Waiting for the Storm to Break Part 7
Title: Waiting for the Storm to Break (part 7)
Author: Louisa and Tamoline
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds
Pairing: Emily Prentiss/Emma Frost
This is part of a story in a sequence Intersecting Trajectories. Links to the rest can be found in this post:
Masterpost
There's a storm coming, building up inside Emily. The only question is: when it breaks, will she shatter with it?
Author's note: In what is possibly one of the signs of the apocalypse, I'm actually posting another part of Waiting this week, possibly buoyed by the fact that I'm partway through the next (and final) part and going strong.
"Emily?"
I'm so wrapped up in my own thoughts that until I hear my name I don't even register that someone has approached and is speaking to me. Let alone that it's someone I know.
Let alone that it's:
"Mona," I say, affixing a smile to my face.
Because really, after having run out on her *again* a few weeks ago, it's the least I can do.
"Hey. How are you doing this evening?" she inquires, before quickly adding, a little nervously, "If you don't mind me asking."
"Fine," I say, more because I feel like I should be fine than because I am. But I'm closer to actually fine than I've been for a while, temporary respites aside. Aren't I?
"Good. Good. It's just that last time I saw you..." I wince a little at that, but she doesn't seem to notice, "And the rumours..."
Huh? Rumours?
But there's something I need to say before I can start asking questions.
"Firstly, I'm really sorry about just running out on you without saying anything."
I steel myself for her response, whatever it may be. I think I'm ready for anything, but I find myself shocked when, smiling wryly, she waves her hand in a casually dismissive gesture.
"No big," she says airily. "I mean, leaving afterwards is kind of your thing."
Quickly recovering from my temporary discombobulation (after all, 'casual' is certainly better than 'pissed off' or, worse, 'distraught') I smile somewhat ruefully back at her.
"Still, sorry. I usually at least have the courtesy to say goodbye afterwards. And, secondly, rumours?"
She glances downwards. "Just the word going around. You've been off your regular patterns for months now." She pauses for a moment, before adding in a rush, "I'd hadn't really believed them until that night. But you seemed really off your game." It's hard to tell in the light, but it looks like she blushes, "Not that I'd know what your game is like, usually, but..." She hides her head in her hands. "I'm making a complete mess of this, aren't I?"
I have to laugh. "I'm not... sure?" I venture, tentatively. "Though not knowing what 'this' is probably isn't a good sign."
She peeks briefly up from her hands, before hiding her face again. "Not helping!" she says. But she seems to be laughing, which is a good sign.
"So, what did you want to talk about?"
"Just that..." She inhales deeply, then drops her hands and lifts her head up to look me directly in the eyes. "I'm really sorry about practically stalking you back then. It really wasn't my finest hour. You gave me a really nice first time, and it was really uncool to obsess over you like that."
It's a version of events that I barely recognise, but it isn't like I don't have my own regrets.
"I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have been your first time, not like that."
"Bah," she waves a hand. "Trust me, you gave me a much better time than my next hookup. And that whole night..." she has a slight smile on her face as her gaze turns soft and distant. "You made me feel special. I mean, I wasn't expecting anything more than a quick screw, but..." She blushes. "I'm not doing a good job of selling that I'm over the crush, am I?"
I really don't know what to make of this. It's so different from what I remember that I just don't have time to process it. Instead, I fall back on that old stand-by for awkward situations: humour.
"Not really, no." I reply with a smile.
She gives me a grin that's almost wicked. "If it helps, that night a few weeks ago did help to convince me that some things are definitely best left to the hazy recollections of nostalgia."
I wince.
"Ouch. Was I really that bad?"
She nods, the humour in her eyes softening the edge of words that could otherwise have cut me to the quick. "Barely could find the relevant parts. My view of Emily, sex goddess, definitely took a hit."
Ouch again. But, much as my ego would like to believe her assessment is overly harsh, the few sodden memories I have of that night don't exactly contradict her. If anything, she may be understating the case.
Note to self. Alcohol may be good for a little social lubrication, but in high enough quantities it can severely impair performance.
"In my defense, I was really, really drunk."
And let's *not* do that again anytime ever. It never ends well.
"Or maybe you're just getting old," she says impishly. "Seriously, though, you don't mind that I took you home? I don't want to think that I took advantage of you."
"If you don't think I took advantage of you," I say with a smile that I don't quite feel. Because I still feel like I did. The first time even if not the second.
She relaxes, her relief showing on her face. "Good. I did have to wonder... You've been so good about avoiding me." A trace of guilty embarrassment crosses her face again. "Not that I really blame you, but..."
"Hey," I say. "That's in the past. And trust me, we've all done things when we were younger that we'd prefer to forget."
"Really?" For a moment, she looks awfully young.
"Really," I affirm. "And thanks for the apology, even if it really wasn't necessary."
"No problem." She beams at me, her cheeks dimpling as she reaches out to touch my arm lightly. "Later?"
"Later," I say, rather than goodbye, rather than thinking 'Not if I see you first.'
Tension I had forgotten even existed loosens from around my chest and it feels...
It feels good.
I'm still chewing over the meeting with Mona the next day when JJ swings by my desk.
"Do you want to catch lunch outside today? It's too nice a day not to."
I may not be the biggest fan of the outdoors, but it might be nice to get away from the office for a while. Plus I'd really talk about things with JJ, maybe clear my head. Not about Emma, of course, that's entirely too complex. But Mona...
"Sure. Grab something from the canteen and meet you down there in ten?"
"It's a date, Prentiss."
It takes a little while for JJ to stop laughing after I tell her about Mona and the meeting last night.
"Emily, despoiler of the innocent," she gasps.
"I wouldn't go that far," I say a little grumpily.
"Because, lord knows, girls don't like getting it on."
I throw an empty wrapper at her head. It bounces off her temple, but doesn't deter her giggles.
"After all, it's not like you might have formed any other impression after being friends with someone like Celia, from what you've told me about her."
"I'm almost regretting having told you."
She sobers up. "Seriously, though, I don't see the problem. So she actually remembers having a good first time. Doesn't that just mean you can stop beating yourself up about it?"
When she puts it like that... "Maybe." But, while not exactly fundamental to my view of myself, it's been *there* for so long. Emily wronged Mona. A known fact. The space where it used to sit feels kind of... empty. Like the gap from a missing tooth that you just can't stop poking with your tongue. "Probably," I allow. "It's just such a different view to the one I had." And I think it's going to take a little while for the new truth to settle into place.
"Call yourself a profiler," JJ scoffs. "It's not like we don't encounter those kind of divergences every day."
"It's different when it's personal." And it's one of the reasons I don't *like* things getting personal.
But apparently even trying to keep things from getting personal can turn personal. Typical.
"It always is," JJ says, then snorts.
I raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to nearly collapse into giggles again, but instead she seems to sober.
"You know, I was talking about us to..." she waves a hand in the air, "Someone you don't know. You know what they said?"
I look at her cautiously. We had carefully avoided talking about anything regarding 'us', or what could have become us, since JJ had told me she was working on forgiveness. But she didn't seem angry, just thoughtful and still a little amused.
"No."
"They asked me what the problem was. Way back when, all I'd wanted was to apologise for freaking you out and tell you that we could still be friends, and I'd gotten just that." She paused for a moment. "They weren't being entirely serious, but they also were, you know?"
"It wasn't anything to do with you." Just my own fuckedupness.
She looks at me skeptically. "Are you saying that your reaction was completely proportional and rational?"
"No."
"And that it was driven by the fact that you weren't ready to even think about a relationship, especially with a co-worker?"
"You know that's true." I'm feeling a little trapped by this line of argument, but I can't find any holes to pick in it.
"Then I maintain that I freaked you out by making a pass at you, and accidentally made things worse when I tried to apologise."
"It didn't happen that way!" It was my stupid fault, not hers.
She smiles placidly. "It's a consistent and complete account. If there's anything I've learned as a media liason, you can make any number of valid stories from the facts. And this is the one I choose."
"Why?" She can't do this. All I have left from that shambles is that it's *my* fault. If I can have nothing else, I can at least own *that*.
She shrugs. "I like you, Emily. You're my friend. And this is the story that makes me happiest with my life. I just don't see the point in trying to obsess over the minutiae about who might or might not be at fault."
She doesn't need to add 'unlike you'. I'm well aware of my faults.
"So," she continues. "I'm really sorry that I freaked you out." She smiles blindingly. "Can you forgive me?"
I start laughing. Long, loud and I just can't seem to stop. I collapse back against the grass, and look up at the blue sky.
Is there any point on holding onto my guilt if she absolves me? Even if it's by denying that I was at fault at all?
Telling myself 'no' is simultaneously the hardest and the easiest thing I can remember doing.
Another knot gone from within me. Another abscess that was accumulating poison purged.
"Always," I tell her when I can finally speak, and she grins back at me.
"Good." She pauses a moment, biting her lip, before continuing more quietly. "Would you do me a favour?"
I feel instantly suspicious. "What?"
"Would you consider doing the same for Amanda?"
"What!" How could she ask me, after what Amanda did to me, after how she hurt me?
"It's your story," she rushes out, "It's just that... in addition to not having forgiven Amanda, you don't seem to have forgiven yourself."
I give her a hard look. "Really."
She shrugs, a little helplessly. "When we spoke of her, whenever we spoke of her, you gave me the distinct impression that you hated yourself almost as much as her."
It's not like that. It's not like that at all. It's just... self despite is a handy knife to wield against your heart, to make sure that you don't make the same mistakes again.
"It's your story," she repeats. "And only you can decide which version makes you happiest."
Author: Louisa and Tamoline
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds
Pairing: Emily Prentiss/Emma Frost
This is part of a story in a sequence Intersecting Trajectories. Links to the rest can be found in this post:
Masterpost
There's a storm coming, building up inside Emily. The only question is: when it breaks, will she shatter with it?
Author's note: In what is possibly one of the signs of the apocalypse, I'm actually posting another part of Waiting this week, possibly buoyed by the fact that I'm partway through the next (and final) part and going strong.
"Emily?"
I'm so wrapped up in my own thoughts that until I hear my name I don't even register that someone has approached and is speaking to me. Let alone that it's someone I know.
Let alone that it's:
"Mona," I say, affixing a smile to my face.
Because really, after having run out on her *again* a few weeks ago, it's the least I can do.
"Hey. How are you doing this evening?" she inquires, before quickly adding, a little nervously, "If you don't mind me asking."
"Fine," I say, more because I feel like I should be fine than because I am. But I'm closer to actually fine than I've been for a while, temporary respites aside. Aren't I?
"Good. Good. It's just that last time I saw you..." I wince a little at that, but she doesn't seem to notice, "And the rumours..."
Huh? Rumours?
But there's something I need to say before I can start asking questions.
"Firstly, I'm really sorry about just running out on you without saying anything."
I steel myself for her response, whatever it may be. I think I'm ready for anything, but I find myself shocked when, smiling wryly, she waves her hand in a casually dismissive gesture.
"No big," she says airily. "I mean, leaving afterwards is kind of your thing."
Quickly recovering from my temporary discombobulation (after all, 'casual' is certainly better than 'pissed off' or, worse, 'distraught') I smile somewhat ruefully back at her.
"Still, sorry. I usually at least have the courtesy to say goodbye afterwards. And, secondly, rumours?"
She glances downwards. "Just the word going around. You've been off your regular patterns for months now." She pauses for a moment, before adding in a rush, "I'd hadn't really believed them until that night. But you seemed really off your game." It's hard to tell in the light, but it looks like she blushes, "Not that I'd know what your game is like, usually, but..." She hides her head in her hands. "I'm making a complete mess of this, aren't I?"
I have to laugh. "I'm not... sure?" I venture, tentatively. "Though not knowing what 'this' is probably isn't a good sign."
She peeks briefly up from her hands, before hiding her face again. "Not helping!" she says. But she seems to be laughing, which is a good sign.
"So, what did you want to talk about?"
"Just that..." She inhales deeply, then drops her hands and lifts her head up to look me directly in the eyes. "I'm really sorry about practically stalking you back then. It really wasn't my finest hour. You gave me a really nice first time, and it was really uncool to obsess over you like that."
It's a version of events that I barely recognise, but it isn't like I don't have my own regrets.
"I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have been your first time, not like that."
"Bah," she waves a hand. "Trust me, you gave me a much better time than my next hookup. And that whole night..." she has a slight smile on her face as her gaze turns soft and distant. "You made me feel special. I mean, I wasn't expecting anything more than a quick screw, but..." She blushes. "I'm not doing a good job of selling that I'm over the crush, am I?"
I really don't know what to make of this. It's so different from what I remember that I just don't have time to process it. Instead, I fall back on that old stand-by for awkward situations: humour.
"Not really, no." I reply with a smile.
She gives me a grin that's almost wicked. "If it helps, that night a few weeks ago did help to convince me that some things are definitely best left to the hazy recollections of nostalgia."
I wince.
"Ouch. Was I really that bad?"
She nods, the humour in her eyes softening the edge of words that could otherwise have cut me to the quick. "Barely could find the relevant parts. My view of Emily, sex goddess, definitely took a hit."
Ouch again. But, much as my ego would like to believe her assessment is overly harsh, the few sodden memories I have of that night don't exactly contradict her. If anything, she may be understating the case.
Note to self. Alcohol may be good for a little social lubrication, but in high enough quantities it can severely impair performance.
"In my defense, I was really, really drunk."
And let's *not* do that again anytime ever. It never ends well.
"Or maybe you're just getting old," she says impishly. "Seriously, though, you don't mind that I took you home? I don't want to think that I took advantage of you."
"If you don't think I took advantage of you," I say with a smile that I don't quite feel. Because I still feel like I did. The first time even if not the second.
She relaxes, her relief showing on her face. "Good. I did have to wonder... You've been so good about avoiding me." A trace of guilty embarrassment crosses her face again. "Not that I really blame you, but..."
"Hey," I say. "That's in the past. And trust me, we've all done things when we were younger that we'd prefer to forget."
"Really?" For a moment, she looks awfully young.
"Really," I affirm. "And thanks for the apology, even if it really wasn't necessary."
"No problem." She beams at me, her cheeks dimpling as she reaches out to touch my arm lightly. "Later?"
"Later," I say, rather than goodbye, rather than thinking 'Not if I see you first.'
Tension I had forgotten even existed loosens from around my chest and it feels...
It feels good.
I'm still chewing over the meeting with Mona the next day when JJ swings by my desk.
"Do you want to catch lunch outside today? It's too nice a day not to."
I may not be the biggest fan of the outdoors, but it might be nice to get away from the office for a while. Plus I'd really talk about things with JJ, maybe clear my head. Not about Emma, of course, that's entirely too complex. But Mona...
"Sure. Grab something from the canteen and meet you down there in ten?"
"It's a date, Prentiss."
It takes a little while for JJ to stop laughing after I tell her about Mona and the meeting last night.
"Emily, despoiler of the innocent," she gasps.
"I wouldn't go that far," I say a little grumpily.
"Because, lord knows, girls don't like getting it on."
I throw an empty wrapper at her head. It bounces off her temple, but doesn't deter her giggles.
"After all, it's not like you might have formed any other impression after being friends with someone like Celia, from what you've told me about her."
"I'm almost regretting having told you."
She sobers up. "Seriously, though, I don't see the problem. So she actually remembers having a good first time. Doesn't that just mean you can stop beating yourself up about it?"
When she puts it like that... "Maybe." But, while not exactly fundamental to my view of myself, it's been *there* for so long. Emily wronged Mona. A known fact. The space where it used to sit feels kind of... empty. Like the gap from a missing tooth that you just can't stop poking with your tongue. "Probably," I allow. "It's just such a different view to the one I had." And I think it's going to take a little while for the new truth to settle into place.
"Call yourself a profiler," JJ scoffs. "It's not like we don't encounter those kind of divergences every day."
"It's different when it's personal." And it's one of the reasons I don't *like* things getting personal.
But apparently even trying to keep things from getting personal can turn personal. Typical.
"It always is," JJ says, then snorts.
I raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to nearly collapse into giggles again, but instead she seems to sober.
"You know, I was talking about us to..." she waves a hand in the air, "Someone you don't know. You know what they said?"
I look at her cautiously. We had carefully avoided talking about anything regarding 'us', or what could have become us, since JJ had told me she was working on forgiveness. But she didn't seem angry, just thoughtful and still a little amused.
"No."
"They asked me what the problem was. Way back when, all I'd wanted was to apologise for freaking you out and tell you that we could still be friends, and I'd gotten just that." She paused for a moment. "They weren't being entirely serious, but they also were, you know?"
"It wasn't anything to do with you." Just my own fuckedupness.
She looks at me skeptically. "Are you saying that your reaction was completely proportional and rational?"
"No."
"And that it was driven by the fact that you weren't ready to even think about a relationship, especially with a co-worker?"
"You know that's true." I'm feeling a little trapped by this line of argument, but I can't find any holes to pick in it.
"Then I maintain that I freaked you out by making a pass at you, and accidentally made things worse when I tried to apologise."
"It didn't happen that way!" It was my stupid fault, not hers.
She smiles placidly. "It's a consistent and complete account. If there's anything I've learned as a media liason, you can make any number of valid stories from the facts. And this is the one I choose."
"Why?" She can't do this. All I have left from that shambles is that it's *my* fault. If I can have nothing else, I can at least own *that*.
She shrugs. "I like you, Emily. You're my friend. And this is the story that makes me happiest with my life. I just don't see the point in trying to obsess over the minutiae about who might or might not be at fault."
She doesn't need to add 'unlike you'. I'm well aware of my faults.
"So," she continues. "I'm really sorry that I freaked you out." She smiles blindingly. "Can you forgive me?"
I start laughing. Long, loud and I just can't seem to stop. I collapse back against the grass, and look up at the blue sky.
Is there any point on holding onto my guilt if she absolves me? Even if it's by denying that I was at fault at all?
Telling myself 'no' is simultaneously the hardest and the easiest thing I can remember doing.
Another knot gone from within me. Another abscess that was accumulating poison purged.
"Always," I tell her when I can finally speak, and she grins back at me.
"Good." She pauses a moment, biting her lip, before continuing more quietly. "Would you do me a favour?"
I feel instantly suspicious. "What?"
"Would you consider doing the same for Amanda?"
"What!" How could she ask me, after what Amanda did to me, after how she hurt me?
"It's your story," she rushes out, "It's just that... in addition to not having forgiven Amanda, you don't seem to have forgiven yourself."
I give her a hard look. "Really."
She shrugs, a little helplessly. "When we spoke of her, whenever we spoke of her, you gave me the distinct impression that you hated yourself almost as much as her."
It's not like that. It's not like that at all. It's just... self despite is a handy knife to wield against your heart, to make sure that you don't make the same mistakes again.
"It's your story," she repeats. "And only you can decide which version makes you happiest."