A/N: Hey all! This little fic was written for this year's Christmas Gift Fic Exchange. My story is for RatherBeAWriter. And the assignment was for either Emily/Morgan or JJ/Hotch. I've chosen to focus on Emily/Morgan (though, there will probably be hints of JJ/Hotch in there. Who am I kidding, right? Lol). My prompts were "Christmas Lights" by Coldplay, carol singers, Christmas tree ornament, and an ugly Christmas sweater. This will start off angst-y, but should have a happy ending (it's a Christmas Fic, for goodness's sake. Lol.). Hope you all enjoy! And I hope you like, RatherBeAWriter. Merry Christmas!
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or the song Christmas Lights by Coldplay.
Chapter 1:
Emily Prentiss whipped open the doors to Providence Hospital, not caring that the elderly couple she'd just passed were right behind her, and that she probably should have taken a moment to hold the door open for them. She was in a hurry. Never mind that she was completely exhausted from the three hour flight she'd taken from London to Washington D.C. after being woken up in the middle of the night.
She rushed through the main floor, looking for the elevators. It was so busy and for a second she wondered why everyone wasn't at home in bed, it was nighttime, wasn't it?
No, it's not, Emily, she thought to herself. They're working. Just like you should be. Except…
She stopped thinking, not wanting to deliberate on the details of what had brought her to the capital, not yet, at least.
Spinning on spot, she searched for the elusive elevators. She was on the verge of tears as she ran a shaky hand through her hair. She was about to burst into uncontrollable sobs, she could feel it, if she didn't find those damned elevators.
"Can I help you, dear?"
Gasping in surprise and stifling a sob, she looked down at a considerably shorter than her, older woman, dressed in a pair of scrubs. The African-American woman was giving her a soft smile.
"Dear?" the woman reiterated.
Her hospital ID named her Amarie. "Uh…" She tore her gaze from it. "Elevators?"
Amarie gave her a sympathetic smile, taking her by the arm, leading her. Emily was grateful to the woman for not asking her any other questions. She didn't think she could handle talking about why she was there.
Emily was strong, but she had a solid foundation holding her up. Tonight—today, whatever— that foundation was shaken, leaving her on wobbly footing.
"Here you are," Amarie announced.
She dragged herself out of her dismal thoughts to find she was standing before a set of elevators.
"Tha—Thank you," she stuttered.
"You're welcome, dear." She smiled, giving her shoulder a pat. "Merry Christmas."
She hit the button for up, only realizing too late as Amarie was walking away that she should have replied in kind.
The elevator dinged its arrival, reclaiming her attention. She knew she was so out of it that her manners were lacking. If she saw the woman again she'd definitely rectify her blunder.
For now, she stepped into the surprisingly empty elevator and took a deep breath, trying to keep her composure.
It had been a little over three hours since she'd had an update on the situation. Therefore, she had no clue what she was currently walking into. She'd checked her phone several times since landing in D.C. Surely someone would have texted her, left her a message, something, if things had taken a turn for the worse. She relaxed momentarily with that thought. But, then it hit her: no one would leave her bad news in a text or a message.
Oh God! She tensed up all over again. And she was back to being on the verge of hyperventilating.
Ok, Emily, it will do no one any good to arrive on the verge of passing out. Breathe, she ordered herself. Focus on anything other than the here and now. At least until you know what's happening.
She perused her surroundings. She had the time to compose herself; her destination was the top floor and the elevator seemed to be going real slowly. There wasn't much in reading material. There was one poster advertising a new hospice facility, but she turned away from it immediately for obvious reasons.
Focus on… she tried again, searching. The numbers counting up… 2, 3, 4…
But… it seemed too much like a countdown. And she did not want to know what it was counting down to.
And then she heard it. "Christmas lights, another fight, tears we cried, a flood…"
The song, the words, the melody had her transported to another time, another place…
~ 6 months ago
"When are you going to stop running?"
Emily whirled around to stare at the man watching her accusingly. She thought she'd left him inside Rossi's house. She thought she'd escaped.
"What?" she asked confusedly; shaking her head, as if that would clear the haze from minutes ago.
He opened his mouth to respond, but she walked away, going further into Rossi's 'backyard.' Unaware that she was doing exactly what he was accusing her of: running.
But there was only so far she could go, in the direction she'd decided to go. She came to a dead-end at the gazebo. Sighing, she climbed the stairs, realizing and giving in to the fact that she was about to be cornered by Derek Morgan.
She'd come back from London to visit her friends, specifically her best friend, the man she could hear climbing the stairs behind her. What she'd found upon her arrival was a change, or maybe not a change, a revelation, really. Derek Morgan, quite possibly, had fee—
No, don't think it. It's not possible.
"Emily," he started.
She turned around and could see it in his eyes. It was on the tip of his tongue. He was about to change everything. And if there was one thing Emily wasn't very good with, it was change.
"You're missing the party!" she blurted out, cutting him off. "Go back inside. I'm sure Rossi could use your cooking expertise. I'm sorry, but Garcia won't cut it. I know it's the Fourth of July, but Rossi won't stand for hot dogs and chips…"
She realized she was babbling when he frowned at her.
Emily held out a hand to her side, plaintively, as if to say, 'what do you want from me?' Instead, she said the closest thing to what she was thinking: "I'm going back to London, tomorrow, Derek."
Slowly, almost deliberately, he shortened the distance between them until he was right in front of her. He put his hands on her arms, reminding her of the moment she'd just fled, when she'd been caught on the upstairs landing of Rossi's home.
"So?" he defied her.
"So! I live thousands of miles away!" she declared.
"And no one ever thought of a long-distance relationship before?"
"Re—lationship?" she choked out the word.
He rubbed his hands over her bare arms, up and down, inciting sparks throughout her body. His features softened then. "Yeah, relationship, Emily…"
She pulled away from him, turning her back on the hopeful look on his face. There was no way she could look at him when she said what she said next.
"No," she whispered. And when he took a step closer to her, she said it more loudly. "No!"
"No?" he questioned. She could hear the hurt in his voice.
She turned around. "I'm sorry, I can't, Derek. I… I…" she trailed off at a loss.
"You… can't?" He looked at her quizzically, not quite understanding. "I care about you, Emily. I thought… Tell me you don't care about me, too."
Her face softened. "I do, Derek, you're my best friend. Of course I care about you."
"Not like that!" he protested vehemently.
She remained silent. She couldn't say the words. Couldn't make a decision either way. She really did care for him. But care for him in the way he so obviously cared for her? She had no clue.
A little voice in the back of her head whispered, Stop lying to yourself…
Emily pushed it back into the corner. This is Derek! she thought fervently. He will always be there for me. Always. I don't ever want that to change!
She just couldn't risk pursuing a relationship with him and having it fail miserably. She couldn't risk losing her best friend.
Her decision must have shown on her face because all of the sudden Derek's features hardened in a way she never had thrown in her direction. He was angry, but, more than that, he was disappointed, and it showed.
"Fine," he said shortly. "Come find me when you get tired of running, Em; I'll be here waiting."
"Der—" she started, her heart aching to make things right. But he was already turning, making a beeline for Rossi's home. And somehow she knew her apologies would not be helpful.
What if her refusal to be open-minded to a possibility of a 'them' cost her her best friend regardless?
That was a scary thought. One she sat down in the gazebo to ponder.
Emily sighed. He'd been so angry with her. Derek had seen what she hadn't, long before she'd realized that living without Derek Morgan's everyday presence in her life was miserable. And when the day-to-day drag started getting to her, she still didn't set things right. Emily, she was finding out, was just as stubborn as people said she was.
Luckily, things hadn't stayed tense and awkward between them. Before she'd left for London she'd made things right with Derek or at least promised the both of them that she would.
And now… this.
Would she even get the chance to?
Don't think that, Em, she scolded herself. Get up there and see if it's really as bad as Garcia said it is. Surely, she exaggerated. He is, after all, her chocolate stud muffin. Pen is very protective.
She smiled to herself. Yeah, that was it. He probably just has a scratch. I'm going to go in there and find him up and about, and he'll be wondering what the heck I came all the way here for. And then he'll hold you to your promise.
Emily pictured it all very clearly in her head. The happy thoughts were what got her feet moving. With each step she took, she didn't consider the possibility that it was as bad as Garcia made it out to be. And she hadn't really prepared herself for that chance.
So, when she stepped into the waiting room where Garcia said they'd all be, she wasn't ready for the tear-stained faces of her male friends or the open sobs that were wracking Garcia's body. Or how JJ, her strong friend, was being cradled in the arms of Hotch, ever so gingerly, looking pretty beat up herself.
Oh my God, was all she could think. It really was as bad as Garcia said.
That's it for this chapter. Hope you enjoyed! And I hope you'll let me know what you think. Thanks!
PS. I reserve the right to change the title of this fic. Lol. (As I am very bad at picking story names, especially when they are still in progress).
Also, please check out the Profiler's Choice Awards. We'd like to have your say on what are the best of the best CM fics out there. Check out the blurb below. Link in my profile.
The 2014 PROFILER'S CHOICE CRIMINAL MINDS FANFIC AWARDS are back! Calling all CM readers and authors! Join us in celebrating the best of the best CM stories for the annual Profiler's Choice CM Awards! Help us and let your voices be heard. Please check out the nomination ballot and rules at the ProfilerChoiceAwards2014 Forum (Direct Link also in my profile). All rules and information are on the forum. Nominations begin November 15 and are due December 31st. Good Luck! As an added bonus: We encourage all nominations (rules permitted). We accept ballots starting at two nominations, however, all ballots with five or more nominations will be entered into a drawing for one of three Amazon gift cards. Nominations run until 11:59EST on December 31, 2014. The final ballot will be published in early January 2015.