I know that I have lots of stories I need to update and many more I need to beta, but this story needed to be told. Recently, I suffered a loss in my life and though, like Em, I have tried to be strong and not burden people, sometimes the pain gets too much to bear. So, I decided to channel it thru a story. Sometimes writing is more cathartic than crying.
And before anyone jumps on me about the team not knowing about Emily's dad passing, sometimes life happens and things get lost. And since the Prentiss's were not close to anyone on the team and were probably mourning the loss of their only daughter, it may not have crossed their mind to notify anyone. Honestly, would it have changed anything if they had? I can see this being one more thing for Em to deal with while she was in hiding and running for her life. What could hurt more than being alone, presumed dead, and mourning the loss of a parent and not being able to go to the funeral? Now that she's come back, it's another thing she will have to deal with.
Song prompt: "Living Years" by Mike & The Mechanics.
Living Years
Emily Prentiss unlocked the front door and walked into her apartment. Throwing her purse on the table beside the door, she didn't seem to notice that it had missed and fallen to the floor. But never mind, she had more important things to think about than a compact falling out.
Walking to the kitchen, she didn't turn on a light as she went to the cupboard and blindly reached for a wineglass. Getting drunk wasn't going to solve anything, but maybe it would ease the pain in her chest. She needed something to make the ache feel better.
Pouring the wine, she flashed back to the moment when she had been old enough to drink her first glass at one of the embassy parties she had been allowed to attend. She remembered the glitz and glamour as the people paraded around in their fine, expensive clothes and flashing jewels. It had been the mid eighties and the Dynasty look was in. Shoulder pads and pastel eye shadow, and big hair that she was sure was the cause of global warming. She had laughed about it then, and even when she had come across the picture a couple years back. But now as the memory flashed, she didn't laugh; she wanted to cry.
She slipped off her shoes by the front door and carried her glass to the living room. She didn't want any lights on. But she would turn on the music. Maybe that would help. By the faint light of the sun fading on the horizon, she located the CDs she wanted. She slipped them into the stereo and hit play.
As the soft strains of Elvis filled her quiet room, she leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes. She hoped that soon she could relax. At least, that was her thought when a sharp knock startled her.
Setting the glass down, she walked over to the front door. Peeping thru the security hole, she sighed. She should have known that he would come over. She debated ignoring him. Maybe he would give up and go away. But as another knock filled the apartment, she knew that was as unlikely as snow in Texas in August. Sighing, she undid the numerous locks and opened the door.
"Hello, Dave," she greeted with false cheer.
"Hello, Emily," Dave greeted. "I thought you might be home."
Em leaned against the door frame. "What brings you here?"
"I was in the neighbourhood and thought I'd stop by and say 'hi'," he replied with a faint smile.
Em crossed her arms over her breasts. "Oh." Her stance was almost defiant.
"May I come in?" he asked softly.
"Um…I really don't want to see anyone right now." She tried to meet his eyes and failed. "I want to be alone."
Dave nodded sympathetically. "I understand. It will only be for a few minutes." Em debated with herself for a few seconds, then stepped aside to let him come in. "Thanks," he told her. "It's cold out there."
"Yeah," she replied noncommittally.
"Can I hang my coat up?"
"You were only going to stay a few minutes," she reminded him.
"You're right." He noticed the bottle on the counter. "What are you drinking?"
"Sangiovese di Romagna," Em said hollowly.
"Tuscany. May I have a glass?"
"Dave…" she started. She didn't want him here. She wanted him gone. Giving him a glass of wine would only propel him to stay.
"Just a glass," he interrupted.
"Then you can get it. You know where the glasses are." She turned and walked into the living room. She could hear the faint sounds of him moving around, but she blocked him out by listening to the song playing. "And you might as well hang up your coat, too. There's a hook by the door," she called out.
A couple of minutes later, Dave appeared in the living room. A glass of wine was in his one hand, and the bottle in the other. He cocked his head as he listened closely. "Elvis?" Dave's tone held a bit of surprise tinged with humour.
Em felt herself involuntarily stiffen. "I like Elvis."
"Really?"
"Yes. And if you don't, you can leave," she suggested in a cold tone.
Dave raised his eyebrow in question by her tone. "I didn't say I didn't like Elvis, all I'm saying is that I was surprised that he was on your list. You never struck me as a fan of 'the King'," he replied gently. "As a matter of fact, I am pleasantly surprised that you have him on." He took a seat kitty corner to Em. "I like him too."
Em rolled her eyes. "Sure you do. I've seen your collection."
"Not my whole collection. I was born in 1955 and Elvis was big when I was growing up. He and Sinatra and Dino were the biggest acts of the 60's. It brings back good memories of my childhood when I hear 'Crying In The Chapel'."
"Comforting." Em kept her eyes on the glass in her hands and tried not to count down the seconds to when he would leave and she could have her peace and quiet back.
"How are you?" he asked.
"Why do you ask?"
"You were a little distant at work today."
"I'm fine," she said and hoped he didn't hear the catch on her voice. Quickly she sipped the wine. It was something she could concentrate on.
"I was a little worried about you."
"Is that why you stopped by?" God, why couldn't he just leave? she asked herself. She put the glass on the table.
"Sort of." He looked around the nicely furnished room. "Nice fireplace," he observed. "Mind if I start a fire?" He started to get up.
"I do," Em stopped him cold. "I don't want to sound rude, but I really want to be alone right now. I don't know why you came over, but I thank you for taking time out from your schedule. Now, if you don't mind…" She stood up. She was restless and she needed to get out from the four walls closing in around her. "I thought you had a date with some ambassador's daughter."
"I do." He nodded in agreement. His eyes never left the woman standing in front of him. He watched her every move and facial expression. She was a good profiler, but he was better. But it didn't take an expert profiler to see that she was in pain.
"Then why aren't you with her?" Em's voice quavered slightly.
"I am," Dave returned smoothly. He watched the surprise and flummoxed expressions cross her face. "You're the ambassador's daughter. Now sit, Em. Drink your wine and relax. Please."
Em shook her head. "I don't think…"
"Please," he repeated. His words were a plea for her to do as he asked.
Sitting down, Em grabbed the glass and tried to focus on it instead of the man who had some how tricked her and was now sitting in her living room taking charge.
The CD changed and Dino filled the room. Neither person spoke for a long while as the melancholy song played. As it ended, Dave looked over at the woman he considered his friend sitting in the corner of the oversized couch. They had more in common than even she knew.
He didn't want to break the moment, but he had to ask the question that had been weighing on his mind for a couple of weeks. "So, when did your father die?"