A/N: A dear friend wrote this today because I tweeted about seeing Emily on her knees. It's angsty and gorgeous and I begged her to let me post it. She doesn't want her name on it but I'll make sure she sees any comments.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
It's funny, he thinks to himself, the things you think about in these improbable – yet often inevitable, given their line of work – situations. Emily's poor knees, is what he's thinking right now; it's circling around in the back of his mind over and over and he knows he has to get his head clear right now. But it's all he can think – Emily's poor knees.
He's thought about them before, of course; it's hard not to notice them when he's pressed up behind her in bed, fading in and out of sleep, or when she's straddling him during a ferocious bout of lovemaking. He's seen her on them while searching for something beneath their bed; he's seen her carefully shaving around them through the shower door as he's brushing his teeth in the mornings. He's seen them bare and in stockings, but until now he's never thought, Emily's poor knees.
She's on them now.
There's a gun pressed to her head, the gunman one of those sociopaths he's made a career out of hunting and writing about, and all he can think about is how uncomfortable she has to be on that cold, rocky ground. Her fingers are laced together behind her head – her head, with a gun pressed against her right temple – and her elbows are jutting out at what has to be an uncomfortable angle, but it's her knees that he feels must be giving her hell right now. Maybe he's just more sensitive to the idea of them causing her trouble than the idea that maybe the gun will be the last thing she feels.
He's profiler enough to realize that this has more to do with what he wants for her than what's probably going on in her head. Hell, in her head, she probably has an out already planned and he's the dumb schmuck thinking about the way her knees feel, about that little dimple she has above the right one and how she can't ever seem to get the hair off of that one spot on the left one when she shaves.
It's funny, really. He'll have to tell her about…
The shouting coming from his left, coming from Morgan, to Put the gun down, now, you son of a bitch, is making it hard to focus, but there's one thing he has to do before this ends, one way or another.
Emily, he begins to say, Emily, I love you is what he wants to say, there in front of the whole team.
But the report of the gun in his ears and Emily's poor knees is all he can think about now.