Fifty Ways to Love You - Emily Prentiss x OC

3. the moon

(trigger warning: depression, ptsd, mentions of rape, self-harm)
— also translation for russian other than that mf poem in comments (bc you bet your ass i copied and pasted that translation)

"Alright, Galina. Do you need anything? Food, a prescription picked up, groceries, anything?"

"No, Emily, thank you. I appreciate the offer, though. Uh, I just need to get some sleep. Thanks,"

"Uh-huh. Call me if I can do anything to help. I'll see you at work. Bye,"

"Bye." I sighed and hung up, falling into bed. Fuck.

Fighting the memories at work is a daily occurrence. It hadn't been this bad since what happened to JJ; it reminded me of my own situation. There were off days or weeks or months, but nothing so bad as this. I knew it was coming, too, at least the depression; I could feel it seeping in before we ever went on that case preceding the dinner party.

I had no idea things would get so bad.

Forcing myself out of bed was the most difficult battle. I would look at myself in the mirror in the car and think, "You just have to get through the day." And later at home, I would again look in the mirror, in the bathroom, and think, "You just have to get through the night."

Spencer was always so worried for me. He didn't know everything about what happened in Russia, no one did, but he knew something terrible happened to me at Interpol and it affected me deeply.

Spencer spent a night on my couch every week or so, if he thought I was getting so bad I was a danger to myself. I'll be honest, our friendship got me through so many long nights over the years. Spencer Reid was my best friend in the entire world, and we were very close. His mother knew who I was, we'd met before. Once she thought Spencer and I were dating, which we both assured her we were not.

Whenever Spencer was at my house, he told me to wake him if anything happened: if I needed someone to talk to, if I had a nightmare and I needed to just sit or talk about it, if I had urges and needed calming.

When I told him I would be fine that night, he said, "Galina, I always know when you're lying. Please don't kick me out, I want you to be okay." How could I make him leave? There was no way. With that sweet face?

I could not quite get to sleep, my mind aching and foggy. It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, and I just wanted to do something. I couldn't go for a run, too late and dark; I couldn't throw myself into work, it was the middle of the night.

I barely had the motivation to get out of bed to do it. I saw Spencer sleeping peacefully on my couch. A few tears fell, I sniffled and sat in the chair in the living room. I could fight these urges on my own, couldn't I?

No, after several minutes sitting there battling myself, I got up and shook Spencer awake. "I'm really sorry," I whispered to him. I rarely woke him when he stayed here.

"Whoa, Galya, are you—Galya, did you hurt yourself?"

"No," I cried, "that's why I woke you up..."

"Okay, come here." He didn't like touch but he knew I needed it, so he didn't care a bit. Spencer wrapped his arms around me while we sat on the couch.

"I'm sorry, Spence, I didn't want to wake you up but I got scared, I didn't know what I would do and I didn't want you to..." I don't even know where I was going with that sentence.

"Shh, shh, Galina, I've got you. You're really brave. I'm proud of you. You did the right thing by waking me. That's why I'm here, Galya, if you need anything. I'm glad I was here. I'm glad you woke me up so we can calm down, okay?"

He recited the end of "The Moon" by Pushkin, a famous Russian poet, in the original Russian. I loved that poem. He knows this.

"Зачем ты, месяц, укатился, и в небе светлом утонул? Зачем луч утренний блеснул? Зачем я с милою простился?" ("And why, O moon, then did you vanish, and drown as radiance filled the sky? Why must I bid my love goodbye? Why must the morning's starkness banish?")

"Ты же знаешь, я люблю это стих," I said to him with a smile.

"Of course."