PERFECT PLACES, emily prentiss

sharing our wars

November turns into December, although Abby and Emily have still managed to avoid any more deep-seated conversations. While the couple have been enjoying coffee dates and late nights together, Abby's spent hours alone creating sketch upon sketch of flowers for Emily, struggling to draw something she believes she will like.

Emily's gone for two days on a case, leaving Abby with Aurore. It's the middle of the day on a Saturday, and since she hadn't received any communication from Emily, Abby assumes she has the day to herself. Considering this, she's confused when a knock on the front door interrupts her MythBusters marathon.

She stands on her toes to look through the peephole, only to see a shell of Emily standing outside. She has her arms crossed as though she's trying to protect herself, and her eyes are filled with tears yet to fall.

Abby opens the door, concern racing through her body. "Are you alright?"

Emily nods, trying desperately to wipe away the tears now streaming down her face as Abby guides her into the apartment by her shoulder. Abby sits them down on the couch, carefully stroking Emily's arm until she speaks.

"We had a case, I had to talk down a woman down from killing the person who hurt her. She asked for me to take her statement, but.. uh-" Her voice cracks, sending a pang through Abby's heart. But she doesn't say anything, taking Emily's hand into hers and tracing her knuckles until she can speak again.

"She said some things... about me. I just..." Emily looks down, shaking her head. "Hotch told me to talk to someone. The team has paper work, I didn't want to bother them. I don't want to intrude... but I don't know anyone else. I'm sorry-"

"You can always come here, don't apologize." Abby says, trying to look into Emily's eyes. "And you can always talk to me."

"Can we have the conversation?" She asks, looking up to Abby.

She nods. "Of course."

So Emily starts to fill in the gaps of her life they've left open for three months. She starts with JTF-12, regaling who Ian Doyle was and how intimate their relationship came to be. Skipping to when her old team members were dropping like flies and Doyle was taunting her, Emily carefully explains the details leading up to her "death." She speaks softly, attempting to profile Abby to know when she's said too much. But her compassionate expression never falters, instead selflessly comforting Emily the entire time.

She explains what "Cheeto Breath" means and how Ian Doyle's death was unavoidable, the weight slowly lifting from her chest. "He died to save a young boy, that's a lot different than killing someone out of anger." Abby says once Emily has nothing left to say.

"I know. It just..." She runs her hand through her hair. "It still feels just as shitty."

Abby's silent for a moment, trying to figure out the right thing to say. But seeing Emily's perfect posture fallen and nails bitten to nubs, she knows nothing she says will fix it all. "What has your therapist said?"

Emily pauses, not expecting that. "I finished therapy a few weeks ago."

She stops, as though that was an answer to the question, but Abby holds her gaze. "At the end of our last session... she said something that I can't figure out. She said I need to mourn my own death."

Abby nods. "Technically you were buried, right?"

"An empty casket was buried, yes." She rebuttals.

"Is it still there? Like the headstone and everything?" She asks.

Emily nods, confused as to where this is going. "I think so."

Abby shrugs, "Then let's go mourn your death."

"What?" She questions, her eyebrows furrowed.

"We can go to the cemetery, do whatever people do at graves." Abby suggests. "Put that part of your life behind you."

"You really think that will work?"

"I have no idea." She answers truthfully. "But it can't hurt to try."

Emily exhales. "It's at the National Cemetery down the road."

So the couple quietly get ready, Abby changing out of her sweats before bundling up. The threat of snow could be obnoxiously unpredictable this time of year, but she doesn't mind.

Their hands are laced together as they walk to the cemetery, the bitter cold breeze only bringing them closer together. Abby finds a map of the cemetery, guiding Emily down the winding paths until she stops in front of a simple, gray headstone.

Emily stares at it for a minute, and Abby assumes she's making her peace until she turns to her. "Do you ever visit your sister?"

Abby takes a deep breath, trying to remain outwardly unaffected. "I've visited her twice."

"What do you do? Just..." Her voice falters. "What do you say?"

"I'll talk about what's going on in my life, reminisce on our childhood, apologize." Abby shrugs. "Mostly just ramble."

Emily nods, gripping her hand tighter and closing her eyes. After a few minutes of silence, she opens her eyes and turns to Abby. "Thanks for this."

"No problem." She shakes her head. "Do you think it helped?"

"I'm not sure." Emily shrugs. "But you definitely did."

Abby smiles softly, turning to lead them out of the cemetery. Walking through the large gates surrounding the lot, the women are stopped by the sight of powdery, white snowflakes falling from the sky. "It's snowing!" Abby practically screams, sticking out her arms to twirl below the clouds.

"I didn't know you liked snow so much." Emily giggles, a small smile creeping onto her face.

She smiles, invested in watching everything around her being coated white. "I love it."

Emily steps up next to Abby, brushing her frosted fingertips along her jawline and gracefully laying a kiss on her lips. Abby returns the favor, ghosting Emily's waist until a chill pierces their exposed skin.

The walk back home is more peaceful, even more intimate than the previous one. They're both lost in thought, Abby wondering what comes next while Emily's stuck on the past. "You didn't react. I told you I faked my death... and you didn't seem phased."

Abby nods, "I guess you're right."

"Why?" Emily presses.

"I assumed it was bad, even your team looks at you as if you're about to disappear." She shrugs. "I guess I was prepared for the worst, whatever that is."

"When did you become a profiler?" Emily laughs, nudging Abby.

She smiles. "You must be rubbing off on me."