when we were young, emily prentiss

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏: 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞; 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐬

Davina's POV

I STAND BENEATH THE GENTLE STREAM OF THE GYM SHOWER, embraced by the liquid's tender command. The sweat and toil which left me tightly wound are cleansed as droplets collide, and steam rises gently like a mystical veil. Lathering my body in soap, I wash away the strain of the weights, the shower's warmth a healing balm for my morning workout. If only the water and white tiles would wash away the person etched in my memory's scroll, the cause of the sting of resentment on my tongue. But as my face is bristled by the hot water, I can't help but let my mind wander back to a time when our love bloomed amidst youthful innocence.

We shared secrets beneath moonlit skies and whispered promises of forever that felt as infinite as the stars above. Together, we navigated the labyrinth of adolescence and, in turn, learnt the intricacies of love. We thought the world watched with envy, but it didn't even look our way.

Yes, our love splintered. Like fragile glass, we were scattered by circumstances and choices, and anger. But I couldn't deny the pang of nostalgia at the sight of her face. The memories, like faded photographs, resurfaced with both tenderness and ache. Stolen kisses and clandestine meetings, our love a secret garden in full bloom as we revelled in the sweet madness of youth.

It was idiotic to dwell, I was too smart for this, and she was turning me dumb. I turn off the shower and step into a towel and gym-provided slippers before turning down the corridor toward the changing rooms. I recognise her from the back of her head; dark hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. She turns at my entrance, her fingers glitching on the buttons of her shirt before quickly looking back at her locker. I walk a few feet to the space where I had piled my stuff earlier and click it open, hearing the faint buzzing of a phone call from inside my gym bag. I scavenge around for it with one hand, holding the towel up across my chest with the other.

I don't bother to check the name, having answered the call on its penultimate ring and bringing it up to my ear. "Hello?"

"Kavanagh." I straighten up at my boss' strait-laced voice on the line, feeling incredibly too underdressed to be speaking to him.

I clear my throat, "Hi, Hotch."

In the periphery of my vision, I see Emily's head turn to look at me. While she may have no idea of what Hotch could be wanting to discuss, I had a sinking feeling that my loss of temper on our last case may be coming back to bite me. "I know it's your day off, but are you free to come into the office?" It's technically a question, but I know that only one answer would be considered correct.

I start pulling appropriate clothes out of my bag, internally patting myself on the back for being prepared for everything. "Yeah, I can be there within the hour. Is there a case?" I decide to ask.