The Perfect Emma

Chapter Twenty-Four

Grayson Todd

The moment Zach had suggested Gray's own home, the detective had been resistant to it. After seven years of living in emotional and literal squalor, he was not prepared for a sudden guest.

But...it would seem that Emma wasn't all that bothered by it.

Grayson blinked, watching the woman begin to tidy up in confusion. He opened his mouth, then shut it, then repeated the action, before asking, "Why...are you doing that?"

Emma didn't stop or look up at him. "I'm supposed to clean," she replied simply, as if that were obvious.

Slowly, he shut the door behind himself and went towards the television quickly, before Emma could reach the living room. He took the picture of Rosie and lie it flat against the surface. For one thing, he didn't think Emma would like seeing a girl that, at the moment, looked just like her in his home. She might question her trust in him.

That, and Grayson just didn't want her to see it.

Emma noticed, and stared at him for a moment, but she didn't say anything. Gray hoped that she figured enough not to pick it up. He straightened, clearing his throat and glancing away awkwardly. "Y–you don't have to...do that, y'know."

"I do," she replied immediately, continuing to clean. "I'd rather not risk it."

He arched a brow. "Risk...what?"

"Getting hurt."

....Gray refrained from sighing and merely looked down at the floor. "Emma," he murmured, watching her. "Emma, stop."

Emma stopped.

"Emma, this is not Aaron's basement," he told her softly, but firmly. "This is my apartment. I am not going to hurt you here. No one is going to hurt you here. You don't have to clean my shitty apartment if you don't want to. You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

The woman was silent for a moment, blinking at Gray—well, at Gray's chest. Fifteen months may have gone by but she was still tiny. "....Are you going to clean it?" she asked sincerely.

Well, uh....Gray shuffled slightly, clearing his throat again. "I, uh—"

"Then I'm going to." And she continued as she said she would. Gray couldn't argue with that, and he didn't like it. He didn't want Emma to treat this like just...continued enslavement. So, to reinforce the fact that this was not her responsibility, Grayson started to tidy up with her. She didn't comment on it, but she did look confused briefly.

At some point however, Gray ran out of things he could think of to clean, and merely watched Emma continue, doing things he wouldn't necessarily have deemed necessary at first glance, but realized probably were necessary now that it was brought to his attention. He...really had been living terribly.

When the apartment was the most clean since Gray had moved into the damn place, Emma turned to him and asked, "What do you want for dinner?"

Gray flushed and grimaced with embarrassment. Then he held up a hand. "....One. You do not have to cook for me, Emma. Two....There's...nothing for you to cook anyway."

She tilted her head. "...You mean your kitchen is totally empty?"

It may as well have been. "Empty save for Hot Pockets and ramen...." he muttered, rubbing the back of his head, his embarrassment growing. Damn Zach for suggesting this without a warning. If Gray had known, he'd have tidied and gone food shopping...probably.

Glancing around at the now-clean but once-dirty apartment, she frowned up at him. "When was the last time you lived like an adult human being and not a college student?"

He chuckled, about to tell her she sounded like Aaron, his face immediately falling at the thought. Gray was still getting used to their friendship being a lie. "About seven years ago," he replied instead, glancing at the floor. A more honest answer would've been "Since my wife was killed" but he didn't think that would be a very smart thing to say at the moment.

Emma appeared to notice that she'd poked a bit too close to somewhere she shouldn't have and said softly, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"It's okay," he told her gently, chuckling awkwardly again. "It...was a very valid question." Glancing at a clock and rubbing his jaw, Gray hummed a little in thought. It was getting on in hours. He...still hadn't eaten today, and he had no doubt his stomach had half a mind to remind him, but he was more concerned with the fact that he didn't have a spare bedroom for Emma to stay in. Obviously he wasn't going to make her sleep on the couch, so he supposed he would have to himself.

"What is it?" Emma murmured, noticing his change in demeanor.

He shook a hand, coming out of his thoughts. "Nothing, just...thinking. Um." As predicted, he was interrupted by his stomach complaining.

Emma glanced at his abdomen, before heading into the kitchen. He watched her go with a slight sigh. Gray couldn't tell at this point if she was doing it because she felt she had to, or because she didn't actually want him going hungry like a thoughtful human being. It was... probably a bit of both. "Emma, you don't—"

"I know," she replied, sounding like she was trying to keep exasperation from her voice. "But I want to."

Gray reminded himself that he had to take his own advice and be patient with her. So, for now, he let her be. "Alright," he said with a slight shrug, heading into his bedroom. After a day of high excitement like this one, it was strange to be able to relax again. He was almost dreading it, knowing where his mind went when it wasn't occupied. But, instead of bringing that on early by thinking about it, Gray focused on making the room more suited to...well, anybody but him, let's be honest. He took off his blazer and hung it up—instead of tossing it anywhere like he usually would—and put his shoes away neatly as well. It felt weird. After making sure the bed wasn't somehow terrible too, he blew out his breath and his eyes wandered to another picture frame.

Goddammit.

A twenty-three-year-old Grayson Todd stared back at the thirty-year-old one, holding his equally as young wife, both with laughter on their faces. Gray was pretty sure the day that picture was taken was the last time he'd ever been that happy. Wordlessly, he did the same with it as the one in the living room, and lie it flat on its face on the nightstand. He didn't want Emma to see Rosie. He didn't want to have to explain that.

With a slight frown, Gray simply removed his gun and his badge from his belt and put them away. Usually he would just lie them on the nightstand and be done with it, but seeing as the gun made Emma uncomfortable, he decided it was better to keep it out of sight; especially if she was going to sleep here. Gray might've felt safe sleeping with a gun inches from his face, but he didn't think Emma would.

It took having nothing else to do in here for him to realize he'd been hiding, and with a shake of his head at himself, Grayson left the bedroom.

Emma was standing by the stove, stirring something in a pot absently. Ah. Ramen, then. She looked up as he appeared and murmured, "Should be done soon."

"Okay," Gray replied, heading into the kitchen to lean against a counter. He would've gone to the couch but the couch tended to send him somewhere he didn't want to be, so staying on his feet was a better idea; for now. "You've got the bed, by the way," he told her, nodding in the direction of the bedroom door.

She glanced at it and nodded slowly. Then she furrowed her brows and asked, "What about you?"

Gazing at the piece of furniture with well-hidden concern, Gray responded simply, "Couch." Then he returned to looking at her, a soft half-smile on his face. "Don't worry about it. Wouldn't be the first time."