AN: I'm posting this to get it out of my documents folder. I'm not sure if I'm finished it or not, so we'll see what you guys think of where I leave it and you can tell me what I should do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Emily knew there was no chance of her falling asleep after Clyde left.
It had little to do with him or even their argument. She didn't sleep anymore. Her bed felt like a prison, eight hours of darkness an incarceration she was forced to serve every night.
She lay as still as she could, listening to the revellers still carrying on on the streets below, like maybe if she pretended hard enough, she'd be released from her nightly torture. She'd gotten very good at make-believe...sometimes, she almost believed she was okay.
She closed her eyes and imagined herself far away from her bed, from London, from the noise pressing in around her. She tried to conjure up the image of Rossi's annual New Year's party. Three years ago – the last time she'd been present for said party – Garcia had planned the whole thing, had themed it 'Black and White' and made everyone wear suits and cocktail dresses. She hadn't been drinking, alcohol still turning her stomach sour with ulcer pain, and Henry had claimed her as his companion and insisted she play Cars with him until he sugar-crashed. Rossi's place was far enough away from the big fireworks event for the noise to not reach them and instead of lighting off their own, he'd given the kids sparklers and turned them loose in the yard, giving her a knowing smile as she watched from the porch. (He'd always known a little more than he should, but she could always trust him to keep her secrets.)
An ocean away, they were probably in the middle of their celebration. She wondered if they missed her, if things were different without her there. She wondered if the new agent had all but replaced her in everyone's minds. (A small selfish part of her hoped that she couldn't quite be replaced, wondered if that made her a bad person.)
She dialled Derek's number from memory; if she wasn't going to sleep, she might as well be homesick too. Ordinarily, she wouldn't call him at such a late hour unless she'd texted first to see if he was awake, but she knew he wouldn't be missing out on the party.
"Emmmmmmilyyyyyy!" he exclaimed loudly into the phone when he answered, forcing her to hold the phone away from her ear lest he deafen her. In the background, she heard several people shouting her name in response and at least two demands to put her on speaker.
She allowed herself a small fond smile in spite of the ache of familiarity in her gut and briefly wondered if it hadn't been a bad idea to call, judging by the burn of tears behind her eyes. "Are you drunk?" she asked, teasing, trying hard to blink back the tears before he heard them in her voice.
"Nahhhhhh." He tended to stretch out words when he'd had one too many. "I'm just enjoying the party! Whaboutyou?" he slurred.
"I have to work tomorrow," she told him in a tone adults tended to reserve for young children.
"Wow, your boss is meannnnn..."
"I am the boss," she retorted, wishing more than anything that she could be there right then.
"And technically, I don't have to go into the office, I just have a lot of paperwork that I don't want piling up over the holidays. International police cooperation apparently requires killing a lot of trees."
"Nerd," he said matter-of-factly. "Even Hotch is taking the day off. Hotch. And he doesn't even know the meaning of the word 'fun'..."
In the background, there was a muted, 'Hey!'
She couldn't help but laugh at Hotch's obvious indignation (and the way Derek laughed at his own joke). "You're going to get yourself double paperwork duty if you're not careful," she warned.
Somewhere outside, far too close for comfort, someone set off a few fireworks, then whooped and hollered, and anything further she might've said was lost as panic rose in her chest until she couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. She silently cursed her own lack of control over her emotions, knew that was part of the problem.
The silence stretched across the line and took up residence in her throat. She opened her mouth to try to say something, anything to break up the building concern she knew he had, but couldn't manage a sound.
"Prentiss? Em! Emily!"
She choked on the silence, realizing she'd gotten lost again and had no idea how long he'd been trying to get her attention. "Sorry..." she whispered, not entirely sure what she was apologizing for.
"Emily, what's wrong?" he urged, suddenly sounding sober. She could tell that he'd moved somewhere private by the lack of background revelry and she appreciated the small thoughtful act. "You haven't seemed like yourself lately."
"I...I don't know," she mumbled. It was loud. Too loud. She shook clarity into her head. "Nothing – it's nothing. I'm just a little distracted."
She could hear his disbelief in the silence that crackled over the phone line. "Are you sure?" he pressed, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"
"I know," she whispered. He knew her better than just about anyone, but she didn't want him to know how weak she was. "I'm just not ready to talk about it."
She could tell that he wanted to push her, but he didn't out of respect and the fact that he knew she'd trust him with her secret when she was ready. "Alright," he agreed at last. "Whenever you're ready."
She sighed wearily, feeling guilty for reasons she couldn't put words to. "You should go back to your party," she insisted. "I'm sorry to have bothered you and interrupted the fun."
"Em," he insisted, "You're never a bother. Not to me. Not ever. Okay?"
She nodded before remembering he couldn't see the gesture over the phone. "Okay," she replied with a small appreciative smile.
"I know it's late over there, but I'm pretty sure Garcia is going to break down the door if I don't let her at least say hi to you, okay?"
Emily managed a small laugh. "I don't want Rossi sending me a bill for that damage...put her on the phone."
There was a small pause. "You know I love you, right, Princess?"
Another pause. "I know."
