As It Was [Emily Prentiss]

Ten

When I came to, blinking my eyes against the bright, fluorescent lights, I sighed. I knew it was too good to be true; I wasn't dead, but I didn't feel alive. This was the worst hangover ever.

"You seem disappointed."

The peace had been temporary, much like everything else good in the world, and I knew by Emily's cutting tone that things were only going to get worse. If I thought things were bad between us before, I could only imagine what the future had in store.

When I finally worked up the courage to look at her, she was dressed to the nines, wearing a maroon, red blouse and black dress pants, her badge hooked to the waistband.

"Cat caught your tongue?" She asked, arms crossed over her chest. Her face was stony, and I wondered how many bad men had withered under that heated stare.

I, however, was not a man. "What do you want me to say?"

My voice sounded as though I'd been deep throating sandpaper, and my throat felt it, too.

"Are you kidding me?" She asked, flabbergasted. "Do you have any idea how it felt to hear that my good friend had-"

Good friend. Well, that stung.

"Oh, fuck you." I snapped. "I'm sorry, Emily, that I embarrassed you in front of your stupid fucking team!"

"My team?!" She gasped. "This has nothing to do with them! You tried to fucking kill yourself while I was away-"

"Did you want me to wait until you got home? Ask permission first?" I asked, incredulously. "Trick question, you're never there! Probably wouldn't have even noticed until I started to decay."

"Oh," She scoffed. "That's real cute." She ran a hand through her hair, practically vibrating with anger. "I have to work, Rita. Lord knows you're not much help!"

I blanched, my vision blurring with tears. I saw her face fall, but she said nothing in her defense. I could see that her shirt was wrinkled, and her hair was greasy. How long had she been here? What was I supposed to say? Sorry?

"Do you have any idea what it would have done to me to find you?" She asked, her voice breaking as she stared at me, her anger cracking just enough for me to see how vulnerable she was trying so hard not to be. "Do you-" She broke off suddenly, shaking her head in an effort to collect herself.

I felt guilt rock over me in waves, each one bigger than the last, as I watched her angry façade crumble, showing me a glimpse of the young girl, she'd once been. It was fair that she was angry with me, I reasoned with myself. I'd tried to off myself in her bathtub, under her roof, while she away on a case, without taking her into consideration, and the tequila had made it sound like such a good idea.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, swallowing hard. I felt pathetic and stupid. I was scum, honestly. The shittiest of shitty friends. Emily deserved better.

"I don't understand why." She spoke softly. "You're not alone, Rita, I'm right here, and when I'm not, I'm just a phone call away. You just have to talk to me. Don't shut me out."

I closed my eyes tightly. I couldn't look at her and not see the pity written all over her face. To her, I was just another victim, just like I was just another toy for William. I was nothing special to anyone.

"Hey." She sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to touch my cheek. She cradled my chin, forcing me to look at her. "Rita, please, talk to me."

I hated to see her like this, and to know I was the reason behind it. "You can't help me anymore than you already have, Emily. Your team got the bad guy and that's where it ends for you." I wiped at my face, averting my gaze, unwilling to look at her. "You get to go home. Another day, another bad guy, but it's not over for me. It will never be over for me."