I was going to upload these to LJ, but my computer is being a bitch. So here they are.
Grounded
She's surprised she's still functioning. That she hasn't shattered into pieces, into a small pile that could be swept into a broom pan and thrown away.
Rossi's steady gaze is keeping her from exploding, keeping her grounded. She's barely holding on, but she needs to keep it together. They have to find Prentiss and don't have time to deal with a rookie that falls apart after being shot at. So she takes a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. She could dwell on her own mortality later. Right now, she needed to find her mentor.
Advice
"Always bring a second pair of clothes- you never know when you're going to need them," Emily had advised her. And now, dabbing at her bloodstained turtleneck, she wished she could remember everything the older agent had taught her. She needed all the small bits of wisdom that Prentiss had imparted to her over the short stretch of time they had worked together to solve this case. Maybe if Emily was here, she could find herself.
Steady
When Hotch looked at her, he didn't see the distraught teenager watching her handcuffed father being escorted away by FBI agents. He also didn't see the newest member of the BAU. Despite narrowly escaping death, her voice is calm. A lesser agent, he knew, wouldn't be able to focus or work after being splattered with blood from a bullet meant for her. She had great potential, even if her past had been less than normal.
Silent Paradox
She sat, quietly, listening to her teammates discuss the case. Ideas were bouncing around the jet, being shaped into hard theories. Each 'what-if' brought up a new point that helped them narrow their profile.
But without enough bodies, they didn't have enough details. She could see this frustrated them. How could they do their job without doing their job? Their job was to protect people, but they couldn't do that without more bodies.
They were all aware of this paradox, but none of them said anything about it.
Grief
The tears are choking Reid. They well up in his eyes, but they don't fall past there. They linger and give his eyes a glassy look.
Garcia's sobs break the silence and he wishes he could cry openly like her.
He takes a couple ragged breaths before rubbing his eyes. The wetness soaks his eyelashes. He holds his tears back until after the funeral, where JJ catches him behind one of the SUVs. She holds him tight as he sobs silently into her shoulder. Only in the presence of JJ does he grieve for his Emily.
Headaches
After six weeks, she can walk without exuberant amounts of pain. She can still feel that weird twinge that she's convinced will never go away.
The doctors said that it would have been better if she had been stabbed with a knife, rather than the blunt stake. It had torn through the muscles in her torso and left splinters that damn near killed her.
Walking away from JJ sends a burning sensation through her, one she's fairly sure isn't caused by any physical injuries.
New Life
Emily Prentiss is dead.
That was her new mantra. Every time her hand twitched toward her cellphone to call JJ, or Morgan, or Hotch, she repeated it. Every time she glanced longingly at laptop to webcam with Garcia, she would recite the four words. Emily Prentiss is dead. Emily Prentiss is dead.
She was going by the name Elizabeth Pensly now. Elizabeth already flowed off her tongue, from her mom, and having the same initials was comforting. Like her old life wasn't completely gone. Like she wasn't living in Italy instead of Washington DC. Like she didn't have to pretend to be a different person every day of her life.
Painful Guilt
I never got to say goodbye.
JJ held Reid in her arms and listened to the small, sniffling sounds that were audible only to her.
How could she do this to him? How could she let him go on believing that Emily- Emily of all people- was dead? He was crying on her shoulder, and she had the power to stop the tears and the pathetic noises of crying and the raw emotions that are pouring out of him.
Comparing Reid to a child wasn't something she was fond of. But at that moment, he was. She was the one he turned to for emotional stability. But it's all a ruse. She's not the one soothing his grief. She's the one causing it.
Lila
I'm not just going to stop living my life.
Life. She was so full of it. The small smile gracing her lips, the tilt of her head that sent her hair flowing over her shoulder, the lithe shape of her body as she dove into the pool leaving barely a ripple in the water. The gasping laugh as she pulled him into the water, her eyes dancing as she leaned in to kiss him.
This is completely inappropriate.
It was. Especially the way her legs wrapped around his hips, allowing Reid to support her weight in the pool. The way she was practically climbing on him, trying to get a better shot at his lips. Her hands fluttering around his face, touching here and there, but never quite settling.
Someone Special
There's something about Dr. Reid. Something that she hasn't seen in any other guy. Something honest. Something brave. Something innocent, but far from naive. Something deliciously awkward.
Maybe that's why she pulled him into the pool. Maybe it was because she knew it would annoy him.
Perhaps it was to test how far he would go. Maybe it was just because she wanted to see him soaking wet, fabric clinging to his scrawny frame.
Never mind the reason- she's glad she did it.
