Disclaimer: I don't own or make money off anything here its just for fun
Summary: Some filler set between the death of Ian Doyle and the judiciary hearing in "It Takes a Village". The decision to stay and pick up the pieces of her old life wasn't as easy as Emily let on, but a surprise visit from an old friend convince her she's done the right thing. Emily Prentiss/Clyde Easter, M for Mature for a ding dang reason.
This Life, This Family
Living was never part of the plan much less resurrecting. The first awkward hours of Emily's return were a blur of activity. After stilted greetings and apologies she dove directly into finding Declan, but now that the smoke has cleared she isn't sure what to do with herself. There are whispers of a judiciary committee investigation, and the looming headache of redacting her death certificate and reversing the parts of her will that had been executed. She wonders vaguely what happened to all of her things at the apartment, but it seems petty to worry about material things at this juncture. When it was all over Emily had no place to go but a hotel, much less comfortable than she would usually splurge for on her own dime but within the meager budget of the stipends JJ had secured for her over 6 months ago.
She'd laid low for two whole days and nights before her friends began to reach out. First was JJ, with her gentle smile and a tray of pastry from their favourite DC cafe. Ever the mother of the team, the blonde had also brought practical items like fresh clothing and a cell phone with an American phone number. The next day Hotch turned up with news of the upcoming hearings and some paperwork to start the process of un-dying. When Rossi turned up her mentor shook his head in frustration and asked what the hell she was doing in this cramped hotel room when there was a perfectly good guest suite at his house. It had taken her several more days and an intense talking to from JJ to finally accept the older profiler's offer. She's glad she did, the older man's easy uncomplicated presence anchors and comforts her.
Penelope took longer to come around than Emily had expected. The brunette was several days settled into Rossi's guest suite before the quirky analyst turned up, full of her usual spunk but tempered with long bouts of sad silence where the blonde would just stare at Emily as though she was seeing the older woman for the first time. Penelope eventually disclosed that while she was a little hurt about the way things had gone, what had kept her away was the hope that Derek would find forgiveness and come with her. Emily felt her shoulders slump at the implication that the once fiercely loyal and uniquely intimate friendship she'd had with her former field partner was so far out of reach. Perhaps irretrievable. In. a similar vein, her reunion with Spencer had been as quiet but intense as she knew it would be. The young genius hadn't said a word, simply put down a chess board and started setting up at Rossi's kitchen island while the Italian threw together a simple lunch for the trio. Emily respected the overture for what it was, a signal that the man she loved like a little brother was relieved to have her back and whole and safe but not yet willing to forgive the breach of trust and the trauma of losing her. She left her Queen open at a critical point in the game and hoped that if he noticed her intentional blunder, he would recognize it for the surrender that it was. Emily was happy to wait until he was ready.
In the 2 weeks following the shoot out in Baltimore leading up to the hearings in front of the judiciary committee, Emily struggles to find room for her own grief while informing old friends and family members that she's alive and remaining open to the complicated feelings and reactions that followed. It was difficult not to submit to the rising despair that her own life was now out of reach. Perhaps Emily Prentiss really had died in that warehouse in Boston, stranding her in this intermediary half-life forever. Emily was no stranger to burning identities and reinventing herself, but this time the identity under fire was her own. Real. Or as real as she's ever felt in her own skin.
The week of the hearings she barely sleeps at all, declining all of her host's offers of home cooked meals, her diet reduced to hourly antacids and herbal tea. She would have killed for a coffee, but the stress induced hole burning in her guts forbids it. No one was as surprised as she was when the committee decision came down. They were cleared of any wrongdoing, and Emily was welcomed back into the unit should she choose to stay.
Despite her quick acceptance of her old job back, the quiet celebration in the briefing room left Emily feeling adrift. She had expected the job to feel like solid ground after weeks, months, of uncertainty. But her friend's congratulations feel forced and she wonders if she is a fraud for accepting them when her heart and head have already begun planning her escape. What if this home she'd thought she had wasn't home anymore? What if she wasn't the same? Her team had grieved a friend for 6 months. Enough time to replace the memory of her with an idealized fabrication in their minds. Enough time to freeze her in time. What if they expected her to live up to who she'd been then, not even as she'd been but as they remembered her. Penelope, oblivious to Emily's floundering suggests a party. Family dinner to reconnect - attendance compulsory! Rossi immediately jumps in to host. He definitely sees her turmoil. Regardless, here they are the next day, gathering for family dinner. Relying on old habits to spark renewed connections and bring them together at least enough to work together come Monday. Her first day officially back.
Emily feels anxiety building in her chest as the doorbell rings late in the evening. Everyone is already here, though Aaron and Jack are still hanging their jackets in the entry way while Henry hops excitedly nearby waiting for his favourite 'cousin' to come play. JJ and Penelope are in a wine rack somewhere pilfering David's best, while Derek and Spencer bicker about something in the living room. David had enlisted Emily as soux-chef for dinner preparations, but she had quickly been shooed away once the real cooking started and so here she is acting as unofficial greeter. The doorbell rings a second and third time in quick succession and Emily looks nervously to Hotch. The unit chief just shakes his head. He doesn't know who's at the door, but he doesn't look concerned. which she supposes is easy to do when you haven't spent the last 7 months hiding from an international terrorist. She asks him with her eyes to stay close as she peeks through the portal.
She should have known.
Clyde Easter is nothing if not consistently inconvenient. She'd not expected he would respond to her dropped message so soon, nor had she expected he would show up in person. She's not sure she can have the conversation she wants with him and still play co-host to this family dinner /'welcome back from the dead' party. She certainly doesn't want this reunion while she's surrounded by profilers who's trust she is desperately hoping to earn back. Despite her annoyance with him she can't help but fall into him the moment the door closes behind him and he opens his arms to her.
"I'm sorry" she says into the leather of his jacket while his arms wrap around her. "I doubted you and Tsia died for it" she feels him nod but he stays quiet, letting her take comfort from his embrace. Their relationship is complicated but solid. She knows he hasn't forgiven or forgotten but that he'll love her through it anyways. When her heart stops racing and she's sure she won't cry, she lifts her head from his chest and accepts a kiss on each cheek. "You've crashed dinner, which I'm sure was your plan all along?"
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, darling" he says with a grin. Against her better judgement she invites him to stay for the meal. Tense looks and stiff handshakes are exchanged while he holds her close to him with a somewhat possessive arm on her waist, but as the wine flows he settles in and eventually moves to socialize on his own. Emily is vaguely listening in while Penelope outlines the gossip about a possible love triangle in white collar crimes when she spots Clyde initiate a quiet but tense conversation with Hotch. She watches them closely, but they both look relaxed so she doesn't intervene. She knows Clyde was there when her team figured out the extent of her deception, she knows the Interpol agent likely found Declan well before Morgan or Doyle, but they've not had a chance to talk about it. That's why he's here. She's painfully aware that despite their profession she'd never lied to Clyde before or since Doyle. It's only a matter of time before he approaches her. She anticipates he'll be hurt she didn't trust him, or suspicious -perhaps jealous- of the true extent of her feelings for Doyle. She's uncomfortably irritated that in her current living arrangement -staying in Rossi's guest suite- it's not like they can slip away and spend a day or two sorting out all these messy feelings physically like they used to. Neither of them have ever been big fans of talking things out.
He seems to be thinking the same thing because he corners her after dinner outside the bathroom of the guest suite. She gives him a shy smile and quirks an eyebrow at him. To her surprise he doesn't mention Declan at all, doesn't question her trust or her loyalty, doesn't accuse her of recklessness. He simply reports to her that none of Doyle's current or former associates have made a move to continue the Irishman's vendetta against her. She's well and truly safe. When he's finished his update he pulls at his ear, a tell that says he is unsure of his next words.
"I don't know if you're fully set about what to do now but, there's always a place for you at Interpol" She laughs as though he's joking but it dies down when he remains serious. "No more undercover work, I won't ever send you in like that again" he promises. He goes on to describe a number of possible positions she could fill but she has trouble imagining herself happy in any of them. She leans heavily against the wall and observes him. He's changed a lot over the years, grown up since their days of big risks and bigger rewards galavanting around the globe living as though everyday could be the last. So has she. Those days feel like another life, another her. Maybe his being here is the reminder she needs that she is not static, she's died and been reborn many times before and always landed on her feet. The Emily she'd once been at Clyde's side is but one example.
"Is Interpol asking or is Clyde Easter asking?" She asks him finally. Clyde steps closer, one hand against the wall she's leaning on, the other coming to trace the sharp angles of her face. She can't stop her breath from coming in short shallow inhales and airy sighs out as her own hands trail over his abs and up his sides before coming rest on his chest. She tips her face up and ghosts her lips over his chin and lower lip, waiting for him to make the final move.
"What if it was Clyde asking?" He whispers across her lips before connecting them.
The kiss is intense in a way it never has been between them, it sends her back arching toward him when his fingers trail from her face to the long delicate curve of her neck before resting firmly over her heart. Close to the brand she's removed but not forgotten. She tears herself away, panting. His gaze is intense and she knows she should end this now but months of fear and isolation have made her needy for this physical connection. Her long fingers easily rid the Britt of his belt and push his denim pants down far enough to bare him to her. She takes his mouth again, swallowing his low groan as she wraps her hand around him and rolls her hips to trap the member between them while she strokes him.
His hands work her dress up and over her hips, large hands skimming intently over her thighs before lifting one leg to open her to him. There's little finesse, no foreplay, but they don't have time. Quick, dirty, and simple is exactly what she needs. She helps pull her silk panties aside and position him at her core then rolls her hips to take him deeply in one swift move. He pulses with her, setting a pace he knows she likes, angling his thrusts and scraping his teeth over her chest the way he knows will bring her quickly to the release she demands. When she comes crashing around him with a barely contained moan he slows, reaching a hand between them to rub her clit and prolong the pleasure. He slips from her before the urge to seek his own release takes over, steadying her with both feet on the ground before kissing her again, loving the way her arms wrap around him and draw him closer. She's languid and content in the aftermath but he's not finished.
When her legs stop trembling he grasps her shoulders and turns her, one hand pushing her chest into the wall, the other pulling her hips back to meet him as he tears her panties to the side and enters her again. He loves her like this, an unfettered view of her truly inspiring ass and the gasping whine she makes every time he bottoms out inside her from this angle. He knows if he grabs her ass and tugs her hair she'll come again in seconds, but he wants to savour this. Instead he leans forward to press a kiss into the skin of her shoulders left bare by the sliding fabric of her dress, and slips his hand from her back around to her chest. He keeps a quick deep pace while massaging her breasts through the soft jersey fabric and Emily bites her lip to hold in a keening groan, pushing her hips back hard in appreciation. She presses her cheek into the cool surface of the wall and pulls the hand on her tits down between her legs making Clyde chuckle and whisper in her ear as his hand plunges into her soaking underwear and presses against her swollen clit. He calls her needy, praises how wet and hot she is around him, tells her how much he likes it when she lets him take her like this. Soon she's coming hard again, forehead pressed so hard into the wall she's worried it will leave a dent in the drywall or a bruise on her face. She reaches back and pulls at Clyde's shirt to keep him moving, wordlessly demanding he finish while she rocks her hips to meet each of his thrusts.
When they're done she slips back into the bathroom, leaving the door open and watching him in the mirror as she cleans their combined juices from her thighs and fixes her dress. He smirks and joins her in fixing his own clothing and smoothing his hair, she predictably responds with a roll of her eyes.
"So?" He presses when they're tidied. Emily turns to face him directly and leans back on the counter. She worries her lip as she meets his eyes with a sad look that stops his heart.
"if it's Clyde asking, I would say no" Her voice is stronger than she could have hoped it would be and she's proud of herself for not looking back when she slips out of the suite to the small party in the main part of the house. Emily knows the team is trying not to be obvious in their observation of her return. It hardly went unnoticed when Clyde had followed her to the guest suite. She feels some of the turmoil in her chest come loose and smiles awkwardly under their knowing looks. Several minutes later Clyde emerges and makes hasty goodbyes before showing himself out. Emily tries not to blush, tries to divert conversation but after several awkward minutes of darting glances and not-so-hidden smirks she rolls her eyes and relents.
"He offered me a job, basically another life" she answers their unasked questions "and I was tempted for a minute, but I want to come back to this one. You guys are my family, and if I ever do leave this team I don't want to leave it like this" they all nod seriously in acceptance, and within moments they're back to laughing and visiting. For the first time since she left the bullpen to confront Ian Doyle, Emily thinks that the life she had walked out on could still be within reach.
end