7. Haunts
Emily wasn't sure exactly where she was going when she started driving, but she wasn't surprised that her subconscious mind had taken her to the church where she had last seen Matthew – alive. She did have to go speak with his parents at some point, she knew, but she supposed she could take a few moments to calm herself before she dived into that lion's den.
Parking illegally, she exited the car and stood outside the church doors, just trying to breathe. Sometimes it felt like she hadn't taken a real deep breath in years. Maybe even a decade. Last time she was here, it was snowing, and the air was as clear as the darkness surrounding her as she walked away from the flashing lights and sirens that heralded the BAU's confrontation with that damned, murderous priest.
But today it was hot, and humid. Underneath her blazer, her silk blouse clung to her back, the dripping sweat making her back itch, and the bright sunlight shot daggers into her eyes. She tried to take a deep breath and coughed instead, the thick air becoming trapped in her lungs.
"Are you alright, Emily?" She heard a concerned, strangely familiar voice ask from behind her.
Hand on her gun, the brunette spun around and gasped, staring in disbelief at the form of Matthew's father, dressed in black, with a priest's collar around his neck. "Mr. Benton?" she choked out.
The grey-haired man smiled. "Yes, Emily. It's me."
"But . . . You're . . . And you . . . What?" Emily spluttered, completely dumbfounded by the man's sudden appearance and his, well, appearance.
The man chuckled. "Please call me Tom. Or Father Tom as the kids around here do."
Emily continued to stare at him, her mouth open with shock.
"Well, you're certainly quieter than you used to be," Tom observed, still smiling. "Why don't you come inside where it's cooler and I'll explain."
To Emily, his words sounded more like an order than an offer, but that familiar quality calmed her somewhat, and she followed the tall man into the church, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu.
x-BEGIN FLASHBACK-x
"Emily!" The man's thin arms wrapped around the brunette's shoulders, pulling her into a tight embrace. He felt her sigh against his chest as they stood together on the sidewalk, and was quick to answer the first question he was sure that she would ask. "I don't need much this time, really. I just need – "
Emily pulled back away from her friend. "I told you before, Matthew. I'm not giving you any more money. I'll take you to dinner, or buy you groceries, or even pay your rent, but I'm not giving you cash just so you can poison yourself some more."
"Oh, c'mon, Em. Don't be so dramatic."
"Where's John? I thought he was – "
"No, he's in Italy, I think. The parental units decided I needed to live with – "
"Seriously? Now they've decided to act like – "
"I know, right? That's why I need – "
"I said no, Matthew." Her voice was sad, regretful. This was why Emily missed her friend so much. They knew each other so well it was like they didn't even need to finish sentences. And she could never let anyone else in like she had Matthew. Not until JJ. And look how well that had turned out for her.
Matthew saw the brunette's eyes glaze over slightly, her cheeks turning pink with suppressed emotions, and he knew she was thinking about JJ. For years, he begged her to come back to D.C. Then, when she finally had, for a year or so, he had tried to convince her to just tell the blonde how she felt, but she resisted. And once she finally had, he had been forced to listen to how poorly JJ treated her. His best friend deserved better. Better than JJ. Better than him and his lousy advice and his . . . issues. Matthew hugged Emily to him once again, and this time he felt her relax against him, heard her barely contained sobs break loose as the sky broke open and drenched the two of them.
"C'mon, bella. Let's go inside where it's warm." Matthew kissed the top of her head and led her into the church with an arm around her shoulders, trying to protect her from the worst of the rain.
x-END FLASHBACK-x
Emily followed Father Tom down one of the middle rows of pews, and when he knelt down and made the sign of the cross, she copied his movements, more out of habit than any real religious inclinations. She copied his actions again as he rose to sit on the hard, wooden bench, and didn't realize she could possibly be more surprised until the man took her hands in his and said, with sincerity, "I'm so sorry, Emily."
"What?" Emily felt like her mind might explode. Or perhaps that it already had, and she was hallucinating.
Tom smiled. "Emily, I need to beg your forgiveness for the way that I've acted towards you for, well, a very long time."
Emily just stared with wide eyes at the man she used to blame for Matthew's addictions.
"Being so close to the church now, I realized that I have never truly practiced what I preach, so to speak," he continued. "I used to blame you for everything that was wrong with my son. I wanted you to suffer, to know what it was like to lose your child before he was even an adult."
"You're making amends?" Emily asked softly. "To me?"
"Yes," Tom replied. "It's rather ironic isn't it? Considering how I forced Matthew into program after program, I mean."
"That's one word for it," Emily commented, her sarcasm finally overcoming her shock.
x-BEGIN FLASHBACK-x
As they settled into one of the middle pews, Emily asked, "Why do you insist on coming here, Matthew?"
"What, you can't profile it out of me, Agent Prentiss?" he teased lightly.
"Might as well try profiling myself, and you know how that works out," she replied drily.
He chuckled. "I like it because my father hates that I spoil the place with my presence."
She raised an eyebrow. "Even when you attend one of his ten-step programs?"
"More like two-step," Matthew replied. "One, believe in god. Two, trust that god will cure you."
"Three, don't forget to genuflect on your way out," the brunette added.
Matthew laughed delightedly. "Oh, I'm so stealing that one for family dinner this week!"
x-END FLASHBACK-x
"Emily, I know what you and Matthew meant to each other," Tom continued his apology. "You were as good as siblings, and you should have been like a daughter to me." He sighed heavily. "But Andrea was . . . is . . . very persuasive, and she couldn't overlook how different you were. She couldn't celebrate your uniqueness and how you brought out the best in our son. And so, neither could I." Tom looked away from Emily, his face flushed with shame.
"Mr. Benton?" the brunette queried, shock evident in her voice. "Tom?"
The older man turned around quickly, grasping Emily's hands. "Please forgive me, Emily. I never knew what you went through, what Matthew helped you through. But now his behavior makes sense, and Andrea and I are to blame for his addictions, for his death." Tears dripped from his eyes and down his cheeks as he spoke.
Emily's mouth hung open. She couldn't believe how much this man had changed since Matthew's death. "I don't . . . I mean I didn't . . . and you . . . and what?" she stuttered, any real response lost in the chaos of her thoughts as she stared into familiar dark eyes.
A polite cough from the back of the church broke the moment. "I'm sorry, Emily," Tom said. "I have to go. I lead the narcotics anonymous group here and I'm already late." He stood up releasing his grasp on her hands. "Please stay as long as you like. You can always reach me here, whenever you'd like to talk again."
As Emily stared at the crucifix on the wall, her mind drifted as she tried to breathe evenly.
x-BEGIN FLASHBACK-x
Emily awoke with a splitting headache. She rolled onto her side and groaned as the curtains opened to let the bright sunlight into the room.
"Good morning, sunshine," a deep voice said.
Emily squinted into the light. "John Cooley? What are you doing in my room?"
The man chuckled. "We're not in your room, Em. We're in mine."
"What?" the brunette mumbled as she looked around, noticing the masculine décor. She put a hand on her head, and, as the blanket fell down to her waist, she noticed that she was dressed only in her bra and underwear. Sitting up quickly and pulling up a sheet to cover herself, the brunette demanded, "Where are my clothes?"
"On the chair." He pointed. "You wouldn't get in bed with them on."
"Why am I here?" she asked. "And what the hell did I drink last night?"
"Tequila, I think. And I slept on the couch, in case you're worried." He answered the latter question first.
"Why am I here? What happened?" the brunette asked again.
John sighed. "You called me to pick you up at the police station."
"I did? Why would I do that?" Emily asked herself. "The last thing I remember is . . . " her voice trailed off, the image of Matthew's grave burning in her mind's eye as a tear slowly rolled down her cheek.
"The cops found you passed out in the cemetary," John explained. "And no, I don't know why his parents buried him there."
"They should have cremated him, like he wanted," Emily whispered. "They killed him." She usually didn't break down, and certainly not in front of John, but she couldn't help herself. "Matthew," she choked audibly, and when John wrapped his arms around her, she let herself break.
x-END FLASHBACK-x
Emily shook her head, trying to dispel her memories as she left the church. She turned on her phone to check the time and was confronted with what seemed like a hundred text messages and voicemails. Emily rolled her eyes and sighed. It seemed like all the worst events in her life were colliding, and she didn't even know how to begin processing everything. Instead, she did what she always did – she compartmentalized. One box for Matthew, one for his father, and one for the blonde whose name showed up on her phone more than anyone else's. Her face composed, she started her vehicle.
Emily sat down, resting her head on one hand and staring at the fake wood-grain pattern on the conference room table. She didn't even remember coming back to the BAU, but she tried to breathe evenly and absorb all that had happened today. She wanted to focus on figuring out this unsub, but all her mind could really picture was the happy ending she had once hoped for. Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears as she again berated herself for falling into the trap of her dreams – again. She knew it wouldn't – couldn't – ever happen, but she wanted it so much. Wanted her so much.
Emily didn't notice Reid enter the room, but he certainly noticed her unusual lack of awareness. "Em?" he queried quietly. Receiving no response, he raised his voice. "Emily?" A puzzled look crossed his face when she again failed to respond. The young agent walked over to place one hand on his friend's shoulder, again saying her name.
Emily jumped out of her chair when she felt the light touch on her shoulder. Her training and instincts kicking in, she grabbed the hand and twisted, nearly breaking Reid's wrist until his strangled voice broke through to her consciousness. "Emily, you're hurting me."
"Shit, Reid!" Emily quickly dropped her hands away from the agent she still thought of as her little brother. "I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"
"I'll be fine," he replied, rotating his wrist to test the depth of his injury. "I'll never sneak up on you again, though, that's for sure." He smiled as he tried to make light of the situation despite his belief that the brunette's actions indicated a more severe psychological problem than she had disclosed to the team.
Emily's face reddened with embarrassment. "I'm really sorry, Reid. Let me get you some ice or something," she suggested, backing away from the concern evident in his bright eyes.
"What I'd prefer is if you'd tell me what's bothering you so much, aside from the obvious," Reid told the older woman in a commanding tone that she was not used to hearing from him.
Emily simply chuckled softly and shook her head silently.
"What happened to change you, Em?" Reid asked earnestly. "I don't think I've seen you smile genuinely since you've been here."
Emily sat down, closed her eyes, and confessed, "I'm beginning to think that I should have given this case to another team, that I shouldn't have come back. But I didn't want to disappoint my team. The fortune teller has been ours since I started back at Interpol, and when Hotch called . . . " the brunette's voice trailed off into a sigh. "My head's not here, Reid, it isn't in this game. People are dead and dying, and here I am crying over spilled milk. I just don't think I can do it anymore." A single tear rolled down her cheek.
"We all feel that way sometimes, Em," Reid began, but stopped when Emily's eyes opened and met his for the first time since he had entered the room.
"I don't mean the job, Reid," she told him quietly.
"Then what is it, Em? I want to understand, to help," Reid was practically begging now, having sensed the brunette's sorrow.
"I know, Reid, and I'm sorry," she said, closing her eyes.
Just as Reid was about to ask what she was apologizing for, Garcia opened the door without knocking and announced, "It's girls' night out, my precious!" She grabbed Emily's hand and steered the brunette out the door, saying, "And you're not getting out of it this time!"
As the two women exited the room, Emily asked, "Has Kevin been making you watch Lord of the Rings again, Garcia?"
Reid heard the sarcastic comment and ordinarily would have smiled, but he couldn't get the brunette's apparent despair out of his mind. His hand probed around his throat, feeling the bruise forming already, and he silently vowed to help his big sister any way he could.