She waited for what felt like ages.
Cold, black shame was weighing on her chest, engulfing her lungs and the ability to breathe properly.
The hospital around her was chaotic; lives beginning and ending, tears of heartbreak and joy ever flowing, retracting energy and giving energy to the building at the same time.
She let the noise and movement rush over her until she couldn't hear anything else, couldn't feel anything else but the hospital's ever flowing energy.
She stood in the middle of it, like a rock taking a beating from the waves that battered, hit and smashed it, all while loving every minute of it.
That is, if rocks felt things, which they can't.
So Emily Prentiss became a rock.
The first time Emily met her, her mind was so taken aback by the beauty, that it only remembered one thing.
They were at work, and she was flipping through endless files.
Emily didn't hear her walk up, or her words, she just saw her fingertips wrapped around those Manila folders.
Her nails were painted with stars. Little, yellow stars.
A whole unknown universe on each delicate finger.
Emily didn't know how long she was there for.
It felt like ages, centuries, lifetimes.
Stars imploded and were reborn.
New planets formed and died, while a supernova of shame grew inside of her.
She thought rays of bright light would shoot from her fingertips as they were pressed in her lap, firm and unforgiving.
Her fingertips joined the other galaxies of whirls and swirls.
Trapped in time.