Emily Prentiss had always harboured a slight fondness for fate and coincidences. The cosmos seemed to align to her favour often. Even today, when she stumbled out of the glass doors minutes late due to some paperwork that was lost in the black hole called a printer. She was on a mad rush home, hoping to miss little of her favourite TV show. Her car beeped twice and the locks clicked. Emily was already half-bum in the car when she spied two figures under the shady facade of night and trees.
It was simple to read; the slight, uncomfortable shifts, the bent heads and avoidance of contact. She had never exchanged words with the man, save the few polite nods of acknowledges whenever he came for a visit. It was all coincidence that the car park was full that day and she had to park in the open field. It was perchance that she would have to leave 10 minutes later than her usual; perchance that she would catch this instance of parting.
Emily leaned against her car, plans to speed home to catch her favourite show on TV forgotten when she glanced the two figures in the open field. Your usual person would pay no attention to the interaction between the two figures, but she was a profiler, both on and off duty. It was habit that she faltered for a second, enough for her eyes to spy a familiar face and for curiosity to peak.
When the muted conversation ended abruptly, she knew exactly how the man would drop his head and run his fingers through his own hair in dejection. She knew how the blonde would stride and part so quickly from his company.
"Need a ride back?" Emily would ask, well knowing that it was a rhetorical question as the blonde came to work with company and it was that company she was fleeing from so desperately.
"No," the reply was curt; it was not rude, simply curt. "I need a drink."
"Sure."
Moments later they were at her place, sipping on hot coffee. The silence that hung in the air was thick, but not awkward. Emily was waiting, she knew not to push. Answers flowed naturally with this person; she told when she deemed the time apt, when she realised that holding it in would be foolish, especially when with a profiler.
"Will and I, we..."
The words that came later came in tears. Emily had her hands warmed by the coffee; she deserted the drink and provided comfort with her hands. One placed around the blonde's shoulders, drawing her into embrace, the other caressing the back in efforts to sooth the erratic sobs.
Jennifer Jareau was the team's media liaison, but in private she conversed little. They had done this often, the stay-overs at Emily's place that involved little sleeping and more touching, more understanding.
A kiss on the cheek and forehead was always followed with one, two on the lips. Between the kisses JJ would let slip sighs that only encouraged hands to find their way beneath shirts and fingers waving between buttons.
"I left him."
"I know."
"I want you."
"I know."
Emily Prentiss had always harboured a slight fondness for fate and coincidences and it seemed that fate was fond of her too.
