Daniel realizes — that, even after he learns the truth about who Emily Thorne really is, even in spite of all his anger and resentment towards her and the things she's done, Daniel still can't quite bring himself to hate her.

He hates what she did, hates that she played him for such a fool for so long. He hates that there was some merit to her lack of trust in him, that ultimately, he gave her a reason to align herself against him in her pursuit of revenge and retribution for his parents' sins. Mostly, Daniel hates that he proved himself to be a Grayson, through and through, on the night of their ill-fated wedding with the precision of two bullets aimed towards her.

(And mostly, he hates that, in spite of everything that Emily has done, he still can't stop wondering just how much of their relationship was real, or if she only ever saw him as a means to an end.)

Daniel isn't entirely sure which is fueling him to track Emily down, whether it's his desire for answers or his need for distance from the brewing battle between Emily and his mother. Even still, he can't help but feel just a little bit smug once he catches the look of surprise that briefly crosses Emily's features after the elevator doors close behind them. There's a part of him— that good old Grayson arrogance— that can't resist letting her know that he does possess the ability to get on her level.

"I don't have time for this." She's dismissive; her decision to brush him off has already been made. But Daniel finds he isn't ready to let her do that. Not yet.

"I think you do."

He's not thinking, really, when he slips his hand around her wrist to try to stop her from leaving the elevator and one of the few truly honest conversations they've ever had— probably the first. Emily lets slip another version of herself that he probably was never supposed to see; even as she out maneuvers him and twists his arm behind his back, Daniel finds himself filled with an odd sort of admiration that even his underestimation of her has layers.

"I don't have to explain anything to you."

"And I'm not asking you to," he denies, taking a step away from her.

"So why are you here, then?"

"Because in this nuclear war you have going on with my mother, the blast zone keeps getting bigger and bigger, and I really don't want to be a part of it. ...And while you're both busy plotting to make each other's lives hell, I'm trying to separate myself from my family's sins. I would think that you of all people would understand what it means to be defined by them."

Emily eyes him with a measure of apprehension. "…So keep you out of it, that's all you want?"

He nods. "That's all I want."

"Fine. Done. You won't even cross my mind." Somehow the sound of that doesn't bring him as much relief as he thought it would.

They say the opposite of love isn't hate, but indifference — unfortunately, when it comes to Emily, indifference is the last thing that Daniel feels towards her. Even after their divorce was finalized, and he was still living under the impression that Emily was just some grifter who wanted to marry into the Grayson fortune, there was still a part of him that longed for her- in spite of it all. (It was only his wounded pride that kept him from allowing anyone else to know just how much he still missed her.)

Somehow, knowing the truth about who she is and what she's come from has forced him to change perspective, forced him to see things in a way that he'd never really considered before.

This was the ultimate truth: revealing her identity; and ironically enough, it served as a mirror for Daniel to find out who he really was, at the bottom of the hour, when it really counted. And he held that mirror up to face himself and the shame he felt, however delayed and suppressed it had been until now, was almost overwhelming.

He's known a portion of the truth — that his parents had made a choice years ago: that they could either take responsibility for the downing of Flight 197 or set up someone else to take the fall — for a long time now. And for almost that same amount of time, Daniel had dismissed it; because David Clarke was dead and buried and, as far as he knew, his daughter, Amanda, was a lost cause.

The night that Daniel's father sat him down and told him about what they did to David (and, by extension, his daughter) Daniel was given a choice. And so he chose upholding a false legacy over integrity because it was easier to hide than to face what it really means to be a Grayson: that surviving is all that matters, no matter the consequences, no matter who gets destroyed in the process. The ends will always justify the means for a Grayson, as long as it means getting through another day without having to face the reality of their cowardice.

But Daniel doesn't have the luxury of hiding anymore. He's out of places to hide from his sins and those of his family, and he has Emily to thank for that. There's a part of him that's angry about her lies and deception, and yet another (larger) part of him that's relieved for it all to be over, the secrets and the lies, for everything to be out in the open.

He's relieved that he can breathe again.

He was different, before that night — they were different — and looking back on that time between him and Emily now, without his ego blocking his vision, Daniel can't believe he didn't see it before. There was a difference between the woman who said yes to his proposal during a summer storm with tears in her eyes and no concern for the rain ruining her dress or matting her curls and the Emily who, a year later, said yes as though she were merely holding up her end of a business transaction.

But now he knows the truth: he couldn't see it then because he didn't want to.

We throw parties and give ourselves awards to cover up the truth: that we're not special. We're cowards. It wasn't pretty, but it was the truth and once Daniel learned of who Emily was, who she really was, the realization that he was never really close to being as good of a man as he would like to be or thought he was— that he was actually closer to being more like his father than being different (better) than him— is what Daniel thinks hurts him the most.

Well, almost.

("…No matter what happens between us — whether we last a week, a year, ten years, forever — I'll always be honest with you.")

"…Was any of it real?" he wonders out loud, wanting to know, needing to know.

"Nothing comes to mind," she retorts, her tone almost light and airy. Except that she hasn't looked him in the eye from the moment he stepped onto this elevator with her and when he asks her about the night that he proposed — the first time — he only just catches the look of vulnerability in her eyes before she blinks and then it's gone. Deflection is just another one of her vices, apparently, and even in an enclosed space with no doors, no windows, and no exits, Emily does everything she can to avoid him.

"What about when I proposed to you the first time?"

"Daniel—" She shakes her head, keeping her gaze directed towards the floor.

"You can't tell me you weren't with me in that moment," he insists, "that it wasn't real between us."

He honestly doesn't know why he's pushing this— there was a time not that long ago when he practically cursed the name "Emily Thorne" on a daily basis. But Charlotte's revelation that "Emily Thorne" is actually, in fact, Amanda Clarke changed that sentiment almost overnight, affecting him in a way that he never would have anticipated. Daniel knows that he should be running away from his ex-wife, a wrecking ball in human form. He knows that any sane, logical person would be doing all that they could to get away from her after getting news like that.

(But as usual when it comes to Emily, Daniel's interest is never fully satisfied, his curiosity is never completely sated; he's always found himself wanting to know more.)

"Okay, fine. You want to know the truth? The truth is that there may have been a time where my feelings for you were genuine, but any chance of us having anything real went out the door the moment you aligned yourself with your father - even after he told you the truth about Flight 197, that he and your mother did everything within their power to make sure that it was my father who went down for it."

He doesn't know what to say to that, exactly.

His breath catches in his throat at the ferocity of her words, the intensity in her eyes. A halting "I'm sorry," slips out of his mouth, but it seems so...inadequate. And incomplete.

"For what?" she asks flippantly. "You only ever did what was expected of you."

The truth, that he apparently lived up to Emily's already low expectations of him, stings in spite of the fact that, deep down, it's something Daniel already knew to be true about himself.

Still, in spite of all the anger and resentment that still exists between them, Daniel finds that he still can't quite bring himself to regret her.

He does regret that his and Emily's lives seemed to have been predetermined by his parents' actions and the choices they've made— in spite of how those choices would affect the lives of the people around them. He regrets that because of his father's decisions and his mother's cowardice, Emily never stood a chance at having anything close to resembling a normal life (and in turn, they never really had a chance, either). What he regrets the most is time wasted and missed opportunities.

And he's starting to think that he's had enough regrets to last a lifetime.

Curiosity gets the best of him and, without really giving it much thought, Daniel allows his feet to take him down a path he's probably walked a hundred times before— the same path that he had, at one point not too long ago, resolutely swore that he never would walk down again.

As he walks towards Emily's beach house, he finds that it's not regret that's fueling his actions this time and he's no longer blinded by hatred, either. No, instead, Daniel finds that he is filled with an inexplicable longing, and an overwhelming need to know (more, why, how) that has been guiding most of his decisions lately, causing him to actively seek Emily out— rather than doing the expected and sensible thing to do, which would be to avoid her at all cost.

(Then again, he's never really been all that good at staying away from her.)

"…I'm having a distinct feeling of déjà vu right about now," he says by way of announcing himself once he catches sight of her, partially facing away from him and standing on her porch, seeming to be in deep thought.

"Daniel," she exhales through a sigh, turning to face him more fully. Oddly enough, she doesn't seem too surprised to see him here. "...I thought we had a deal, and that you were gonna stay out of this."

"We do, and I am," he insists, to which she raises an eyebrow in disbelief. He puts his hands up in a motion of 'surrender', conceding to a momentary ceasefire. "Look, I don't want to fight with you, Emily," he admits softly, finding that it's strangely true.

She narrows her eyes for a moment before nodding her head in acceptance. "Okay, then, why are you here?"

"Honestly?"

She nods, waiting for him to continue. "I was feeling a little guilty about not visiting my mother in the hospital, so I started walking but only made it as far as this beach. I looked over, saw you, and…curiosity got the best of me," he surmises with a shrug.

"Well, now that your curiosity is satisfied, you can go. The hospital's only a few miles that way," she dismisses, pointing in the direction from which he came. But, instead of following her direction, Daniel climbs the stairs leading up to the porch and stands beside her, mirroring her stance by leaning against the porch railing. Emily swipes quickly at her cheeks, keeping her head down, but he's close enough to notice her slightly reddened eyes before she looks away again.

"Wait a minute, are you crying because my mother survived?" he asks, not entirely sure himself if he's joking or not. "I heard you made it to the hospital. You wanted to see your handiwork?"

"No," she denies with a slight smirk that she tries to hide. "Only karma can claim responsibility for that."

"So what is this about then?" he asks, referring to the tears she tried to hide from him. Emily bit down on her bottom lip and suddenly it clicked. "Oh. You finally told your father the truth, didn't you?" Her continued silence is the answer he needs. "Listen, I know firsthand that you can fake tears, but I bet real ones don't come easy." He ignores her quiet scoff in response to his observation.

"What's your point?"

"You had expectations and… whether he meant to or not, your father failed to meet them." I can relate, he thinks. "You dedicated your entire life to avenging a father you barely knew. What exactly did you expect to happen?"

"I don't know! Maybe I expected to at least have a chance to get to know him or—" Emily cuts herself off with a quick shake of the head, trying (and failing) to mask her frustration and disappointment. "Something."

She used to be better at hiding herself from him, Daniel recalls. But maybe this is the difference between the facade that he knew and the woman who exists underneath it.

"…But, hey, at least I had the guts to stand up to your vile mother," she suddenly digs at him. Daniel looks up in surprise and annoyance. "Something you never had the courage to do."

"You always did try to save me from her."

"And you just kept crawling back."

"Says the girl who's practically obsessed with her." Emily scoffs a denial, shaking her head. She moves towards the steps, once again ready to walk out on another conversation with him that she's deemed too much of a hassle to actually finish.

He doesn't know who he's more annoyed with: her, for walking away again, or himself, for allowing the fact that she's walking away to get under his skin. "Oh, so that's it, is it? One fight with Dad and you're giving up? Okay, great. Well, glad to know the hell you put me through was all for nothing. What a waste."

She whirls back around to face him at that, apparently no longer in desperate need of a fast escape. "Oh, screw you, Daniel," she snaps. "You have no idea what your family put me and my father through."

"Of course not!" he rails, frustration bleeding through his voice. "How could I possibly have known? You never gave me the chance. For the three years that I've known you— thought that I knew you — you haven't told me a single real thing about yourself. There's never been a level playing field between us."

"That is not true—"

"Isn't it? So, tell me, do I just call you Amanda from now on?" he demands, to which she responds with silence and a clenched jaw. "...For god's sake, Emily, I don't even know your real birthday."

"So, what, you think if you did know, then we would still be together? You're not that naive."

"...No," he answers hesitantly. "But maybe we would've had a shot at something real. Then again, that's not what you wanted. I mean, we were doomed from the start, weren't we?"

"What do you want from me, Daniel?" It's the question of the hour; the same thing he's been asking himself for a while now. But he has yet to come up with an answer that makes any sense.

"I don't know. I just know that I regret the way we ended up... the things I said and did and the person I turned into. ...I don't know if you can say the same."

There is a moment where Emily looks caught, almost as if she's about to reveal something, but she shakes her head and it's gone. "...Does it matter?" she deflects instead. Of course. He shouldn't have expected anything more to come from this.

"Guess not," he returns with a shake of his head. He starts to walk back down the porch stairs, making his way back down the path he'd come.

"...I don't regret doing what needed to be done to clear my father's name," she calls out to his back. He turns around just as Emily admits, quietly, "...But I am sorry for hurting you."

Daniel can only nod. While he'll admit that it hurts a little - okay, if he's being honest, more than a little - to hear that Emily has no regrets about the actions she took, he's glad that she can be honest with him now. He hadn't realized how much he needed it.

"You know, for what it's worth," he acknowledges, "I am, too."

He guesses, for now, that will have to be enough.

He finally takes his mother's call and accepts her request to come visit, Emily's words playing in the back of his mind for the duration of their talk. "At least I had the guts to stand up to your vile mother."

Daniel tells his mother that he only wants distance and she responds in kind, making a play for an old favorite of hers: emotional blackmail in the form of a thinly veiled attempt at reverse psychology.

Unfortunately for Victoria, Daniel has long since stopped being in denial about who his mother is, the woman who exists beyond the careful facade she's hidden behind throughout his life. There's also the fact that Emily's secret revealed more than just the truth about her nature — it also unveiled so much more dark truths about his mother. And Daniel will never forget that she's the one who set this in motion decades ago, the moment she sold out the man she claimed to love and framed him as a terrorist, all to remain on top of the Grayson throne.

"You were wrong, you know. I'm not alone," Victoria informs him, quietly triumphant. "I have David."

But Daniel isn't convinced. "...Really? Even now, after he's reunited with Emily?"

"You keep waiting for blow-back, Daniel, but it hasn't happened."

"Hasn't happened yet you mean," he corrects.

"And it won't. I know that this started out as revenge, but I do love David, and I will do anything to make him happy... even if it means being a doting stepmother."

"So what are we talking here? Christmas at the beach house?" he replies with a sneer. His mother's delusions know no bounds. "You'll make the ham?"

"If that's what it takes. I almost died, Daniel. And I am sick of being miserable. I want peace and a new life with David."

"So, that's why you're here," he surmises, realization dawning. Of course. She needs something. "You want me to fall in line to help aid your lie and complete your twisted Norman Rockwell?"

"It is not a lie—"

"Fantasy, then."

Victoria looks at him with narrowed eyes, her mouth set into a firm line. "I won't beg, Daniel but you are my son and I want you in my life no matter what."

"Look, I am telling you right now that what you have with David can't last. Your whole relationship is built on lies. He'll eventually choose Emily, and she will destroy you before she lets you become a part of David's life. She all but told me last night."

"So, you want distance from me, but you're speaking to Emily now? What was that about a "relationship built on lies"?" she demands, almost snidely, tossing his own critique back at him.

"I'm not trying to get back together with Emily," Daniel insists and while it may be technically true, something about the statement feels off, in a way. He shifts in his seat out of discomfort, more than ready for this conversation to be over.

"Well, I have lost everyone: Patrick, Charlotte... even you, it seems. I will not lose David, too."

Daniel sighs, feeling as resigned as much as she seems to be determined. "Well, mother, then I guess all I can say is: May the best woman win."

I know I'm rooting for her.

Daniel is sitting at the bar of the new beach club — which is apparently now owned by Nolan Ross— mulling over the conversations he's had with his mother and Emily, respectively and all of the events that have transpired from the day Emily spilled that drink on his jacket, up until he learned the truth behind just how interwoven their lives really were.

He thinks of his mother and David; wonders if a man who'd been to hell and back could honestly find it within himself to forgive the woman who put him there. He then thinks of his own actions lately, which have been a contradiction to his strong insistence on not wanting to be around Emily and her revenge schemes, when he notices her sliding into the seat next to his. Speak of the devil.

She meets his gaze, acknowledging the drink in front of him (and the two empty glasses next to it) with a barely raised eyebrow and a slight nod. "Rough night?" she asks, her expression and tone unreadable. "What are you doing here?"

Daniel shrugs. "I'm just here, drinking to my sad life. ...And to our parents, who I'm starting to believe just might actually be in love," he says with a smirk. He raises a glass of scotch in a half-assed salute. He's not drunk, but he's always been a bit more blunt after he's had some scotch.

"Oh please," Emily dismisses. "You don't really believe that?"

He shakes his head, but other than that doesn't really give a response. He's not sure if he even really believes what he's saying or if he's just trying to get a reaction out of her. (That does seem to be his default setting these days.)

"...You look good," he says instead of giving her an answer. It's a compliment and an accusation rolled in one. "You going out on a date? Want me to call the poor guy and read him his last rites?"

She scoffs lightly, putting down her drink. She's halfway finished already and idly Daniel wonders if there's any correlation between that and whatever scheme she has planned for tonight. He wonders if it still bothers her— playing a role of deceit in order to get what she wants— or if she's long since shut off that part of herself, rendering it nonexistent. "You know, I'm really not in the mood to be doing whatever this is that we've been doing lately, so—"

"Oh, what? You mean having honest conversations, probably for the first time in... ever? Yeah, that sucks. You know, I think I'm finally starting to realize why we didn't work out."

"Really?" she demands, though not unkindly.

"We're the same," he continues instead.

She laughs, a sound as genuine as the scoff of disbelief that follows. "You and I are nothing alike."

"Come on; we are! You may not want to believe it but, yeah, we are. I mean, we're both stubborn as hell and we both use people to get what we want without giving a damn about who gets hurt in the process."

He can't tell if she's simply surprised by his assessment of them (of her, really) or if she believes there's any truth to his words. "...That is not who I am."

"Oh, but it is. I see you, Emily," he insists, watching as Emily seems to shift uneasily in response. "So tell me, who are you hurting these days? You know what— I'll go first. So Margaux, the best woman I've been with in years, no offense," he adds hastily, though once again he's not sure if he means it or if he's just trying to get under her skin. He knows his feelings for Margaux have always seemed to be tame in comparison to whatever he felt for Emily and that certainly hasn't changed. "Well, she wants nothing more to do with me because I'm an ass."

Emily scoffs lightly. "Well, we're not friends, Daniel, so I'm not gonna prop you up and tell you to go fight for Margaux. Besides," she adds, bringing her drink to her lips, "you don't fight for anything."

"Huh. Ouch." He's unprepared for the brief sting he feels at her seemingly casual and detached assessment of him. But as his mind recalls the night she called off their engagement the first time around— and the lack of protest he gave when she handed him the ring back in spite of his gut, mind, and heart all screaming at him not to take it— he has to admit she's right.

"Yeah, well, 'I see you,' too." She stands up to leave but this time when he slips his hand around hers, gently this time, to stop her from leaving, she doesn't pull away. "Hey, Em." Instead she looks at him, an expression in her eyes that Daniel can't quite interpret.

"...You know," he continues, "you really do look pretty tonight...which makes me think that means you're up to something. I just hope that, whoever he is, the poor guy isn't wearing his heart on his sleeve. Because if he is, trust me, you'll use it against him."

Later that night, there's a knock on his hotel room door.

"Emily." Her name leaves his lips in the form of both a statement and a question all at once.

She's certainly not the first person he's expecting to see when he opens the door, but Daniel can admit - to himself, at least - that Emily is not an unwelcome sight, either.

He doesn't know what it is that they've been doing lately, wouldn't be able to define what's been happening between them if anyone were to ask him; but in spite of everything, his curiosity about where this is headed outweighs whatever caution and apprehension he should probably have about her being here.

"Mind if I come in?"

Despite his immediate instinct to say yes and give in, he waits, choosing instead to ask her, "What are you doing here?"

She shrugs, shifting her stance and leaning against the doorway; as she appears to be weighing her answer, she also almost seems...nervous. "…Curiosity got the best of me," she says softly, echoing his sentiment from a few nights ago.

Daniel nods and gestures for her to come in, though there's a split second of hesitation before she complies. Her bare shoulder brushes against his chest as she walks past him and further into the suite to sit next to him on the couch.

"So why did you really come here?" he has to (needs to) ask her again, because her motives are never clear.

She doesn't answer outright. "Something that you said earlier kind of…stuck with me," she admits reluctantly. "Even though I kind of wish that it hadn't."

"And what was that?

"'...I just hope the poor guy isn't wearing his heart on his sleeve. Because if he is, you'll use it against him,' " she parrots his words back to him. "I know that's what you think I did with you—"

"Isn't it?"

"Maybe the first time around," Emily admits, "and if I'm being completely honest? I hated it. ...When we first met, you were nothing like I thought you'd be. Nothing like what I imagined the son of the people who destroyed my father and his legacy, my life, to be like. You were just—"

"...Easily manipulated?" he supplies, only half serious.

"You were kind," she says instead, bringing her head up to meet his gaze. And the compassionate shine in her eyes catches him off guard. "I wasn't prepared for that. I'd accounted for everything else. But then I met you and I thought that maybe there was a way to get to them without using you... but things changed."

"I changed, you mean."

"We both did." Emily is sitting beside him on the couch, the mood between them considerably softer than it's been recently, the air charged with an energy Daniel feels resonating with something somewhere deep inside of him. He's very aware of how close they are to each other, and the inch of space there is between the curve of her hip and the outside of his thigh.

Daniel takes a breath and looks away from her, trying to get his bearings. "But I guess it doesn't really matter anyway, right? Since I was just a cover - an easy way to get to my parents?"

"...that's not all that you were, Daniel, you know that."

"Do I?"

"...Yes." She looks up at him, then. This is the part that's the same, Daniel realizes, the part that is, apparently, the one thing that Emily and Amanda seem to have in common: the way her eyes seem to speak before she does— how they seem to say all of the things she won't allow herself to admit out loud.

And then there's the difference, which seems to exist in the vulnerability and raw honesty that has appeared more often in the last few conversations he's had with Emily recently than what he's sure is the entirety of their relationship— especially the second time around.

(Still, it's at least mildly comforting to know that he does know a part of her, after all.)

She still hasn't moved from her spot beside him, but she doesn't pull away from him either.

He's not sure when it happened, when exactly the space between them went from minimal to nonexistent. But it happens, almost in slow motion, it seems. "…this is probably a bad idea," he whispers, referring to the diminished distance between them. He feels his heartbeat quicken, wonders if it's loud enough for her to hear.

"Probably," Emily agrees with a quick nod, even as she leans forward and presses her lips to his. Daniel doesn't do anything to stop her, as her arms find their way around his neck to pull him closer. He feels no resistance from her as he grasps her face in his hands, then buries them in her hair as he fervently kisses her back.

He's overwhelmed by contradicting emotions: the desire for her that he's always felt and apprehension about her reason for being here. He knows what she said, knows what she told him, but there is still a lingering sense of doubt between them, a fleeting thought about the other's true intentions.

But then a moan escapes her as his tongue meets hers, making it all too easy for him to push those doubts to the back of his mind and focus instead on pulling her tighter against him.

-/-