sharp corners, but softer edges.

emily was stuck at work for longer than she wanted to be. this case was stressing her out, more than she’d like to admit. it was a normal case. so in reality, it wasn’t the case. it was the little girl in the frames on her desk she kept glancing at. saturdays were her and aria days. days where work didn’t come in the middle of them having all day together, yet here she was. stuck. 

she got off around four. jj sent her pictures all day, knowing emily would want them. making sure emily knew that aria was okay. she told her every time she ate, texted her about her nap, even let emily know that she gave sergio two rounds of treats because ‘he’s looking at me weird’. 

but once she was home. once she had aria in her arms, and thanked jj for her help. she felt better. her and aria had dinner together after jj went home, even though aria whined for her to stay - emily also secretly wanted her to stay, but told aria that jj needed to go do things. she wasnt sure that was true, but she didn’t want to feel like an obligation. she told aria she could have buttered noodles, and that seemed to fix her whining about ‘my jayje’ pretty quick. 

after dinner, the routine is familiar. steady and predictable.

aria climbs into a chair at the table after emily frees her from her high chair, reaching for her wooden puzzle without being told. her tiny fingers work through the shapes, twisting them until they fit, her brows slightly furrowed in concentration. emily moves around the kitchen, washing dishes, drying them, and setting them back in their places.

it’s normal. but after? after, it’s not straight to the bath. she’s implementing the new things.

emily takes a slow breath, grabbing the small stack of flashcards from the counter, the ones jj picked up, and the ones jj spent at least two hours making by hand earlier that afternoon from the pictures she had printed out of of people and places aria knows well. emily was blown away when she first saw them, how much care was put into them. 

when she walks back to the table, aria is still focused on her puzzle, her little fingers turning a triangle over and over before finally slotting it into place. emily doesn’t rush her, doesn’t interrupt. she just sits across from her, setting the cards down gently on the table.

aria notices the movement, her big brown eyes lifting briefly, her gaze flicking between the cards and emily before looking back at her puzzle. she doesn’t say anything, but emily sees it, the curiosity.

emily leans forward, keeping her voice soft, even, familiar.

“want to play another game, bug? flashcards like you did with jayje?”

aria’s fingers pause on the puzzle piece, her tiny body stilling as she considers it. she glances at the cards again, then back at emily – and nods.

emily smiles, encouraging, and picks up the first card.

“okay,” she says gently, flipping it over. “who’s this, baby?”

it’s a picture of sergio, curled up on the couch, his tail flicking in the air. aria’s eyes brighten slightly, but she doesn’t speak. instead, she reaches out, tapping the card lightly with her little finger - then smiles. 

“sergy.”

emily grins, nodding. 

“that’s sergy, huh?” she says, keeping her voice gentle. “our big sleepy cat.”

she flips the next card., a picture of blue from blues clues. the show emily is sure she can quote now at gun point, and often catches herself singing the mail song randomly. 

aria’s head tilts and giggles a bit. 

“boo.”

“blue!” emily offers softly. “you love watching blue, huh?”

aria nods quickly, shifting in her seat. emily pulls out another card, knowing aria is just an engaged as she was with these cards last night. 

this one is different. this one is jj. a picture of her holding aria, the one emily had snapped at the park when jj wasn’t paying attention—when aria had been giggling in her arms, gripping onto her jacket like she belonged there.

aria stares at the card, her little fingers pausing mid-air before speaking out once more.

“my jayje.”

emily feels something tighten in her chest, but she pushes it down, nodding, keeping her smile steady.

“yeah, baby. that’s your jj.”

aria doesn’t say anything else in that moment, but she presses her little palm against the card, smoothing her fingers over the image. like she’s holding onto it, like she’s comforted by it - and god does that make emily’s stomach fill with butterflies. she moves on, flipping another card. 

its a picture of emily.  it isn’t a perfect picture. it isn’t one she posed for, isn’t one she even knew existed if she's being honest. she assumes jj snapped it when she wasn’t looking. it’s a moment caught in between—one where she had been sitting on the ground with aria curled up in her lap at the park. talking to her with that soft, rare smile she doesn’t even realize she makes when she looks at aria. a moment where aria had been fully at ease, tucked into emily’s side, her little fingers gripping at the hem of emily’s sleeve.

it was natural. them. and now, it’s here, printed on paper, placed between them on the table - reminding aria its okay to speak. its okay to take time to figure out her words again when they feel a little too hard to say. emily watches aria carefully, notices the way her little brows knit slightly, her big brown eyes scanning the picture, lingering on the details.

aria lifts a small, hesitant hand, her fingers barely brushing the edge of the paper as a smile spreads across her face. 

“emmy.”

the way she says it—soft, warm, familiar—hits emily right in the chest.

emily smile mirrors hers as she smooths her hand over aria’s dark curls, tucking a few strands behind her tiny ear.

“yeah, baby,” she murmurs, a little nod. “that’s emmy.”

aria’s fingers stay pressed against the picture, smoothing over it like it’s something important. emily lets her have the moment, lets her take in whatever she’s processing, before she finally shifts, pressing a kiss to the top of aria’s head.

“okay, bug,” she says, her voice still gentle, still easy. “bath time.”

she lifts aria into her arms, balancing her on her hip as she carries her down the hall toward the bathroom. aria doesn’t squirm like she sometimes does, doesn’t ask to be put down so she can run ahead and turn on the faucet herself. she just clings, her small hands gripping onto emily’s shirt, bunny tucked between them, her tiny face pressed into emily’s shoulder.

emily feels it— the way aria’s body is softer tonight, more tucked in, more seeking than usual. it makes something ache inside her - because she knows aria missed her today, and this week? is apparrently the week for experiencing every type of mom guilt at once. 

she just presses another kiss to aria’s hair, lets her stay curled against her, and steps into the bathroom. she flicks on the light, lets the soft yellow glow fill the small space, the warmth immediate. aria lifts her head slightly, her eyes scanning the room, her grip on emily loosening just a little. emily kneels in front of the tub, turns on the faucet, letting the warm water start to fill it, steam curling up into the air.

aria stays close, standing right next to emily, her little bunny still tucked under one arm, fingers twisting into the soft fabric of her pajama shirt - watching the water fill the tub like she always does. 

emily reaches out, gently, starting to peel away the fabric, the soft cotton of aria’s pajamas slipping up over her belly.

but then aria’s small hands move, her fingers pressing against the fabric, holding it down, her big brown eyes lifting to emily’s face with an expression so hesitant, so uncertain, so worried that it stops emily completely. she wants to ask her a question - emily knows that look in her eyes. 

then, her voice comes. soft.

“emmy baf too?”

it’s a question, but it’s also so much more. it’s a plea. its her saying ‘i missed you, i need to be close to you. please?’ 

emily stills, her hands resting against aria’s sides, her chest tightening as she looks down at her daughter. aria’s brows are furrowed upward, that look of deep, unspoken concern, the one that makes her look far too small for such big emotions.

this isn’t just about the bath. this is about what’s changed over the past few months, weeks - days, even. this is about needing to be sure of something—to be certain that emily is still there, still close, still hers.

she doesn’t hesitate. doesn’t let aria sit in that uncertainty for even a second longer than necessary.

“yeah, baby,” she murmurs, pressing a firm, reassuring kiss into aria’s forehead. “emmy’s gonna take a bath too.”

aria relaxes instantly. her fingers loosen from her pajama top, her little shoulders drop, her body sinking into relief. emily turns back to the faucet, making sure the water is warm, not too hot, not too cold, and steadies herself. then, she strips them both down, setting their clothes aside, and lifts aria into the tub first. aria immediately reaches for her, her hands grasping at emily’s arms, wanting to stay close, even as she settles into the warmth of the water. emily climbs in behind her, pulling aria into her lap, letting her small body melt against her, the steam curling around them like a cocoon of warmth.

aria’s little fingers fidget against emily’s skin, tracing small, absent-minded patterns on her arm.

her breathing is calmer now. her body loose, relaxed. safe. aria always gets clingy when she’s sleepy and winding down. she always wants to be close. but emily knows, this is a little bit more than just that. so she comes at it with the upmost care. 

she presses a soft kiss to the top of her head, rubbing slow circles along aria’s back.

“you’re okay, baby,” she whispers, her voice soft against aria’s hair. “i’ve got you. i missed you today, so much. im sorry i had to go work.”

aria lets out a tiny, sleepy hum, her fingers loosening, her small head tipping slightly against emily’s chest. and for the first time all day— emily feels like she can breathe again, too. no cases. no emails. no worrying if she’s put too much on jj or has made aria worry she’s abandoned her due to messing with their schedule. 

emily leans back against the porcelain, letting the heat sink into her muscles, letting her arms rest loosely around aria’s small frame. aria is soft against her, her tiny body molded into emily’s lap, her fingers still fidgeting lightly against emily’s skin, tracing small, absent-minded shapes along her arm. her breathing has slowed, her shoulders no longer tucked up tight, her little legs stretched out, her toes just barely brushing the other side of the tub.

“did you have fun with jj today?” emily mumbled, gently wetting aria’s hair with each light stroke. “she told me you conned her out of an apple sauce pouch, y’know..”

she can feel aria smile against her collar bone, before she pressed her palms against emily’s chest to sit up. she nodded. 

“appuhhtauce.”

emily grins, a laugh slipping out. “yes, correct. applesauce.”

aria nods again, and emily imagines that little corporate voice aria must speak with in her head sometimes. like, ‘yeah, prentiss. correct, i did get my applesauce. two of them actually, because i conned my jayje’s friend out of another with my mind powers’.

the toddler sits up a bit more and turns a bit. emily doesn’t move, just watches as aria’s big brown eyes scan the bath, taking in the floating toys, her fingers twitching slightly, like she’s making a decision. and then, finally—she reaches out, her small hand dipping into the water, fingers wrapping around one of the floating rubber ducks.

a big, yellow duck, the one she always plays with. the one that usually gets involved in dramatic splashing battles, or becomes the victim of an imaginary sea rescue mission. aria holds it in both hands, studying it for a second, before reaching again—this time, for a much smaller duck, one that barely fits in her palm.

she clutches them both, her wet fingers gripping tightly, before she finally turns toward emily, big brown eyes blinking up at her, face still soft with leftover drowsiness.

aria stares at her for a second, then—she holds out the big duck. offers it to emily. her smallest, quietest little way of inviting her in. where she doesn’t have to say a word; but knows emily understands her. 

emily feels her chest tighten, a warmth spreading deep inside her, because this is so much more than a toy. this is aria reaching out, without speaking – knowing that this is okay too. this is aria choosing to share something with her, something small but significant, something that, to her, means this is safe. this is okay. this is ours. words or no words, its okay. if you have to leave sometimes, you’ll come back, and this will still be ours at the end of the day. 

emily keeps her voice steady, soft, easy, as she reaches out and takes it from her.

“for me, bug?”

aria nods, tiny but certain, her small hand still clutched around the little duck. emily smiles, tilting her head slightly, lifting the duck just enough to tap it lightly against aria’s small one, a tiny, gentle boop between them.

aria blinks as her lips curl up slightly, a soft giggle leaving her body. the soft sound of water rippling fills the space as well, as aria moves her tiny hands through it, gripping the small rubber duck she picked out for herself.

emily holds her own, the bigger duck, feeling the warmth of it in her palm as she watches aria carefully. aria stares down at the two toys, tilting her head slightly, her soft, damp curls falling across her forehead. she looks thoughtful, the way she always does when she’s piecing something together, her little brows furrowing in that prentiss way that emily recognizes too well.

then without hesitating, aria reaches out, her small fingers tapping against the duck in emily’s hand. her voice is soft, barely more than a breath.

“mommy.”

emily freezes, her fingers tighten slightly around the rubber duck, her whole chest tightening with it. but before she can process it, aria points at her own duck. the smaller one, the one she picked for herself.

“bayybee.”

her voice is quieter this time, her big brown eyes finally lifting to meet emily’s, checking, as if confirming emily understands. and then, just to drive it home, aria nods once, slow and certain, before turning her attention back to her tiny duck, fully accepting the roles she has set for them.

emily’s heart stops because this? this is more than a game. this is more than a toddler assigning roles to bath toys, more than a simple moment of play. this is real, and to emily? it's on a completely different level. this is exactly who they are now.

emily isn’t just her sister anymore. emily is her mother now, and somehow, someway, aria knows it. maybe not fully, maybe not in the official legal sense or in the way adults process things—but in the way she feels it. in the way she reaches for emily first when she’s scared. in the way she clings to her, the way she seeks her comfort, safety, home. in the way she knows, without having to be told, that emily is the one who will always be there.

emily swallows, hard, forcing down the sudden lump in her throat, blinking back the sting behind her eyes.

“oh, bug.”

it’s all she can manage, her voice coming out thicker than she intended, barely above a whisper.

aria doesn’t notice. she’s too focused now, lifting her little duck, bouncing it slightly on the surface of the water, making soft, humming sounds as she makes it move. emily watches her, watches the way she’s so deliberate, the way she’s so sure of the roles she’s placed them in, how it’s just that simple to her.

“mommy,” she murmurs again, nudging emily’s duck slightly, glancing up once more before looking back down, as if she’s finalizing something.

“bayybee.”

a statement now. not a question. not a suggestion. just truth.

emily doesn’t argue, doesn’t correct her. doesn’t say no, baby, i’m your big sister too or no, you still have a mother somewhere else technically if we’re talking biological terms, not me — because none of that is true anymore. and god, even if it were, she doesn’t think she could bring herself to say it.

because she has always been aria’s mom. she just has the legal paperwork now.

so instead, she lifts her own duck, mirroring aria’s movements, letting it drift in the water alongside hers.

“okay, baby.”

aria hums, pleased, as if satisfied with emily’s cooperation, as if she knew she was right all along. they play like that for a few minutes, aria letting out soft, tiny hums, guiding her little duck toward emily’s, pressing their little heads together like they were nuzzling.

her eyes stay focused, her small fingers delicate but certain, her breath even now, calm. and emily just follows her lead, lets her dictate the rhythm, lets her set the pace, because this?

this is comfort. this is trust. this is her daughter, telling her exactly who they are.

aria is safe. here, in the warm bath, in the quiet of their home, in emily’s arms—she is safe. and not just safe in the physical way. but safe in the barest, most exposed way.

emotionally. mentally. her little body is bare in the water, yes, but it’s more than that—she is fully herself, her emotions free, her thoughts unfiltered, her feelings trusted in the hands of the one person who will never, ever hurt her on purpose.

she doesn’t have to hold back here. she never has to hide herself with emily. aria is more than okay, and it shows.

aria continues to let out the quiet hums she makes as she moves the tiny duck across the water, bobbing it up and down, watching it float gently beside emily’s. but then, the duck tips slightly, the way bath toys always do, rolling slightly onto its side.

aria’s brows furrow, her tiny fingers grabbing it quickly, righting it again - and then, just as quickly, she makes the smallest whimpering sound, a tiny, fake cry, high-pitched and soft, but distinctly sad.

“m-mommyyy.”

it’s a tiny whine, drawn out, her little lips pouting slightly as she makes the baby duck wobble again, like it’s struggling. emily pauses, watching. aria’s eyes flick up to her, checking, waiting. emily? she doesn’t hesitate, she plays along.

“oh no!” emily gasps softly, lifting her bigger duck and making it waddle toward aria’s, gently tapping them together. “what’s wrong, baby?”

aria perks up immediately, her tiny fingers clutching the small duck a little tighter, her chocolate brown eyes brightening at emily’s response.

“b-baybee in da’ wa’er!” she exclaims, her little voice rushed, lisp peeking through as she wiggles her duck dramatically, flailing its tiny plastic wings - as if ducks can’t swim, but that’s not the point. “uh-oh! oh nooo, mommy, baybee faww down!”*

emily gasps again, the warmth of it all settling deep in her chest, because god— this is the first time in a while that aria has let go enough to play fully the last few days. to create something. to engage fully in a way that’s just hers.

so she leans in, playing her part.

“oh no! baby, are you okay?” emily makes her duck bob, bringing it closer, nudging aria’s little duck with just enough urgency to match her energy. aria beams, fully in the moment now, her tiny body wiggling with excitement as she nods furiously, her little voice pitching higher with her next words.

“m-mommy, baybee neeeeds yous! baybee ssscared!”

her little s’s slip into soft lisps, her words running together, but god, they are so full of feeling. and emily? she doesn’t dare falter her play, she is just as engaged. 

“oh no, baby, don’t be scared!” she coos, making her duck tap against aria’s, “pulling” the baby duck closer, mimicking a tiny rescue. “mommy’s got you. it’s okay now, baby.”*

aria squeals softly, the lightest giggle slipping through, and she lets her little duck snuggle against emily’s, pressing them together as if to say—“yes. this is right. this is how it should be.”

emily sees it. feels it. the way aria’s tiny shoulders relax even more, the way she leans into her, the way she is so at home here. so safe in her play, so sure of emily’s role in this—of their roles in everything. aria nods once, tiny but certain, lifting her big brown eyes back up toward emily’s.

“baybee safe now,” she says simply, declarative, as if it’s not even a question, as if it’s just truth.

emily’s chest tightens, because fuck, this is more than a bath. more than a silly little game. this is her baby, finding comfort in the one thing that will never change for her.

emily presses a kiss into her damp curls, holding her just a little tighter, feeling the warmth of her little body pressed against her own.

“yeah, bug,” she whispers, voice soft and unwavering. “baby is safe now.”

aria yawns, long and slow, her tiny brow raising in that distinct prentiss way—the one emily has caught herself doing a hundred times in the mirror. it makes something in emily’s chest warm, because she knows aria doesn’t realize it. she doesn’t know how much she mirrors her, but emily does.

god, does she love it.

aria shifts slightly, the little ducks still floating lazily between them, the water now cooling slightly, the bubbles starting to fade. but she’s not ready to get out yet. she’s not restless, either. she’s just thinking.

emily recognizes the look instantly—aria’s big brown eyes slightly narrowed, her lips pursed, the same kind of serious concentration she gets when she’s figuring out how a new puzzle piece fits.

and then, finally—

“emmy.”

aria’s voice is soft, still slightly thick with sleep, but clear. emily hums, smoothing a hand over aria’s damp curls.

“yeah, baby?”

aria blinks up at her, her expression curious—but also dead serious, like whatever she’s about to ask is important.

“where sergy go when he go?”

emily pauses, processing, because what does that even mean? aria’s brows furrow more, like she’s waiting for a real answer, so emily pieces it together.

“you mean… when he walks around the house?”

aria nods, slow and certain, still watching her closely. this is serious business. so emily treats it seriously.

“well, bug, sergio likes to do his rounds. he walks around to make sure everything is in its place. he likes to sit in the sun sometimes. and he probably goes to your room to check on your toys, just to make sure they’re all okay.”

aria considers this, her little fingers idly tracing the small rubber duck in her hands.

“he talk to dem?”

emily presses her lips together to keep from smiling, because god, she loves how her little mind works.

“i think so,” she muses, voice thoughtful, playing along. “i think he probably asks them how their day was. maybe he tells them about his day too.”*

aria’s lips part slightly, the most thoughtful look crossing her face.

“he has job?”

it’s asked so seriously that emily actually chokes on a laugh, because aria is completely committed to this conversation, and emily isn’t about to let her down.

“yeah, baby, of course he has a job. he’s the boss of the house. he keeps everything running smoothly.”

aria nods once, completely satisfied with this answer, filing it away in whatever little mental logbook she keeps of the world. but she isn’t done yet. because after another few moments of silence, she asks—

“emmy?”

emily strokes a hand over her back again, keeping her voice calm and steady.

“yeah, baby?”

aria’s little fingers absently spin her rubber duck in the water, her voice curious but serious.

“how ‘ou meet me?”

emily stills for a moment, caught off guard.

aria has never asked this before. never questioned how they came to be what they are. but now? now she’s asking. now she’s waiting for an answer. so emily gives it to her.

“well, baby,” emily starts, shifting slightly so she can see her better, smoothing a hand over her wet hair. “the first time i met you, you were brand new. just born. you were so, so tiny, bug. the smallest thing i’d ever seen. and you were wrapped up in a pink blanket, all warm and soft.”

aria’s big brown eyes blink up at her, locked onto her face, taking in every word.

“and then,” emily continues, softer now, “i picked you up and put you in my arms, and you looked at me, just like this, with those big brown eyes, and i knew, right then, that i was always going to love you. that i would always take care of you.”

aria stares at her, her tiny fingers curling slightly into emily’s arm. a small, simple nod, like she already knew that, like she had always known that. emily presses a soft kiss into her hair, feeling her chest tighten with how deeply she means it. because she had no idea, back then, that this was where they would end up, but she knows now.

she knows exactly what she is to aria, and so does aria.

after another long, sleepy pause, aria speaks again.

“emmy?”

“hmmm?”

aria tilts her head, looking at the small puddles of water forming on the surface.

“why da’ moon follow us home?”

emily smiles softly, not surprised.

“well,” she says, adjusting aria slightly, “the moon likes to keep an eye on us. it watches over us at night. it’s like a big night light in the sky, following us to make sure we’re safe.”*

aria thinks about this for a long moment.

“it big.”

emily nods.

“it is, baby.”

aria tilts her head, her brows furrowing slightly again.

“it go to bed?”

emily laughs softly, nodding.

“kind of. when the sun wakes up, the moon goes to sleep for a little while.”

aria nods once, accepting this completely, like it makes perfect sense.

“no toge’her… we see same moon?”

her voice is smaller now, quieter, and emily’s chest tightens.

“yeah, baby,” she murmurs, her voice soft, certain. “no matter where we are, we’ll always be looking at the same moon.”

aria processes this, then looks up at emily again, blinking slowly.

“we meet dere, den?”

her little voice is so hopeful, so genuine, like she truly believes the moon is a place they could go, that it’s somewhere they could always find each other if they were somehow away from each other one day. it's such a thought, from someone so little. emily swallows thickly, then nods.

“yeah, baby,” she whispers, kissing her forehead, pressing it in like a promise. “we’ll meet there.”

aria nods once, satisfied, and sinks back into emily’s arms, her little fingers clutching onto her tightly. and emily? emily holds her just as tight.