Disclaimer: see my profile
A/n this is my take on what could happen to Emily in the new story line. It's a short one shot. Please enjoy
The heat from the day had sunk into the city streets so that when night came and sun went down, there was no relief from the sweaty fist of summer. She thought she understood now why someone would call the end of August the dog days of summer.
All she wanted to do was hide away from the stifling, wet heat. She wanted to sit on her old balcony with a glass of luscious iced tea complete with slice of lemon clinging to the glass and sprig of fresh mint. She'd make it as sweet as she wanted and drink it slowly, savoring the sweet and bitter taste like dawn in Eden.
She sighed and walked, her feet slapping the concrete as the sun died its ugly death leaving urine yellow, burnt orange and violet in the sky. Shadows from tall buildings chased her as she walked; putting as much distance between her and the tiny little apartment, she had called home for six months
Fuck!
The word, foremost in her mind every time she had to think about her situation, rose up through the dregs of her thoughts like a body tossed into a lake. She couldn't weigh down her miserable thoughts with the stones of frivolity. Her infamous compartmentalization skills were gone, vanished like the mist before the sun. Everything poured in together and she couldn't take it.
She crossed the street, moving by instinct rather than paying attention to the lights.
Are you trying to kill yourself?
Shut the fuck up!
Shawn would kill her if he knew she came out here every night, to walk in the middle of the city without protection. He'd say she had a death wish and maybe she did. She wiped away the sweat that crawled down her forehead to her chin, leaving a stinging trail in its wake.
Two hookers passed her, laughing uproariously at some joke she hadn't heard. They didn't seem to care about the sweltering heat or the lack of johns because of said heat. They looked over at her and laughed again. She ignored them and derision in their faces. She didn't care if she were alone, dressed in jeans and a long sleeved blue shirt in 95-degree weather. It was her own damn business how she wanted to dress. Besides it made her sweat and one day she would sweat out the memory of the one thing she couldn't bear to leave behind.
Music blasted out of the open door of the same club she passed every night. "Club Noir," it said in flashy neon pink and green. They were into old seventies and eighties dance tunes she recognized. The beat of the familiar tunes never led her inside. Even for the coolness of air conditioning or a cold drink. If she went inside someone would try to pick her up and she didn't want that. She only wanted to see his face again.
It's a pipe dream and you know it. You burned that bridge.
She swiped her hand over her forehead again. It was almost ten pm. She should turn around and go back to her place, but she had one last place to go.
The pay phone was right where it had been every night for the last six months. She had the number engrained in her memory even though the US Marshall's had taken everything away from her that could connect her to her old life including her cell phone. She'd never forget some numbers and it was time to dial this number even if it meant her life. Her life was over anyway. Ian Doyle had taken everything from her. The only thing left to do was put up the headstone. "Here lies Emily Prentiss. She did her duty."
She laughed aloud, but no one seemed to care or even notice. That was the reality of life in this fun house called America. You could laugh on the streets alone and no one cared. She laughed again, only this time, the laugh sounded like a sob. The public phone mocked her. It said, "Come on over and dial the number. You can do it or are you chicken." She could hear it making clucking noises. She laughed again and wondered about the precarious nature of her sanity.
She reached out and touched the black plastic of the receiver. It was warm, like the air curdling around her. She thought it would be cold, to shock her away like a low wattage jolt from an electrical outlet.
Now what?
She could stand here and stare at the pay phone until mistaken for a prostitute or until the sun came up. Neither option appealed to her so she picked up the receiver and dug her hand into her pocket. For a minute, the quarters she always carried with her, seemed to have disappeared. Her heart began thumping in her chest. If she were kept from calling because of the lack of coins…
She finally found them in the corner of her front pocket, where they'd been all along. It was though her fingers had a mind of their own. They seemed to have the survival instinct she wanted to leave behind just for the chance to hear his voice one last time.
She plugged in the coins and began picking out the numbers that wouldn't leave her mind.
Have you lost your mind?
She ignored the voice of reason and dialed the number until the last digit. Her fingers stopped, shaking and sweating. If she dialed the last number and waited for him to answer then she wouldn't be able to stay silent. His voice would be her undoing. She'd start talking and wouldn't be able to stop. She'd have to explain that they'd made her leave everything behind. How they'd said she couldn't say goodbye to everyone. She wanted to leave him a note, but the US Marshall assigned to her refused to allow it. He told her it was for her own good and the good of the ones she loved.
You love him. You left him. He hates you now.
The phone squawked indignantly at her. She slammed down the receiver and left the coins that fell with clinks into the change return. She walked away in the opposite direction half a block before turning around and running back to the phone.
She removed the change and dropped the coins back into the phone, dialing as fast as her fingers would work. She had to hear his voice. She had to ask him to forgive her so he'd still be there when she could go home again.
The phone rang once, and her heart began pounding so hard she could hardly breathe. It rang again and then picked up.
"Reid…"
Her greeting was drowned out by his voice mail. She hung up the phone. She couldn't leave a message over the phone. She couldn't say. "I'm sorry Reid. Please forgive me for just walking away. I love you. I need you. Please come take me away to some beautiful place no one will ever find us."
She walked away, wiping more sweat from under her eyes. She wouldn't try this again. She could live without his voice because it would keep him safe.
"You've reached Spencer Reid. Please leave a message at the beep and I'll call you back."
It repeated in her head as she walked back to her tiny little apartment in a new and strange city. She couldn't make it go away. It joined other memories to torment her until she wanted to scream aloud.
The sun was completely down. The deep blue of twilight settled over the city as she trudged away from the phone.
One more day gone, it was just the heat that made her risk everything. It affected her brain. All she had to do was wait for the coolness of autumn and then she'd be free.