A/N:Definite trigger warning for this chapter! If you want to skip over it, it shouldn't be too hard to pick up with the next one.
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Never in her life had Emily felt so relieved as she had in the wake of the night she spent with JJ. Her worst fear was becoming nothing but a case study, a collection of sob stories and self-destructive behaviors, a charity case; that JJ retained the ability to laugh and converse with her as normal was more than a relief. It was a blessing. The days following were quiet; any cases the team caught were local and easily worked thought. This was both good and bad.
It was good, of course, for the sake of other people- the lack of serial killers to chase was always a relief- and because it minimized the stress of each team member. It was not so good, however, because this freed her of any obligation to spend any significant amount of time among other people. Emily knew that the more time she spent alone, the more she over-thought. The more she over-thought, the more overwhelmed she felt. And the more overwhelmed she felt, the more likely she was to make… maybe not the best decisions.
She knew these things, and yet she declined invitations to spend time with her team. Each day after work, she returned home, played with her cat, and just thought. Thought about everything. She ignored phone calls and text messages, and she did not leave her apartment. Emily Prentiss was not stupid, of course; she was not ignorant, she did not overlook the possibility that JJ might worry. She simply thought she could get away with a few days of solitude before the worrying began… and then "a few days" became an entire week during which Emily never spoke of anything but her work.
Hotch had let her team go home after about eleven o'clock on a Sunday morning. Shortly after she had entered her apartment, there came a phone call that she, sadly, could not ignore: her mother. Emily knew her mother; if she didn't answer now, the phone would continue ringing and ringing, a new call beginning immediately after the last one ended. With a deep breath, she answered the call: "Hello, Mom."
"Emily! So your phone does work."
"Right, I've been really busy, I'm sorry…"
"Oh, that's quite alright, dear. Now, I'm having a dinner party this coming Friday evening. Everyone will be there, and of course that should include you. I expect to see you at the house by five o'clock, will you be there?"
"... Yes, Mother, five o'clock sharp."
"Alright. Goodbye, Emily."
Emily waited until she heard the dial tone signifying that her mother had hung up the phone, and immediately began to shake. Fuck! Dinner parties with her mother never ended well. Nothing with her mother ever ended well. It was always the same interrogation, the same sly comment about Emily being single, Emily having 'forgotten her manners,' Emily never calling her mother… And the disappointed looks from her mother that surely derived from things neither would dare speak of.
Emily pushed her hair back, rubbed her forehead, closed her eyes tight. She tried to steady her breathing, slow her heart rate, not panic… to no avail. She paced her apartment, reminders of every past conversation with her mother gone awry flashing through her head- pre-abortion, post-abortion, the first time her mother found her cutting, her first girlfriend, her brief stint with drinking and drug use, God! Was there nothing she had ever done right? How many mistakes could one person possibly make in one lifetime? Fuck! God help me, thought Emily, dropping to her knees. Part of her considered praying; most of her felt any faith she once had died long ago.
Then everything felt blurry, she couldn't breathe, and her thoughts never strayed from the line of No, you can't do anything bad, you can't, that's a bad idea, wrong, don't do that… and then her mind went silent. Her mind went completely silent, playing nothing but television static and white noise, as she retreated to her bathroom, sought out her stash of sharp objects… not a single thought entered her mind until she was sitting on the bathroom floor with a towel pressed to new cuts, and she heard the apartment door close.
"Em?" came JJ's voice, dripping with concern. "Em, I called you three times, and I knocked… I'm sorry, your door was unlocked, and… Em? Where are you? Em…" JJ's voice grew nearer. No. No, she can't see me like this, no! Emily tried to make herself move, tried to find a way to hide what she'd done, but she was frozen. "Em, where- oh. Oh."
A humiliated Emily lifted her head to find JJ, one hand gripping the door frame and one hand covering her mouth. "Oh, Emily…"
"Jay, it's not- I know this looks bad, but it's… I…" Emily wanted to explain herself, to convince JJ there wasn't a problem, but there were simply no words. There was no way to explain her way out of that situation. Emily had nothing to say; JJ had nothing to say. The blonde took a step into the bathroom, and Emily pulled her knees close to her chest. JJ took another step, and knelt down by Emily's side.
"Em," she whispered, barely more than a breath, "Em, can I… can I see?"
"What? No!" demanded Emily. "Why?!"
"I need to make sure you don't need stitches, okay? Shh, it's okay."
A tear fell from Emily's face, and another, until she was openly crying- breaking the rule she'd held for herself against ever crying in front of other people. She buried her head in JJ's shoulder. "I'm- I'm- I'm so sorry, Jennifer, I didn't want to…"
"Shh. Em, you don't need to be sorry. You really don't." JJ put an arm around the still-shaking Emily. "Em, I'm not upset with you. Hey, look at me," said she, and remained silent until Emily lifted her head. JJ wiped a tear from Emily's cheek. "I am not upset with you."
Emily nodded, and sat up straighter. JJ gently took Emily's arm and unfolded the towel. She bit her tongue to keep from inhaling sharply. JJ was no medical professional; she didn't know for certain whether or not Emily needed professional medical attention. But there was no chance Emily would go to the hospital anyway, was there? Noticing the first-aid kit on the floor, she set to work bandaging Emily's arm. "Can you tell me what happened, Emily?"
"Um," Emily bit her lip, wincing a bit as JJ cleaned the cuts and applied gauze, "nothing, really."
"You don't do this for nothing, Emily. I know it's hard for you to talk about this, but… please. Please." Had JJ not sounded so broken with that final plea, Emily likely would have remained stone-cold and stoic, staring straight down and saying nothing. But JJ had such an expressive voice, and such emotive doe eyes, that Emily felt almost cruel shutting her out.
"My mother called."
"And said…?"
"I have been… ordered to attend her dinner party this Friday." Emily emphasized the words 'dinner party' with heavy sarcasm and a classically angsty eye-roll. "Um… imagine being locked in a room with everything you've ever done wrong, and every way in which you have ever felt inadequate. And then multiply that by four or five, because let's be real, I'm a wreck."
JJ started to argue, but Emily held her hand up. JJ paused, deliberating on what to say next- Emily clearly was not willing to be told that she was not, in fact, a wreck, so she rephrased. "How are you a wreck, Em? How are you inadequate?"
Emily laughed. "How much time do you have?"
