Title: An Understanding - SSAScorpSik (Ao3)
Summary: Elizabeth learns some things about her daughter and needs to talk to her.
Rating: General
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~An Understanding
'Em. Will you come home this weekend. I need to talk to you. Mom.'
Emily Prentiss looked at the text for the twentieth time. She'd replied in the affirmative, but the message nagged at her. Her mom never reached out like this. She figured it wasn't a family emergency or death, which meant that it would have something to do with her own death and/or resurrection.
Emily knew that her mom had learned of her status as 'alive' via a third party, and that it had – understandably – hurt and angered her mom, but... they'd talked/yelled/cried most of that out by now, surely? Her mom took a few weeks to come to terms with it, but that must have been a month ago when bygones were finally bygones.
It was Saturday and Emily started the morning with her usual strong coffee, but she couldn't face food, not today. She threw some smart clothes on and spent the next two hours pacing her flat before deciding it was time to head to her mom.
The drive seemed to go fast and she was sat at the electric gates that encased the Ambassadorial residence before she could even get straight in her mind what this was about... what she should say to her mom.
The gates slid open and Emily drove along the gravel driveway and parked up. Security nodded to her as she headed up the steps to the door and let her inside. They were clearly expecting her."Miss Prentiss." The Houseman greeted. "The Ambassador is in the Family Room awaiting you."
"Thanks James." She nodded, preferring to use the man's given name rather than address him like a servant. "And please, call me Emily. I tell ya every time."
James grinned and nodded. "Yes Miss Prentiss."
She chuckled and let him lead the way, even though she knew this place forwards, backwards, drunk, stoned and half asleep. As they reached the threshold of the room and James announced their presence, Emily felt her heart starting to race slightly.
"Ma'am." James nodded, stepping aside for Emily, waiting until she was inside, and closing the large double doors to assure them a worrying level of privacy.
"Hi mom." Emily said with an awkward smile and a Spencer-like half wave.
"Emily."
Elizabeth Prentiss crossed the room and took her daughter's hands in her own and smiled.
Weird. Definitely weird. Emily thought. "Is everything... okay?" she asked, not used to this kind of physical connection to her mom.
"Please, sit with me."
Emily nodded and sat beside her mother. "Sorry, I don't know what this is about." She said.
Elizabeth took a breath. "When... when I received news from SSA Hotchner that you had..." she couldn't say it out loud, that word: 'died'. She paused and started again. "When I heard what that man did to you, that Doyle creature... I wanted to know what kind of animal he was. What his connection to you was."
Emily's heat sank as she saw the genuine hurt in her mother's eyes. Christ. It must have been a nightmare for her.
"I contacted Interpol and requested all files pertaining to you." She inhaled. "They tried to palm me off with the redacted versions, but – as you know – I have many powerful and influential friends and I... was able to gather original documents – ones free from tampering."
Emily sighed and dropped her head.
"Of course with you being... with you no longer..."
"Dead, mom. When I was officially dead." Emily clarified.
"Yes. Well, it was easier to get the papers." She dabbed primly at her eyes and coughed the thickness away from her throat. "Your reports were all – well 'outstanding' doesn't begin to describe them. But I... I did find out what you did for Interpol, what you... what your..."
"Covert operative." Emily whispered.
Elizabeth nodded. "And what your missions....required ... of you."
Emily studied her shoes. "I didn't want you to find out like that."
"Or at all?"
"Or at all." Emily agreed. "I'm sorry. You must be... ashamed. I am, when I think of those times."
Elizabeth took a hold of Emily's hands again. "Oh, Emily. I... I had no idea that you... that they expected you to..."
"Screw for information?"
"Don't say it like that." Elizabeth breathed. "I read everything they had on you, Emily." Her tears were coming again. "While you with Interpol you've been tortured – you've been shot. My God, Emily... why didn't you tell me about it?"
Emily shrugged. "I... it was classified. Besides, those things.... It's hard for you to understand, but they didn't happen to 'me' – they happened to my aliases, my 'other' personas. If I... think of them being tortured, it... doesn't hurt as much."
"They hurt you... so badly..." Elizabeth sighed, stroking Emily's cheek gently.
Emily nodded, her own tears wetting her mom's hand. "It was... hard... sometimes."
"I signed off on some of those operations." Elizabeth whispered. "My God, Emily... what if I sent you out to be hurt? There were no names on the papers, just..."
"Codes." Emily nodded. "That's the point. You can't ever know."
"But if my actions caused you harm..."
"If it weren't me, it'd be someone else's daughter." Emily nodded.
"Those men.... I'm so sorry."
"I'm... not proud of some of the things I've done." Emily said. "But I am proud that I helped to bring terrorists down – all over the globe. That's a good thing, mom."
"It is. It is."
Emily wiped her own ears away, then wiped her mother's eyes with her thumb. "I'm sorry, mom. I didn't ever want you to know about those things. I'm sorry."
"I am... so proud of you." Elizabeth told her softly. "So proud of who you have become. Nothing can change that, Emily. I... haven't been the warmest mother, have I?"
Emily grinned a little. "I think we're both a little cold."
Elizabeth nodded. "Is it... too late for me to fix it?"
Emily shook her head. "I've got a new life, right? It's perfect for a new start."
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Emily Prentiss One-Shots
أدب الهواةThis will be a collection of one-shots and or stories about Emily Prentiss. These stories will include various members of the team, original characters, reader inserts, and characters from other shows. The rating of these stories will vary. Stories...