Thank you for your kind words and feedback on the last chapter. I'm happy the Morgan-Prentiss conversation was well received.
Took another stab at writing Penelope... Happy reading! =)
"The friendship that can cease has never been real." – St. Jerome
"Sergio. Hey, Sergio. SERGIO! Oh kitten, what do you think you're doing?! Give that back! Consuelo is NOT a toy!"
I desperately reach out, trying to snatch the "prey" that he'd "caught" during his usual afternoon shenanigans, but he's far too quick for me. Freaking ninja cat.
"Sergio! BRING THAT BACK!" I yell as he darts across the kitchen and under the table, his prey locked tightly in his mouth.
I hear a knock at the door and yell out, "JUST A SECOND!"
He'd taken advantage of my moment of distraction and had deposited his catch of the day somewhere in my apartment, and was now walking slowly toward me doing his best to appear completely innocent. I narrow my eyes and glare at him, "This is so not over, kitty."
He yawns and stretches before jumping up onto the couch and curling up for his afternoon siesta in his usual spot, apparently choosing not to acknowledge my words.
I scoff at his actions and turn my attention to the door. I fiddle with the lock – it tends to jam from time to time – and swing open the door. I can't help the small gasp that sounds as my eyes take in my visitor. Even though she's been back for a few days now, I'm still not used to seeing Emily Prentiss around, and you know, alive. I smile widely and engulf her in a tight bear hug.
"OH! My raven-haired crime-fighter, I've missed you!"
I expect to hear a chuckle or a scoff, but she responds with a tired voice, "I missed you too Garcia."
I somewhat reluctantly pull away and gesture for her to enter. "C'mon sweet cheeks, in you come. Don't mind the mess, Sergio and I were just having a discussion," I say as I shoot another glare toward the black cat now completely stretched out on the top of my couch.
She tilts her head slightly and her brow furrows, "Discussion?"
"Yes. He has apparently decided to wage war on my vast collection of stuffed animals. The carnage this week has been particularly distressing – fluff and fur everywhere. My bedroom looked like a crime scene when I got home last night. As if I don't see enough of this kind of stuff at work."
She turns and takes in his relaxed form, and then turns back to me with an eyebrow raised, her expression full of skepticism.
"Don't let his relaxed nature fool you. Beneath that black, furry, and innocent-seeming exterior is a predator with über stealthy ninja tendencies. He's already taken out a significant chunk of my bear collection and is starting in on the mice now," I say seriously.
This time she does chuckle lightly and then turns her attention to Sergio, murmuring something in Spanish. At her words he jumps up from his designated siesta location and darts across the room before leaping into her arms. I hear a throaty purr fill the apartment as she rubs behind his ears and down his back. She puts him down after a moment turns her attention back to me.
I shake my head, "Unbelievable. You're like the cat whisperer or something."
She just shrugs in response. My gaze remains on her, taking in every feature. I still can't quite believe she's alive, and here. She shifts nervously under my gaze, and I tear my concentration away from cataloguing her every feature to memory.
"Can I offer you something? Coffee? Or maybe tea? Hell, it's not that early - alcohol?"
"I'm fine, thanks PG," she says with a small smile and a shake of the head.
I narrow my eyes briefly and disappear into the kitchen to retrieve some of my baked goods. I return and place a plate with a slice of cake on it in front of her, shooting her a look of "go-ahead-and-try-to-defy-me".
She closes her eyes and exhales a very small laugh as she shakes her head before taking a very small bite.
"So, what can I do for you, E?"
There is a small moment of silence before she responds. "Well, I…" she trails off.
"You're making the rounds, trying to sort out where you stand with people?" I guess, saving her from what, for her, would undoubtedly be an uncomfortable explanation.
She looks relieved that she didn't have to verbalize it, "Yeah."
"Let me save you some time then, Em. We're okay, so long as you promise me to never, and I mean never pull a stunt like that again," I say seriously.
She nods solemnly, "I won't, I promise."
"No more Irish mobsters lurking about in your somehow still mysterious past that we have to worry about?"
Even though the question is largely in jest, we both grasp the truth that sits beneath it. We both know I'm asking if we can expect any more major surprises. We both know I'm asking if she's keeping anything else from us. She answers right away with a shake of her head, her expression still solemn and her eyes serious.
"Good. But I think I'll do a little sleuthing of my own to verify that."
I hadn't meant it that way, but her expression gives away the effect of my words, even if she tried to mask it.
"Oh god. Em, I didn't mean- I-I-" I fumble with my words, trying to pull back the undeserved shot I'd just taken at her. I sigh in frustration with myself, "You know how I am."
She smiles, but the emotion conveyed is far from happiness. I frown and feel guilt permeate my heart and soul.
"I'm so sorry, Emily. I honestly didn't mean it like that. You know I love you, right?"
She nods with a sad smile, shifting her gaze toward the cake I'd set in front of her. Her lack of verbalization worries me, and I pray she isn't shutting down and throwing up her defensive walls.
I sigh loudly and rub my eyes in frustration with myself. She'd come here to apologize and try to mend the friendship she thought she'd broken beyond repair, and I'd done nothing but shove my foot into my mouth and stifle her efforts.
We settle into silence, having pretty much covered the point of her visit. She focuses intently on picking apart the slice of cake I'd set in front of her, and my gaze is fixed on her as I scrutinize her. While it is definitely Emily sitting in front of me, I'm struck by how frail and small she looks. It occurs to me that I'd been so happy to have her back that I hadn't stopped to realize the state of the Emily Prentiss I got back.
Her face is almost ghostly pale, dark rings and bags sit beneath her eyes, standing out despite the makeup covering them, and those dark brown orbs have a heaviness and haunted look about them – guilt and apprehension swirling around frantically. She looks exhausted, and for the first time I realize how skinny she is. I suddenly hope she finishes the slice of cake, and lets me cook her dinner. For at least a week, if not a month.
"Oh, hey, did you get a new cell yet? I need to be in contact with all my crime-fighters at all times," I ask, breaking the silence.
"Yeah, I did. Hang on a sec, I haven't memorized it yet," she says, pulling out a new phone from her purse. She makes a few selections and scrolls a bit before reciting her new number to me. I punch it into my phone, and save the updated entry. I'd never mustered the courage to delete her contact entry, instead finding a strange sort of comfort in her name appearing in my contact list.
"Excellent." A small chuckle escapes my mouth, "I swear you get a new number every year; my file on your contact info and phone listings is huge compared to everyone else's."
She shrugs, "I didn't realize I had so many."
"Neither did I until Hotch asked me to get a hold of you when you… you know, went all noble and self-sacrificial on us."
A pained expression briefly flashes across her face, and I curse myself for bringing it up. Mouth, meet my other foot.
"I got your voicemail," she blurts out quickly, breaking the silence that had taken hold once more, and surprising the heck out of me.
It takes me a moment to realize what voicemail she's talking about. I feel my eyes widen and my mouth open in shock once I realize, "You did?"
She nods slowly, "It really was like a light in the dark for me. It gave me the strength I needed to take him on."
"That wasn't my intention," I reply. "I was hoping to convince you to give up that idea and come home to us and let us help you fight the bad guy."
"I know, but it made me realize that I had to find a way to survive. Up until that point I'd rationalized that in all likelihood my fate had been sealed already."
At my sharp intake of breath at her admission she backtracks quickly, "I mean, not that I went in with the intention of dying or anything, but it just seemed like a very real possibility, you know?"
I offer a half smile in response.
"It reminded me of what I had here at home; what was worth hanging on for. It got me through it."
I offer a genuine smile this time, "Good. I'm glad you let that sink into that overly stubborn but brilliant mind of yours. But you can bet your shaking-while-you're-salsa-dancing ass that if you ever pull a stunt like that again I'll do my thing and make sure you can't run off anywhere."
She chuckles and I see a smile spread across her face. I grin in reply, not able to hold back my laughter either.
"Thank you," she says. "For, you know, being you, and making me smile, even despite it all."
Her words cause a memory to flash across my mind's eye…
"…and I look everywhere for her, and when I can't find her I start to panic. And I panic because I know what's waiting out there for her. I know what the world can do to a girl who only sees beauty in it. Like you."
My eyes widen ever so slightly and I feel my lips part at her comparison. She smiles, maybe in reply to my reaction, or maybe to make her point.
"Somehow you- you always make me smile. And I don't think I've ever thanked you for that."
My eyes focus on her in concentration and a bit of worry – her tone, and the admission itself is out of character for her. Before I have a chance to say anything, Seaver interrupts us to deliver Hotch's request for Emily's presence, leaving me to shrug off the interaction and get back into work mode.
Now that I think about it, there was something in her eyes that really should have set off alarm bells in my head. And even if that look hadn't, the manner in which she delivered that explanation should have – it felt far more like a goodbye than it should have. How or why I didn't pick up on that fact until now, when she's back and sitting in front of me, isn't something I can really explain.
I realize I haven't responded to her as she glances somewhat nervously at me before averting her eyes quickly. I reach over and place my hand over hers, "Of course, Em. Thank you for coming back to us."
She shoots me a small smile once more, and I offer a similarly sad smile in return. She pulls her free hand from her lap and breaks off a piece of the cake, bringing it to her mouth.
"This is delicious, by the way. Almost better than all those croissants and pastries I've been eating for the last 7 months."
"It better be! I had to fight Sergio for the ingredients. I lost a few good eggs in the battle, but ultimately won the war."
"You know, I never had any of these problems when he lived with me."
"Well, he might be enacting some revenge for the 'loving' that I tried to force on him…"
She cringes and sucks in a breath, "Oh boy."
"But despite our dark and difficult relationship, I love that little kitten to bits, even if he did kidnap and hide Consuelo."
"Consuelo?"
"The source of those pink and yellow tufts of fur around his mouth."
Her eyebrows raise as she tries to contain her laughter, but ultimately fails. Despite Consuelo's likely terrible fate, I can't help but feel another part of my heart begin to heal as her laughter rings through the air. She'd be okay, eventually. And knowing that means that I'll be okay too, eventually.
That is, unless the ninja cat takes out Massimo, my prized collectible gnome. If that happens, there's no telling what my rage and fury will lead to.
If you have the time, I'd love to hear your thoughts, as well as any suggestions for conversations...