Emily

"Emily," Clyde Easter said loudly as he banged on her door. "Emily!"

He let out a sigh that was half worry and half frustration as he considered whether he should try to go get a key from a neighbour. Years of dealing with Emily Prentiss meant he was familiar with her tendency to withdraw when she was really hurting. She would snap and push back when she was hurting, but only up to a certain point. The deeper the pain, the more she withdrew and the less she pushed back.

He hadn't heard back from her, despite multiple calls. Her assistant hadn't heard from or seen her in over a week. Clyde wondered idly if she should be making a call to her American friends to see if she'd checking in with them.

"Damnit, Prentiss, open the door!" he said loudly, hitting the door frame angrily.

"Hey, what d'you think you're doing?"

Clyde's head turned around quickly to find a slightly angry looking man staring at him. "I'm looking for a friend of mine," he explained, his tone clearly displaying his irritation with the interruption.

"Yeah? What friend is that?"

"The one that lives here," Clyde retorted snidely.

"I live here."

Clyde frowned. "What?"

The man stepped forward and jingled his keys in Clyde's face. "I said, I live here."

"You- What? Wait…you're Mark."

The man's brows furrowed as he scrutinized Clyde. "Who's asking?"

"Clyde Easter," he said, holding out his hand. "I work with Emily."

"Right, the arrogant British wanker."

Clyde let out a scoff that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. "That sounds about right. Listen, I'm looking for Emily, have you seen her?"

"Not in over a week," he said with a glare. "And I'm thinking that's got something to do with you."

"Actually, no," Clyde explained. "Nasty case that I haven't received any paperwork for. And as much as she hates paperwork, she's usually very good about submitting it."

Mark exhaled heavily as he pushed past Clyde and shoved his key into the lock to open the door to the apartment. "I've got something you should see then."

Clyde felt his worry take a stronger hold on him as his stomach twisted further into a knot. He had never been one to let people in, preferring instead to keep allies and trusted colleagues. But Emily Prentiss had been different, and somehow between the arguments, accusations, and stubbornness she'd become a friend to him. Somehow, despite his best efforts to keep everyone at arm's length, he cared about her. She knew him best, and was the only one unafraid of calling him on his bullshit.

The fact that her boyfriend hadn't heard from her and apparently had something to show him, were not good indications that he was going to strike it lucky and find that she'd just gone on an impromptu vacation.

"She left this for me on the counter," Mark said, bitterness mixing with sadness in his tone.

Clyde took the piece of paper from him and recognized Emily's careful script. The letters weren't quite as tidy, and the loops weren't quite as tight as they usually were though. He wondered if she'd been emotional when she wrote this. Or maybe just tired?

"Mark,

I'm so sorry. I can't give you an explanation that will make sense, but know that I'm so sorry. You've been nothing but kind and wonderful to me, and you don't deserve this, but I can't do this any other way. I can't see people on the worst days of their lives anymore. I can't pretend that the good balances out the evil I see and seek out every day on the job. I just can't do this anymore.

Please don't try to find me. I don't want to hurt you any more than I already have.

Know that I loved you so very much, and appreciated the warmth and joy and peace that you brought to my life. I wish you nothing but happiness and health for the rest of your life.

With love, always,

Emily"

He read it and re-read it several times before looking back up at Mark, whose expression showed every ounce of sadness and bitterness that Clyde had heard in his tone.

"She left," Clyde said. It wasn't a question.

Mark nodded. "She left most of her clothes, her phone, her credentials, and her gun. She took a bag, a few books, and a couple pictures."

Clyde let out a heavy exhale. She had told him that moving to London and settling in there had changed her for the better. That it had rid her of some of her demons. But people had a way of reverting back to their old ways, and that's what Emily had done. She'd run.

"Do you know where she went?" Mark asked, his voice a bit softer now that he realized how much Emily's departure had affected Clyde.

Clyde considered the question carefully before he answered slowly. "No. And if she doesn't want to be found, then she won't be."

It took him 3 weeks to find her. She'd weaved a false trail through Europe, and he had been so intent on finding her that he nearly followed it to the very end before he realized she was leading him in circles. He should have made the connection sooner.

He found her sitting in a crudely carved wooden chair in front of her grandfather's cabin on the side of the mountain, watching the sun set over the tips of the mountain range.

"What are you doing here, Clyde?" she asked quietly, not bothering to shift her gaze.

"Someone once told me that the sunsets in the French Alps were the most beautiful on the planet," he replied, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he treaded in unfamiliar waters. "I figured I would finally come and see one for myself."

She gestured to a second crudely carved wooden chair a few feet away from her, her eyes never leaving the horizon. He glanced at the setting sun for just a moment before settling his gaze firmly on her, scrutinizing her every feature. When the sun finally began to dip below the mountain range she finally turned her eyes to her former unit chief.

"You're here to bring me back to London."

Clyde shook his head. "No. I'm here to make sure you're all right," he said, his voice still gentle but growing stronger as he tries to convince her he's not pulling the wool over her eyes.

"I'm fine." It sounds like it's an automatic response, and Clyde isn't certain that it's not.

"Right. Just like you were after Doyle. And after Louise." Some venom seeps into his tone this time, and he watches and waits for her anger to flare. But it never comes.

Instead, his words lingered in the air as Emily stayed quiet, seemingly lost in thought. "Did you see Mark?" she asked finally.

Clyde nodded.

"How was he?" she asked, and this time Clyde recognizes the emotion cracking in her voice.

"Upset…frustrated…" Clyde offered softly. "Heartbroken," he can't help but add after a beat, hoping it would drive home the guilt that might make her consider coming home.

He heard her blow out a breath slowly before she replied. "I just couldn't do it anymore."

"Em, what you saw- what you went through…it's understandable that you'd need to take some time to recoup after that."

She shook her head. "It's like that all the time now, Clyde. If it's not a little girl dying in my arms, then it's an innocent young kid dying for some killer's stupid cause, or it's a person losing their future because they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Clyde thought about arguing back with points of how working to battle the evil is how you reconcile having to face it everyday, and that she's doing her part to make the world a better place. But just as he wanted to say the words, he found himself meeting her gaze, and in her eyes he just found exhaustion. It wasn't the result of running on fumes because you're so wrapped up in a case, and it wasn't even the exhaustion of having given everything you had to pull out a win on a case. No, this was the kind of exhaustion he'd seen in colleagues who had burned out and never returned to law enforcement, no matter how skilled they had been at their jobs, and no matter how many compelling arguments were thrown their way.

She'd been working in law enforcement since she graduated from college, and in that time, she'd been exposed to the worst kinds of people and situations that society had to offer. She'd been asked to compromise her ideals and get close to terrorists because it was for the greater good. She'd pushed aside her own happiness and her own wants and needs to make sure that the killers and other nefarious characters were taken off the streets.

He found that he couldn't look away from her eyes. Once bright and eager, now they were dull and tired. Emily Prentiss' famed compartmentalizing skills had finally been beaten.

"Okay," he said softly, nodding slowly.

Her eyes widened fractionally at his response – she had clearly been expecting more fight from him. "Did you eat?"

Clyde tries to squash the surprise, but can't help it from spreading on his face and in his reply. "I- No, not yet."

"I have some stew in the cabin, if you'd like," she offered. She'd said it like they weren't in the middle of nowhere, far away from the creeping eyes and tendrils of society, and Clyde finds himself wondering just how long Emily had been thinking about leaving everything behind.

The last vestiges of the day had disappeared when the sun set beneath the tall mountains that surrounded them. Slowly the stars began to appear, and having lived most of his life in London where glimpses of the stars were few and dull at best, Clyde found himself completely enraptured by the view.

He glanced over at Emily and found her gaze aimed toward the sky, her expression serene. He had never pegged her to be the sort of person who found peace in nature. She'd grown up in cities, and all her apartments had been in urban centres. In all the time that he'd known her, she'd never mentioned being particularly fond of nature, and there had never been any indication that it would be the thing to bring her such peace.

But it had brought her peace, and for that Clyde was thankful. He hadn't been lying when he had told her that he wasn't there to bring her back to London. It had taken once glance to convince him that she knew how to heal herself better than he did. He needed to know she was all right though.

"Do you miss anything from home?"

He was surprised to hear a quiet scoff. "I haven't really known where home was for a long time now, Clyde."

He paused, considering her response. He knew that London had never been home for her. He had thought that maybe she could make it home when Mark came into the picture, but then things had gone sideways and she had run.

"Are you home now?"

She looked down from the sky and met his gaze. "Yes. And no," she offered with a small smile.

Surprisingly, he understood. His research had revealed that she'd been close with her grandfather, and he imagined that it was one of the only constants in her childhood. But she had come back to it in such upheaval emotionally speaking that surely, she couldn't just settle into the blanket of familiar comfort.

This time it was Emily who broke the silence. "I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye."

"You scared the hell out of me," Clyde replied simply, the implications of guilt and accusations simmering under the surface of his words. "When Mark showed me that letter, I thought you'd gone and done something drastic."

"Moving up into the Alps without even bothering to resign isn't drastic?" she quipped, an attempt at breaking the slight tension that is instinctual.

Clyde decided to humour her, and offered a grin. "I suppose it is."

They fall into silence yet again, and this time he's surprised when it's Emily who brings them back to the uncomfortable topic of what led to her abrupt departure.

"I just couldn't face having to wake up and know that I was going to have to go into work and face another day of fighting for a losing effort," she explained.

Clyde understood on some level what she was saying. It wears on a person when you have to accept that you will never win the war despite the victories in battle. "Isn't it better than giving up altogether?" he asked. It's not accusatory. He's genuinely curious.

"I put in my time. That fight is for someone else now," she answered after a moment.

It sounds defeatist, but Clyde understood. She had done her time, and wouldn't be able to contribute anything more. It had gotten to be too much, and finally, finally, after all these years, Emily Prentiss had chosen to look after herself first.

He exhaled, his acceptance of her decision bringing him peace. She had done what was right for her, and she would be okay. Eventually.

"So you'll just live out your years as a mountain woman?"

She chuckled. "Something like that."

"Fancy some company from a handsome devil of a man now and then?" he teased, but the question was genuine. He wasn't willing to let her cut all contact. He cared about her too much to let her slip away.

Emily chuckled, but looked thoughtful as she considered his words. "I think I could put up with that."

"Good. This place might be the only place in the world that my assistant won't be able to find me."

Emily laughed again, and Clyde found himself smiling at the sound. Laughter meant she was healing.

"Can you mail these for me?" Emily asked, handing him a small stack of envelopes.

"Trying to throw them off the trail?" he asked, noting the names of her former team adorning the fronts of the envelopes. He was happy to note that the script was back to the tight and careful writing he remembered.

She chuckled. "There's no point – they'll figure it out. I'm just not sure when I'll be headed into town again."

"Fair enough. Is there anything you need from your flat?"

She shook her head. "No, I think I've got everything that I need."

"All right," he replied. He had every intention of putting her things into storage, because he knew there would come a day where she would want something from her old life, and he wanted to be able to give that to her.

"Take care, darling."

"You too, Clyde," she said, surprising him by wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. "And thank you."

"No need to thank me. You're not rid of me yet."

She smiled as she stepped out of their embrace. "Watch out for bears, city boy."

"I could say the same to you, mountain lady."

Another chuckle. "Goodbye, Clyde."

"Goodbye, Em."