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Fuck me.
Rachel passes me silently, earbuds in, skateboard under her arm. She avoids eye contact. I groan inwardly and follow her out to the car. We are silent until halfway through the way to work.
"Listen, Rache, I'm sorry. I just wanted what's best for you," I start to plead.
"Fuck off. You don't need to do shit for me." She doesn't turn to look at me, just says those words cooly and quietly.
"Yes, I do. Get that through your head. You're my responsibility. I do what is best for you. Ok?" I hate when my angry, lecture voice comes out. I take a deep breath and stare at the road.
She takes a few minutes before answering, "Why do you think I need a private, fucking expensive school? I'm not gonna fit in with the wealthy kids of political parents. They are a completely different breed than me."
"Am I? My parents are wealthy politicians. Am I so different than you? Besides, you don't want to go to an inner city school. I know you went to them back home, but do you really want to do another one? Cause DC is dangerous. Besides, your private school isn't exactly a prep school. It's an arts school. As in, you can take music courses." She doesn't respond.
It takes all the way until we get off at the BAU floor for her to turn to me and say, "I guess you're not so bad. I'll think about it." I try not to smile.
"Go bitch about me to Pen, okay?" It's her turn to try not smiling as she jumps on her skateboard and rides (against all BAU rules) down to Penelope's lair. When I turn around, JJ is staring at me, an amused expression on her face.
"Is that what I have to look forward to?"
"Nah, you have a boy. Your own boy, who will probably love the school he goes to and not worry about whether or not it's a burden," I say and I roll out stress from my shoulders.
"She loves you."
"And Henry loves you." We walk in together, JJ showing me pictures she took last night of Will and Henry. She gets on me about not seeing him recently so we make plans for this weekend to hang out. Unless, of course, there's a case.
…
The day passes by quickly, not much to do besides paperwork and look over some smaller cases. Derek and I go to lunch together, while Rossi, Reid, and JJ go to lunch with Rachel. I thank JJ for going, because she still is more comfortable around women, and it lets Derek and I have some time alone.
Back at home, Rachel goes outside to skateboard and I clean the house for once. When it starts getting dark, I send out a text telling Rachel to come back in, and get a brief, noncommittal reply.
I pour a glass of wine, red and rich, before ordering out dinner. Thai, of course. Curry for Rachel, pad thai for me. Rachel shoves her way inside and drops her board beside the sofa before plopping down on it.
"What's wrong?" I can feel it instantly. Something happened.
"Fuck, it's annoying having a profiler around all the damn time. Just some kids at the park, nothing big." Her body language tells me different. Her shoulders are high and tense, her arms crossed over her chest, she's looking away and her knees are pressed into her.
"Tell me," I ask, coming and sitting by her. She still refuses to look at me.
"I skated up, and there were some kids on a bench. One guy called me over. He was sorta nice, but the girls there were bitches. I just, fuck, I just hate that bullshit. You know, the 'look at her emo style and tight jeans and shit.'" I gather Rachel in my arms and my heart breaks when she grips me back. She doesn't cry though, just wraps herself into me. I know she will wake up tonight, crying, and probably cut if I don't get there in time.
Nightmares are bad. And not just for her, though hers are really scary. They affect everyone, and on the team they are rampant. Reid got them really bad for awhile. Morgan has them sometimes too and he wakes up shuddering. It's almost scary, watching a man as strong and confident as my Derek clutching me in fear.
Though I can't say I haven't done the exact same thing. They change often enough. It used to be of Italy, of a congregation glaring me down. Now, it's of cases. Usually just random aspects of them mixed with losing Derek. Now I am terrified of losing Rachel and Derek. My first one with Rachel was especially horrifying. Her father was released from prison, and broke into my house, even though there was a giant wall and a moat around it. He tied me up and made me watch. My dream ended right when he was about to kill Rachel.
I woke up crying.
Now though, Rachel wiggles out of my arms and sits back. "I'm nervous about school. Wh-what if they figure stuff out about me? I'm too fucked up for the-them not-t to notice."
"Honey, no one, not one person, will know anything unless you tell them. There is no mark on you that identifies you as anything. You'll make friends. It may take some time, but you will. And no one can figure anything out that you don't want them to, especially teenagers. Now, go wash up for dinner and we'll talk more," I say. She stands, letting me grasp her hand briefly.
The door rings and I pay for dinner and go to the kitchen to plate everything up. The door rings again, but this time, it's Derek. I let him in with a kiss and an apology that we didn't order him anything.
"No problem, Princess, I just ate anyway. Just wanted to come over and spend time with you and Rache. Anything going on?"
"She's nervous about school. She thinks people will be able to figure out what happened and she won't have friends." I rest my head against his chest and he wraps his arms around me. I can hear his heart beating, which always soothes me.
"C'mon guys, break it up," Rachel says from the doorway. We separate, but he keeps his hand on my lower back.
"Grab your food, Rachel. Let's go to the living room and eat. Don't spill anything."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," she says dryly.
"Well, there was that time with the two liter of Coke…" I trail. She rolls her eyes and walk away.
"Let's go and relax," Derek suggests. I nod and follow him to the other room where Rachel was already stretched out on the sofa eating.
"Why don't you take up the whole sofa, huh?" I joke and push her legs off and sit down. She sticks out her tongue but smiles afterwards. Morgan puts his arm around me and laughs as a noodle sticks to my chin. We don't say anything for awhile, just soaking up each other's company. It's almost like a real family, except if Rachel was my biological daughter with Derek, she wouldn't be as pale. I smile to myself, content and happy and sort of laughing at my thoughts.
"Why you so happy," Rachel asks through a mouthful.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," I scold instantly, avoiding the question.
"You didn't answer," she says after chewing and swallowing.
"I don't know, I'm just happy we're together." I blush, but Derek holds me closer. Rachel, on the other hand, looks at me and rolls her eyes.
"Are you PMSing?"
"Don't be mean," I say, a little hurt.
"Hey, be respectful to your… um… to Emily," Derek says. I can see him cursing himself for almost saying mother. I snuggle closer to him, hopefully easing his mistake.
"Sorry, sorry," Rachel mutters. But the good vibe is broken and we finish eating quickly. Rachel disappears into her room after dinner, and Derek and I stretch out on the sofa. We lay on our sides, him spooning me of course.
"Thanks for being on my side," I whisper.
"Are you PMSing?" I snort at his question. Then realize I am. He takes my silence as an answer. "She has really got you pegged, you know?"
"I know. I also know I love you." He kisses the top of my head and wraps his arm tightly around my abdomen.
"I love you too," he tells me. We drift off into sleep, listening to each other's heart beats.
…
"Whereyagoing?" Derek slurs sleepily as I get off the sofa.
"Rachel."
"Tell Mini hi," he says before rolling over and going back to sleep. I smile at his sleep driven ignorance. Then I creep to Rachel's room. Her covers are tangled around her sleeping body and I see her form rise and fall, either from breathing or quiet weeping. It's actually both I discover as I get closer.
I climb in beside me and she accepts my intrusion happily, curling into me and grabbing my shirt with her fists. What's worse is that she's awake, and already cut. And she's still freaking.
"Honey, honey, I'm here, shhh," I try to calm her. She stops shaking, and looks up at me with her big, gorgeous green eyes.
"I'm sorry, Em, I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong," she gasps. I turn her face to look at me.
"I love you, Rachel. You should never apologize about this. Now, let's go to the bathroom and get you cleaned up. Okay?" She nods and I help her up, avoiding touching the cuts. We go to my bathroom and I make her sit on my counter. "Okay, this might sting," I tell her as I pour hydrogen peroxide onto her skin and follow it with antibacterial soap.
"Shit," she mutters, contorting her face. I gingerly wash her new cuts free of blood or any germs. I notice she won't look at me.
"Hey, Rache, don't be ashamed. When I was your age I did a lot of things that helped me cope at the time. It's normal for people in your situation to seek out something." I realize that the last part sounds like my work voice, and I hate myself for using it.
"What did you do?" She looks up now, curious. Maybe I shouldn't have said that.
"Ok, well, I hated my situation. My mom, you know, is a bitch. She pretty much verbally abused me my whole childhood and I had to be the perfect daughter so she would look good. Um, when I became a teenager, I started doing drugs to fit in. A lot of them. I also cut some, but not as my main dependent. Alright, can you be respectful of the next thing I say?"
Rachel nods.
"I got pregnant. And got an abortion," I say methodically, not looking at her. It doesn't shame me anymore, but some people are vicious about it, and I don't know how Rachel will react.
"Do you regret it?" There is no anger or shock or opposition in her voice and a great weight lifts from my shoulders.
"No. I couldn't have done that at that age. And my mother probably would've disowned me if I went through with it. I'm not exaggerating either."
"Do you believe in God?"
"Not anymore."
"Me either."
"Derek does though, so just be careful not to say anything offensive. He really does and I think it's beautiful, and I wish I could as well."
"What drugs did you do?"
"Weed, pharmaceuticals, acid, some coke but that was hard to get off of and I didn't want to get addicted. I drank a lot. I wasn't myself for three blissful, harmful years. Thank god the FBI doesn't know I used to do all that. But I've stopped. For good."
"Do you have any tattoos?"
"Is this 'Ask Emily Questions Time'?"
"Yes."
"Let's go lay down then." We go to my bed now and curl up facing each other. Rachel gets under my covers and peers at me inquisitively.
"I feel like we got straight to weird stuff, but not basics. Answer the question," she says seriously. When I think about it, we did skip normal questions teenagers ask adults and parents, and went to her worst problems and a lot of small talk and really deep stuff about her.
"Yes."
"Well, can I see it?" She rolls her eyes at me to say 'duh.'
"Fine." I get on my knees and turn around and unbutton my shirt most of the way down. I pull it down and off my shoulders so the exquisitely detailed black/gray feather could show. Rachel gently traces it.
"It's beautiful," she mumbles. "Did it hurt?"
"Yes. And it took a long time to finish because of all the small lines and things. Next question."
"Republican or democrat?"
"Liberal Independent."
"Good answer. I'm tired. I'll finish quizzing you in the morning."
"Sounds good to me," I say and stroke her hair as she delves deeper under the covers. Her breathing deepens as I get under the covers and move closer to her.
…
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