Emily's Thoughts

1= three weeks before

I'm an angel with a shotgun, fighting till the war's won, I don't care if heaven won't take me back

Emily Beilschmidt stared at the screen again for the fiftieth time, her fingers blurs as they moved along the keys, determined. Nothing was going to get in her way now; she'd found the Bureau and cut off contact with London, and at last she knew she was getting on top of things. Alone, she was doing just fine - her and Marlene had fought some days ago, and it had made Emily even more resilient to prove that she needed no leaning pole whatsoever. And, as of now - it was working, even if she didn't quite know what this hollow feeling was. Whatever it was, it didn't matter, because she could work through it.

After what Kyarah had done Emily was willing to do anything whatsoever to ensure her downfall, and in recent days she'd went places she never thought she'd see, done things she never thought she'd do. And she knew that the blood was on her hands now that she was independent - still hollow, stoic and as sociopathic as she had ever been since the argument. Emily Beilschmidt was not going to let herself be hurt again - not by Marlene, not by Kyarah, not by anyone. As ever a believer in ruthless efficiency, life had continued on; her and her computer in the deserted Bureau. And she was living on, and she was...emotionless about it. Passive.

She didn't know what this would mean for her later - but the ones who seized Berlin from her, the ones who used it against her, the ones who hurt her and left her and didn't believe in her enough, they were all going to see how wrong they were. They were going to pay, too. Because Emily Beilschmidt was going to get her Berlin back, and it would be greater than ever before. 2= four weeks before

There's love in our bodies and it holds us together, pulls us apart when we're holding each other

"You know what? I'm done." Emily says, swinging the now compact laptop under her arm, her violin case over her shoulder. "You aren't going to do something about Kyarah, well I will. It's going to push me over the edge if I don't, and hell knows she'll fucking deserve it!" Marlene moves to stop her, but Emily takes a few paces backwards. "Don't tell me it gets better, don't tell me I'm obsessed. Because you didn't do it again. You didn't have to rewatch the same bloody mistakes you've wished every night you could take back. And you didn't have everything you ever wanted at your fingertips before it just slipped away."

Marlene opens her mouth to protest, but Emily's mind is made. "It's better that I go before I hate you," she muttered, "because I don't think I could deal with any more hatred than I've already got. Hate me, curse my name, do whatever the fuck you like. Come stab me later if you really hate me that much. But I'm going now, and you can't change my mind about it. Please, just let me leave. You don't need me anyway." And she walks out the door, down the road, and to the fence, where she props herself up, swinging her legs boredly - the fresh pine scent brushed with the dewy smell of snow was painfully familiar.

"You can be a little impulsive," she tells herself. "And now you're talking to yourself, Emily. Have you reduced yourself for this? You came without knowing where you were -" She snaps her fingers. "The Bureau!" Then she could shut down whatever Kyarah was doing in there, figure out some new intel and then set up herself. Removing the gun at her side from its holster, she starts walking. It could be done, right? She was confident in herself. Even if it was just herself and her laptop - she knew, if she had to categorise herself, she was always an Erudite at heart, where Marlene wasn't. And that had been their downfall.

It just made her hate Erudite further. 3= in the diary

Now it's time to leave the lights, and hope that the future is just as bright