Falling part 10
Title: Falling (part 10)
Author: Louisa and Tamoline
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds
Pairing: Emily Prentiss/Emma Frost
Notes: This revolves around the events of Faces, told from Emily's point of view. (We really will get around to the sequel, but Falling is of sufficiently different form that we thought it best to make a seperate story for it.)
You will need to read Faces before reading this story:
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9
The Hunt is suggested as well, as it deals with Emily prior to the events of Faces:
Groundwork Interrogation Contact Aftermath
Previous parts of Falling:
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9
Author's Note: Sorry about the delay. Our third home computer in a few months went tits up a couple of weeks ago. Luckily, with the help of a friend, we did manage to retrieve the data after a week, as well as get a new computer, but it kind of delayed us for a bit.
We were a little unhappy with the previous part, so there's been some changes to it. Nothing major - just some thought processes.
Soon enough, it's 'later'. I actually finish a little after the nominal quitting time, but so does JJ. So do most of the people here, for that matter. Apart from Hotch, of course. He tends to leave long after everyone else, and get in earlier. Sometimes, I wonder if he ever actually leaves this place at all.
I shake myself out of my reverie and gather my things together. JJ passes my desk as I'm shrugging into my coat.
"Goodnight," she says, pleasantly, just like we really are going our separate ways for the evening.
"See you," I reply. She gives that ghost smile again as she heads for the elevators. I take a few moments to respond to an e-mail that could easily wait until tomorrow, giving her a head start.
This is starting to feel uncomfortably like some kind of secret rendezvous. Which, I suppose, it technically is. Just not the illicit kind.
JJ's car is in the parking lot when I reach the cafe, but there's no sign of the driver. An unexpected traffic snarl meant my journey took longer than expected, so she's probably chosen our table already. Sure enough, I track her to a relatively secluded nook in the far corner of the room. Not the best seat in the house, but certainly one of the most private. That's probably a good thing.
"Emily." She greets me with a nod and an almost-smile.
"JJ." I slide into the seat opposite her, trying to work out how to play this. I'm way outside my comfort zone. I shouldn't be having a problem with this, but it's all too personal, and that always snarls the read. It's always easier when it involves other people.
"Do you know what you want to order?" she asks gently. I recognise the technique. She's trying to set me at my ease.
She's being so nice it hurts.
"Yes." I might not be able to stomach anything resembling food right now, but the comfort of a coffee wouldn't go amiss. Plus, it's useful camouflage.
"I'll call a waitress."
She manages to summon one in fairly short order, sending her off again with our orders (coffee for both of us, cake with ice cream for JJ). By silent, mutual agreement, we stick to work-related conversation until our sustenance is delivered and we
are alone at the table once again.
Now comes the hard part.
"So." Once more, JJ is the one to take the lead.
"So," I echo, looking back at her.
She gives me a proper smile. *That* smile. The one I've seen her use so many times. To reassure someone, to comfort, to let them know that JJ is there for them, and she's going to do her best to make everything better. The one that wouldn't be nearly so effective if it wasn't for the fact that she means it. Like she does right now.
And I really don't deserve it.
"I know this must be very difficult," she says. "And I want you to know that I'm going to try and make this as easy as possible for you." There's a twitch, a slight flaw in her expression as she says, "I just want you to know that there are no hard feelings." The tell gives away that this isn't just that easy for her, that there's a cost, that's she's willing to pay it for me.
The whole thing just makes me feel that little bit more sick.
Especially because I've just realised where she's coming from, and I curse myself for not having seen it before.
No wonder she's being so nice.
She believes exactly what I wanted her to believe. And. It. All. Makes. Sense.
God. What should I do?
I could leave her believing my nice, pretty, clean little lies.
Or I could actually tell her the truth.
All my instincts tell me to just play along, to nod and maintain the fiction that has been an undercurrent in our relationship for all too long. It won't hurt anyone. We might even end up friends because of this. I came in here prepared to bare something of myself, to try and achieve some level of peace with the past. But surely the only thing the truth would do now is shit upon this olive branch I'm being offered, take our relationship back to bad old days.
Sometimes it seems like everything in my life is lies or half truths. Sometimes it surprises me that I hate politics so much, given my predilection for deceit. Sometimes I feel like my mother's daughter in so many, many ways.
And something shifts inside of me, and I decide to go the less travelled route, and damn the consequences.
I'd like to think that my decision is motivated by the thought that JJ deserves the truth - and she does - but I really can't think that highly of myself at the moment. Despite all the excuses I have told myself over the years, I could have had this conversation at any time and I didn't. So, maybe it's the comparison to my mother. Maybe it's the self destructive part of myself that thinks I need to suffer. And maybe, just maybe, it's one lie too many for me at the moment, and I need to have *something* real in my life.
Despite the form that that 'something' is likely to take.
I take a breath and start picking away at the many seals that I've placed on the box marked 'JJ'. I almost gag on the black putrescence that leaks out.
"This whole thing hasn't been easy," I say. "But not for the reasons that you think."
I've buried these things so deep, so far away from work and anyone under that label, that I can't just say it. I have to work up to it. Even if it means I have to babble a little.
"I'm a private person. And this is far too much like bringing personal things into work. I don't do that."
A slight look of confusion enters her eyes, followed by a slow dawning realisation as her face starts to pale.
I'm on a clock now.
"I've always kept who I like well away from the office. Compartmentalised. And so the fact that I've always liked women has always been..."
I see white light and only then hear the impact of JJ's hand upon my face, rocking it back to one side. It's all too easy to just not react, to take this as part of my due.
I can see JJ's teeth. Not in a smile this time, but in something approaching a snarl.
"Don't you say irrelevant, Emily. Don't you *dare* say irrelevant."
"Sorry." The word bursts from my lips without conscious thought. An apology for then as much as an apology for now.
* * *
Another case closed. Another murderer caught. Another blow struck for truth, justice and the American way. Or something.
God, I was tired.
"Hey." JJ's voice dragged me out of my near-stupor.
I glanced up from my computer with a smile. "Hey yourself. What's up?"
She leaned casually, comfortably on the corner of my desk, bending towards me mock-conspiratorially.
"A bunch of us are going out for a drink after work. You want in?"
The word 'no' started to form on my lips, instinct almost driving me to speak before I stopped and made myself think about it. I *was* tired. And irritable. But it might be nice to wind down a little with people who understood before giving in to other pressures.
"Who's going?" I stalled for time as I thought about it.
"Garcia, Morgan, Reid, Rossi. Even Hotch, for a little while." Her teeth flashed in a smile. "Me."
The usual suspects. Hell, why not?
"Sure." I couldn't help but return her smile. That was JJ for you. Somehow, she always managed to make things seem that much brighter. Some people were just gifted like that. And the effort required to not consider any other explanation was by now routine, safe. "Come get me when you head out."
"I'll do that. See you in a little while." She touched my hand lightly, then headed back to her office.
I returned to my paperwork with a fresh burst of, well, not enthusiasm, but definitely motivation.
Suddenly, I didn't feel nearly so exhausted any more.
"Well, that's me done for the night." Garcia knocked back the remains of her drink and stood up, gathering her things. "What about you girls?"
It was down to just the three of us: myself, Garcia and JJ. Hotch beat feet after just one drink. Rossi went next, citing plans. A short while ago, Morgan headed off with some pretty young thing draped all over him. Reid called it a night not long after that.
I looked over at JJ and raised my eyebrows enquiringly. She gave a lopsided shrug and swirled the liquid in her mostly full glass. "I'm not done yet. Or done in. I think I'm gonna stay a little bit longer."
JJ's accent was a good indicator of her general state of inebriation. From the sounds of it, I judged that she was a little tipsy.
"I guess I'll keep you company, then." It was what friends did. And, upon further consideration, I really didn't need to be doing anything else tonight.
"Alright then kids, I'll see you tomorrow." Garcia beamed at both of us as she shrugged into her coat. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
"And that's what, exactly?" JJ grinned back at her, eyes sparkling wickedly.
She drew herself up mock-indignantly, but the effect was kind of spoiled by the grin she couldn't quite suppress. "A lady doesn't tell."
I smirked at her. "So, no reason you couldn't share with us, then."
Garcia pouted, looking from JJ to me. "No fair ganging up on me."
"Who said anything about 'fair', honey?"
I didn't have to look at JJ to know that we were both grinning up at Garcia with identical mock-predatory expressions.
Garcia shook her head, settling her handbag strap securely on one shoulder and half-turning away with great dignity. "I am leaving. I came out tonight to have fun, not to be interrogated by my friends."
"Did you?" JJ wanted to know. "Have fun, I mean."
The grin lit up Garcia's face. "Yeah, I did. It was just what I needed."
"Good."
"Anyway, I really am going now. Goodnight, ladies."
"Good night, Garcia," JJ and I chorused together.
"And be careful heading home," I added.
"I will. You two take care as well, when you finally leave. If you ever leave! See you tomorrow!"
And then there were two.
JJ and I sat in companionable silence for a few moments, sipping our drinks and lost in our own thoughts. I glanced over to find her looking at me consideringly.
"What?"
"Did you have a good time tonight?"
I thought about it. "Yeah, I guess so. I wasn't sure about coming out at first, but I'm glad I did."
Apropos of nothing, she laughed like I'd said something funny. Maybe she was tipsier than I thought.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing." She shook her head, still smiling.
My own lips twitched in response to her obvious amusement, quirking into a lopsided grin. "Agent Jennifer Jareau, I do believe that you are drunk as a skunk."
"Ha!" She leaned forward, jabbing an accusing finger in my direction. "Agent Emily Prentiss, you'd better not be saying I can't hold my liquor. Where I'm from, those are fighting words."
I pretended to think about it. "Well, you were giggling at nothing. And you're looking *awfully* flushed right now..."
She arched an eyebrow at me. "That's a dangerous road you're starting down," she said softly. "Don't you remember what happened the last time we had this conversation?"
I didn't even have to think about it. Some memories just stuck with you. I groaned aloud, pressing one hand to my forehead.
"I see that you haven't forgotten." I could practically feel the smugness radiating from a certain blonde's direction.
"I am *never* going to forget that hangover. No matter how much I'd like to." I shuddered theatrically, sending an accusing glare her way. "But I was doing fine until the tequila. Which, by the way, was *your* idea."
"Yep," she agreed cheerfully, not having the good grace to look even the tiniest bit guilty. "Unlike certain people, *I* could handle it."
"You didn't look like you were handling it too well in that briefing the next day," I shot back.
"The one with all the gunshot recordings? And the bright lights? And all those *lovely* pictures?"
"Yeah, that one."
JJ winced at the memory. "The room was stiflingly hot," she mused.
"The air conditioning was broken," I remembered. "And the room was too crowded. I think I drank a whole jug of water all by myself."
"And about a gallon and a half of coffee."
"Well, *someone* kept me up drinking until ridiculous o' clock in the morning!" Apparently, time had not diminished my indignation in the slightest. "And you're exaggerating about the quantity."
"Right," she smirked. "It was probably only a gallon. But you didn't *have* to stay out with me. You could have conceded at any time."
I shot her a Look. "Conceded? Do you even know me?"
And suddenly, she was pensive. "I like to think I do," she said softly. Before I could ask her what she meant, she leaned in close, placing one of her hands lightly over one of mine. I froze, caught between the instinct to flinch and the urge to press into her touch.
"Would you... like to continue this conversation at my place?"
Time seemed to stand still. Did she mean...? She couldn't...
But the invitation was clear in her voice.
And suddenly, I wasn't here, in this bar, in DC. I was somewhere else completely, speaking to a different woman, having another conversation.
Same agency, though. Same crossing of work and home.
I snatched my hand back, repossessing it, making it my own again.
"No," I say coldly, my temper flaring frigidly. "How can you touch me like that?" After all you did. "You disgust me." Never again. I wouldn't let you touch me like that ever again.
And I was back in the bar, looking at my blonde coworker who was staring at me with tears in her eyes, cradling her hand as if she'd burnt it. I should have felt regret, remorse; even just a vague sense of empathy.
But I couldn't. The only thing I could think of was survival, protecting myself, getting out of there. Making sure that it never happened again.
"Emily?" she said questioningly, asking for some clarity, reasons why I had acted the way I had.
All the barriers that she'd somehow slipped past activated, creating a steel wall around me, and I had nothing to give her. She was too close, too dangerous, and I needed to get her away. Now.
The obvious answer presented itself and I took it.
I forced an expression of disgust across my face. "I didn't realise that you were one of *those* kind of people."
She reacted like she'd been slapped.
The part of me not acting on instinct despised the rest of me that little bit more with every word. It despised that I was capable of doing this to a woman who had shown me nothing but kindness. It despised that it wasn't enough to stop me.
That part wanted to take her, to tell her how ridiculous my words were, how any half decent profiler would have had to be blind not to see that she was interested in women before, that this couldn't be my real reaction...
The rest, the rest knew that given time there was far too great a risk that she *would* see just that, that she'd begin to question my words, my actions, that her damned empathy might get her to reach out again...
And the next time she might succeed.
I liked her, trusted her too damned much. It was a weakness that had let people in before, had let people hurt me before, that I had sworn would never be exploited again.
There is a way of forging pain, shaping it, using it like razor on yourself to incalculate certain reactions.
Those reactions should have stopped me from getting this close before. They didn't. And now they reacted like a wounded tiger.
I couldn't leave it there.
I drained my glass, and put it precisely on the table in front of me, before looking her coldly in the eye. "I can keep this professional, despite this unfortunate incident." I allowed a note of doubt to enter my voice. "I do trust you can do the same?"
She nodded, jerkily, the seed of self doubt I'd just planted already taking root in the vulnerability exposed by her offer, and my reaction to it. If she was too busy doubting herself, she wouldn't think to doubt me.
I was such an utter shit. She deserved so much better.
But I couldn't expose myself like that again. I just couldn't.
A totally inadequate 'Sorry' I buried as deeply as I could.
"Goodnight, Agent Jareau," I said as I got to my feet and left her behind, arms wrapped around her chest, tears streaming down her face.
It turned out that I needed to go out on a hunt that evening after all. And after the mindless sex, washing as much of the evening away as it could, I cried. It was not quite the first time that had happened, nor the second, but that evening helped form the ritual that had become so much a part of my life.
* * *
For a moment, I think she's going to slap me again as her face pales once more, this time in anger. But a moment passes, and instead she speaks.
"How *dare* you say sorry to me, here, now! Maybe then... but *no*! You made me think you were a fucking *homophobe*! That you were so *disgusted* by me that you could barely even stand to be in the same room!" She takes a breath, then says in a more normal tone, "Do you have any idea how much that hurt?"
I wince internally, remembering the way I'd cut her with words, with glances.
With lies.
* * *
JJ being JJ, of course she was never going to just give up on me, even if I was apparently an obnoxious bigot. After all, we were friends. She didn't abandon her friends. It was one of the things I admired about her.
The next day, a few words under cover of handing me a file: "Emily, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night. I think-"
I froze. I couldn't talk about this with her, couldn't talk rationally about what I had said. I just wasn't that kind of liar.
"This isn't the time or the place," I didn't have to fake the stiff, unnatural tone, but I did have to force myself to not even look at her. "Excuse me. I need to get back to work." I walked away, praying that she would get the message.
A couple of days later; an apparently chance meeting in the garage.
"Do you want to go for a coffee sometime after work? Just to talk, I mean." Her smile didn't reach her troubled eyes.
Oh god. What was I doing to her?
It would get easier. It had to.
I couldn't tell her that I wasn't like that, that I didn't hate her as much as, well, I hated myself right then. And certainly not for liking women. It would lead to questions, which would lead to answers, and I couldn't leave myself that vulnerable. Certainly not to someone I liked, someone who could hurt me.
So I had to keep on deceiving her.
All lies become easier with repetition, as people start to believe them, stop questioning them. They just become part of the background noise, part of the accepted hum of life.
I just had to wait until then.
It couldn't be much longer. Please.
I took a breath, and gave her a flat stare. "I don't think that would be a very good idea. Goodnight."
Some days after that.
"If you keep avoiding me, people will start to talk."
"I'm not avoiding you."
A lie, of course, although I was trying not to be too obvious about it. I didn't walk out of a room when she entered. I still said hello and goodbye; exchanged chitchat while waiting for the coffee machine. In public, I smiled at her almost as much as I ever had. Just... no more joint pastry runs. No more lunches hurriedly grabbed at the same time. No more... Just, no more. It was safer that way.
JJ didn't bother calling me on that particular pile of bullshit.
"Emily..." The word was spoken softly, but her voice was edged with frustration. "We're friends, aren't we? Friends can work through... misunderstandings. We can work through this if you just *talk* to me. Friends talk to each other."
My stomach twisted and surged. Friends. That's how it starts. That's how it started. Boundaries blur, walls crumble, and the next thing you know they're ripping your heart to shreds and telling you that's just the game. That it's not personal.
That you can still be *friends*.
Or more than friends.
I tasted bile at the back of my throat, bitter and acrid. It leaked into my words, turning my voice to poison.
"Friends don't force their vile attentions on people who trusted them. Friends don't pursue a subject that causes distress just to salve their own wounded ego. *Friends*" -- I paused briefly for emphasis -- "are able to take 'no' for an answer."
The words dropped like stones between us. JJ inhaled sharply, taking an involuntary step backwards.
"I wasn't... I didn't... I never meant..."
I drew myself up, looking at her as if she was something I'd scraped off my shoe.
"Don't you think you're being rather unprofessional right now?"
Someone else might have broken down in tears. JJ took a couple of deep breaths, pulled herself together and looked me directly in the eyes.
"I'm sorry for any distress I caused you. It really wasn't my intention. I won't bring this up again if you don't want me to." She smiled at me, then; a bland, empty, meaningless smile. It cut me to the quick.
"Goodbye, Emily."
"Goodbye, JJ."
And we went our separate ways.
* * *
"I'm sorry," I say again, helplessly.
I know I should go on, was intending to finish my explanation, but the words stick in my throat as she pins me with her gaze. The fury in her eyes is an inferno; a firestorm poised to sweep over me and sear me to ashes. And I would deserve it, I know. I brace myself for the expected onslaught, but she surprises me by holding back, banking the fires of her rage as she scrutinises me from head to toe. I feel like an ant caught beneath a magnifying glass, but I endure the discomfort without flinching or squirming, waiting to see how she will choose to respond.
"No," she says at last, quiet but determined. "Apologies aren't going to cut it, Emily. That ship sailed a *long* time ago. You owe me an explanation."
She leans back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. I don't even need to be a profiler to figure out *that* body language. This... isn't going to be easy.
"Okay." I place my hands flat on the table, fingers spread. Openness and contrition, whispers the part of my mind that never stops analysing. Another part of me just feels it; the guilt and sorrow. Grief for a friendship broken, possibly beyond repair. Hope that maybe it actually can be fixed; distress at the sheer improbability of that actually happening. But that isn't what this is about. This is about righting a wrong. It's about JJ, not me.
And it's about *her*.
I take a deep breath, and rip open the seals on a box I had vowed *never* to open again. My gorge rises as the bile contained within seeps out; black, rotten bile.
I should need a run up to this. I should need several drinks. But JJ's alwqys been able to get me to talk.
It's one of her gifts. It's one of my curses. It's why I had to push her away.
But, just now, I'm grateful for it. Neither one of us is in the mood for extended foreplay.
I open my mouth, and the words just slip out.
"I need to tell you about Amanda..."
Author: Louisa and Tamoline
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: X-Men/Criminal Minds
Pairing: Emily Prentiss/Emma Frost
Notes: This revolves around the events of Faces, told from Emily's point of view. (We really will get around to the sequel, but Falling is of sufficiently different form that we thought it best to make a seperate story for it.)
You will need to read Faces before reading this story:
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9
The Hunt is suggested as well, as it deals with Emily prior to the events of Faces:
Groundwork Interrogation Contact Aftermath
Previous parts of Falling:
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9
Author's Note: Sorry about the delay. Our third home computer in a few months went tits up a couple of weeks ago. Luckily, with the help of a friend, we did manage to retrieve the data after a week, as well as get a new computer, but it kind of delayed us for a bit.
We were a little unhappy with the previous part, so there's been some changes to it. Nothing major - just some thought processes.
Soon enough, it's 'later'. I actually finish a little after the nominal quitting time, but so does JJ. So do most of the people here, for that matter. Apart from Hotch, of course. He tends to leave long after everyone else, and get in earlier. Sometimes, I wonder if he ever actually leaves this place at all.
I shake myself out of my reverie and gather my things together. JJ passes my desk as I'm shrugging into my coat.
"Goodnight," she says, pleasantly, just like we really are going our separate ways for the evening.
"See you," I reply. She gives that ghost smile again as she heads for the elevators. I take a few moments to respond to an e-mail that could easily wait until tomorrow, giving her a head start.
This is starting to feel uncomfortably like some kind of secret rendezvous. Which, I suppose, it technically is. Just not the illicit kind.
JJ's car is in the parking lot when I reach the cafe, but there's no sign of the driver. An unexpected traffic snarl meant my journey took longer than expected, so she's probably chosen our table already. Sure enough, I track her to a relatively secluded nook in the far corner of the room. Not the best seat in the house, but certainly one of the most private. That's probably a good thing.
"Emily." She greets me with a nod and an almost-smile.
"JJ." I slide into the seat opposite her, trying to work out how to play this. I'm way outside my comfort zone. I shouldn't be having a problem with this, but it's all too personal, and that always snarls the read. It's always easier when it involves other people.
"Do you know what you want to order?" she asks gently. I recognise the technique. She's trying to set me at my ease.
She's being so nice it hurts.
"Yes." I might not be able to stomach anything resembling food right now, but the comfort of a coffee wouldn't go amiss. Plus, it's useful camouflage.
"I'll call a waitress."
She manages to summon one in fairly short order, sending her off again with our orders (coffee for both of us, cake with ice cream for JJ). By silent, mutual agreement, we stick to work-related conversation until our sustenance is delivered and we
are alone at the table once again.
Now comes the hard part.
"So." Once more, JJ is the one to take the lead.
"So," I echo, looking back at her.
She gives me a proper smile. *That* smile. The one I've seen her use so many times. To reassure someone, to comfort, to let them know that JJ is there for them, and she's going to do her best to make everything better. The one that wouldn't be nearly so effective if it wasn't for the fact that she means it. Like she does right now.
And I really don't deserve it.
"I know this must be very difficult," she says. "And I want you to know that I'm going to try and make this as easy as possible for you." There's a twitch, a slight flaw in her expression as she says, "I just want you to know that there are no hard feelings." The tell gives away that this isn't just that easy for her, that there's a cost, that's she's willing to pay it for me.
The whole thing just makes me feel that little bit more sick.
Especially because I've just realised where she's coming from, and I curse myself for not having seen it before.
No wonder she's being so nice.
She believes exactly what I wanted her to believe. And. It. All. Makes. Sense.
God. What should I do?
I could leave her believing my nice, pretty, clean little lies.
Or I could actually tell her the truth.
All my instincts tell me to just play along, to nod and maintain the fiction that has been an undercurrent in our relationship for all too long. It won't hurt anyone. We might even end up friends because of this. I came in here prepared to bare something of myself, to try and achieve some level of peace with the past. But surely the only thing the truth would do now is shit upon this olive branch I'm being offered, take our relationship back to bad old days.
Sometimes it seems like everything in my life is lies or half truths. Sometimes it surprises me that I hate politics so much, given my predilection for deceit. Sometimes I feel like my mother's daughter in so many, many ways.
And something shifts inside of me, and I decide to go the less travelled route, and damn the consequences.
I'd like to think that my decision is motivated by the thought that JJ deserves the truth - and she does - but I really can't think that highly of myself at the moment. Despite all the excuses I have told myself over the years, I could have had this conversation at any time and I didn't. So, maybe it's the comparison to my mother. Maybe it's the self destructive part of myself that thinks I need to suffer. And maybe, just maybe, it's one lie too many for me at the moment, and I need to have *something* real in my life.
Despite the form that that 'something' is likely to take.
I take a breath and start picking away at the many seals that I've placed on the box marked 'JJ'. I almost gag on the black putrescence that leaks out.
"This whole thing hasn't been easy," I say. "But not for the reasons that you think."
I've buried these things so deep, so far away from work and anyone under that label, that I can't just say it. I have to work up to it. Even if it means I have to babble a little.
"I'm a private person. And this is far too much like bringing personal things into work. I don't do that."
A slight look of confusion enters her eyes, followed by a slow dawning realisation as her face starts to pale.
I'm on a clock now.
"I've always kept who I like well away from the office. Compartmentalised. And so the fact that I've always liked women has always been..."
I see white light and only then hear the impact of JJ's hand upon my face, rocking it back to one side. It's all too easy to just not react, to take this as part of my due.
I can see JJ's teeth. Not in a smile this time, but in something approaching a snarl.
"Don't you say irrelevant, Emily. Don't you *dare* say irrelevant."
"Sorry." The word bursts from my lips without conscious thought. An apology for then as much as an apology for now.
* * *
Another case closed. Another murderer caught. Another blow struck for truth, justice and the American way. Or something.
God, I was tired.
"Hey." JJ's voice dragged me out of my near-stupor.
I glanced up from my computer with a smile. "Hey yourself. What's up?"
She leaned casually, comfortably on the corner of my desk, bending towards me mock-conspiratorially.
"A bunch of us are going out for a drink after work. You want in?"
The word 'no' started to form on my lips, instinct almost driving me to speak before I stopped and made myself think about it. I *was* tired. And irritable. But it might be nice to wind down a little with people who understood before giving in to other pressures.
"Who's going?" I stalled for time as I thought about it.
"Garcia, Morgan, Reid, Rossi. Even Hotch, for a little while." Her teeth flashed in a smile. "Me."
The usual suspects. Hell, why not?
"Sure." I couldn't help but return her smile. That was JJ for you. Somehow, she always managed to make things seem that much brighter. Some people were just gifted like that. And the effort required to not consider any other explanation was by now routine, safe. "Come get me when you head out."
"I'll do that. See you in a little while." She touched my hand lightly, then headed back to her office.
I returned to my paperwork with a fresh burst of, well, not enthusiasm, but definitely motivation.
Suddenly, I didn't feel nearly so exhausted any more.
"Well, that's me done for the night." Garcia knocked back the remains of her drink and stood up, gathering her things. "What about you girls?"
It was down to just the three of us: myself, Garcia and JJ. Hotch beat feet after just one drink. Rossi went next, citing plans. A short while ago, Morgan headed off with some pretty young thing draped all over him. Reid called it a night not long after that.
I looked over at JJ and raised my eyebrows enquiringly. She gave a lopsided shrug and swirled the liquid in her mostly full glass. "I'm not done yet. Or done in. I think I'm gonna stay a little bit longer."
JJ's accent was a good indicator of her general state of inebriation. From the sounds of it, I judged that she was a little tipsy.
"I guess I'll keep you company, then." It was what friends did. And, upon further consideration, I really didn't need to be doing anything else tonight.
"Alright then kids, I'll see you tomorrow." Garcia beamed at both of us as she shrugged into her coat. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
"And that's what, exactly?" JJ grinned back at her, eyes sparkling wickedly.
She drew herself up mock-indignantly, but the effect was kind of spoiled by the grin she couldn't quite suppress. "A lady doesn't tell."
I smirked at her. "So, no reason you couldn't share with us, then."
Garcia pouted, looking from JJ to me. "No fair ganging up on me."
"Who said anything about 'fair', honey?"
I didn't have to look at JJ to know that we were both grinning up at Garcia with identical mock-predatory expressions.
Garcia shook her head, settling her handbag strap securely on one shoulder and half-turning away with great dignity. "I am leaving. I came out tonight to have fun, not to be interrogated by my friends."
"Did you?" JJ wanted to know. "Have fun, I mean."
The grin lit up Garcia's face. "Yeah, I did. It was just what I needed."
"Good."
"Anyway, I really am going now. Goodnight, ladies."
"Good night, Garcia," JJ and I chorused together.
"And be careful heading home," I added.
"I will. You two take care as well, when you finally leave. If you ever leave! See you tomorrow!"
And then there were two.
JJ and I sat in companionable silence for a few moments, sipping our drinks and lost in our own thoughts. I glanced over to find her looking at me consideringly.
"What?"
"Did you have a good time tonight?"
I thought about it. "Yeah, I guess so. I wasn't sure about coming out at first, but I'm glad I did."
Apropos of nothing, she laughed like I'd said something funny. Maybe she was tipsier than I thought.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing." She shook her head, still smiling.
My own lips twitched in response to her obvious amusement, quirking into a lopsided grin. "Agent Jennifer Jareau, I do believe that you are drunk as a skunk."
"Ha!" She leaned forward, jabbing an accusing finger in my direction. "Agent Emily Prentiss, you'd better not be saying I can't hold my liquor. Where I'm from, those are fighting words."
I pretended to think about it. "Well, you were giggling at nothing. And you're looking *awfully* flushed right now..."
She arched an eyebrow at me. "That's a dangerous road you're starting down," she said softly. "Don't you remember what happened the last time we had this conversation?"
I didn't even have to think about it. Some memories just stuck with you. I groaned aloud, pressing one hand to my forehead.
"I see that you haven't forgotten." I could practically feel the smugness radiating from a certain blonde's direction.
"I am *never* going to forget that hangover. No matter how much I'd like to." I shuddered theatrically, sending an accusing glare her way. "But I was doing fine until the tequila. Which, by the way, was *your* idea."
"Yep," she agreed cheerfully, not having the good grace to look even the tiniest bit guilty. "Unlike certain people, *I* could handle it."
"You didn't look like you were handling it too well in that briefing the next day," I shot back.
"The one with all the gunshot recordings? And the bright lights? And all those *lovely* pictures?"
"Yeah, that one."
JJ winced at the memory. "The room was stiflingly hot," she mused.
"The air conditioning was broken," I remembered. "And the room was too crowded. I think I drank a whole jug of water all by myself."
"And about a gallon and a half of coffee."
"Well, *someone* kept me up drinking until ridiculous o' clock in the morning!" Apparently, time had not diminished my indignation in the slightest. "And you're exaggerating about the quantity."
"Right," she smirked. "It was probably only a gallon. But you didn't *have* to stay out with me. You could have conceded at any time."
I shot her a Look. "Conceded? Do you even know me?"
And suddenly, she was pensive. "I like to think I do," she said softly. Before I could ask her what she meant, she leaned in close, placing one of her hands lightly over one of mine. I froze, caught between the instinct to flinch and the urge to press into her touch.
"Would you... like to continue this conversation at my place?"
Time seemed to stand still. Did she mean...? She couldn't...
But the invitation was clear in her voice.
And suddenly, I wasn't here, in this bar, in DC. I was somewhere else completely, speaking to a different woman, having another conversation.
Same agency, though. Same crossing of work and home.
I snatched my hand back, repossessing it, making it my own again.
"No," I say coldly, my temper flaring frigidly. "How can you touch me like that?" After all you did. "You disgust me." Never again. I wouldn't let you touch me like that ever again.
And I was back in the bar, looking at my blonde coworker who was staring at me with tears in her eyes, cradling her hand as if she'd burnt it. I should have felt regret, remorse; even just a vague sense of empathy.
But I couldn't. The only thing I could think of was survival, protecting myself, getting out of there. Making sure that it never happened again.
"Emily?" she said questioningly, asking for some clarity, reasons why I had acted the way I had.
All the barriers that she'd somehow slipped past activated, creating a steel wall around me, and I had nothing to give her. She was too close, too dangerous, and I needed to get her away. Now.
The obvious answer presented itself and I took it.
I forced an expression of disgust across my face. "I didn't realise that you were one of *those* kind of people."
She reacted like she'd been slapped.
The part of me not acting on instinct despised the rest of me that little bit more with every word. It despised that I was capable of doing this to a woman who had shown me nothing but kindness. It despised that it wasn't enough to stop me.
That part wanted to take her, to tell her how ridiculous my words were, how any half decent profiler would have had to be blind not to see that she was interested in women before, that this couldn't be my real reaction...
The rest, the rest knew that given time there was far too great a risk that she *would* see just that, that she'd begin to question my words, my actions, that her damned empathy might get her to reach out again...
And the next time she might succeed.
I liked her, trusted her too damned much. It was a weakness that had let people in before, had let people hurt me before, that I had sworn would never be exploited again.
There is a way of forging pain, shaping it, using it like razor on yourself to incalculate certain reactions.
Those reactions should have stopped me from getting this close before. They didn't. And now they reacted like a wounded tiger.
I couldn't leave it there.
I drained my glass, and put it precisely on the table in front of me, before looking her coldly in the eye. "I can keep this professional, despite this unfortunate incident." I allowed a note of doubt to enter my voice. "I do trust you can do the same?"
She nodded, jerkily, the seed of self doubt I'd just planted already taking root in the vulnerability exposed by her offer, and my reaction to it. If she was too busy doubting herself, she wouldn't think to doubt me.
I was such an utter shit. She deserved so much better.
But I couldn't expose myself like that again. I just couldn't.
A totally inadequate 'Sorry' I buried as deeply as I could.
"Goodnight, Agent Jareau," I said as I got to my feet and left her behind, arms wrapped around her chest, tears streaming down her face.
It turned out that I needed to go out on a hunt that evening after all. And after the mindless sex, washing as much of the evening away as it could, I cried. It was not quite the first time that had happened, nor the second, but that evening helped form the ritual that had become so much a part of my life.
* * *
For a moment, I think she's going to slap me again as her face pales once more, this time in anger. But a moment passes, and instead she speaks.
"How *dare* you say sorry to me, here, now! Maybe then... but *no*! You made me think you were a fucking *homophobe*! That you were so *disgusted* by me that you could barely even stand to be in the same room!" She takes a breath, then says in a more normal tone, "Do you have any idea how much that hurt?"
I wince internally, remembering the way I'd cut her with words, with glances.
With lies.
* * *
JJ being JJ, of course she was never going to just give up on me, even if I was apparently an obnoxious bigot. After all, we were friends. She didn't abandon her friends. It was one of the things I admired about her.
The next day, a few words under cover of handing me a file: "Emily, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night. I think-"
I froze. I couldn't talk about this with her, couldn't talk rationally about what I had said. I just wasn't that kind of liar.
"This isn't the time or the place," I didn't have to fake the stiff, unnatural tone, but I did have to force myself to not even look at her. "Excuse me. I need to get back to work." I walked away, praying that she would get the message.
A couple of days later; an apparently chance meeting in the garage.
"Do you want to go for a coffee sometime after work? Just to talk, I mean." Her smile didn't reach her troubled eyes.
Oh god. What was I doing to her?
It would get easier. It had to.
I couldn't tell her that I wasn't like that, that I didn't hate her as much as, well, I hated myself right then. And certainly not for liking women. It would lead to questions, which would lead to answers, and I couldn't leave myself that vulnerable. Certainly not to someone I liked, someone who could hurt me.
So I had to keep on deceiving her.
All lies become easier with repetition, as people start to believe them, stop questioning them. They just become part of the background noise, part of the accepted hum of life.
I just had to wait until then.
It couldn't be much longer. Please.
I took a breath, and gave her a flat stare. "I don't think that would be a very good idea. Goodnight."
Some days after that.
"If you keep avoiding me, people will start to talk."
"I'm not avoiding you."
A lie, of course, although I was trying not to be too obvious about it. I didn't walk out of a room when she entered. I still said hello and goodbye; exchanged chitchat while waiting for the coffee machine. In public, I smiled at her almost as much as I ever had. Just... no more joint pastry runs. No more lunches hurriedly grabbed at the same time. No more... Just, no more. It was safer that way.
JJ didn't bother calling me on that particular pile of bullshit.
"Emily..." The word was spoken softly, but her voice was edged with frustration. "We're friends, aren't we? Friends can work through... misunderstandings. We can work through this if you just *talk* to me. Friends talk to each other."
My stomach twisted and surged. Friends. That's how it starts. That's how it started. Boundaries blur, walls crumble, and the next thing you know they're ripping your heart to shreds and telling you that's just the game. That it's not personal.
That you can still be *friends*.
Or more than friends.
I tasted bile at the back of my throat, bitter and acrid. It leaked into my words, turning my voice to poison.
"Friends don't force their vile attentions on people who trusted them. Friends don't pursue a subject that causes distress just to salve their own wounded ego. *Friends*" -- I paused briefly for emphasis -- "are able to take 'no' for an answer."
The words dropped like stones between us. JJ inhaled sharply, taking an involuntary step backwards.
"I wasn't... I didn't... I never meant..."
I drew myself up, looking at her as if she was something I'd scraped off my shoe.
"Don't you think you're being rather unprofessional right now?"
Someone else might have broken down in tears. JJ took a couple of deep breaths, pulled herself together and looked me directly in the eyes.
"I'm sorry for any distress I caused you. It really wasn't my intention. I won't bring this up again if you don't want me to." She smiled at me, then; a bland, empty, meaningless smile. It cut me to the quick.
"Goodbye, Emily."
"Goodbye, JJ."
And we went our separate ways.
* * *
"I'm sorry," I say again, helplessly.
I know I should go on, was intending to finish my explanation, but the words stick in my throat as she pins me with her gaze. The fury in her eyes is an inferno; a firestorm poised to sweep over me and sear me to ashes. And I would deserve it, I know. I brace myself for the expected onslaught, but she surprises me by holding back, banking the fires of her rage as she scrutinises me from head to toe. I feel like an ant caught beneath a magnifying glass, but I endure the discomfort without flinching or squirming, waiting to see how she will choose to respond.
"No," she says at last, quiet but determined. "Apologies aren't going to cut it, Emily. That ship sailed a *long* time ago. You owe me an explanation."
She leans back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. I don't even need to be a profiler to figure out *that* body language. This... isn't going to be easy.
"Okay." I place my hands flat on the table, fingers spread. Openness and contrition, whispers the part of my mind that never stops analysing. Another part of me just feels it; the guilt and sorrow. Grief for a friendship broken, possibly beyond repair. Hope that maybe it actually can be fixed; distress at the sheer improbability of that actually happening. But that isn't what this is about. This is about righting a wrong. It's about JJ, not me.
And it's about *her*.
I take a deep breath, and rip open the seals on a box I had vowed *never* to open again. My gorge rises as the bile contained within seeps out; black, rotten bile.
I should need a run up to this. I should need several drinks. But JJ's alwqys been able to get me to talk.
It's one of her gifts. It's one of my curses. It's why I had to push her away.
But, just now, I'm grateful for it. Neither one of us is in the mood for extended foreplay.
I open my mouth, and the words just slip out.
"I need to tell you about Amanda..."