Hey guys! My muse is showing signs of ADD, cuz it cant seem to focus on one story for long. I came up with this last night as i was tossing and turning in bed at 2am, apparently my muse didnt want me to sleep either :P Anyhoo, this is just a oneshot, so i hope you like it! Reviews are very much appreciated!
Enjoy!
"We're all just misguided souls, searching for that person or place that can mend our shattered hearts and broken minds."
-Anonymous
Hotch can't sleep. He's exhausted, but every time he closes his eyes, crime scene photos and victim's faces appear. He sighs and gets out of bed, giving up on sleeping for the time being. He slips on some shoes and exits his room. Not really knowing where to go, he just walks around the hotel aimlessly until he decides to go sit by the pool.
As he passes the weight room, something catches his eye. That something is actually a someone, and that someone is Emily Prentiss. She's beating a torn up punching bag in the far corner of the room. Dressed in sweats, a t shirt, tennis shoes and kick boxing gloves she delivers hits and kicks to the beaten old bag. Hotch is impressed, her punches are quick but effective and her kicks are swift and powerful. She seems to have been here for a while for she's drenched in sweat. The look in her eyes catches him off guard, they're full of rage and hatred, neither emotions he has ever associate her with. He continues to watch her, waiting to see what will happen next.
Left, left, right, kick. Left, left, right, kick. Emily repeats in her head over and over again. She's been here for a half hour just unleashing her anger upon the punching bag.
Emily likes to believe she's a good person, she works hard at that, but people don't know her secret. Somewhere, deep down inside of her, there is a darkness. It is pure rage, anger and hatred. She doesn't let it out very often, but when she does, it's bad. Quite frankly, Emily is scared to think about what she is capable of. Seeing what she does only makes it worse. So, about once every year, she lets it all out, empties the tank and starts over. Whether it's drinking her problems away, rough sex, or- like tonight- beating a punching bag senseless.
This case had pushed her over the edge. Tonight she just couldn't take it anymore. Tonight, she's not just fighting for self control, she's fighting against the unsub, she's fighting for the victims, she's fighting for the life she couldn't save and for the one she almost lost.
She can feel tears filling her eyes and she fights harder.
Left, left, right, kick. Left, left, right, kick. Left, right, left, right, left, right!
She spins and kicks the bag with all her might, putting forth all of her rage, hatred and sadness into that kick. Her foot collides with the bag, causing the support beams to rattle and shake under the sheer force of the kick. Putting her hands on top of her head, she tries to catch her breath. She closes her eyes and leans against the wall. She lets herself slide down to the ground before burying her head in her hands and letting exhaustion replace the rage.
Emily suddenly feels like she's being watched. Looking up, she finds Hotch standing outside the room, just staring at her. He sees that she's noticed him and he enters the room. Quietly making his way over to her, he stops a few feet away from her. She glances up at him and realizes that he's giving her time to put on her mask and gather her bearings as best she can. After a few minutes, he holds out his hand for her to take. She takes is hesitantly and pulls herself up. Together they walk up to their rooms in silence.
When they reach her room, she turns and gives him a weak smile, which he sees right through. The look in his eyes tells her that he's not planning on leaving her anytime soon. Not arguing with his unspoken words, she lets him in. He waits on the bed patiently as she takes a shower. When she returns, he is leaning back against the headboard, staring off into space. She goes over and sits next to him. They sit in comfortable silence. Hotch takes Emily's hand and runs his fingers over her already bruising knuckles. He massages them gently as she leans her head back and closes her eyes. Placing the other one down softly on her leg, he takes the other one and massages it too. When he finishes, she opens her eyes and finds him staring at her, his eyes are filled with understanding and sympathy. Suddenly, he pulls her onto his lap and wraps his arms around her tired body. She gives in and leans against his chest, letting the tears flow freely.
She cries for the things she was fighting for earlier. He cries for the woman who has lost so much but still comes back for more, just so she can try to make the world a better place for people. He holds her close as the tears come falling down. Soon, her sobs die down and she succumbs to the exhaustion, falling asleep in his arms. He doesn't leave her, he just turns off the lamp, covers them up and leans back against the headboard, letting himself be engulfed by the sleep he has waited for, for a long time.
"The pain is still there, but each day it dies a little, and soon, you will be able to dream as you sleep once again."
- Anonymous
Well.....? Review already!