Under Pressure
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Summary: First (of hopefully many more to come) Criminal Mind fic. A look into how Ashley Seaver tries to fit in with the group. Set after 'Lauren'. I always thought people gave her a hard time because it seemed like she was trying to replace first JJ, and then Emily Prentiss. She wasn't my favourite character, but I think she wasn't given enough time to explore her potential. Please don't crucify me. This is my first attempt at writing something outside the fandoms of 'Lost' and 'The Vampire Diaries' :P
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"No one feels another's grief, no one understands another's joy. People imagine they can reach one another. In reality they only pass each other by." - Franz Schubert
...
Even now, she feels like she's struggling to maintain a position on the social ladder.
She's taken part in cases, occasionally taken the odd UnSub down without hesitation, often earning her an impressed look from Morgan, but it still feels like she has something to prove. She doesn't quite feel like she belongs to the team, and she can fathom a guess why.
When they're not in the public eye, the faces of her friends often harbour gloomy expressions, still mourning the loss of one of their own. Not having worked with Agent Prentiss for very long, she finds it easy to compartmentalise her grief, finds it easy to work past it, even though in reality it shouldn't be this easy. She shouldn't be able to get out of bed with the vaguest traces of a smile on her face.
She feels guilty for not being able to mourn like the rest of them do.
As a team of highly skilled profilers, she's surprised no one has cottoned on to the fact she's not entirely focused as she should be. Little mistakes slide through the cracks, and occasionally her façade drops, and she finds herself slumped over her desk, trying to remind herself she has a job to do, and that slacking, unfortunately, isn't one of the requirements needed to keep that job.
Now Agent Jareau is back, she feels some of the heat (and pressure) has been removed from her young shoulders. She doesn't feel like she needs to fill the shoes of Agent Prentiss so much, although she can't help but cast a worried look around whenever they gather to discuss new (and sometimes old) cases, wondering if, despite the fact she joined the team before Agent Prentiss' tragic demise whether the team see her as an individual, an important part of the team, or whether they see her as a replacement for something (someone) they've lost.
It shouldn't matter either way. She's here to do a job, not be concerned with how her team views her.
But, still, odd gestures, like Rossi helping her after Jack Fahey's blood had left a rather noticeable spatter along her shirt, or Morgan giving her soft, encouraging smiles after a particularly hard case had been resolved, gives her these little mood boosts she can't quite explain, even to herself.
In those moments, she does feel like part of the team.
She keeps her head up, keeps her mind focused, and makes sure she does what she can to fill the void Agent Prentiss' death has left.
On no accounts is she trying to replace anyone.
Sometimes she does wonder though, particularly when Morgan's eyes travel across to hers, before he pulls his gaze away at a suspiciously quick speed. Sometimes Reid will turn towards her, his lips forming the letter 'P', clearly about to reel off a name belonging to someone who can no longer answer, before he realises his mistake and turns away, unable to hide the flash of sadness concealed in his warm doe-like eyes in time.
She bows her head during these moments, pretending she's mourning too. It isn't such a stretch of the truth – in part, she feels the same gaping absence as the rest of them – but at the same time she hasn't had enough time to form that same emotional bond to Emily that the rest of them did, hence why inside her own mind, using some sort of cold, detached logic to separate emotion from facts, she refers to her as Agent Prentiss first and foremost.
If she tries to make it anymore personal than that, she's reminded that the team didn't just lose a valuable agent, but a dear friend, and that in turn makes her feel guilty, the way she's feeling equivocal to the feeling of not belonging somewhere, that old playground type of emotion where you have no idea whether you belong to a group or not, or whether you're just a loner, pure and simple.
Each time Hotch tells them to prepare to leave for their next case, she heads to her desk, tying her long hair back into a firm ponytail, almost like by tying her hair back, she's trying to regain some control.
She hates the fact she has to feel this way in an environment like this, hates the fact everyone seems to be drifting like zombies, only really focused on the job not particularly on living.
She knows everyone is dealing with Prentiss' loss in different ways, and for that she cannot judge them. She's experienced her own losses in life, but it's difficult when it's a work colleague, someone you're used to seeing every day in and and out of the office.
"One thing about working here," Prentiss had advised her, during one of the first few conversations, "is that at some point Reid will have to – and I mean HAVE to – demonstrate his physics magic. Bear with him – not everyone gets used to him within 24 hours. Also, Morgan will probably at some point hit on you, but that's normal. He's a player, but one with a big heart. You want him fighting your battles for you, if you get me. Rossi might seem like he has no sense of humour, but he's – well, he's a tough old nut you can't help but admire. Hotch is a workaholic, but he values his team, and he's an excellent father. Garcia might strike you as crazy, but she's sweet and definitely someone you wanna keep as a friend for life. Trust me – she'll find some sort of black mark on your record if you don't."
"One thing?" she'd countered at the time, bemused by all these various points of trivia flying in her direction. "Agent Prentiss, with all due respect, you've given me a lot to remember. I'm sure I'll annoy one of them by the end of the day."
"You speak about one member of the team, you have to speak about them all," Emily had said, with a wink. "One unit, one family, and all that clichéd crap. If you just be yourself, I'm sure you'll fit right in. Welcome to the team Agent Seaver."
She smiles at the recollection.
This is her own way of dealing with everything – focusing on the happier memories, rather than losing herself in the bad.
She's already trained her eyes to cope with the worst possible images her team have received, but there's something about watching a group slowly fall apart due to an almost unimaginable amount of pain and grief which causes her heart to clench a little.
She glances down at her badge, grimacing at what it reads.
To outside eyes, it reveals she's part of an incredible task-force, part of something so much bigger than herself, part of a group dedicated to keeping America and its citizens safe.
To herself, however, the badge tells her she's an outsider.
She doesn't mind that so much.
She'd rather be an outsider, still retaining her own identity, than try and fill the shoes of another agent, particularly one who'd given up her life in the name of protecting her team.
Sometimes at night she lies awake, staring up at her ceiling, wondering if this is all part of the grieving process. Sometimes she snaps at people who really don't deserve to receive the brunt of her anger.
As a profiler, her first thoughts after self-analysing herself and her own actions revolve around the idea that maybe she needs more sleep, or at the very least more caffeine pumping through her veins.
Then she figures out the root of the problem.
She's trying too hard to be someone she's not. Despite her attempts at avoiding replicating the personality traits of a now deceased agent, it seems she's trying to be Emily, and the reason for that is simple.
Emily was beloved by everyone. She could do no wrong in any of their eyes. Though she'd told her that she'd had to work hard to prove herself, it seemed she hadn't taken that long to fit in, to be a part of the team.
She longs for that.
Acceptance.
And it feels like a selfish desire in the midst of everything else.
But, hell, if you profiled the entire world, every individual in every city in every country, isn't that the only common factor you'd manage to find? The desire to belong, to be a part of something?
Of course, her job isn't to profile those people. It's to profile – and catch – those that work outside society's legal parameters.
That's what it should all be about, helping to rid the world of twisted individuals who need more than just their heads examining.
With that goal in mind, she feels like every time they lock away a bad guy – or end the life of one, which happens more often these days – they're righting a wrong, and that is what feeds her hope day by day.
And that's what she – and the rest of her team – should focus on.
The victories hold more weight than any defeats they face.
That's what she holds on to.