I See you, Y/N. (Emily Prentiss X Reader)

-19- Magic Pasta

TW: ED(Trouble Eating, 
        Nutrient deficiency)
        Anxiety/Worry
        Depression, Selfhate
       Trauma Response

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Emilys POV

"Do I look okay?"
Y/N asks and looks at me uncertainly.
Sitting upright in her bed, she has pulled her right leg under her body and the left is straight out and still hidden by the blanket.
She pinches her cheeks a little as she looks at herself in the hand mirror.

"You look amazing, my love."
I say smiling and poking her nose.
She hands me the hand mirror and I put it back in her bedside table before sitting on the edge of the bed.

She still looks at me doubtfully as she tugs at her open shirt.
I smile encouragingly at her and briefly point questioningly at the buttons on her shirt. She nods ashamedly.
I slide in front of her and start buttoning up her shirt.

I know that fine motor movements are still very painful for Y/N, even if she tries to hide it from me.
I know how uncomfortable this makes her, so I try to help her as casually as possible without making a big deal about it.

"You're beautiful, Y/N. Nothing can change that, okay?"
I say firmly as I close one last button.
I deliberately leave the top buttons open.
This way her patches are covered, but the shirt isn't tied too high to press on her neck.
She hangs her head and I can see clearly that she doesn't believe a word I say.

"What could I do to make you feel better?"
I ask, taking her cold hand in mine.

Since she has been in the hospital, her body temperature has always been low.
The Doctors say it's not unusual after such a trauma.
She's probably not getting enough nutrients.
Because she couldn't eat anything in that basement, she got used to it and it's hard for her to get back to normal, but the hope is that this will regulate itself when she's fitter again.

Unfortunately, I fear it has other causes, but the doctors don't know about her previous difficulties with eating.

Of course I noticed that things have gotten much worse.
When she eats, her mind seems to be somewhere else entirely; she picks at her food and is sometimes so lost in her thoughts that she doesn't even hear me. After a few bites, she stops eating and tears glisten on her pale face.

I wish I could help her in some way.

This dinner is an attempt to lighten the whole topic.
"Could you help me with my hair?"
She asks quietly, pulling me out of my thoughts.
"I'm not good at that right now..."
She murmurs barely audible, and raises her hands briefly to make it clear, but stops immediately and quickly lowers them again.

Like changing the bandages, certain movements also trigger flashbacks for
Y/N.
This includes lifting both arms above her head for longer.
Probably because she was fixed like that for a long time.
That's why I had packed her a button-up shirt for tonight and just large sweaters and shirts that I hope she can get into without having to lift her hands for a long time.

"I would love to do that, Sweetheart."
I say happily, relieved that I can help.

She shifts forward a little and I climb onto the bed behind her.
As I braid her hair, my gaze falls on her leg, hidden under her hospital blanket.

“How is physical therapy actually going?”
I ask, trying to sound as casual as possible.
"Super-duper." She says quietly and curtly, followed by a mocking snort, she sounds bitter.
I remain silent and close her braid before letting my hands fall to her back.
I scratch her back by drawing circles with my fingers.
She relaxes under my touch and this time lets her head sink in pleasant relaxation.