A/N: Three chapters in less than a week! Yeay!
I know they are pretty short but I didn't want to have any time leaps within a single chapter so I decided to split the Emily-in-her-own-kitchen, Emily-on-Hotch's-patio and Emily-in-Hotch's-living-room scenes up into individual chapters... In case that annoys you (or in case you really really really love this fic! xD) please leave a comment!
He had finally managed to convince Emily to come inside. She still hadn't spoken a word, though, so now there they were – standing in his living room, not looking at each other, not talking to each other – not that Hotch wasn't trying to make her talk to him...
"Emily?"
No reaction. He repeated her name but Emily didn't respond. Hotch fought the urge to reach out for her, touch her shoulder maybe, or hold her hand. Her gaze was completely empty, like all life had poured out of her.
"Emily? Please look at me! You... you're scaring me!" His voice was so desperate it sent cold shivers down Emily's spine. This was real. She was here. They were here. This was really happening. Emily gulped. She was safe now, right? Hesitatingly, Emily looked up to Hotch, still not saying a word. He acknowledged her reaction with a soft "Hey" and gave her a (grateful? pitiful? worried?) smile.
Silence.
"Emily?" He hesitated. "What do you need me to do? Please tell me." His voice was just too soft. How could he be so nice to her? Hell, how could he still even look at her? She shouldn't have come here! This was just pathetic! She was just pathetic! She didn't deserve him. Emily opened her mouth to speak, to tell him exactly that, but Hotch cut her off after the first half of her whispered apology. He shook his head vehemently. "Don't, Em." Another cold shiver ran down her spine. Em. He had never called her Em before. Oh god. Until four days ago, it had always been Prentiss, and now he was calling her by her kindergarten nickname? How could she have let this happen? How could she have let him find out? He'd never see her the way he used to see her. She'd never be kick-ass FBI agent Emily Prentiss again. Hell, she didn't even see herself like this anymore. How could she expect others to see her that way? From now on, she'd be Em, the rape victim to him. Emily gulped. To them. The team! They'd find out eventually, and they'd look down on her the way she looked down on herself. It's her fault they'd say. She's an FBI agent. She should have been able to defend herself.
"It wasn't your fault" Emily flinched. Had she just been talking out aloud or was Hotch just building on her previous attempt at apologizing to him? She felt another tear running down her cheek and realized she had never hated herself more than she did right now.
She was broken. She knew she was. In fact, this very realization had been the reason why she'd come here in the first place. She hadn't slept in days, hadn't eaten in days, and now she had made herself throw up some pre-wrapped bars of chocolate because she'd suddenly been convinced they were poisoned. If it weren't so said, it would be downright ridiculous! She couldn't let her fear and paranoia take over her completely. She couldn't hide any longer! If she did, she'd let him win. And whatever she did – she could never ever let him win!
"What do you need me to do, Emily?" Hotch repeated, and her words were out before her self-censorship could kick in: "I... I need you to eat something with me." Emily was disgusted by how shaky her voice was, but Hotch didn't seem to notice. Instead, he just nodded and said "Okay", as if her request wasn't weird and embarrassing and completely pathetic.