Fluff, emotional hurt/ comfort | 3.6k words
Tw- very brief description of crime scene
“Wheels up in thirty” emily commanded, her voice low and dangerous with ambition.
Rustling papers, clicking pens and the frantic zipping of bags echoed through the silent conference room, making the atmosphere impossibly tense. Nobody spoke as the door swung open, its hinges creaking as it pressed against the wall, taking with it a scratch of white paint.
JJ was the first to leave, her heels tapped against carpet at a stubborn pace and it took a moment before everyone else followed, slowly filtering out until it was just you and emily left. You were still sat, legs gently swinging back and forth in an attempt to ease the tension you hadn’t realised built up in your body. Gaze shifting to emily who was pacing aimlessly around, her head was down, strands of grey hair slipping out and covering her face - but the rigid shoulders and clenched fists told you everything you needed to know.
“Em” kept your voice low, careful not to scare her. She hummed, footsteps maintaining their steady rhythm.
“It’s not your fault, you know that right? They’re just upset because we weren’t supposed to have another case until next week” you argued.
“No, I know. I don’t care about that, well not that I don’t care, it’s just that’s not what I’m upset about” the words left her in one breath, merging into one blur that took you a couple of seconds to decipher. It wasn’t defensive, not quite, there was something else mixed with it - anger maybe, or hurt. You didn’t reply, you had dated emily long enough to know that when she shared something it was because she wanted to, not because of anyone’s encouragement. In many ways she reminded you of a cat; unfathomably loyal but only accepting of affection on her own terms, the thought made you smile - scary unit chief emily prentiss was really just a little kitty cat underneath it all.
After a brief silence, she continued “I don’t want to go back”. The statement shook you a little, though you were immediate to gain composure. Emily’s voice was laced with fear, it was in every syllable. She sounded like a child.
You forced yourself to take a breath before replying “go where, my love?”
You felt a pang of guilt - how could you have forgotten that the case was in emily’s hometown? She never spoke about her childhood, or her past at all for that matter. Emily was secretive, eager not to let old wounds resurface, nor to break her facade of invincibility, but you could see through it.
The woman before you - with hair that glistened in shades of silver and a sharp, black pantsuit tailored and professional - was truly just a little girl who wanted her mother’s love. Emily has always felt like she was in-between something like home, and somewhere far away, it was a burden she carried now, decades later.
Emily’s mother, the infamous Elizabeth prentiss, was a cold woman. Her face was permanently stoic, with furrowed brows and pursed lips. She didn’t invite warmth, her posture was rigid, shoulders high and back straight - evidence of years missed playing with her daughter. Elizabeth never had the courtesy to pretend to be interested in emily, she simply wasn’t and that fact haunted emily.
There wasn’t anything you could say to her that would rewrite the past, no words that would ease the pain of having to return back to somewhere she had spent her life running from. So you moved, off your chair and beside emily, movements slow and steady. You offered her your hand, wrist reaching towards her and palm up, there was no expectation you simply offered her the comfort. Emily tentatively took your hand in her own, warmth engulfing you as she intertwined your fingers, her thumb outlining the cool metal of your rings.
When the jet landed, emily was firmly back in her professional demeanour and any trace of hesitancy had been erased. She had been quick to lead the team into the local police station, offering calculated, brief introductions before assigning everyone tasks. It had been no surprise that she sent you out to the crime scene with Derek, and as much as her pushing you away stung, you understood that she was merely trying to get through the week.
“it’s just you and me babygirl” derek noted, his voice laced with mischief.
You snorted, “I thought you only called Penelope that”
He hummed, scratching his temple in faux concentration “well, I guess that makes you.. babycakes?” The inflection of the word somehow made it sound more repulsive and just saying it aloud made derek almost burst into laughter.
You shoved him immediately, face half grimacing and half smiling. “Eww! Don’t call me that ever again!”
“Yeah, I’m gonna have put more thought into that one - but don’t think I’m gonna let this go”
You parted ways entering the house - Morgan trailed behind an officer, his eyes darting around to fully take in the scene whilst you waited outside, taking a moment to prepare yourself for what would be behind the door.
From the outside, everything seemed normal, the front lawn was freshly trimmed and the driveway held two luxurious cars. The house was the epitome of suburbia, its delicate exterior bordered off with vibrant yellow tape. But as you pushed open the door, a pit formed low in your stomach. The carpets were smudged a burgundy shade of red, concentrated in a large splatter around the victim. Her hair was blonde and matted with blood - blunt force trauma, the worst you had ever seen. However, what hit you worst of all was the smell, the thick mist was impenetrable and it made your eyes water. The rotting corpse must’ve been there for at least a few days, a teenage girl no older than nineteen, had simply been left there to die. Scared and alone.
It made your chest tighten, lungs constricted and oxygen fleeting with the godawful sight.
There were yellow cones placed concisely around the room, bold numbers indicative of evidence. Flashes of colour disrupted the houses muted colours, constantly catching your eye as you patrolled. An inescapable reminder of the tragedy you were there to uncover.
As soon as you set foot back into the station, you were met with the stale aroma of coffee and incessant ramblings from dull cops. The seats were uncomfortable, cushions worn down and scruffy, offering little protection from the hard frame beneath that was slowly making your back ache. The case was a tough one, there was no denying that, but despite your own unease your thoughts returned back to one constant - your girlfriend.
Emily was hunched over a desk, hands running through her hair in a sweeping motion. At the sound of the phone ringing, she hung her head back, eliciting a deep sigh as she traced the ceiling with her eyes. The press were relentless, never failing to remind her of the unsolved case looming over everyone. When she lowered her head, you had a chance to fully analyse the woman’s appearance - dishevelled hair, drooping eyelids, lip bloody in the corner from her chewing on it.
“Em” you called out, immediately feeling bad when she jumped in surprise. Her brown eyes met yours and despite the smile she displayed, you could tell that she was exhausted. “Come on, let’s go back to the hotel”
She shook her head, “can we go to a bar instead?” You weren’t sure an inevitable hangover tomorrow would cure her weariness, but the thought of a nice, cold beer was too tempting to deny.
The car ride was silent, the pleasant kind that only existed when two people truly knew each other. Emily sat in the drivers seat, the arm she wasn’t steering with rested against your thigh, thumb brushing against your polyester slacks. You focused your attention on the rural town blurring past the windows, the night sky illuminated it a dark blue like something straight out of a movie. This was different from anywhere else you’d been before, the landscape was scattered with trees and buildings that had been carefully constructed to look delicate.
“Babe?” Emily’s deep voice broke you from thought.
“Just checking you’re okay, you were really concentrated on the window.”
You chuckled “yeah, this town is gorgeous. The place, I mean, not the people. I didn’t mean it like that-“
“Babe” she cut you off, pausing the poorly phrased sentence “it’s fine”
You nodded, still plagued with guilt.
It wasn’t that emily was fragile, she was far from it - she was stubborn and fiercely independent, but that never stopped you from worrying about her. Humans are inherently complex and as much as you can try to compartmentalise or alter your behaviour to appear a certain way, nobody can ever be completely indifferent. A consequence of working in behavioural profiling was your tendency to overanalyse emily, desperately searching for cues to better understand her.
“The bars only a few minutes away” she assured you, hand gently squeezing your leg. “Do you want to see something first, it’ll only take a couple of minutes ?” it was more of a statement than a question, but you agreed nonetheless.
The car swiftly turned down a narrow lane, continuing for a few seconds before she slammed down the breaks, stopping before an impressive house. There were marble arches and statues decorating the entrance, grand enough to cost more than an entire month’s rent. The estate was grand, oozing old money and wealth in a way that was somehow simultaneously understated and elaborate. The estate was huge, so vast that you assumed it would be impossible to settle comfortably.
The car had parked in the middle of a long driveway, far enough that she could quickly reverse and leave, as if you had never even been there.
You understood without words where emily had taken you. This is where she grew up.
Twenty years of forgotten school plays, last minute Christmas presents and lonely birthdays summed up in the seemingly perfect house. Emily never spoke much about her childhood, preferring to avoid the topic, but you knew how much the relationship with her mother burdened her. You saw it in her behaviour, the way she was quick to shutdown at the initial sign of an argument, already preparing herself for whatever punishment it was she thought she deserved. This wasn’t just a house to emily, this was her opening herself up in a way she had never before.
She had placed her heart into your hands, trusting you to keep it safe.
You leaned over in your seat, taking emily’s hands in yours and intertwining fingers, hoping the warmth would soothe her. Tears outlined her face, droplets rolled agonisingly slowly down her cheek ,staining the collar of her shirt.
“Oh, love” you mumbled, pulling emily closer to you and smoothing circles around her back, refusing to let her continue driving until her breath had evened out. It was rare emily let herself be vulnerable, even rarer for her to let someone else see this side of her, and after a couple of minutes she pulled herself up, insisting that she was fine.
The bar was crowded, not unbearably so, but a significant change since emily had last been there. The atmosphere was cozy, with warm orange lighting and the radio playing in the background. You and emily had seated yourselves in a corner, nestled between dark oak tables. A large glass of whisky sat between emily’s palms as she swirled the dark liquid around, lips smacking together in suppressed eagerness as she took a generous mouthful. You had ordered a beer, conscious not to get drunk as you would, without doubt, be taking care of emily all night.
The conversation was light and intimate, neither of you wanting to think about work any longer. As the evening progressed, the table began to clutter with drinks - none of which were yours. You had tried repeatedly to get emily to stop drinking, but she was stubborn and you were simply too tired to argue. Soon the bar began to clear out, the constant hum of chatter dulled, taking the mood quickly with it.
“Y/n” emilys words had been tainted slightly by alcohol, but she wasn’t difficult to understand.
“Can you take me home please?” she looked at you with wide eyes, lower lip trembling slightly, as if she had been worried you would refuse.
“Of course baby, I’m gonna get you back to the hotel right now. Is that okay, sweetheart?” Her eyes began to water, pupils turning glossy. It made your pulse race with concern.
“No” emily shook her head, frustration bubbling at being misunderstood “I want to go home, I hate it here!”
The word home wasn’t a place anymore, at least not in this town anyway. Home was with you, it was being cuddled up in bed late at night, the scent of lavender candles and the sweet scent of your perfume. Being to able to receive love and not feel like you had to earn it, that was home. The realisation struck you hard.
You gathered your coat and bag, patiently leading emily out of the bar and into the street. The breeze was sharp and cold, forcing you to bury your face in your cot to keep warm - emily, however hummed at the sudden drop in temperature, the pink of her cheeks fading back to their usual cream.
“We’re gonna be back home soon honey, I promise”
You walked in the next morning to a police station buzzing with conversation. The team were circled around a whiteboard watching Spencer scribble lines connecting various suspects to each other, his hands worked fast, filling the room with anticipation. Your attention, however, was occupied by your girlfriend. She had left the room before you woke up, hadn’t bothered to leave a note, just her side of the bed left messy and the wardrobe door swung open.
The unit chief looked disheveled, to put it politely. Her hair was tangled, silver strands twisted courtesy of the tossing and turning of a sleepless night. Emily’s clothes were wrinkled, the sleeve of her white blouse stained by hastily poured coffee. You bit down a frown, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest at seeing her this disoriented- this was far from the version of emily that you knew.
Why was she avoiding you? The question plagued your mind. Had you done something wrong?
The anxious thoughts made your palms sweat, heat burning through your entire body. The feeling was sharp, the realisation painful - you weren’t good enough for her.
“Em” you mumbled, lightly tugging her sleeve until she acknowledged you. “Can I talk to you about something? It’ll only take a minute”
“Is this case related?” Her voice was sharp enough to startle you, confirming what you already suspected.
“Then I’m sure it can wait until later, agent” Emily turned swiftly on her heels, pushing her way to the front of the room and beginning to issue commands. Her voice was hard to listen to, the shame clouding your head.
After what felt like hours, but could have only been mere minutes, she had assigned you and JJ to interview witnesses. It came as no shock that she had, yet again, eagerly pushed you aside and out of her way.
As much as you hated to admit it, being away from emily allowed you to pour all of your energy into the case. For the first time since you left, you had found relief from the continuous worry about your girlfriend- and it wasn’t that you didn’t trust her, or care about her. Sometimes, you simply needed a break from the agonising fear that you were doing something wrong.
You and JJ made a great team, so far you had gotten pretty good tips from witnesses, her jovial attitude never failed to cheer you up. JJ had two children and the maternal urge to offer compassion to anyone she deemed in need of it, was a quality you found extremely endearing. The blonde always spoke to you like she had all the time in the world, voice slow and deeply blue eyes meeting yours.
The two of you were waiting outside the interrogation room, sipping half cold drinks and making polite conversation.
“Spill it, what’s going on between you and emily?” The remark caught you by surprise, causing you to choke into the mug.
“What, I’m serious! Theres a weird vibe.. you saw the way emily came in today, is she.. alright?” She was hesitant, cautious almost.
“Not really” you sighed, unable to form an excuse. “It’s the case, it’s pretty tough for her but she refuses to let me help. I love emily, but she can be incredibly stubborn”
“Oh, honey” JJ patted your shoulder, her brow smoothing in sympathy. “I know it’s hard but you should try and talk to her, as stubborn as emily can be, I’m willing to bet she would try and change for you.. she has a lot already”
You ran a hand over your face, breathing deeply as a wave of guilt drowned you. JJ was right. When you first joined the team, emily was still a profiler. She was closed off, distant, keen to avoid making any deep connections she assumed would crumble with time. Emily used to come in early and leave late, her life consumed by work. But you had given emily something else, somebody who truly saw her - leaving snacks on her desk, post it notes on her computer, heart drawings on her paperwork.
“Excuse me, I’m sorry I have to go” you left without waiting for a reply, hands hanging by your sides, fingers picking at the skin around your nails.
By the time you had arrived at the captains office, which emily had claimed her own, the adrenaline coursing through your veins had dissipated back into fear. Your jaw clenched painfully tight, hands trembling slightly as you tentatively knocked on the door.
“Come in” a rough voice grumbled, and so you apprehensively turned the handle.
Emily’s demeanour was much softer than you had anticipated, her porcelain skin shone against the window, the angelic light that made her look incredibly soft. Grey hairs thrummed against the warmth. She was a vision. Upon releasing it was you that entered, emily signalled for the door to be closed; you obliged and took a seat opposite the desk.
“I’m sorry” the apologies came thick and fast, barely giving you a chance to sit down first. “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you this morning. I’m so sorry baby, you were only trying to help and I was horrible..” her voice cracked, it may have been subtle to someone who didn’t know her, but for emily’s girlfriend, you picked up on it immediately. Her eyebrows were furrowed, chin tilted down in the signature ‘emily prentiss guilt face’. “This case is.. just.. this case is destroying me” the words came out fragmented, a string of poorly constructed words that only made your heart ache more.
“I want to go home.” A tear rolled down her cheek, taking a black smudge of yesterday’s mascara with it.
Before you knew what had happened, you perched down on emily’s lap, wrapping yourself around her frame that shook with sobs. Her breathing was muffled by your shirt, coming out in raspy gulps.
“Let it out. It’s okay my love, I’m here” you whispered gentle reassurances, pressing kisses to her temple. “I’m not mad at you, I know you didn’t mean it”
A few imputes emily’s breathing had evened out, but was still ragged. Deciding now was as good a time as any, you asked the question that had been burning all week.
“Em, I just checked and there’s a flight back tonight. If you wanted to we could-“ you cut yourself off, giggling at the incessant nodding you received. It was unusual for emily to be so accommodating for herself, after all people with healthy work ethics didn’t often become leaders at the FBI. You mentally patted yourself on the back for your research on the jet, glad it wasn’t useless.
“I’ll take that as a yes”
It was late afternoon when you and emily arrived back at your shared apartment. She had left JJ in charge of closing the case, grateful for the teams unwavering support. The flight home was short, in fact you both slept almost the entire time, and you now returned home groggy.
You were the first to crash on the couch, emily curled up on top of you, hands running soothing patterns up and down your arms as you attempted to massage her messy hair.
“I’m so proud of you baby for taking care of yourself” your voice was laced with sincerity, a genuine admiration for your girlfriend.
Emily hummed, nuzzling her face closer into you until hot breath tickled your neck.
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