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Emmeline stared, gaping, she---He'd said it all with such ease. She'd gotten the explanation that she'd requested, but not necessarily wanted. This---when she's asked for him to tell her, she'd known that...her mind had jumped to the 'what ifs' of their past, but...

It used to be commonplace, the idea of going into battle and taking a life. Doing spy work for the Order, fighting in duels that you really had no chance of winning but somehow did. Emmeline found herself being forcefully pulled back into that mindset, as if his words had completely shattered the quiet, normal life they'd been attempting to live since they'd left England. His words had shattered that, and now she felt like she was back in middle of the war. Back in the middle of a time where a slight creak of your floorboard might mean you were going to be killed in the next few seconds. A time when every shadow could be concealing someone ready to put an end to everything you held dear.

Tears struck her eyes and Emmeline did not bother to wipe them away. She vaguely knew of this Therese woman, she remembered her from some outings with Mackenzie, but she had not known Caradoc had this sort of connection to her. That he'd cross an ocean and risk being found out to put an end to her torturer. A small, tiny voice far back in the recesses of her mind found the gesture noble, but the was too much fear engulfing her now. Fear for everything she currently held dear, fear for the little boy sleeping upstairs who had absolutely no idea of the terror his parents have been battling for years.

"We have a son," Emmeline whispered, unable to control the shaking of her voice. If this had been two years ago, before Andrew was in her life, Emmeline was sure that she would be flying off the broomstick in rage. But all she could manage in this moment was to keep her nearly paralyzing fear contained. The sheer panic that as good as Caradoc was at what he'd done, there was always the chance that something was left behind, something was touched, that there was something that could lead them here, that the death eaters still with their ears to the floo could overhear---it could bring them straight to their door step.

"We have---this has---this has to--end."