July 13, 2010: This day began much like most days previous. Nothing appeared to be out of the norm, really.
Appearances. They can be deceiving, can't they?
Emily awoke to the fan next to her bed blowing air into her face at an intense pace. After all, it was mid-July and something needed to keep the stale air circulated throughout the night. The thermostat sat poised to kick the air conditioner on when the temperature rose above 69 degrees, but it seemed to become temperamental at night. Each morning, it felt more like 96 degrees when her blaring alarm clock startled her from sleep.
She gazed up at the ceiling, an unconscious smile adorning her lips while thinking of her girlfriend. They hadn't quite been seeing one another for a month yet, but it seemed to be going well. They'd stay up at night, talking on the phone for hours sharing details of the daily goings on.
At this point, she knew she'd been tired lately, maybe you could even say she'd been dragging through her days, but that comes with the honeymoon phase of a relationship, doesn't it? It seems plausible, neither one of them were getting as much sleep as they used to. Even the sleep she used to get, coupled with the travel schedule wasn't conducive to consistently being a fully functional member of society. Perhaps the lack of sleep explains the frequent headaches and onset of recurring flu-like symptoms, too.
Eyes effectively dried out from the bedside fan, Emily squeezed them tightly shut before she groaned and forced herself out of bed toward the bathroom.
She opened the shower door and turned on the hot water. It's always the hot water first. Three complete turns to the left knob before giving one partial turn to the right. She removed her shorts and tank top before placing her hand underneath the spray to check the temperature. It's a psychological thing; she knows the water temperature is always perfect, but she checks it anyway before climbing in.
Fifteen minutes later, she stood in her closet wearing a loose fitting t-shirt and shorts. Her unkempt, towel-dried hair fell wherever gravity wanted it. She took out a pair of black dress slacks, suit jacket, and settled on an eggplant colored button down dress shirt. She thrust the three hangers onto her bed before retreating back to her bathroom.
First, she called upon Paul Mitchell to help her detangle the mess atop her head. Once detangled, she grabbed a half-full bottle of Nexxus Heat Protexx to ensure her hair would remain soft no matter how many days in a row she tortured it with a blow dryer. With her hair nearly dry, she grabbed her favorite product: Bed Head After Party, and compressed the pumped white substance into her palm. She loved the way it makes her hair shine and on top of that, it smelled pretty damn good all day long.
Emily turned on the water and shoved her toothbrush under while looking at herself in the mirror. She smirked, reciting the same five words she's told herself every morning for years. "You're a fuckin' rockstar Prentiss."
Back to her room, she put on the clothes she'd set out for herself on her bed, grabbed her purse, put on her shoes and headed out the door. She walked to her car and stuck the key in the lock to unlock it. She has keyless entry, who doesn't? But not using it is a large part of her cynical nature. She understands how the lock and unlock codes are transmitted as well as how easily they can be stolen during transmission.
On the way into the office, she stopped by Dunkin' Donuts to grab a dozen donuts and eight coffee; easily transported thanks to the invention of the cardboard, quad-cup holder.
That's when she first noticed it, while waiting in line. She shrugged her shoulder a few times to not draw attention to her discomfort. Minutes felt like hours while waiting to get back to her car. Once inside with the donuts on the seat and coffee situated strategically on the passenger side floor, she unbuttoned the top button of her shirt and thrust her right hand inside to readjust the bra strap over her left shoulder.
Throughout the day, she adjusted it several more times, making a mental note to never wear this bra ever again.
At the end of the day, she sat in her car and repositioned her bra strap one last time. This time though, she felt the area trying to determine what it was that was actually causing the displeasure.
Mortified, she did what any irrational human being would do. She went home and ordered Chinese take-out, watched Grey's Anatomy re-runs and pretended that there wasn't a lump protruding from above her left shoulder blade.
Knowing that there were two logical people to turn to in this situation, she pondered both. First, there's her girlfriend. Her girlfriend that she'd just recently started seeing. Not wanting to inadvertently worry her too much, or cause her to re-think their relationship over what could potentially be nothing, she decided against telling Gwen just yet.
Her other choice was to call her best friend. Emily closed her eyes to replay one of the last conversations that they'd had just a few days after their team's night out.
Two weeks prior:
Emily had gone home at lunch time the day of her minor interrogation from Hotch and spent most of the next week there as well, but on Thursday afternoon, she received a phone call.
Emily answered in a raspy voice, "Hello?"
JJ replied half-heartedly, "I just wanted to check on you, I didn't hear back from you last night."
Emily replied as enthusiastically as any sick person could, "I know I said I would reply last night, but I ended up not... obviously. I fell asleep until 1 pm today, and I only woke up because I felt sick. Then I went back to sleep until about five minutes ago. I woke up for the same reason. I am going to go back to bed. Instead of promising to write you something coherent and logical in an established time frame, I will promise to write you when I feel better."
Waiting for a response and not receiving one, Emily continued, "Anyway, you take care of yourself and I'm going to go let my body try to get better. I hope to see you soon."
Annoyed, JJ offered a response, "You never need to reply to anything I send you; I've told you that several times. And your messages have kind of had no heart in them since the weekend anyway. I have a few ideas why that is, and they're probably not all that wrong. So yeah, as for your reply, don't worry about it. I do hope you're feeling better soon though. And take care of yourself."
Unsure what exactly JJ was trying to say, Emily defended, "My messages have had no heart? Really? I don't feel obligated to respond to anything that you said. I just wanted to give it the proper frame of mind is all."
"Well there's no need." Moving to end the conversation, JJ continued, "Take care anyway."
Clearly confused and hurt by the cold responses, Emily questioned, "Is that your way of telling me good bye? Because I don't know what else to make of it."
JJ stated flatly, "I don't know. You can take it in whichever way you want to."
"Can I ask what's happened that makes you just want to walk away now? I'll respect your wishes to leave you alone, if that's what you want though."
Agitated, JJ concluded, "Your question, I don't even know how to answer. What I want, is for you to do what you want. Which is pretty much why I said to take what I said in the way that you want to."
Emily affirmed, "I want you to care, and if you don't, then just tell me. I don't want our friendship to end, but it already feels like it did."
"I don't see why it matters to you whether I care or not." JJ professed, "I'm pretty certain that it wouldn't affect you a great deal, if at all, if this were to end now. So with that, just do what you want."
Making her final declaration, Emily accepted, "I can't believe you would even say that to me. Like I never cared about you. I'm sorry, but I can't fight for something that you don't feel anything for, and so with that, good bye."
Can she rightfully still call JJ her best friend after that, really? It didn't take long to realize how silly it seemed to even be considering calling her for advice; not when the only things they discuss now are work-related.
Later that evening, she made a phone call to her girlfriend.
"Hey Baby! How are you?" Gwen questioned.
Pondering what to say, Emily settled on, "I'm pretty good, and you?" before losing herself momentarily in her own thoughts. Fearful and thoroughly distracted, Emily tried to focus on the conversation with Gwen while also trying not to draw too much attention to the pain she felt over quite possibly never being able to rectify the mess she created with JJ.
A/N #1: Reviews are cool; leave me one.