Disclamer: I own nothing, everything belongs to their rightful owners.
AN: Season 7 AU Aftermath / I have to admit, Emily is the only fictional charakter I have more than one specific person I ship her with, it totally depends on the mood I'm in. But I think I do prefer her with Reid after all.
Your Arms Feel Like Home
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The second Clyde tells her about the job, Emily knows she's going to leave. Her decision made long before she tells her team about it.
She always wanted to be the one in charge, always wanted to have her own team and running the whole London office is more than she ever dared to dream about.
When Morgan asks her how long she's been thinking about it, she plans on lying. But in the end she doesn't, in the end she offers him the truth that she'd wanted to leave since she came back.
He looks hurt and Emily can't blame him. To her, it feels like a betrayal, but she can't keep pretending nothing happened.
She talks to Hotch two days later, sits in his office and watches the shadows on the wall. Waits. He doesn't seem surprised and he doesn't seem hurt either, only tired.
The rest of her team is more difficult.
Rossi just nods before he leaves the conference room without looking back. JJ looks like she might cry but doesn't. Garcia does cry, heartbreaking sobs filling the room before Morgan walks her out. JJ follows and Emily is left alone with Reid.
She wants to say something, but the second she looks at his heartbroken expression, the words get stuck in her throat. She stands there, her hands on the table and her gaze fixed on Reid's face, unable to move. Unable to walk out on him.
She thinks about JJ's wedding, about Reid and her dancing for most of the night. Him swaying her over the dance floor so easily. A smile on his face, his hazel eyes full of life and hope and happiness.
It didn't take more than a few words from her to take it away from him all over again.
When the others finally come back to the room, followed by Hotch, ready to work yet another case, Emily flees the room. Tells herself that she's no longer a part of this unit and that she has a whole apartment to pack up.
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A week later her stuff's already on it's way overseas. It's her last night in DC and Garcia throws her a big farewell party.
They meet up at Rossi's again and Emily wonders if this is going to be some sort of tradition for the future, for her old teammates at least.
It's all hugs and kisses, laughing and asking questions. Goodbye presents and dancing. But it doesn't take much for Emily to realize how things already have changed.
She becomes quiet. Watching them laugh and dance without her and downing one glass of wine after another. Telling herself that there's no reason for her to be sad or angry, that she was the one who wanted to leave.
The first chance she gets, she's out of the house. Disappears in the garden. Stares up into the dark sky and tries to fight the sadness in her head. She wonders why it hurts so much all of a sudden. Wonders what she's missing.
To leave. That's what she wanted, didn't she?
She has no idea how much time has passed until Reid finds her. He's quiet for a long time before he follows her gaze up into the sky and asks her if she's all right.
It's all it takes to make her shatter.
Tears spill from her eyes and a sob gives her away. Reid looks stunned and Emily mumbles an apology, her hands trying to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks while she turns back to the house.
Reid's hand around her wrist makes her stop. He pulls her towards him gently, makes her turn back.
She looks up at him, her sight still blurry with tears. His hazel eyes full of worry and Emily wonders if his eyes always have looked so kind. Her whole body starts to tremble and Reid must have felt it too, because he slips out of his cardigan and drapes it softly over her shoulders.
Emily wants to tell him that it's not necessary, that she's fine but he bends forward to brush a strand of her dark hair out her face and she's lost. The feeling of his skin touching hers is enough to make her head spin.
And she realizes just how close he is. His hazel eyes blazing with life and sorrow and something she can't put her finger on it. That shy smile that lingers on his delicate features, that smile she loves so much and just that thought makes more tears spill.
She tries to laugh, looks at the ground and scolds herself for drinking too much. Her fingers brush angrily at her tears.
"Emily."
It's the way he says her name, so thoughtful, it sounds like a prayer, that makes her look up again. He leans forward and Emily is overwhelmed by his familiar scent. Peppermint and coffee, old worn leather books and the faint hint of soap.
He smells like home, Emily thinks and before she knows what she's doing, her lips meet his.
It's soft and tender, an invisble force pulling her closer and closer. Soft and innocent, he cups her face gently. Pulls her closer against his chest with his free hand around her waist. The warmth of his body spreading through hers and her knees grow weak and her head spins dangerously and then she finally realizes that he's kissing her back.
And suddenly it's far from innocent.
Reid's hands pull her closer and closer into a heated kiss, full of passion and longing and need and lust. Reckless, she grabs him by the collar of his shirt, drags him with her and away from the fairylights above their heads, into the dark of the garden.
She's pushed back against a tree a moment later, her hands buried in his thick hair while they kiss like their lives depend on it. And maybe, Emily thinks. Maybe they do.
Her heart is beating so loud and so fast she's sure he can feel it. And she can't help thinking that she hasn't felt like this in forever. His lips touching hers so soft, so gentle, she can't think, can't breathe. Her world spins out of control and this time it has nothing to do with being drunk.
She has no idea who breaks it first.
They're both trying to catch their breath, when he steps back and she looks at him unable to form a goddam word. There's a smile on his face, a soft knowing smile. His cheeks flushed with heat and embarrassment and something else.
It's he who turns away first and Emily watches while he straightens his hair and his clothes. Shoves his hands in his pockets. His eyes finally finding hers again.
She wants to say something, but the words won't come.
When he bends forward, she closes her eyes. Feels the touch of his lips against hers so soft it sends shivers down her spine. "Goodbye, Emily," he whispers against her ear.
When she finally dares to open her eyes again, he's already gone.
Emily stands there in the dark, afraid to move. Her mind reeling, her heart beating painfully while she fights against feelings trying to come to the surface. A longing she isn't ready to allow herself to feel.
The ringing of her phone makes her come back to her senses. It's Clyde, asking her what the hell she's still doing in DC and that she should get on the goddamn jet he'd sent for her. She sighs, rubs her eyes. Painfully sober now.
She tells her goodbyes to her friends, a false smile plastered on her face and she shakes her head when Hotch asks her if she's seen Reid.
She doesn't understand why he looks so irritated, until she catches a glimpse of herself in the window of the Interpol jet and realizes that she's still wearing Reid's cardigan around her shoulders.
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London is exactly like she remembers it. She fits in perfectly, takes over the office so smoothly she doesn't only surprise anybody else but herself as well. She's working hard, does far more than she needs to. It's the perfect opportunity to show what she's capable of and she takes any chance to prove herself.
Clyde wears his typical smile when he invites her for a drink. Declares that he never thought she would leave DC, not after he met her team.
Emily shrugs, stares into her glass and tells him that she never wanted to have boundaries anyway. That he of all people should know.
He chuckles and bends over to kiss her. She doesn't fight him, gives in instead. Just like she's done a hundred times before. It's a casual agreement, one they share since they first met. It means nothing, not to him and not to her. Falling back into old habits is just so easy.
Her nightmares are still the same, though. It doesn't really matter that Ian is buried six feet under, far away on another continent. He's still one step behind her, still lingering in the dark corners of her apartment. Waiting for her whenever she takes a look around.
And even when she knows he's not really there, knows that he's just a fragment of her imagination, she's scared.
In her dreams she's always running. Running and screaming, but no one comes to save her. She wakes up gasping for air every morning, clutching the bed sheets against her trembling body. Ian's mark still visible on her pale skin, still claiming her as his.
Clyde asks her why she won't get rid of it one morning. His fingers tracing the four-leaf clover on her breast.
Emily laughs before she leaves his bed. She already knows that even if it wasn't visible, it would still be there. Still haunt her no matter what, just like Ian wanted it to.
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The first couple of times Garcia and the others try to call her she's busy working. The time difference doesn't help much either. And after a while she's just too afraid to take their calls, because she has no idea how to explain the fact that she hasn't called them back in weeks.
One day Garcia and Morgan just come by to visit. They show up in front of her apartment with a big smile on their faces and Emily makes herself a mental note to talk to Frank the doorman.
She doesn't have a choice but to let them inside. When Emily notices Reid's cardigan on her living room couch, it's already too late to hide it.
"Oh, Reid had the same one!" Garcia tells her, with a smile. "Where did you get it? You know it's been his favorite and he lost it somewhere. Well it doesn't surprise me, but I want to get him a new one for Christmas."
Emily feels the color drain from her face while she stares at her friend. Horribly aware that if Garcia looks just a little closer, she'll know it is indeed Reid's. And how on earth is she supposed to explain that?
"Are you alright, princess?" Morgan asks her, his hand on her forearm. "You look like you might faint?"
And he's right, she does feel like she might pass out.
"Just hungry," Emily finally manages to get over her lips, her hand reaching for the wall to support her own body weight.
She's glad Morgan decides it's time for dinner anyway and more than just relived when she sees Garcia put Reid's cardigan back down on the couch.
After dinner, they head out to visit a nightclub and while Morgan is busy seducing women, Garcia tells her that she thinks Reid might be in love.
"You know, he told me about a cute girl he kissed, well he didn't say that she'd been cute. But you know, I'm sure she was. Well anyway, now she won't call him back and he stares at his phone all the time and looks just so sad. Acts all weird, even more than usual and you know what that means."
Garcia sighs and Emily regrets having eaten. She feels like she might throw up any second now.
"I still wonder where he met her, you know? He said she didn't live in DC. Makes it even sadder, don't you think?" Garcia looks at her and Emily urges herself to nod.
"He just looks so broken, like there's missing something. I think the girl probably has taken his heart but also his cardigan."
Garcia sighs again and Emily almost chokes on her wine. She starts to cough and the glass slips from her fingers where it shatters on the floor.
It's only then that Garcia looks at her, really looks at her and Emily can't stop her from putting two and two together and Emily knows it's over. Knows that Garcia knows.
She looks startled and Emily tries to find of a way out of the conversation. In the end, the buzzing of her phone saves her and Emily's on her way out of the club, her phone pressed against her ear.
She's never been more relieved to get called into work. She heads back to the table to tell her friends that she has to go and she has to leave town for a few days due to work. She hugs them and is glad Morgan is back at their table so Garcia doesn't get the time to mention her newest discovery.
Two hours later, Emily's sitting on the Interpol jet across from Clyde. Watching the darkness outside the window, pulling Reid's cardigan close around her shoulders.
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It's been a hell of a week and Emily is so tired she's barely able to keep her eyes open.
She's sitting on the floor of her living room, her knees pulled close against her chest. She's drunk, wasted. An empty bottle of bourbon somewhere on the floor, an empty pill bottle on the coffee table in front of her.
She's still awake. And she can hear Ian laugh, like he's on the couch right behind her.
And she wonders how long it's going to take until someone notices she's not the person she pretends to be. She's seen the way Clyde looks at her recently.
They've only seen each other twice over the last two weeks and yet it seems as though he knows more than she does. It's like she's lost the ability to hide from him. Maybe her constant screaming every morning has made him figure out that she is indeed hiding something.
More than something.
She rubs her eyes, wondering if there's still a bottle of wine in her fridge.
The second she tries to get up to her feet, her sight gets blurry and when she makes a step forward she's losing ground. Stumbling, falling. She hits with a thud, has to blink several times before her sight gets clear again.
She tries to sit up and freezes halfway, when she hears Reid's voice.
"Emily? Emily, are you there?"
She blinks again, looks around and finally spots her phone right beside her. Wasn't that on her coffee table a second ago?
"Emily? Can you hear me? Emily?"
She rubs her eyes, thinks she must have tossed it on the floor somehow. Must have hit speed dial by accident. With a groan she bends over to pick up her phone with trembling fingers.
When she finally succeeds and tells Reid 'Hello', she realizes how slurred her words are. And Reid notices right away. Asks her what happened, asks her if she's alone. And she laughs. Who should be here? It's not like she has any friends left.
He tells her to stay on the phone, to not hang up on him and Emily nods, forgets that he can't see her. He says something else, but it sounds distant and she wonders who he's talking to because she's sure it's not her. And it makes her laugh, because even now when she finally calls him he's not really interested in talking to her.
But on the other hand it's her own fault. He tried calling her more than once. She never picked up, never called him back. Not even to thank him for her birthday present. It's still unwrapped, hidden away in the back of her closet. She bites her lip and tries to fight her tears.
She must have said something, because Reid asks her why she's sad. Emily laughs again, tells him she isn't. Tells him she's fine.
She grabs Reid's cardigan from the couch and lays back down on the floor, rests her head on the thick cotton. Wonders how it's possible that it still smells like him. Emily blinks when she hears him laugh, a soft familiar chuckle and she wonders if she just said that out loud.
Reid keeps talking to her, asks her about her work, about her apartment. Wants her to tell him how much alcohol she drank, if she's taken any pills.
She lies, shakes her head, remembers that he can't see her. Tells him no. And he asks her again and again, wants her to talk to him. And she tries but she's so tired and her eyes won't stay open any longer. Her head hurts and she's feeling horribly sick. She gags, a hand pressed against her mouth, trying to fight the bile in her throat back down. She has no interest in cleaning her vomit from the floor.
Reid tells her to turn to her side, not to lay on her back and Emily wonders what he's talking about. And why he sounds so worried. He tells her again and this time she listens and rolls herself over, because she just wants him to be quiet so she can finally get some sleep.
She must have said it out loud again, because this time he's almost screaming at her to not close her eyes. To stay awake, to talk to him. And Emily feels herself getting angry and sad at the same time.
She's startled by a voice right beside her and when she blinks she spots Clyde kneeling on the floor, his fingers on her wrist.
Emily tries to fight him off, wonders what the hell he's doing in her apartment. Didn't she tell Frank not to let anyone up, no matter what?
She blinks again, watches Clyde take the phone out of her hands and listens while he thanks Reid for calling him and that he thinks she's going to be okay, that he's going to take care of her now. And Emily doesn't understand. How could Reid have gotten Clyde's number? And what's even more important, why would he even want to call Clyde?
Emily watches him put her phone down, before he helps her up to her feet. He steadies her with his body all the way to the bathroom, shoves her with him under the shower. Holds her up, while ice cold water comes down around her.
She tries to get out of his grip, but he holds her pinned against his chest. And she just wants him to leave, wants him to go. She has no idea how he even got in her apartment and she doesn't want him here. He has no right to come inside and invade her privacy. She must have said it out loud, because he starts to laugh.
Fastens his grip around her and bends down to ask her if she already forgot who got her that apartment in the first place.
Tells her that if she wants to kill herself so badly, she should be more careful and not call one of her FBI friends in the middle of a work day. That Garcia, of course, knew how to get his number and that she should be thankful that Reid thought of calling him instead of sending the police to break down her front door.
Emily stills in his arms and throws up without warning. Reality crashing down around her, panic rushing through her vains. What did she just do?
She hears Clyde sigh before he pulls back her hair and tells her that she's going to be fine.
He stays with her for the rest of the night, keeps sitting across from her in the living room. Makes sure she drinks her coffee and doesn't fall asleep. Neither of them saying a word.
He leaves in the morning, his hand already on the door when he reminds her to call Reid. That she should thank him and that she should apologize. That she shook the poor kid to death.
"He's not a kid," Emily spits angrily into Clyde's face turning to meet his gaze for the first time since he came into her apartment last night.
For a second Clyde looks like he's about to laugh, but then his features become serious. Almost soft and Emily watches how he puts two and two together. Just like Garcia only three weeks ago. And Emily is far too tired to lie again.
"Just call him, darling," he tells her before the front door falls shut behind him and Emily's left alone again.
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Emily sits on her couch for hours, staring at her phone and thinking about calling Reid.
In the end she doesn't. She writes him a text message instead. Tells him that she's sorry, that she's fine and that there's no need to worry. She doesn't answer his calls when he tries to reach her and she's glad when he finally stops trying.
What's there to tell him anyway? She probably told him more than enough when she called him by accident.
She buries her face in his cardigan for the rest of the day, curled up on her couch and listening to the rain drumming against her windows.
That night, she falls asleep easily. It's the first time in months and it's the first time her dream changes.
Ian's cold blue eyes become warm hazel ones, and Ian's harsh grip, turns into Reid's gentle touch. And then it's not Ian any longer, it's Reid. Holding her softly in his arms, while he sways her over the dance floor like he did at JJ's wedding.
The next morning, she wakes up with a smile instead of a scream.
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It's Monday and Emily's late for work because she can't find her car keys. She's still looking through her purse, when she steps out of the elevator on the ground floor of her apartment building. Angry with herself and the whole world.
When his familiar voice reaches her ears, Emily is sure she's hallucinating because she's in London and Reid in DC. He can't be there, can't be standing just a few feet away from her. It's impossible.
But the young man at the doorman's desk, holding a shiny FBI badge in his hands, arguing that he didn't come all the way from the States to hurt Emily Prentiss is undoubtedly Spencer Reid.
Her purse hits the floor with a thud and Frank looks up at her from his desk. Points at Reid and wants to know if she knows him.
The second Reid turns around to face her, the world stands still. And she's lost the ability to speak. And she just stares.
It really is Reid. His long hair falling loosely in his face, his hands shoved in the pockets of his pants. Smiling his trademark smile, his hazel eyes meeting hers and filling her with warmth.
Before she can even stop herself she closes the gap between them, her arms around his neck. She's afraid he'll pull back, but to her surprise he doesn't. He puts his arms around her instead and pulls her close against his chest.
Emily hears Frank ask her something, but she can't make out his exact words. All she can think about is Reid and his hands at the small of her back, his face buried in her hair and his familiar scent of peppermint and coffee, old worn leather books and the faint hint of soap.
And for the first time since she left DC, she feels whole again.
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Disclamer: I own nothing, Everything belongs to their rightful owners.
AN: Thank you to everyone who's taking the time to read and/or review my stories, that really means the world to me! And of course a big thank you goes to my wonderful beta reader clairebare!