Double update tonight ayeeee! So, 30 minutes to the most important chapter of Definition of Family! I'm anxious and I hope you enjoy it ;) In this meanwhile, here's the darkest episode of this fanfic... this chapter is a key to the change about to come (literally, because it starts next chapter, I can tell you that) and also some other people noticing that our fearless agents have something more! Who, you ask. Well, well, read to discover! *wink*
Thanks to the amazing Lisa for giving me a second thought on this! You're awesome ;) Also, thanks to Franjp because she's the reason why I'm still writing tbh.
Hope you enjoy it!
"IN HEAT"
Emily woke up to the taste of lonely bourbon gracing her tongue, her bed a terrible mess trying to encase her sore body in the solitude of her apartment. Her fingers untangled her hair and the overflowing remembrances appeared as much as the ring of her cell announcing another ridiculous routine. She was tired, exhausted, worn out and all the available synonyms. Chest heaving with a lump in plain growth and about to reach her throat, suffocate her.
The younger agent hated that feeling of being defeated. She hated more than anything how this was her only way out – her only way in. Because hope was one hell of a screamer right beside where fear hid itself. Her tortuous depths, so harmfully twisted and wicked. Still, ever so slightly, they were blessed with the pure and gold from the girl who could see nothing but beauty in the world.
That's what her father used to say, at least. Prentiss hopped out of bed to meet the warm exterior residing in Washington. She dressed up for a jog, casual plans surrounding the park nearby. Her ponytail was held high, her leggings held tight to her thighs, sneakers clad her feet and, for her torso, one tiny reminder she had snagged from his dresser. It was a tee. Grey cotton and a black Star Wars logo.
He first wore it when he drove her home before picking up Jack at Haley's, and she swore to God that she never saw him look so good. Natural. Like the human he had been limply concealing with his harsh figure, neatly ironed suits and perfect placed ties.
It took her a week to steal the piece from his garments. Whenever the hollow inside her decided to surface, she buried her nostrils in the piece therefore they could capture his scent, attached to the fabric. Emily resembled a romantic teenager, she was aware. Yet, she couldn't forbid it.
Perhaps it had been the whole situation between JJ and Will that plundered her thoughts to this very sentimental part. Her blonde friend ran for their future so quite sure of herself - of them. What they had and what they were. It was love in the prettiest of the colors and Emily found herself empty, wondering inwardly whether she should just reach for the dark figure pacing in the other end of the Miami station or keep her feelings at bay.
Her legs dragged her to the drug store, intently, to acquire some Advil – a massive headache, upcoming future for sure - her earbuds were playing some catchy song so loud it hurt. Her giveaway of how much she wanted to isolate, even if for a while.
It worked well, until her phone buzzed inside the tiny pocket sewed in her legging's waistband. She promptly picked up the call, muttering her surname to receive the urgent voice from the man on the end of the line. David Rossi. He hesitated to speak his mind on the concerning matter. He did, though, after some few seconds of unnecessary twists.
"I've been trying to call Hotch since yesterday night" she lost her breath for she knew how devoted he had been in the task of self-destruction "I'm worried"
Prentiss left the place in such hurry that she never occupied her - often sensible - instincts with perusing the precinct for acquaintances. Still, drowning in her greatest silence, blue eyes watched the whole scene, shaken to her core with that not new but not old intimacy she had just witnessed, clearly imprinted on that piece of cloth too large – unfitting – for Emily's feminine torso. The blonde couldn't help but to gape, shocked, anger flashing her features and, most of all, hurt, because she was aware that the brunette was nothing but her breathing opposite. She was exactly what she could never give to him.
And Emily boarded Dave's sedan.
He tried to fake some surprise when the brunette dictated his old friend's new address without overthinking. None of the others had a clue about the simple flat their boss had rented as a temporary place. Hotch would never allow them to watch his slow downfall. And so he took hard on himself, on Emily as extension. She offered to help him, she insisted that he should let her in – though she never made it explicit -, she climbed the walls of her limits to handle him a fist and a gun between the wars of his demons. She didn't give up on him.
They made it to the front door and he unconsciously proceeded to ring the bell. His digits couldn't reach the white plastic, not before her whisper echoed, revealing more than he ever supposed she would.
"It's broken", she assured as her knuckles hit the thin material secluding him inside.
One, two, three times and they earned no answer. She drew in a deep breath, the nervous quiver made a slight show on her lower lip. Prentiss was clever enough to sink her teeth in before the older profiler was able to catch that drift.
"Hotch, it's Emily!"
She despised the desperate tone of her voice, needy and begging almost too much for her own reasonable standards. Her palms assessed the knob, tried to swing it open, fisted the metal with more strength as far as the voice inside her mind refused to admit that they were at a loss. Two options formed. For some unknown reason, she discarded the existence of Haley Brooks from the small poll of options. Maybe she was somehow sure of them just as the media liaison seemed to be about her partner. Maybe.
Her posture announced that she'd break into his house without minding her sanity before. Professional relationships be damned. Her gut feeling was yelling that he was in there, damaged. And if he was so, there was where she should be. Emily swallowed thick and with the kind aid of their goateed friend, they slammed the entrance and crossed the threshold with all the care that situation demanded.
The woman strode into the joint living room and kitchenette, noticing some few things out of place in great contrast to the neatly arranged space. She saw the cupboard where he locked all the alcoholic contents wide opened, some bottles fallen to the floor, scattered all over the carpet. Salty droplets trickled her chocolate orbs and the pang became overwhelming as she moved towards the door which gave access to his suite. It was ajar and in her way to such realization, colorful sneakers smashed shatters of broken glass.
Fingers fumbled with the knob, fidgeting as she foolishly hesitated, lost to her dreading. Prentiss stood in front of the layer diving them, the remembrances from their first night to their last momentum in Texas exploding black-and-white behind her eyelids. His rare smiles, her blindfolded trust, how self-deprecating it was to give and to have nothing in return. She had, though. Emily had the one thing no one before her could ever achieve.
Her first steps inside the room were filled with this weak light escaping through the surrounding darkness. Then, she saw. Vacant bed, tousled blankets, kneaded pillows, closed curtains and windows. Nostrils captured the exquisite smell of scotch as her figure was absorbed by the dim emanating throughout the place. She crossed the mirror's sight while she halted with every move, trailing the edge of the bed until an image emerged to her very eyes.
Her knees were on the floor beside him before Emily could even recollect. Hands searched for his pulse - any sign that he was alive – while she attempted to focus on his chest barely moving. Rossi ran on his heels with the appalled shouts she tore from her lungs, only to find the younger agent bended over his body with her expression drunk in confusion. Feminine palms cupped his pale cheeks, raced through his disheveled hair again and again.
Dave used his rougher, controlled grip to shake the man, urge him to come back from whatever his condition was. It was when he got the glimpse of his nightstand and if he had to be honest with himself, Aaron had ingested all of those alone.
He needed help. He needed her. Not the blonde who had compelled him to this state. No. He needed the brunette chanting inwardly how she was the one to blame for that.
They dragged him to the bathtub, still wearing those ridiculously classic work attire. Without flinching, she sat there to receive his broad back against her chest. It was heavy – unawake - even though the warmness draped her body as much as when he had embraced her whilst he dozed off. Dave reached for the shower's faucet right above them, allowing the cold water to work on the younger man along with some soothing whispers, spoke mildly by supple lips brushing his right ear.
Thus, chocolate orbs were unhooded so painfully slow, mixed to the aching flutter of his lids. The older man contemplated her features varying with the ignition of hope flaming due Aaron's sudden conscience. He mumbled something unintelligible to both Emily and Dave, ribcages expanding wildly as the air came easy to fulfill an inner void. He struggled more to speak, inhaled the scent screaming from the body holding his. His head spun too rapidly to meet her careful, pained irises.
"Emily", his breath arrived harsh on her chin, lips edging lips "Please, don't leave"
She gasped against his forehead, surprised, elated and uneasy all at once. Her sight caught the corner of their older friend's lips curling into a brief acknowledgment, "Never".
Dark, am I right? Do tell me! I'm eager to hear from you!