Okay, so you may be wondering why I am starting a new fanfic after discontinuing all my others. Basically my old laptop died. When I say died I mean there was NOTHING that was able to be saved from it, so bye bye pre written chapters! Once I get back into writing again I may look at writing them again, but for now that isn't going to happen. I have only just got out of hospital after being there for over a year which is why my updating hadn't happened. Anyway, enough about me. *TRIGGER WARNING* for self harm, possible sexual abuse in later chapters, swearing and possible eating disorder mentioned in later chapters.

*beep beep beep beep*

Emily ran her hand through her dark hair as she reached for her phone. These phone calls were always the same.

"Prentiss."

"Em," JJ's voice came from the receiver, "meet on the jet in 20, we have another case."

Another case. More death. More bereaved. More Widows. More Orphans. More childless parents.

Emily sighed, "Okay JJ, I'll be there."

She hung up and through her legs out of bed, causing her to wince. She looked down at her thighs and ran her fingers gently over the raised parallel lines that covered them.

She doesn't remember the last case she got through without resorting to this. Everything had just seemed so much harder since she came back to the team. Her relationship with them was different. Rossi, JJ and Hotch treated her the same as always, but the others didn't. Garcia was overly clingy and paranoid that she would disappear again at any minute. Morgan was wary of getting attached again and hadn't totally forgiven, but was trying his best to make her feel welcome again. Reid was having none of it. He wouldn't talk to her, he wouldn't look at her, he wouldn't even be in the same room as her unless he had to be. It was killing her to see what she had done do them. She hated herself for it. It didn't matter how many time she told herself what she had done was for the best, she couldn't help but think of the what ifs. Realistically she knows the Doyle would have killed them all, but she can't seem to accept it. She can't help but blame herself for everything.

Emily doesn't quite remember which of the for mentioned things caused her to pick up the blade again, maybe it was the combination of them all, but either way she had. She remembers the relapse though. She had just come back from her first case back and her first time seeing her team. "They hate me" was the only thought going through her mind as she stumbled through her apartment door. The tears were streaming and her breath kept catching in her throat. Anxiety filled her and began to cloud her thoughts. That's when those thoughts first came back. She was sixteen the last time she had done it, it had been years since it had even crossed her mind. Now it felt like the only option. She didn't even try to stop herself. She walked to the bathroom, suddenly overcome by a numb peacefulness. This is what she needed. This would make everything go away. As she opened the bathroom cupboard an excited anticipation joined the numbness. Stretching her fingers to the back of the top shelf she searched around until her fingers came into contact with the cold metal blade. She had never been able to bring herself to throw it away. Grasping it in her hand she collapsed to the nylon floor. Pulling down her work trousers she looked at the blade, reflecting the bathroom light from its shiny surface. A sad smile crossed her lips as she placed the blade into her thigh and pushed down. Her lips parted to release a sigh of relief as she dragged that blade across her pale flesh. She was surprised at the depth of the cut. She thought that after all this time she would start of shallow, but apparently not. The skin gaped slightly and began to fill with glorious red blood. It bubbled up in the cut then crept over the sides, running down her leg and creating a small puddle on the floor. She repeated the movement several times until she could think clearly again. That's when the reality of what she had just done hit her. Guilt filled her, along with extreme disappointment. In one short moment 25 years of being self harm free had gone down the drain. She had screwed up again. She always screwed everything up. Tears began to roll down her cheeks as she cleaned her wounds and closed them with steri-strips from her medical bag. She knew right away that she couldn't tell anyone. She could lose her job on the grounds of mental instability and even if that didn't happen, the pitiful looks would kill her. This would have to be another secret she kept from them.

Emily snapped herself out of her thoughts and looked at the clock. Ten minutes had gone by since JJ called. No time for a shower now. Emily quickly washed and threw on some clothes before heading off to the jet.

Reviews would be greatly appreciated!