CHAPTER 34
SHH! NO TALKING!
"That was a good dinner." Emily stated as they were walking out of the restaurant.
"That is thanks to the good company." Richard smirked, but then felt the need to elaborate on that. "I mean you. Obviously. I didn't mean to say that you had a good time because of my company. That would be so incredibly…wait, what's the opposite of modest?"
Emily chuckled. He was the male version of her, when it came to awkwardness. They were equals, just one had boobs and one had, well, other bodily attributes that were, sadly, a lot less visible than hers…with that deep V-neck she was sporting.
"Well, I do enjoy your company." She stated, now walking a little closer to him.
He put his hand around her shoulder and kept on walking.
"Drinks?" He suggested as he eyed a really nice bar by the water. Although, he already knew her answer.
"Non-alcoholic, I mean." He corrected himself and to that, she nodded in agreement.
Emily seemed to be the one to do most of the talking at the bar. Richard was a bit more quiet than usual, but he kept his eyes glued to her face. She almost felt like he was one of those street artists, taking a good look at her, in order to be able to draw an accurate portrait of her later. He studied her temples, her nose, every curve of her cheeks, her bone structure, the position of her lips when she laughed, all the little crinkles, all of it. Maybe he was, indeed, constructing a mental portrait of her in his mind.
She had tried to ask him questions, but each time he had replied shortly and had then let her do the talking.
As she was going on and on about some book she had once read, suddenly, Richard's eyes diverted from her face and looked at something behind her, at the back of the bar. Something or someone, she wasn't sure. His body became tense, she could tell, and his jaw clenched.
"How about we call it a night?" He suggested, not even halfway through his second virgin cocktail. He had insisted on making Emily company in her sobriety these days, although there was nothing he wanted more than a few glasses of fine French wine.
Well, there was this one thing…
Emily shrugged, oblivious to his reason for wanting to leave so abruptly.
He paid and they quickly made their way to the hotel. Once inside the room, Richard finally relaxed a little and started being chatty again.
He commented on a few things that she had mentioned at the bar and, even though his opinion and personal taste were different, he put that in a very educated way. Emily appreciated that, but Lauren would have hated it.
Overall, Lauren would have left his ass by Tuesday.
Emily would have stayed by his side past Sunday, if she had the option to do so.
Alas…
"Lauren…" He whispered, sitting next to her on the bed.
"Here we go again…" Emily thought to herself, trying hard not to sigh, because that would have been rude. Accurate, but rude.
Every single time Richard had expressed his desire to tell her something, she had shut him down. A few of the times she did that subconsciously, as she was distracted with other things and thoughts, so she never realized what he was trying to accomplish. But other times, she had a feeling. A bad one. As if he was about to say something that would ruin her fairy tale. And, as much as Lauren wouldn't have cared, well, Emily did.
"Shh!" Once again, her index finger rose to the level of his lips, softly pressing against them.
"No talking!" Her voice came out weak, weaker than he had ever heard it before.
It was a 100% Emily's voice. Lately, all of Lauren had left her body, until there was nothing but Emily left in there. And that was messing with her head so much. That was one of the reasons why she was so desperate to drink. That was a reason why she would definitely be letting Garcia know how upset she was with her little stunt. If she ever had the heart to do so.
She pushed him against the pillows, her hand unbuttoning a whole bunch of tiny round buttons from his shirt.
"Lauren…" He tried to protest, because there was no way he'd actually do anything before she knew the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
"Please…" That soft, pleading voice of hers made him shiver.
Subconsciously he knew what her fear was.
Consciously, however, he was torn apart between the truth and her. All of her.
When his smart shirt flew open, Emily pushed it aside and took a moment to slowly brush her hands against his bare chest.
Richard noticed that she was in deep thought as she did so.
"There is no way this could not be real…" Emily reassured herself, without saying a word out loud, with her hand now pressing against the left side of his chest, feeling his heartbeat, a bit ragged, a bit fast, a bit like her own.
"I promised myself I'd stray away from random hookups…" She continued telling herself, that inner voice circling over her head constantly, as her lips stayed pressed shut. She wouldn't say one more word out loud to him. She didn't want to. And she didn't have to.
"But there is nothing random about him…" Her inner voice continued, taking over the conversation she was trying to have with herself. She needed to hear those words, but she couldn't be the one saying them, to herself. So, her inner voice of reason came out to play, which really was a rare thing to happen in Emily's life.
"And this time, it is you who is calling the shots…"
"This time, he's not forcing you to do anything…"
"This time, Emily Prentiss is on top…well, no pun intended…"
She chuckled a bit. Even her inner voice was a twisted little kinky gal, quite like her.
Quite like Emily Prentiss…
And then she realized something, once again. Richard had only met with Lauren Reynolds, but then he had spent his time with Emily Prentiss, instead. Seven days, during which Emily had tried so hard to delude him that she was Lauren, that she had finally managed to delude herself. Richard had only ever seen Emily. He now knew what Emily liked, what Emily ate, what Emily drank, how Emily dressed, what pitch her voice hit when she laughed, what she smelled like and God, what the majority of her body looked and felt like, too. He had only ever seen Emily's face and the only thing he had given to Lauren was the mere mention of that name.
Lauren Reynolds…
Emily shuddered at the thought of that.
Had she fooled her own self?
Did he actually like Emily Prentiss, then?
What did all of this mean?
He felt her shiver and he took that as a sign that she'd like to be held. She needed to be held. And he complied, instantly. His hands wrapped around her, bringing her lower, pressing her body against his.
A soft moan escaped her lips, because, God help her, Emily could not suppress that. Not with him. Not now. Possibly not ever.
Now completely in his arms, unable to break away if she wanted to, she found herself…relaxed.
She remembered an instant in her life, when a man had held her this tight. A boy. A dumb idiot. Fifteen year old Emily Prentiss had been unable to move, unable to escape. Intoxicated, she had been unable to fight back, to scream for help, to do just about anything. So, she had let him control her. She had let him make her weak. She had let him destroy her in ways she never thought possible, at that moment in her life. A fifteen year old Emily Prentiss had figured it would be over quickly, so she had closed her eyes, bit her lips and she had cried. In her fifteen year old mind, this was nothing but a moment that would be over and she would forget later on.
Wrong.
So wrong.
That moment had stayed with her forever, making her incapable of establishing a connection with another human being, if it ever had to go beyond friendship. She simply did not know how to. And subconsciously, she did not want to give any man such power over her. Dominance. Control. She'd be damned if she did.
Deep into those thoughts of hers, she was brought back to reality by Richard's left hand, which left his place on her lower back, just to trail up to her face and to wipe a lonely tear that had just rolled down her cheek.
Wasn't it the same, though?
The same like when she was fifteen?
She was still in the arms of a man. Held tight. Immobile. Crying. Vulnerable. Somewhat weak. Emotionally unstable. Not really sure who she really was. Unable to break away. A prisoner…
Wasn't it the same exact situation?
Emily sucked in a breath and finally opened her eyes, realizing they had been shut this whole entire time.
The first thing she saw, in the shadows of the weak little night light next to the bed, was his face. She was sure he was smiling at her. And she was sure it was a genuine smile.
He wasn't fifteen.
He wasn't a boy.
He wasn't controlling her. Hurting her. Forcing her.
He had been patient…God knows this man had been patient for days, through all of her little teasing games.
Every kiss had been initiated by Emily. The most he had ever allowed himself to do was to hold her and yet, the moment he felt like she was uncomfortable, he'd always loosen his grip and give her two options: leave…or stay in his arms.
And she had always stayed.
Every single time.
And she knew she wanted to stay. Again and again.
For the first time in her life, Emily Prentiss was not overwhelmed by that alluring desire to leave. To run away. To escape.
But she also knew that the times he'd be holding her from now on, were counted. If not finished, completely.
She also realized one more thing – he was now looking at her, with his lips just there…right there, in front of hers, but he hadn't dared to make a move.
His right hand drew circles on her now bare back and she didn't recall the moment when she'd lost her clothing, but she was willing to bet that she had taken it off, herself.
Because it was Emily Prentiss who was calling the shots.
It was her wishes that he was bowing to.
It was her timing he had respected.
It was her…
It was all about her…
Emily Prentiss.
Not Lauren Reynolds.
She opened her mouth, because there were three words, eight letters, just itching to be communicated to Richard, no matter how soon it was for them to come out. But she decided to communicate that to him in the best way, the most genuine way she knew.
Non-verbally.
She let out a brief sigh before she pressed against him, letting him know she wanted to be held. And she wanted it to be a tight grip. She wanted no opportunity to escape.
She wanted him.
And, feeling his hands comply with that wish, tightening their grip on her instantly; for the first time in her life, Emily Prentiss felt…safe, in a moment like this.
Happy.
Wanted.
Respected.
When another moan escaped her lips, she realized she had, once again, initiated a kiss. And he had, once again, waited patiently for her to do so.
It was Emily Prentiss who called the shots.
And she wasn't Unit Chief.
She wasn't everyone's best friend and confidant.
She was just Emily Prentiss – a strong, confident, extraordinary version of the girl she had been at fifteen.
And at that moment, the inner voice spoke to her again.
"Your fifteen year old self would be proud of who you have become. You've sure had it rough, Emily, but I like to believe all of it has shaped you to be the exceptional woman you are today!" It said to her and she felt another tear on her cheek.
This time, Richard removed it with a soft, lingering kiss.
"You deserve this…" The inner voice kept on speaking.
"You should allow yourself to enjoy this…"
Emily's lower lip quivered and Richard's free hand caressed her cheek softly, allowing her to press it against the palm of his hand for just a second, enjoying that new feeling – the feeling of finally being able to connect to someone, not just physically but also emotionally. And genuinely.
"This is real…" The voice whispered and Emily could barely hear it anymore, as if it was walking away, as it spoke. As if it had already told her everything she needed to hear.
And then there was silence.
Complete silence in which she felt comfortable, for the first time in her life.
It was Emily Prentiss who was calling the shots.
And this time, with him, it was real.
The lights in the room went off for the rest of the night.
"I'm starving." Angela confided in her best friend after they swam a few more rounds across the pool.
"No wonder. We must have lost like five pounds this evening with all that splashing and swimming." He put his hand on his stomach and felt like it was empty as well.
"But all the bars are closed now. It's like, past one o'clock at night." She commented, hopping up and dragging herself out of the water.
He couldn't help but notice the ease of that movement. She supported her weight so easily and he felt proud. On their first PFT she had received negative feedback about her upper body strength and there she was now, a few thousand pull-ups later, lifting herself up as if she was a feather.
"Come on, don't pretend like I don't know about your secret stash of chocolate and candy." He smirked.
When he was moving in with her earlier, he had noticed a basket, full of sweet treats and snacks. She was keeping it in the corner, between her bed and the window curtain.
"Don't you dare, Mr. Grabby Hands!" She frowned jokingly, but also, she wondered whether he would turn into the kleptomaniac type of a roommate who would randomly start stealing her stuff.
"Now that's a nickname I haven't heard in a while." He smirked, loving nothing more but to push Angela's buttons.
"Eww." With a wince, she pushed him back in the pool, just as he had hopped out of it. She did not need to know what his hands had previously grabbed. It was hard to even picture him as being that type of guy. It was like Bryan was two different people, at once, and Angela had no right, nor desire, to question that.
They changed into their clothes and picked up all of their belongings before exiting the swimming pool area.
All wet, they found it hard to even breathe outside. Angela's legs were shivering and Bryan felt like his trachea was frozen. That's how cold it was. Or at least - how they perceived the temperature outside.
"Welcome home, roomie!" She opened the dorm room door and made a hand gesture, urging him to walk right in.
"This is going to be fun. I mean, I practically live here anyway." He hurried over to the shower and in the meantime Angela set out a table of treats for them to enjoy after she would take a hot shower as well.
"Jesus, Angela!" He gasped when he saw her in a pajama he had never seen before.
White and baby pink, with sparkles everywhere, little sun rays across the back of the top part, while on the bottom there were tiny little white clouds with sparkly silver lining. And then – Unicorns. Everywhere.
"I feel like I'm crashing my little sister's fifth grade slumber party." He started laughing so hard, his finger pointing at her, up and down.
"Jesus, hahaha. This does not belong to the FBI Academy. At all!" He kept on going and the more he spoke, the less Angie cared.
"But I do!" She commented only on his last statement, giving him a twirl, so he could take a better look at every little sparkly detail. Maybe this would give him a new idea for something to tease her about. She did not care, not even a bit.
"I hate how confident you are about yourself." He pointed out, while still laughing. And he was clearly being ironic.
"Well, if I'm not confident about myself, then who will?" She shrugged.
All of her life, Angela had reminded herself to love herself, to look up to herself, to never put herself down, even when she had screwed up. After each mistake, she would sit down and think about what she had done wrong, come up with ways she could have handled herself differently and then analyze what outcome that might have had. She would draw conclusions and make mental notes to herself on how she should act if one day she would find herself in a similar situation.
She was not the typical 23-year old kid. And she hated being called a kid, but unfortunately, with her angelic face and slim figure, that's a word she heard quite often, when people spoke to her, or about her.
While he was busy laughing, she looked at the piece of paper where they had earlier scribbled down their new weekly schedule. And she smiled.
"This looks promising. We're starting to learn new things. We have explosives training now and less law, which is just amazing. Sadly, tactical driving is still on the list." With her last few words, that smile of hers turned into a frown.
"You really hate driving, don't you?" He grabbed the paper from her hands and started reading some more of the classes.
"No, I quite enjoy driving, sometimes. I just don't like tactical driving. It's so much stress." She sighed.
"We have STEM! Oh crap." He frowned as well. "Not my favorite foursome during high-school." He added, making Angie throw a pillow at him, looking at him with disgust.
"I like science and I don't completely suck at technology either. I'm also not impressively good at it, so I'd love to learn more. But engineering and, especially, mathematics…oh boy. Hell no!" She suddenly felt a tiny bit less confident in herself, but that would only serve as a boost for her, to make her push herself even harder.
"Advanced investigative and intelligence techniques. How cool is that?" Bryan commented before Angie grabbed the paper again.
"Give me that!" She said, snatching it out of his fingers. "Oh, interrogation techniques. Yas, just yas!" She clapped her hands with excitement.
"Counterterrorism, counterintelligence. Now that's where the boring people get assigned to." She made a disgusted face. These two fields had never interested her. "Ugh. White collar crime. Seriously? Rich dudes stealing money from other rich dudes? Like, who the Hell cares?" She rolled her eyes.
"Speaking of specializations…" Bryan had been waiting for the best moment to ask her that question. "What are your top interests? Which Units are you interested in applying for?"
Angela already knew that ex-SWAT Sergeant David wanted to go into the Hostage Rescue Tactical Unit, but she had never discussed her own wish. With anyone, really.
"Not Units." She corrected him. "Unit. And interest." She added, clearly stressing out that it was singular.
Bryan looked at her, not really getting it.
Each Trainee would later on be asked to sign up a form, enlisting 5-to-10 interests and at least five Units he or she would want to be assigned to. Then it would be up to the Bureau to assess their requests and, based on their Academy performance, to assign them to the Unit they believe best fits the Trainee's capabilities.
This had always been the most stressful time, for every single Trainee, during their 21 weeks in Quantico.
"I have one interest and I am joining one Unit." She stated confidently.
"Yeah, you know that's not how it works. You have to broaden your horizons. Otherwise you're setting yourself up for failure and, at the very least, disappointment." He tried to knock some sense into her, because limiting oneself to one thing only was a recipe for disaster.
"Yeah…" She looked at him quizzingly. "No." She added with a sly smirk.
He sighed. Did he really have to choose the most stubborn girl to become friends with?
"I know what I want and I'm here to get it." She continued and somehow, no matter how unrealistic and childish she sounded, he failed to make space in his mind, for any doubt that she would actually accomplish it.
Yes, she was stubborn. But also yes, she was more than a hard worker. An overachiever.
Bryan closed his eyes for a second, picturing her in one of those academic robes, a hat on her head, her chin held up as she stood on a podium, with a microphone in front of her lips. She must have been her high-school class valedictorian, she would have been perfect for that.
"If you're picturing me naked, please stop." She grimaced, opening a candy bar and taking a bite.
"Not really, no." He opened his eyes and smiled at her.
At this very moment, Bryan decided that, no matter what would happen in the future, Angela would always be in his life, in one way or another. But he also refused to live a day without this annoying, bubbly, overly confident, sparkly little pink brat, wrapped with a bow, yapping by his side.
"Oh my God, we're also starting to learn about physical and electronic surveillance." Angie got on her feet as she read that on their new schedule, and she started doing a very nerdy happy dance.
"Stop. I'm begging you! This is hurting my eyes and your ego!" Bryan put his hand in front of his eyes jokingly, but Angela was feeling no shame.
"Wohoo! Ain't nobody safe no more. We are watching you!" She said with bad ass chick attitude and he was more than sure that she would be stalking everyone's ass, just to apply what they would be learning in class.
"Bad boys, bad boys…" She started singing. "What'you gonna dooooo…"
"What'you gonna do when we come for you?" Bryan suddenly jumped up and followed in her silly footsteps, mirroring her dance moves and acting like a fool, even singing along to a song that, weirdly, fit their current situation perfectly.
Angie gave him a look of approval.
"What?" He smirked. "If you can't beat them – join them!"
When their sugar high cooled off, they sat back down on the couch and Bryan smiled a little bit. He couldn't remember the last time he had acted so free, the last time he had even felt like smiling, without having to force the muscles of his mouth to form into a fake smile, only to fool somebody.
And yet, there was still sorrow in his smile, even at this moment. Angie noticed it. She had been noticing sorrow in his eyes since they had met. It was as if she reminded him of someone and, as much as he wanted her by his side, she was also a constant reminder of an old daemon in his life, something that made him upset.
Clearly, she knew better than to ask him about it.
"It's half past two." She said with her mouth still full of chocolate from the second bar that she had opened.
"I bet you Dan is going to wake us up even earlier than our Call Time tomorrow morning. Or rather, this morning." Regret about not having timed this celebration properly, started creeping up in Bryan's mind.
"Alright, lights off." She quickly gathered the empty packages of sweets and threw them in the bin before fixing the pillows neatly on the side of the couch and making sure the room was neat and clean before she headed off to bed.
"Goodnight, Angie." He said, already underneath the covers.
"Goodnight, Bryan." She whispered in the dark. "I have a feeling this week would be the start of something amazing!"
He could only hope she was right.
