say you'll always wonder - unitchiefprentiss (2024)

Emily’s not sure how long she stands there sobbing in Rossi’s arms. He makes no move to break the embrace; if she’s honest, she doesn’t want it to end. She had always taken care of herself, for as long as she could remember, she’d picked herself up and made herself whole again. Her mother never knew how to handle Emily’s emotions, and she hardly remembers her father now. There had always been nannies, she never wanted for anything, but Emily never knew what it was like to have someone hold her. She has no memory of being held up high on her father’s shoulders to see the world around her, no memory of crawling into her parent’s bed when she had a nightmare, no one held her while she cried on the bathroom floor after her time in Rome.

Emily always took care of herself and assumed she always would. Despite everything she’s gone through, all the trauma and pain and torture that has followed her, she can’t think of a single time she’s felt this empty, this hopeless.

After her abortion, she had hopes and dreams and worked tirelessly to achieve them.

After her time as Lauren Reynolds was over, she had hope that she’d gotten Declan out of there early enough that he could have a normal life, that she had done her job and that Doyle couldn’t come for her anywhere but her nightmares.

After Doyle returned and Emily faked her death, she had hope that she would be able to return to DC one day.

After every tough case, every physical injury and assault or emotional trauma, she had her team, her family. She hoped that the good she put into the world would outweigh the bad and that things would always work out in her favor. After all, so far, they always had.

But now she’s not so sure.

She wonders what she’s gotten not only herself into, but what she might’ve gotten the team into. No matter what anybody tells her, she will always blame herself for Douglas Bailey’s death. It is a loss she will never be able to make up for, not even if they manage to take down Gold Star, North Star, or whatever the hell any of this is.

If.

She has never doubted that the team would succeed before. It has nothing to do with their abilities, she knows they are all the best of the best. Smart, patient, thorough. But whatever Elias Voit has managed to construct is more sophisticated than anything any of them have ever seen. He uses what he’s learned from Rossi’s books against them, and he’s always three steps ahead of the rest of them. It’s exhausting. It’s infuriating.

Emily knows that Rossi is still haunted by his time in the shipping container, he could have died out there. He’s seeing things, hearing things. He’s not okay, and even Emily agrees he’s not in the headspace to lead the team right now. After all, Emily had told him to assassinate Voit in the field and Rossi would have carried them out without question. That’s the main reason why she chose to only disclose that with him, anyone else would’ve questioned her and called her out for being irrational. She didn’t want to be rational anymore, and that scared the sh*t out of her.

Penelope is trying her best to work the way that Emily needs her to, but Emily sees the stress this has all caused Penelope. Emily feels guilty every single day that she dragged her back into this life. If she had had any inkling that this would have been where they ended up, Emily would have never let Penelope get so involved.

Luke is obviously angry, whether at her for demanding he not tell JJ about the deepfake website or something else, Emily is not sure. She worries about him, worries that he will take it upon himself to stop Voit at any cost, even if that means going off by himself. It’s what she would have done, after all.

Tara puts on a brave face, but Emily knows all of this is weighing on her, too. She had confided in Tara more than anyone else the weeks following Bailey’s death because she needed someone to work out her theories with, but now Emily sees how selfish she had been. She has pulled back a little, trying to be less dependent on Tara to answer her late night texts and phone calls.

Emily is worried most of all about JJ. She has become so distant, so quiet, so rigid. Emily felt horrible that JJ had come to her to talk and f*cking Gold Star got in the way, that Tyler couldn’t just wait two goddamn seconds to talk to her. Emily tried to talk later, but JJ had said it wasn’t important. Emily didn’t believe her, but what could she do? She was barely keeping it together herself. She hasn’t slept in days, hasn’t been home in even longer.

She was arrested, and even though the charges were dropped, the mugshot was going to be plastered all over the Internet. This would spark more conspiracy theories, more false information, it would put another stain on the Bureau’s name. Emily wasn’t naive, she knew what people thought about law enforcement, and she couldn’t even blame them anymore for it. After all, she had crossed every line she swore she never would. Not again, not after she killed Lauren Reynolds.

Only when her full body sobs fade into soft sniffles does Rossi finally pull away. He keeps his hands on either of her shoulders and looks her in the eyes.

“You need to sleep,” Rossi says. “In a real bed. And not at the office.” He tells her.

She sniffles again, wipes at her eyes. “I will.” She promises, she means it.

“I have plenty of extra room,” he offers softly.

Emily shakes her head. “No I — I should go home. I need to be alone I think.” She says.

“You sure?” Rossi asks.

Emily nods, turning to pocket her emergency pack of cigarettes and put her coat on. She grabs her bag and tosses it over her shoulder, waiting for Rossi to follow her out.

He keeps an eye on her until she gets into her car, still parked where she left it days ago. She has no idea when she last went to her apartment, she hasn’t really had a reason to. She’s been sleeping on her couch in the office, knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep at home anyway.

Now that she’s on restricted duty, her every move will be scrutinized. She probably won’t even be allowed to open her email without telling the director about it. She certainly won’t be going into the field.

She sighs, figuring Rossi won’t leave until she does. She peels out of the parking garage and notices Rossi follow her out. She turns on some soft music and drives. She’s about halfway home when she realizes she doesn’t want to go there. She can’t remember the last time she set foot in her apartment for longer than a few minutes. It doesn’t even feel like home to her.

Nowhere seemed to feel like home.

At the next red light, she turns left instead of right. She picks up her phone and calls Tara, not even sure why she’s doing it as Tara picks up on the third ring.

“Hey, Emily,” Tara answers. “Is everything okay?” She asks, no doubt expecting Emily to have something about Gold Star to share with her.

Emily bites her lip anxiously. “Yeah, everything’s okay. I just … don’t really want to go home.” She doesn’t explain further. It had been a while, but it certainly wouldn’t be the first time Emily had gone over to Tara’s place when she didn’t want to go home. Since Emily returned as Unit Chief, they’d grown close rather quickly. Many nights had been spent sipping on red wine and whiskey, just the two of them; stolen glances and almost touches that led to nothing. Emily wasn’t at all surprised when Tara had disclosed that she was dating Rebecca, only sorry she hadn’t made a move sooner.

Emily never labeled herself, never really saw the point in it. She’d dated men and women and found it easier to date men in the sense that she felt more in control. A beautiful woman was her kryptonite. It didn’t matter how smart and well-read and confident she was, all of that seemed to fly out the window when a pretty woman smiled at her.

“Oh. Oh.” Tara says. “Well, I’m uh, not home.” Tara says, and somehow Emily knows exactly where Tara is. She can’t be upset, it’s not as if she and Tara were ever anything.

“Oh, right. Okay. I uh – I can call Penelope.” Emily says, knowing that Penelope doesn’t live too far away. She can't call JJ, she needs time with her kids and Emily has never and will never interrupt that if it isn't work related.

“Are you okay?” Tara asks, concern evident in her voice. Emily had hoped she was hiding it better than that.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Emily says, nodding even though Tara can’t see her.

“Okay…” Tara replies awkwardly.

“Right. Okay. See you tomorrow,” She says as she hangs up, knowing she won’t be seeing any of them tomorrow. There's no reason to go in while she’s benched. Only Rossi knows, everyone else can find out in the morning.

Emily calls Penelope next, who tells her to come over.

It doesn’t take long for Emily to arrive. As always, Penelope welcomes her with open arms.

She hugs Emily tightly. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Penelope asks, pulling away from the embrace and noticing Emily’s face. Emily had tried to make it look like she hadn’t been crying, but clearly, her efforts were futile.

“Oh, Emily! What’s wrong?” Penelope asks, ushering Emily into her apartment and guiding her to the couch.

Emily sits nestled into the corner of the couch, chewing her bottom lip anxiously. She doesn’t even know where to begin.

Penelope sits patiently next to her, sensing that Emily needs a moment to collect her thoughts.

After a long moment, she tells Penelope everything.

She tells her how she’s been benched because of her leaked mugshot and arrest record, how she has allowed herself to become so invested in this case that she has compromised her morals and values in ways she said she never would (she doesn’t disclose the fact that she had given Rossi the order to assassinate Voit in the field).

“Oh, Em.” Penelope says, putting an arm around Emily’s shoulder and squeezing tightly.

“I have given so much of myself to this job, I don’t know who I am without it.” Emily admits softly.

Penelope nods, understanding where Emily is coming from If anyone could understand, it was Penelope.

“I don’t think you’re quite in the headspace to receive any kind of advice right now or make any decisions. I think you should stay here tonight and get some sleep. Want me to order you some dinner? Actually, nevermind. No choice. I know how you get when you’re in your head, so I know you aren’t eating real meals or sleeping for longer than a cat nap. Speaking of cat naps, Sergio and Queenie will love having their auntie Em spend the night!”

Emily had forgotten that Tyler and Rossi had gifted her a second cat, The Black Queen, shortened to Queenie. As if on cue, Sergio ran into the living room, Queenie right on his heels.

“How’s the old man adjusting to being a big brother?” Emily asks, picking Sergio up and nuzzling her chin across the top of his head. She was so happy that Penelope had taken him, and she’d fallen so in love with him that Emily couldn’t bear to take him back from her. Besides, he had it made at Penelope’s.

“Oh, he’s … tolerating her,” Penelope says. “But I think he’s coming around.” She says with a smile.

Emily lets Sergio back down on the ground, watching as the two of them wrestle over a toy spring.

“Hey, do you still have those, uh, special Cheetos I left here?” Emily asks.

Penelope dutifully gets up and digs a ziploc bag of Cheetos out of her pantry. “I will give them to you if you promise to eat a real meal,” Penelope says, dangling the bag in front of Emily’s face.

Emily quickly snatches the bag. “If I eat these, I will eat everything,” Emily says.

“Fair point,” Garcia says, opening a delivery app on her phone and ordering them dinner. Emily places her own order for a bottle of Chablis. She eats one Cheeto before the food arrives, finishes the bottle of wine after Penelope goes to bed, and then eats one more Cheeto before she falls asleep on Penelope’s couch, both cats snuggled up against her legs.

Emily wakes up with her head throbbing.

She groans softly, pulling the blanket that had been draped over her at some point up over her head. She rarely drinks and takes an edible at the same time, and she’s remembering now why that is.

She places an order for an ungodly amount of snacks, popping a Cheeto in her mouth and making herself drink water. She freshens up a little, and as she’s redoing her ponytail from a night of fitful sleep, she hears JJ’s voice and she thinks for a moment she’s hallucinating.

Of course JJ would show up to check on her right when that last Cheeto kicked in.

After spending the day high off her ass with JJ, Emily felt marginally better. Despite everything, this job had given her a lot. JJ was right, she and Emily had been through so much, and at the end of it, they always had each other. JJ was Emily’s only source of hope and sanity during her time in Paris. Her brief contact with JJ was the only thing that kept her from losing herself, from completely losing what made Emily, Emily.

For a time, Emily was the only person outside of Cruz that knew about her miscarriage. She never told Will. But she told Emily. And even though Emily hadn’t been able to be there in person, she had helped JJ find her worth again when she felt the lowest she ever had in her life. Emily had talked her off the metaphorical ledge, brought her back to herself when she wasn’t sure she could ever find it again.

Emily and JJ were tied together in ways that neither of them could explain, a constant, a touchstone that the other could always find in the darkest of moments.

Maybe in another life, they could have been something else. Emily thinks maybe she loved Jennifer Jareau too soon.

Neither of them is sure how long they sit quietly on the couch. This is one of Emily’s main reasons for getting high: sometimes she wants to have zero thoughts going through her brain. Time feels both endless and and bounded.

Neither of them move when there’s a knock at the door. JJ looks at Emily, shrugging at the sound. Emily’s not sure she could get up even if she wanted to.

The knock comes again, more firm. This time, a voice.

“JJ, Emily?” Tara’s voice says. “Are you guys okay?”

“Oh, sh*t.” JJ says, lazily flailing her arm in the general direction of the door. “Busted.”

Emily laughs. “Should we let her in?”

Before JJ can answer, Tara speaks again. “We’re coming in …”

A key turns in the lock and Tara walks in, followed by a frazzled looking Penelope.

“I want it on record that I did not tell her anything! She guessed!” Penelope says, closing the door behind her and shuffling to where Emily and JJ are still sprawled on the couch.

“It’s all good,” Emily says with a sluggish wave of her hand. “We’re good.”

Tara comes to stand by Penelope, eyebrow raised.

“Uh, by chance, my loves, are you both …” Penelope says, looking from Emily to JJ. “High?”

“Without me?!” Tara asks incredulously.

“Hey, man, I didn’t mean to. I saw Cheetos and blacked out.” JJ shrugs.

Tara laughs, long and hearty. Penelope stands confused, but smiling.

“So you guys obviously weren’t getting Rossi’s calls, huh?” Tara asks, still laughing.

“Nope.” Emily says. “Technically I’m your boss again. I got the email a little while ago.”

“Oh, good! Rossi’s kind of losing it,” Tara admits.

“Aren’t we all,” Emily shrugs.

“Well, he does have some news, so what’s the fastest way to sober you both up?” Tara asks, reaching to pull Emily up from the couch. Emily stands up, groaning dramatically.

“Penelope, why don’t you take JJ in her car and I’ll take Emily in mine?” Tara suggests.

“Sure, okay! Yes. Right. We will certainly be able to hide that both of you are high from Rossi and Luke, absolutely.” Garcia mutters to herself, reaching to pull JJ up from the couch.

“Wow, room spinning.” JJ says.

Penelope sighs, knowing she has her work cut out for her.

In Tara’s car, Emily is quiet. She’s definitely still high, but Tara forced her to drink another electrolyte drink. That and the fresh air from Tara rolling the windows down is slightly sobering her, at least enough that she’s thinking again.

“Sorry if I, uh, interrupted anything last night.” Emily says softly.

Tara raises an eyebrow in confusion. “You didn’t.” Tara confirms.

“I don’t care if you see her, or you’re dating her, or whatever. That’s not my business.” Emily says.

“You’re right, it’s not.” Tara says, drumming her thumbs against the steering wheel.

“I don’t mean to be –”

“Emily, we don’t have to do this. You’re still high and we might have a break in this case. I don’t know, Rossi went to talk to Voit alone.” Tara says.

“I – he did?” Emily asks, feeling like her head is being pulled in a million different directions.

“Yes. You know he’s not well, right?” Tara asks, not accusing, just concerned.

Emily sighs, leaning her head against the head rest and sighing. “I know.”

“It’s getting worse.” Tara says.

“I know,” Emily says. “f*ck, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore, Tara. I can’t –”

“For starters, you have to stop blaming yourself for Bailey’s death, okay? There’s no way you could have known what was going to happen, and finding out where this all starts is not going to bring him back. Hell, Emily, if his parents are as anti-government as you say they are, no answer you give them is going to be good enough for them.” Tara says.

Emily blinks back tears, turning to look out the open window. “I don’t know where this job ends and I begin.” Emily says quietly.

Tara glances over at Emily before turning her eyes back to the road. “What do you mean?”

Emily sighs. “I just … this is all I’ve ever wanted to do. Save lives, help people. And I want to believe that all the good we do counteracts all the bad, but the deeper we get into this…” Emily shakes her head. “I don’t know anymore. But I don’t know what else I would even do. This is all I know how to do. I have thrown myself into this job, and climbed the ladder even when I swore I wouldn’t. I never wanted to be in one of these bullsh*t political positions. I compromised that, I’ve compromised all my values. And if I hadn’t been reinstated? If Brian didn’t drop all those charges, and I let myself get so wrapped up in this case that I got f*cking arrested?”

Tara waits, letting Emily continue.

“What’s the point of all this, if I have nothing outside of it? I don’t even go to my apartment anymore except to grab a new set of clothes. I’m sleeping in my office, if I’m sleeping at all. I don’t have a life outside of this. If I leave, if I get fired, I have nothing.” Emily says. “I’m not going anywhere,” She says, and she means it. “But just…having that thought in the back of my mind scares me.” She admits. “And then if I say f*ck it and try to have a life outside of this, all I can do is think about what if? What if this doesn’t work out? What if I lose my job? What if I get shot in the field? What if you get shot in the field? And all those what-ifs just rattle around in my brain and I freeze, and I can’t commit, and I leave!” She says, not realizing she’d said that out loud.

“Oh,” Tara says softly.

“God damn it.” Emily whispers. “I’m sorry. This isn’t the time –”

“Look,” Tara says as they take the final turn before reaching the parking deck. “I know it got weird between us, but I could have said something. I didn’t. I let you walk away. When I told you about Rebecca and told you that I’d never been so happy, I was telling you the truth.” Tara says.

Emily bites her lip and nods, forcing herself to keep her tears at bay.

“I loved you too late.” She says quietly.

“What?” Tara says, pulling into her usual parking spot. She cuts the engine and shifts in her seat to better face Emily.

Emily shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. I just … you deserve to be happy, Tara.”

“And so do you, Emily. You don’t have to choose one or the other. You can find fulfillment in your job and your personal life. You just have to let yourself take that plunge and trust that your relationship is stronger than all the bullsh*t. With the right person it will be.”

“Is Rebecca that person for you?” Emily asks softly.

Tara tilts her head slightly, contemplating. “I don’t know.” She says honestly. “I don’t know anything. But I do know that all we can do is take all of this one step at a time. The Gold Star sh*t and this personal sh*t.” She says.

Emily nods. “Yeah. Okay. You’re right. I don’t know why I’m having such an existential crisis right now.”

Tara smiles, nose scrunching. “Maybe in the future, we lay off the edibles when we’re sad?”

Emily laughs softly, opening the door and climbing out of the car. “Yeah, probably for the best.”

“And seriously, next time, I want an invite!” Tara says as she follows Emily’s lead.

“Deal.” Emily agrees.

She vows to take Tara’s advice. One step at a time.

Maybe in another life, she could have loved JJ. Maybe there’s another life where she loved Tara.