Many thanks for your continued patience with me on this story. Unfortunately I haven't had as much time as I'd like to write, so updates are still going to be a little sporadic, but hopefully a little more frequent.
We're jumping in with Tsia for this one, and going back a few years.
Happy reading =)
"Generally speaking, espionage offers each spy an opportunity to go crazy in a way he finds irresistible." – Kurt Vonnegut, Mother Night
"Tsia, she's fine."
"She was undercover with a terrorist for two years. She's definitely not fine," I reply sharply, briefly turning to face Jeremy who is doing his best to calm me down, but failing in the face of my worry and anxiety. "Would you be fine?" I don't give him a chance to respond before I continue. "She did not look fine to me."
"What are you talking about?" he says with a frown. "She was fine. No injuries, no-"
"Didn't you see the look in her eyes?" I interrupt.
We had gathered in the meeting room for our part in the debriefing earlier today, and it was the first time I'd seen her in person since she was pulled out of the op. I found myself staring because the woman in front of me was not Emily Prentiss. I had expected her to look different, yes, but not this different. I knew her hair would be different, and I expected her weight to have fluctuated a little, but I didn't anticipate her posture and the way she carried herself to have changed. I didn't expect to see her and be overwhelmed by the realization that it wasn't Emily sitting in front of me. It was Lauren Reynolds.
"Tsia, you're overanalyzing things. She's just unwinding from being undercover. You do the same thing after you get out," Jeremy says gently, shooting me a concerned look.
"I suppose you're right," I say slowly and grudgingly, but I don't believe it. Not at all.
After we had concluded several hours of debriefing, Emily had slipped away to her room to "sleep" but I knew she wasn't sleeping. It always took Emily a long time to be able to sleep after we wrapped up cases. She often spent nights curled up on a hotel balcony, staring at the stars. I'd caught her a few times, and she'd explained that she just had too much going on in her head to be able to sleep. She never explained what it was about the stars that she found so comforting though.
"She's Spock," Jeremy says with a shrug. "She'll be fine."
My eyes narrow ever so slightly at his nickname for her. He'd bestowed it upon her years ago when he realized just how well she was able to compartmentalize. But he's not with her when she breaks down. He's not there to see the look in her eyes when she struggles to come to terms with the horrors she's seen and been forced to be a part of. He's not there when she tosses around violently in her bed while in the throes of a nightmare. To him, she's Spock. To me she's Emily, and Emily is very much human.
"I'm going to check on her," I say decisively.
"You'll wake her up," Jeremy says with a frown. "Just let her sleep. You can talk to her in the morning."
"I'm going to check on her," I repeat, knowing she's definitely not asleep, and knowing that I won't be able to sleep until I know she's at least some semblance of okay.
I knock softly on her door and am surprised when she opens it almost right away. "Hi," I say, scrutinizing her face for clues as to her emotional well-being. Once again it's her eyes that I find myself focusing on. They just look so…weary and lifeless.
"Hey," she answers. "You need something?"
"No, I was just… I wanted to make sure you're okay."
"Yeah, I'm fine," she answers with a small smile. I don't need my years of training to know it's a fake one.
"Good," I say awkwardly. "I guess I'll see you in the morning…" I trail off, the image of her curled up on the balcony burning brightly in my mind.
"Yeah."
"Unless…" I say, interrupting her motion to close the door. "Do you want some company?"
She tilts her head slightly as she considers my offer for a moment before letting out a light sigh and letting go of her hold on the door, allowing me to enter. I admit I'm surprised by her decision. I had expected to be rebuffed and sent on my way. She's a private person who very much prefers to cope with things on her own, so for her to let me in is surprising to me.
"Did you eat already?" I ask as I close the door behind me, wondering if she's been taking care of herself in the few days she's been back.
She holds my gaze for the briefest of moments before she answers, shooting me a look that tells me my efforts at subtlety are a failure. "Clyde beat you to the punch," she says, gesturing to a picked-over tray of food. "He had that sent up a while ago."
"Oh," I say sheepishly, knowing she's caught me in my worry over her. "Sorry."
She waves off my apology. "Don't worry about it."
I peek over at the door leading to the balcony and am not surprised when I find a pillow and blanket there. Plus ça change… "How's the view?" I ask, nodding toward the open door to the small balcony.
"Same as always," she answers with a shrug and moves to sit back down on the cool cement floor of the balcony, wrapping the blanket around herself loosely. I follow and sit down beside her, trying to figure out how to ask her if she's okay. Emily has never appreciated beating around the bush, but then I'm not entirely convinced it's Emily I'm sitting next to.
"Em?" I say softly when I notice her gaze has shifted back up to the night sky. "Emily?" I repeat, this time a little louder. Still no response. I feel a momentary wave of panic rush through me – does she not recognize her own name anymore?
"Emily," I try, my tone firmer this time. Still nothing.
A sick thought occurs to me. "Lauren," I say and feel my heart drop when she turns immediately to look at me.
"Hmm?" she hums distractedly.
"Emily, are you okay?" I ask softly, dreading her answer. I already know she's not.
"I'm fine," she says, flashing me yet another fake smile.
"Em," I implore. "I know you're not. Talk to me. Please."
"I'm okay, I swear."
"Hey," I say softly as I give her shoulder a gentle nudge with my own, "it's me."
She turns her gaze skyward again as she sighs heavily, and I find myself anxiously waiting for her response. "It's harder than I thought," she says finally after minute of silence, and I find myself a little surprised it hadn't taken more convincing to get her to talk.
I feel my brow furrow as my expression shifts to a frown. "How do you mean?"
"I just…I don't know. I guess I thought that once we got him, and we finished the debriefing, that this would all be over."
"It's not?" I say in confusion.
"It doesn't feel like it. I can't just switch her off. It still feels like I'm her."
I blink in shock. I never expected her to actually answer me. Maybe the weight of all this is finally getting to her. "You aren't her," I say firmly. "She was a character that you played–"
"For two years," she interjects.
"–in order to fool Doyle and his men," I continue, ignoring her interruption. "And you played it well enough to fool everyone." Including herself apparently.
"I just wish I could get her out of my head."
"You will," I say, reaching out a hand and squeezing her blanket covered knee. "It's only been a couple days, Em. It's still early. Give it a little time."
"I know," she says, wrapping the blanket around herself a little tighter. "It just…this one feels different."
"Different?" I echo in question.
She doesn't answer right away, instead taking a few breaths, her gaze fixed on the ground in front of her. I don't push her, instead letting the silence envelop the area. If there's one thing I've learned about Emily Prentiss, it's that she'll answer when she's ready, and not a moment sooner.
"I think…" she begins, but trails off, clearly unsure whether she should be saying what she'd planned to.
"You think…" I prompt, eager to hear what's going on inside that head of hers.
She blows out a breath as she shakes her head lightly. "I think a part of me was excited to be Lauren, so when it came time to give that up, I found that it wasn't so easy."
I don't answer right away, instead letting her words hang in the air. I know exactly what she's talking about. Clyde had warned us many times over the years that we couldn't have fun with our covers, but sometimes it's hard not to…
"What was it about her?"
She doesn't answer immediately, and I find myself looking at her as she contemplates her words. "She was…free. She was bold and confident, and people didn't fuck with her. She exuded this…aura of power."
"And you don't think Emily Prentiss does that?"
She turns to me and shoots me an incredulous look that tells me her answer. "It was…intoxicating being able to be that person."
"And now you're not quite sure you want to give that up," I finish for her, recalling her earlier words.
She nods. "Yeah," she says softly. "Something like that."
"I think you've forgotten that we based parts of Lauren on Emily."
"Not that part."
"Yes, that part," I say firmly. It's not a lie. Part of the reason Easter even considered sending Em in was because she was so strong.
Emily doesn't respond, instead offering a shrug and pulling the blanket a bit tighter around herself. The look in her eyes tells me that's not all she's thinking about.
"What else are you worried about, Em?" I ask gently.
She takes a breath before offering an answer. "You know those moments of escape when you're undercover? When no one is around and you're not on camera or being recorded, and you don't have to worry about breaking character?"
I nod in understanding.
"Usually those moments are refreshing and rejuvenating, right? It gives you a chance to be the true you for a short time and remember what you're in there for."
I nod again in understanding, but decidedly not liking the direction her answer is taking.
"The longer I went between intel drops or meeting up with Clyde, the fewer and farther between those moments became."
I frown. That's definitely not good.
"I never stopped gathering the intel, but there were moments that I forgot I was in there undercover."
"It happens, Em. You were in for a long time. Longer than we thought you'd have to be."
"I was sleeping with a terrorist," she answers plainly, "and there were moments that it didn't bother me. There were fleeting moments where it felt…normal."
I stay quiet as I try to let her words sink in.
"That's fucked up, I know," she says with a wry grin when I don't respond.
"I... What about now?"
"I'm well aware of what kind of man Ian is," she answers, and I can't help but cringe at her casual use of his first name, "and what he's done. He deserves to be locked up for his actions. I know that."
"As long as you know that, I think everything else will fall in line, no?"
"Maybe. But it doesn't change the fact that I still feel like Lauren Reynolds. The way I carry myself, the way I talk, the way I see situations… It's still as her. And don't tell me it's not true, because I can see it in the way you're looking at me right now. It's like you're looking at a stranger – and not just because my hair is different."
"Give it time, Em," I say, unsure of exactly what else there is to say. Her words have shaken me to my core. For all my talk to Jeremy about how she's human, she's still the strongest person I've ever met. This has rattled her, and I never thought I'd see her like this.
"I know," she answers softly, and for the first time I realize that her tone has shifted to uncertainty. She sounds almost…scared?
"I won't let you get lost, Emily," I say sincerely as I wrap an arm around her and squeeze her tightly in a one-armed hug. "We'll have you throwing snarky comments at Easter in no time."
She offers a small smile, but I know she doesn't believe my words. I let out a heavy sigh as I try and figure out a way to convince her.
"Hey, repeat after me." Her brow furrows, but she doesn't object, so I continue. "Lauren Reynolds is dead."
"Tsia," she begins as she shakes her head. "Come on, I-"
"Lauren Reynolds is dead," I repeat forcefully, leaving no room for argument.
She lets out a breath before she acquiesces. "Lauren Reynolds is dead."
"Again," I request.
"Lauren Reynolds is dead."
"Good. Any time you find yourself slipping back into that character, you repeat that. Oui?"
She nods, and for the first time since we pulled her out, her face isn't making me worry that she'll never be the same again. For the first time, I think that maybe she might be okay…
"Lauren Reynolds is dead," I hear her murmur to herself, and I squeeze her shoulder again as we take in the view of the stars. Slowly I'll coax Emily out of the box Lauren had hidden her away in. Slowly I'll get my friend back.
So...what did you think? Did you like the peek into Tsia and Emily's friendship? Did Emily's reaction to being pulled out make sense? Let me know!
This one was one I knew I wanted to do. I find Emily's character circa her time with JTF-12 to be fascinating, and given her reaction to Tsia being in danger, and her subsequent death, I think the two of them were quite close, so I wanted to explore that aspect of things.