So this is my first ever fanfic, so be kind! constructive criticism only, i mostly wrote this because i love reid & i always wondered how he felt at that time, its rubbish but it needs to be uploaded so i can improve :D
Enjoy!
'To follow by faith alone is to follow blindly.' - Benjamin Franklin.
I could still remember how it had felt in that hot room, being held by the somewhat mentally ill ''prophet'' Cyrus, it was one of those cases where the guilt literally ate you up inside and it was one that, no matter how hard I tried to forget, I just couldn't shake the images of Emilys beaten face out of my mind. The way he pointed the gun at my head, ready to obviously blow my brains out without blinking, I still felt the sweat as it dripped down my forehead from the tension and heat, it was suffocating in that small room as I awaited my imminent death. Prentiss had stared at me, horror flashing across her eyes, we both knew he thought it was me, I was a man and in this religious man's eyes I was more likely to be in such a dangerous job, rather than a female who was only good to bare children in his way of life.
I remember not having time to compose my features as Emily admitted it was her, and that she had been working alone and I had not had any knowledge on it. I wanted to stand up and tell Cyrus it was me, not Emily, but the words never formed in my mouth. I was scared as well, flashbacks of Tobias beating me in that small cabin came to mind, the gun with one bullet playing Russian roulette because I wouldn't pick a sinner. Even now, I shook those thoughts from my mind, the Hankel case had broken me down to pieces and made me weak for a while, but it could never excuse my lack of nerve for standing up for Emily and I guess that is why the case sticks with me, because I felt and still feel guilty. I remember after the case, as I got home, staring at myself in the mirror wondering why I had been so cowardly, and for the first time in a while I wished I had some diladuid to get rid of this feeling of guilt and sadness because I couldn't think of anything, but Emily's face afterwards. However, I knew that no amount of narcotics could change what had happened, and Emilys words on the plane replays whenever I get that thought, her telling me what happened was not my fault and one day I hope to believe those words to be true.
The days had passed in a blur of lies and deceiving and always praying that Emily was OK, cliche I know, but I really did as i knew the statistics for people who are held hostage and beaten - myself being a number in those statistics, but i never prayed out loud as they wouldn't suspect more of a personal connection, but in my head I sent her warm feelings to keep her going, to keep her strong like I knew she was. After the compound had exploded into the dark night, surrounded by children and women and FBI agents, I had felt a sense of relief and panic until I saw Emily's face staring at me, her distressed eyes caught mine and I felt myself relax, and, although I was not much of a fan of physical contact and hugging, we embraced, everything was OK as I took in her familiar smell, as I realized she was there in my arms and not burnt-out from the blast, and that she was still all in there, her eyes were still alive and not hollowed out from the experience.
And I wonder if it was, then, when I started to fall for Emily Prentiss.