As always, many thanks for the reviews on the last chapter!
A new perspective for this one, and we're jumping back a few years to a key moment in Emily's life. This one was inspired by Urban Cone's song "Kings & Queens", the lyrics of which serve as this chapter's quote.
Happy reading =)
"Let's try to make me understand, what you want
And what you need, and what you're born to do
You're not the one I used to know."
– Urban Cone, Kings & Queens
"Matty, I don't want to go," Emily says, her voice telling me exactly how tired she is. Emotionally and physically.
"Emily, come on. You've stayed cooped up in here for ages," I implore. It wasn't healthy. I know it had been a hard couple of weeks, but I hadn't expected her to just...wither away.
"Well forgive me if I don't feel up to being happy go lucky," she snaps in anger, but her eyes tell me she's more sad than anything else.
It breaks my heart to see her like this, and once again I'm overwhelmed by the fact that she doesn't deserve this. She was just a scared kid who made a mistake. The fact that she'd found no support, and gotten no guidance from those supposed to be representative of compassion and love of the highest order…it just doesn't seem right. She didn't deserve the treatment she got, and she certainly doesn't deserve to be shouldering all this guilt and depression.
"Come on, Emmy. Just for an hour or two. We can get some gelato…" I say, hoping to entice her with her favourite treat.
"I don't feel like going out."
I let out a sigh. I just want my friend back. I want that mischievous twinkle in her eyes to return. I want to see a smile tugging at her lips when she fights with herself to give into laughing over some stupid joke I've made. I want to be able to look at her and not immediately feel an overwhelming need to scoop her up in my arms and promise her that everything's going to be okay.
I step forward and wrap my long arms around her. I'm surprised when she seems to melt into the embrace, burying her face in my chest. She'd pulled away from me in the days following our visit to the church, electing instead to face her pain and her demons alone. But just as I'd held her hand through that painful moment and promised her it would be all right, I would stay with her now. She isn't alone. I just need to convince her of that.
I rub my hand on her back soothingly, hoping it brings some semblance of comfort to her. I would never understand why she felt she had to go to such drastic measures to fit in – she was an amazing person that anyone would be lucky to know and call a friend. But I guess moving around so often left her quota of close friends unmet. Regardless…if I ever found out who it was, I'd kill him. Pretty sure Johnny would help too, though now that I think about it, I haven't seen him much these last few weeks… I'm not even sure if Emily told him, or if she kept it between us.
"It'll be good for you. I swear you'll feel better," I murmur into her hair.
She pulls out of the embrace and shoots me a look. "Fine. But only for an hour, two tops."
"As you command, milady," I say, bowing dramatically and holding out my hand to her, hoping to elicit some kind of laugh from her. She just shakes her head though, not even the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.
After having some gelato, we'd headed to our spot. It was a small overhang around the back of a building that overlooked a small part of the Tiber. Emily once told me it was the only spot where she felt at home in Rome. She'd explained that it was the only place that even remotely reminded her of her grandfather's cabin in the French Alps, which she'd confided was the only place she ever really felt at home.
"Hey…when you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?"
Emily blinks in surprise at my sudden question that had broken a fairly long bout of silence. "What?"
"What was your dream job when you were a kid?"
She stays quiet, staring out over the water, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, hugging them to her chest.
"I wanted to be a pilot. That feeling of flying… I always wanted that." I wait for her to respond, but continue on when she doesn't say anything. "Plus, they just have that vibe, you know? They're confident, and poised, and have a certain sense of class about them. Yeah, I think that'd be pretty cool."
I look over at her and find she's still staring out over the water.
"Em," I say softly. "Hey, Em, look at me."
She turns slowly and when our gazes meet I feel my heart clench. Her eyes are forlorn, as though she's facing the entire world completely alone. There is a depth of such sadness and pain in those brown orbs that has me seriously worrying she'll never smile again. I can't even begin to consider the possibility that this had broken her for good.
"I'm here for you, Emmy. Always. Let me help. Please."
"I don't know if I can do this," she whispers after a moment. "I can't keep remembering it. I want to forget. Please, Matty, make me forget," she finishes as tears overwhelm her.
I blink in surprise as I pull her toward me, and hold her tightly. She lets me see more of her emotions than anyone else, but I'd still only seen her cry once and that was right after…it, so it was a bit of a shock to see her with tears streaming down her face. It physically hurts me to see her in such pain, and I decide then and there to help her forget all of this, even if just for a few minutes.
"What did you want to be when you grew up?" I repeat my earlier question as I rub her arm soothingly.
She sniffs, but I'm pleased when she answers, "A baker."
"A baker?" I prompt, hoping she'll focus on that and let her mind drift away from her pain.
"Yeah. I wanted to have a little shop and bake bread and cookies and cakes."
"Why a baker?"
"My grandfather owns this cute little bookstore in the French town where he lived before he moved into his cabin. Whenever I visited him as a kid, he'd take me there when he had to check in with the manager. But he always made sure to stop by at the house of a friend of his to get a few fresh croissants for me first. I always figured I'd open up a little bakery next to the bookstore so people going there would have the same that I did: good food and good books."
"That's really very sweet, you know."
"I guess."
"Is that still your dream?"
She pauses, as she considers my question. "I just want to live a life that he'll be proud of."
"Your grandfather?" I say, looking for clarification.
"Yeah. He's very important to me."
"Tell me about him."
I watch as her eyes light up for the first time in weeks. "He's English, but lived most of his life in France."
"But your mother is American…"
"They spent some time in the States when my father was on assignment there, and that's where she was born."
"I thought he owned a bookstore."
"He bought it after they relocated back to France so he could spend more time with my grandmother and mother."
"What did he do before the bookstore?" I ask, noticing that her eyes have the tiniest bit of spark back in them. I vow to continue talking about all of this as long as possible – a few precious moments not spent dwelling on her decision and actions are the least I can give her.
"He was an architect."
"Wow. Smart guy."
"Yeah."
"What's he like?"
"He spoils me rotten," she says with a small smile and I find myself feeling hopeful for the first time in weeks. Maybe my friend was still in there somewhere.
"As he should!" I say, returning her smile. "Only the best for Miss Emily Prentiss!"
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "He's the type of person who strikes up a conversation with the person who he's buying fruit from, and ends up making a lifelong connection somehow."
"A real people person, eh?"
"Yeah. He has a kind heart though. He hates business and complains that everyone is out to get one another, so he tries to undo that in his bookstore."
"Bet that hurts his profits."
"Surprisingly not. I guess it's in a small enough town that it works," she says with a shrug.
"You think he'd like me?"
"He'd love you," she answers immediately.
"What makes you so sure?"
"You're good to me," she says simply.
"Only because you're worth being good to," I answer. It's true. There are some people that are just worth spending your time and effort on. I knew from the moment I met her that Emily was one of those people. Beneath her apprehensive and shy exterior is a loyal and very interesting individual who I'm lucky enough to call my friend. I'm honoured she lets me see who she is underneath all her worries and apprehension.
"I'm not so sure of that anymore," she says sadly, slipping back into that funk.
I sigh. At least I gave her a few minutes of peace. "You are, Emmy."
"How can you say that after what I've done?"
"What you've- Emily, you made an impossible decision. You did what was right for you."
"Tell that to Father Gamino and the church."
My expression hardens as the thoughts that have been swirling around in my head the past few weeks surface once more. I had grown up with these views and teachings, and lived my life in their way, but to see that man so easily dismiss Emily's situation as black and white and offer no support or guidance… It had sparked a line of thought I'd never even considered. I began to wonder how religion could turn its back on those who needed it most, and how its mortal representation could so easily dismiss the needs of a child.
The more I think about these questions and dozens more, the more I wonder whether I'd gotten it wrong my entire life. Were things not as black and white as I'd been taught? Did those arguments against said beliefs have some merit?
But it doesn't matter right now. What matters right now is convincing Emily that she's worthy of love. That she deserves to have happiness and friendship in her life. That she doesn't need to carry this around with her for the rest of her life.
"Don't you dare let that man belittle what you went through. He had no right to tell you what he did, and certainly no right to deny you a place in his congregation."
"But-"
"No, Emmy. You're a good person."
"No, I'm not. It was selfish of me."
"Not at all," I counter. How can she think it was selfish?
"I abused our friendship-"
"What?" I interrupt in confusion. The guilt rolling off of her is near palpable.
"I knew you'd help me. I told you because I knew you'd drop everything and help me."
"That's what friends do, Emily."
She shakes her head. "I took advantage of that."
"No, you didn't. You turned to a friend when things got to be a little too much for you handle by yourself. That's what people do."
"Still, it was selfish – I ended a life because it wasn't convenient for me."
"You're twisting your own words, Emily. You made an impossible choice, but it was never about just you. You told me yourself, you aren't ready to be a mother. You couldn't give the home to him or her that you would've wanted to, or that he or she deserved."
"There were other options-"
"You were incredibly brave, Emily Prentiss. Don't let anyone tell you different. Do you hear me? You're the bravest person I've ever known."
We stay quiet after that, just holding onto each other tightly as we each draw strength from our embrace. I feel intermittent sobs wrack her body, and I hold her that much tighter. It wasn't fair that such a wonderful person should be made to hold so much weight on her shoulders. I silently send a string of curses toward the people responsible for her pain.
"What are your dreams, Emily?" I ask as I pull out of the embrace and sit down, gesturing for her to join me.
"My dreams?"
"What do you believe you were born to do? What do you need to do? What do you want to do?"
She blinks as she considers my questions. "I… I want to do something meaningful, something impactful. I need to make a difference to someone."
"Then do that, you shall."
"I don't know if I can-"
"You can," I say, interrupting. "You can, and you will. I know it. This isn't everything, Emily. This is a tiny moment in a life that's going to be great, I know it. Don't let this one moment define you, because you're so much more than this one moment."
"I don't deserve you."
"Of course you do. Don't be stupid."
She shakes her head vehemently. "Matty, I… Thank you."
"Don't mention it."
"You've done more than anyone should ever ask of a friend."
"Then it's lucky you didn't ask, and I offered."
She lets out a forced chuckle. "I suppose so."
We settle into silence once more, watching as the sun sets. Hues of what seems like a thousand colours warm the land and I feel the slightest sense of hope form. Maybe she'd turned a small corner in her recovery. Her head settles onto my shoulder, and I put my arm around her shoulders, pulling her flush against me, willing that sense of hope to pass into her.
Those niggling questions rise up in my mind once more, and I can't help but wonder whether this was a path I should be on. Maybe I should be exploring other options for things to guide my life. Maybe I should try to find some answers outside of the bible and the church.
"I love you, you know that right?" I say quietly, turning to look at her.
She turns to face me and I find her eyes wide and her mouth open, no doubt about to protest my words. But suddenly her mouth closes and she looks up at me with those sad eyes again for just a moment before she rests her head back onto my shoulder. I feel the tiniest sense of peace in her, as though she's accepted my words.
While we may have overcome this small issue, there are still many more to come, and I have a sinking feeling they will not be so easy to convince her of. And that sinking sensation in my stomach only further fuels my worry about her.
"Thank you," she whispers suddenly, breaking the silence we'd fallen into.
"For what?"
"Helping me to forget for a little while."
I close my eyes to let her words sink in and try not to let the emotion of the moment overwhelm me. The last thing Emily needs is for the only person in her life that's consistently there for her to lose it. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly before responding, putting as much love into my voice as I can.
"It's what I'm here for, Em. Always."
So...how do we feel about Matthew? Interesting to see the more vulnerable and less self-assured side of Emily? How'd their friendship come across? If you've got the time, let me know! Feedback is always great to read.