Flashlights in the Dark
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.
Note: I couldn't not write something to attempt to alleviate that crushing pain I felt Wednesday. Threads of this have been floating around for days, effectively crushing the Glee!happy Klaine and the Cap!finale that I still haven't completely figured out.
Memory is a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose. - Kevin Arnold
The first thing she does after putting down her essentially empty suitcase is cry.
The house is painted in rich, warm colours, but at the moment she is numb to it. It's also too big, too empty, and Emily yearns for her tiny Quantico apartment. Her only solace for the night is how soft the bed is. She's never slept on something so cloud-like before. But by morning everything rushes back in a haze of fear and pain and darkness. She doesn't get up for hours.
It's days before she can fully look in the mirror.
c.m
Emily buys a dog. Well actually she buys a dog and a cat, but the first is so blatantly different, so not Emily Prentiss that she almost doesn't go through with it. But she isn't Emily Prentiss anymore, is she? Maybe not on paper, but she's always going to think of herself as...herself. It's just too hard not to.
The dog is a gorgeous German Shepard and the cat a grey Chatreux. They remind her of Morgan and Hotch, respectively, although when Henry (whose name changed about fifty times but always came back) wants to be petted, he always lets her know. Still, when he's lounging around with that perpetually serious, pensive look in his face, Emily can't help but think of her former boss.
She calls the dog Mick and trains him for weeks, (distracting herself) if only for getting ridiculous pleasure out of watching Mick sit each time he's told. While the dog isn't really hostile or prone to anger, he is undoubtedly powerful and his steady presence is reassuring. Emily always feels safe with him around, just as she always felt safe and reassured by her ex-partner. Sometimes she can still feel his hands around hers, holding tight, and his voice echoing, begging, in her ears.
As painful as the memory is to revisit, she does anyway. It's the last one she's got, after all. Besides, Emily isn't sure she'd ever heard Morgan call her his friend before. Is that heartening or tragic? She tries not to dwell on the idea too much.
c.m
She's not sure how long she spends looking—weeks, months maybe—but eventually, the original Solaris in all its Russian, five-hour-long glory is in her dvd player. Henry curls into the crook of her bent knees and Mick rests his great head on her thigh while Emily thinks of gangly, Converse-clad geniuses who can be nothing but themselves.
Into the third hour the popcorn tastes bitter, and it takes several glasses of wine to wash down the regret.
c.m
"You are not alone, okay? We are in that dark place with you, we are waving flashlights and calling your name."
She still has the phone with Garcia's message on it. She should have tossed it before, she knows, before leaving, should have after hearing her dear friend's voice pleading for her safe return. Hell, Emily shouldn't have reclaimed the phone with her possessions after getting out of the hospital. But for some reason, she can't bring herself to do it. Actually, she knows exactly why.
She can't let go. It's why her cat is named after her honorary nephew and her dog after the most infuriating agent she's ever known. It's why some nights, passing headlights and distant voices causes her heart to hurt. They aren't calling. They aren't coming. They never will again.
It's for the best, she scolds herself. She won't put them in that kind of danger ever again. It takes a long time—longer than she'll ever care to admit—but eventually all these reminds of her old life mean so much more than things she lost. They're people she loved and loves still, and that moment sitting in the half-dark of Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner's office and convincing him to give her a chance.
The moment that changed her life.
Eventually headlights stop making her turn and half-heard voices are easy to ignore. Because they were there in the darkness. They did come. They were her family, and in the end that's all Emily could have ever asked for.
"Up for a walk, Mick?"
He bounds to her side with his tongue lolling out his mouth. The dog's tail thumps against her leg as she reaches for a treat for Henry. "We'll be back, bud." He purrs in what she takes as acceptance.
And then together Emily and Mick step outside into bright sunshine.
The heart that truly loves never forgets. - Proverb
Author's Note: It was getting way more depressing than I originally planned, so I added that last bit. My first foray into Criminal Minds, mostly because I'm way too inadequate at all things necessary for a good case fic. Thoughts? Every time I rewatched that scene with Garcia's message to get the dialogue, I cried. And at the end. Oh Reid. MGG did amazing with both acting and directing, no?
We miss you, Paget. Really. Please come back.
Annie