Chapter Text
I’m in town. I’d like to see you.
You’re standing in the middle of your new apartment, phone in hand, staring at her name on your phone.
6 months. 6 months you waited for this, to see her name flash on your screen again, but now that it’s here you’re not sure what you’re feeling.
How many times over these past few months have you sat at your table, glass of wine balanced between your fingers, phone in the middle of the place mat, willing yourself to pick it up and say…something to her?
All attempts were drafts you never sent. You’d hover over your send button knowing good and well had she been looking at your text thread those three lines would be appearing and disappearing.
-
Let’s rewind.
The relationship between you and Emily Prentiss was something you never thought was for the likes of you. For you to be this lucky. It always felt like you two were such a good match for each other: You were clever, and gentle while she was sharp and driven. Not opposites by any means, but god did you complement each other.
You lived together. After Emily ending her day at your apartment nearly every night for the better part of the year you made her the offer. Emily had just flown in at some god-awful hour and you told her you’d wait up. It had been weeks. You pulled her into a long hug when she showed up at your front door, placing a kiss onto the side of her head as she held onto you.
You grabbed her hand and led her to your bed. You didn’t mention the key on the nightstand. That she could find by herself.
It wasn’t until morning that she noticed the glinting metal wrapped in a light blue ribbon. She had turned away from your sleeping form to make the two of you coffee when her eyes caught it.
She then woke you up with slow, gentle kisses from your collarbone to just under your ear. As soon as your eyes fluttered open she looked down at you with so much affection you almost couldn’t handle it.
“Yes, sweetheart.” You can still remember how light and sleepy and happy she sounded, “I’d love to live with you.” She woke you up properly after that with touches that felt like the first time. No. Better than the first time.
Living with her was easy, too. Of course it was. The two of you had similar cleaning styles, you communicated your needs clearly, and you got to live with the hottest woman alive. People literally fantasize about a life like what you two had.
Now, I’m sure you’re waiting for the story to turn. To transition to loud fights with angry words that can’t be taken back or apologized for. Going to bed mad, betrayal…something.
Well. You aren’t going to get that. You cared too much about each other. Wanted the other person to thrive. It’s exactly that which was your undoing.
The year it ended both of your schedules took a turn. Emily’s cases were becoming more labor intensive, and budgets were getting cut, while your client load was the most you’ve ever had, and you’d begun consulting for larger crisis response organizations.
The two of you were passing ships in the night, which both of you felt worked until it didn’t.
You got an opportunity you couldn’t refuse. 2 years in Chicago for a research opportunity to hone and further implement your crisis intervention model. You couldn’t pass it up.
“You can’t pass this up, y/n” she says into the dark. You told her one late night after you slid into the bed you shared. “This…this is an amazing opportunity. You deserve everything you’re getting.”
Her words are supportive, but her voice cracks as she says them. The light through the window illuminating the tears sliding down her cheek while she looks across the pillow at you. You’re crying too. You both know that neither of you have the time to maintain something long distance.
It’s all very upsetting, isn’t it?
You don’t speak another word about it again beyond timelines. It’s understood what this means.
When you weren’t coordinating client transitions, you spent your free evenings packing boxes. Between cases, Emily moves between helping you and speaking with her real estate agent. It appears she’s opting to leave the building to finally pull the trigger on buying a house.
You’re happy for her so you pretend that it doesn’t absolutely consume you- that it should’ve been you doing that together. Right woman, wrong time, I guess.
The night before you fly out she clung to you so desperately, the reality of it all sinking in. It was like she was never going to see you again. You did the same just in case you wouldn’t.
And that’s it. No more contact.
It’d hurt too much. Too raw to touch, too bright to look at. You trusted that she’d reach out if she needed to.
You threw yourself into work, then. What else could you do? The idea of looking at other women wasn’t on the table (nor did you want any other woman looking at you the way she did for that matter).
As expected, you had long days, and late nights. Only in the darkness of your room did you let the gravity of how much you missed her sink in. It was nearly unbearable. The only reprieve came when you allowed yourself to entertain memories of your life with her.
-
Now we’re back to the present, and Emily’s name is on your phone accompanied by those two sentences. You take a deep breath and send a response.
Of course. I know a good bar.