Warning for some mild language. Title and fic inspired by the song "Breathe Me" by Sia.
The cruelest lies are often told in silence.
Robert Louis Stevenson
Emily Prentiss is feeling good.
Her body is already slipping back into the crazy hours of her job, like an old, worn out and loved t-shirt. Her mind is healing, day-by-day, as she lets go little parts of herself and clings to others. Her heart is mending, the team growing stronger each day, slowly, but it's the hare that wins the race, she reminds herself.
"Oh crap—I'm so sorry!" A young blonde enthuses, hands shooting out to steady Emily.
Emily glances down at her soiled shirt, and shrugs. "No worries, it was an accident." The coffee is seeping through the thin material, but it's lukewarm at best, and only slightly uncomfortable.
"Yeah, but still I—" The words drip off like the thick droplets of the woman's latte that are spiraling down Emily's front, and—Oh God.
"Ashley?"
Ashley freezes, her fingers wobbling in mid air with a fist full of napkins she'd swiped from the table next to her. Because, oh shit, shit, shit, shit. Ashley can't move. She's just standing there, mouth gaping like a fish, and a half-assed attempt at cleaning the rapidly forming stain on her former mentor's shirt.
Emily reaches forward, curling her fingers around Ashley's forearm, missing the younger woman's flinch. "Jeez, Seaver, how are you?" She smiles, pulling back, and raking her eyes over Ashley's form. Her grin falters as the Ashley's lips mouth words with no sound.
"I, um, I-I—Yeah, I'm doing good. H-How are you?" She can't even hate herself for stuttering, because this was so incredibly not right, or normal, or hell—she can barely sort her thoughts let alone speak coherently.
"I'm good," Emily starts slowly, leaning a hip against the low counter by the trash bin, "I'm back with the team, so it's great."
"So I heard." Ashley responds with a grim, tight-lipped smile that doesn't even begin to reach her eyes, which are narrowed and a darker blue then Emily remembers.
Oh.
"Oh." She says dumbly, some understanding starting to sink in. Coming back from the dead was a great water cooler story, and word of her return had spread fast. So she was sure Ashley knew of the truth, but… but only through office gossip. With an odd jolt, Emily realizes she hasn't seen Ashley since her revival.
"Yeah." Ashley tosses the napkins in the receptacle, and folds her arms under her breasts. The café continues to bustle around them. Ashley forces her gaze to Emily's eyes, and sucks in a breath.
"Look I'm sorr—"
"No need." Ashley interrupts. "I get it. They're your family. I always knew I was just a back up singer—really, I understand. You guys were great, but, I know my place. Always have." She turns to go, and Emily finds herself grabbing at her arm to stop her.
"Ashley, please, I don't want to leave on bad terms. You were just as much a part of the team as I was." She tries insisting, the coffee suddenly a trickle of ice down her spine.
Ashley sighs and pauses, but doesn't turn back completely to face Emily either.
"I appreciate it, but we both know that's not true. Working with you all was an incredible experience, and I don't regret it for a second, but being in Swan's unit is where I belong."
"You have to know that it's been insane since I've gotten back." Emily gives a breathless laugh. "Raising from the grave isn't exactly all that neat and I—"
"And you couldn't find a minute in the weeks since you've been back to call?" Ashley raises an eyebrow, but allows a fleeting, soft smile to cross her features.
Emily's hand slips away, swinging by her side uselessly, as she gulps thickly. "I…" Only she really, really can't think of an excuse. "Ashley I can't expect you to understand what I've went through—"
"Emily," Ashley says forcefully, "stop." She gathers a deep breath, fluttering her eyes shut for a second, before landing them back on her old friend. "You're right. I don't know what it was like. I'm sure it was hell to leave your life, and lie, and pretend, and fake your entire existence until suddenly you're just a ghost pretending to be human." Emily almost stumbles a bit from her dead on words, and she wants to ask how Ashley possibly knows this, but there's a troubling glint, far away and buried, in her sapphire orbs that stops her.
Ashley continues, with a gentle, compassionate voice, "But I don't know if you've fully grasped what it was like for us. I left the team because the grief was rupturing it from the inside, and soon it would implode on all of us. I don't know if you know how much it truly broke everyone. You were…" Her gaze grows distant, and her smile bittersweet. "You were my big hero that I wanted to become. You were my mentor, and, at least I always hoped, my friend. And then you died. And… and it's not something that goes away, Emily."
Ashley straightens her back, and fixes Emily with a hard stare, that's not judging, or mean, or even a bit angry, just firm. "I know I can't possibly understand the entire scope of the situation, but you can't understand what it was like to walk into the break room and hear my team talking about you. In present tense. I had to excuse myself to the bathroom when they finally explained everything because I felt so nauseous. And I kept waiting for you to call, to e-mail, to even just text me, but…"
"Ashley… I am so sorry." A hot, tingling sensation pricks at her nose and her eyes burn hotter than the coffee ever did.
"I know." She shrugs. "And please don't think I'm saying any of this to be mean—there's no animosity between us, I promise. Honestly, I'm just happy you're alive. And, hey, you gotta have a thick skin for this job, right?"
Emily shifts a little on her feet and swipes her tongue across her upper lip, sunlight bathing Ashley's golden locks in long, thick rays, and Emily wonders when this woman grew up so quickly. But her throat is constricted, and all she can do is stare back into the too knowing, too wise eyes of her former protégé.
"I really hope you're happy, Emily. And I'm glad you're back with the team—they need you. Again, I'm sorry about the shirt. Have a good day." Ashley smiles, and it's as bright and life like as the busy café and the warm sun. She gives Emily's shoulder a healthy squeeze, before brushing past her, and circling back in line for a new cup of coffee.
Emily watches her hair swish over her shoulders, and her new found confident stance as she doesn't even look back to see Emily staring at her. Emily staggers a bit from the shop, and winces at the brightness of the day, her moves a little more sluggish, her mind a little foggier, her heart a little heavier.
Ashley grins, and takes a sip of the tepid drink—she's always liked her coffee a little cooler than normal. A pebble skips down the sidewalk as she heads back to the car, where Nelson is waiting for his muffin with the sweet, little crumbly bits on top, and Maggie is prepared to tease her for taking so long. They're good agents. Together, they're a good team.
Ashley pauses at the door handle, sliding her black sunglasses to the top of her head, and shifting the weight of the goodies in her arms.
She glances up at the sky, and the white, cotton candy clouds and the blue day that reflects in her eyes, a small flock of birds zipping through the atmosphere above. A knock on the tinted window startles her, as Maggie reaches over from the driver's seat to pop open the door for her.
"Get your ass in here. Swan'll chew us out if we're late." She drawls, long Alabama accent a comfort to Ashley's ears.
Ashley complies, and hands off the muffin to Nelson in the back, who beams, and takes an enormous bite, the skin of a blueberry bursting beneath his teeth, so that his chin is dribbling with crumbs and purple juice. Ashley laughs, an out loud, honest, bubbly chortle that echoes and vibrates in her throat and out to the day.
Maggie gives her a strange, sideways glance. "You okay?"
Ashley rolls down her window, and lets the wind assault her hair. She smiles, and looks over at Maggie.
"Yeah. I really am." And it's so truthful that her raspberry pink lips pull even higher, and Nelson is complaining about napkins, and Maggie is using her "creative driving" skills to get back in time, and Ashley looks back out of the window, the blue sky rolling by, her eyes squinting against the draft.
Ashley Seaver, in one of the most honest moments of her life, is feeling good.
One must care about a world one will not see.
Bertrand Russell
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. But I luuuuurrrrvvvvvveeee it!
A/N:
First off, I just want to get my views on the whole Seaver thing done: I don't hate her. Sure, I was all pissy when she first came on, 'cause how dare dat bitch come on 'n steal JJ 'n Prentiss' spot! But Rachel Nichols, who is lovely, and Seaver were just a stroke of bad luck. They played the cards they were dealt - the cards just happened to suck. A lot.
Sure, a lot of her stuff was completely implausible and irked me, but I actually sorta liked the character, and loved her background. And even though I love the writers, I feel like they kinda flopped with her character, and just let her whither and die. Which is unfortunate, because she was barely on long enough to even fully develop. In any case, I liked her, even if there were glaring inconsistencies surrounding her, and I feel bad about how everyone handled her introduction, progress, and departure.
So anyway, now that we're done with that spiel, I have no idea where this came from. It just sorta formed. And it's what I like to imagined happened. Maybe.
Also, I'm really sorry for being like some cave-dwelling gremlin for anyone who's read the two works in progress I currently have up. I'm working really hard, but the chapters are turning into monsters, and just. won't. end. Blerrrg.
Welp, I hope you enjoyed this little one-shot. It's unbeta'd so any and all mistakes are mine - apologies! Thank you so much for reading, please drop a review to tell me what you thought! : D
Thanks again for reading, you lovely person, you!
-Yellow