4
Title: (*sigh* not now.. maybe later.. got something in mind tho)
Pairing: Emily/JJ, JJ/Will
Rating: PG-ish
Disclaimer: I borrow it, okay?!
Archiving: Take it.
Author's note: Thank you thank you thank you for being so patient with me and my slow plot. And thank you all for commenting. My special thanks for Zoni and Falc for being so encouraging. And for abbyr1030 for the title suggestion. You are all the best!
Oh, and one more thing.. I don't know how to make a cut for my previous chapters (they say my post is too long yada yada yada), so please tell me, anyone, how to make the cut. Thanks. :D
Chapter 4
The case had taken a toll on Emily. Four victims, brutally raped and murdered, all children. The woman felt like hell every night when Hotch said to call it a daay. The progress was extremely slow. They had spent three days with no luck whatsoever and Emily was frustrated. The only connection they had was that the children were all born in January.
The brunette sighed in frustration. They had arrived in the hotel about two hours before and she had no luck falling asleep. She looked around the room, feeling somewhat trapped. She headed to the mini bar and frowned when all she could find there was three small bottles of whiskey. She hated the burning taste of the stuff, but she reached for one anyway. She tried not to throw a glance towards the pile of empty bottles on the table. Fool, she scolded herself, you should’ve thrown them out.
She sat on her bed with head hung low. Emily hadn’t been able to sleep since they came there. Every single night of their stay she had stayed awake, drinking, thinking about the case, thinking about someone she’d rather forget, thinking about her job, thinking about her life. She felt so tired. She wanted so badly for the team to solve the case, she wanted to shove JJ out of the picture, and she wanted nothing to do with Special Agent Jennifer Jareau.
Emily had been avoiding JJ since they arrived. She was so grateful that Hotch asked her to team up with Rossi to work on the victimology. The senior agent was nothing more than all business when it came to the case, and that meant no curious looks or questions about her personal life. At least not yet. She knew that Morgan had kept an eye on her. She realized that she had been working like a zombie on that case, but really put all her efforts to solve it. She also knew that it was only a matter of time before the dark man confronted her for her behavior. Emily shook her head sadly.
She blamed JJ for coming back after that maternity leave. She was fine when JJ was on her leave, whatever the word ‘fine’ meant. She knew Jordan Todd wasn’t as good as the blonde in doing her job, but at least when Todd was around Emily didn’t have to suffer. At least when JJ was out of sight, she had the room she needed to breathe.
Emily emptied the bottle in two big gulps. She felt her throat burning as the liquid went down her system. The pain caused some tears she had held fell from her eyes. She wiped the tears angrily. Crying was the last thing she needed. She threw the empty bottle to the trash can on the corner of the room, and reached for another one. This time, the burning sensation had gone and the woman emptied it effortlessly; her feelings had numbed her senses.
The profiler was about to throw the thing away but she changed her mind. She rolled herself on the bed and curled up, putting the bottle in front of her. She stared blankly at the bottle. Poor thing, she thought, everyone puts anything they like inside you and you don’t even have the chance to voice out what you want. And after they use you up, after they empty you up, they throw you away. Because you’re worthless. She picked it up, and she got on her feet, picking the first bottle out of the trash can, and put them along with the bottles she had put on the table the previous days.
“There you go,” she mumbled to herself.
Emily lay back on her bed. She felt so empty. You’re no better than an empty bottle, Emily Prentiss, she said. She felt a hot drop of liquid on her skin, followed by more drops. She was too tired to stop herself from crying so she just gave in to the heave of sobs. She bit her lower lip as not to make a single sound. After a while, the storm passed. Emily felt so weak, yet the crying couldn’t seem to bring her to deep slumber. She sighed. Maybe another bottle will help, she thought bitterly. She stood up, fighting up the dizziness that hit her head hard.
When she almost opened the last Whiskey she got, she heard a soft knock on the door. Emily glanced to the wall clock and frowned. It was almost two in the morning. She rolled her eyes in frustration. It must be Morgan. She took a deep breath, headed to the door, Whiskey bottle still in hand, and flung the door open.
“JJ!”
Pairing: Emily/JJ, JJ/Will
Rating: PG-ish
Disclaimer: I borrow it, okay?!
Archiving: Take it.
Author's note: Thank you thank you thank you for being so patient with me and my slow plot. And thank you all for commenting. My special thanks for Zoni and Falc for being so encouraging. And for abbyr1030 for the title suggestion. You are all the best!
Oh, and one more thing.. I don't know how to make a cut for my previous chapters (they say my post is too long yada yada yada), so please tell me, anyone, how to make the cut. Thanks. :D
Chapter 4
The case had taken a toll on Emily. Four victims, brutally raped and murdered, all children. The woman felt like hell every night when Hotch said to call it a daay. The progress was extremely slow. They had spent three days with no luck whatsoever and Emily was frustrated. The only connection they had was that the children were all born in January.
The brunette sighed in frustration. They had arrived in the hotel about two hours before and she had no luck falling asleep. She looked around the room, feeling somewhat trapped. She headed to the mini bar and frowned when all she could find there was three small bottles of whiskey. She hated the burning taste of the stuff, but she reached for one anyway. She tried not to throw a glance towards the pile of empty bottles on the table. Fool, she scolded herself, you should’ve thrown them out.
She sat on her bed with head hung low. Emily hadn’t been able to sleep since they came there. Every single night of their stay she had stayed awake, drinking, thinking about the case, thinking about someone she’d rather forget, thinking about her job, thinking about her life. She felt so tired. She wanted so badly for the team to solve the case, she wanted to shove JJ out of the picture, and she wanted nothing to do with Special Agent Jennifer Jareau.
Emily had been avoiding JJ since they arrived. She was so grateful that Hotch asked her to team up with Rossi to work on the victimology. The senior agent was nothing more than all business when it came to the case, and that meant no curious looks or questions about her personal life. At least not yet. She knew that Morgan had kept an eye on her. She realized that she had been working like a zombie on that case, but really put all her efforts to solve it. She also knew that it was only a matter of time before the dark man confronted her for her behavior. Emily shook her head sadly.
She blamed JJ for coming back after that maternity leave. She was fine when JJ was on her leave, whatever the word ‘fine’ meant. She knew Jordan Todd wasn’t as good as the blonde in doing her job, but at least when Todd was around Emily didn’t have to suffer. At least when JJ was out of sight, she had the room she needed to breathe.
Emily emptied the bottle in two big gulps. She felt her throat burning as the liquid went down her system. The pain caused some tears she had held fell from her eyes. She wiped the tears angrily. Crying was the last thing she needed. She threw the empty bottle to the trash can on the corner of the room, and reached for another one. This time, the burning sensation had gone and the woman emptied it effortlessly; her feelings had numbed her senses.
The profiler was about to throw the thing away but she changed her mind. She rolled herself on the bed and curled up, putting the bottle in front of her. She stared blankly at the bottle. Poor thing, she thought, everyone puts anything they like inside you and you don’t even have the chance to voice out what you want. And after they use you up, after they empty you up, they throw you away. Because you’re worthless. She picked it up, and she got on her feet, picking the first bottle out of the trash can, and put them along with the bottles she had put on the table the previous days.
“There you go,” she mumbled to herself.
Emily lay back on her bed. She felt so empty. You’re no better than an empty bottle, Emily Prentiss, she said. She felt a hot drop of liquid on her skin, followed by more drops. She was too tired to stop herself from crying so she just gave in to the heave of sobs. She bit her lower lip as not to make a single sound. After a while, the storm passed. Emily felt so weak, yet the crying couldn’t seem to bring her to deep slumber. She sighed. Maybe another bottle will help, she thought bitterly. She stood up, fighting up the dizziness that hit her head hard.
When she almost opened the last Whiskey she got, she heard a soft knock on the door. Emily glanced to the wall clock and frowned. It was almost two in the morning. She rolled her eyes in frustration. It must be Morgan. She took a deep breath, headed to the door, Whiskey bottle still in hand, and flung the door open.
“JJ!”