always been mine - emily prentiss x reader

chapter twenty-three // going home

WARNINGS: mentions of violence, homophobia, stabbing/stab wounds, trauma

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She still sits at your bedside all day and night. "Em?" You saw the pain in your wife's eyes. "I'm okay. You know that now, right?" She nods.

"I should have known, I always feel you get out of bed, and the one night I don't—"

"It's not your fault, Emily. Not at all,"

"If we weren't together this wouldn't have happened." That was likely true. 

"I don't care. My love for you is worth a hell of a lot more than some stab wounds." Emily was so afraid of hurting you, she just kissed the back of your hand like you were a fair princess and she was your dashing prince.

"I...did you figure it out?" she asked. "The M.O. We only caught him because he was fleeing from where he left you. We still don't know what the methodology was for stabbing versus shooting, or however he decided on the victim. Do you know?"

"Kind of. I...I remember more now. He...he takes the younger one first. Me. And makes her choose. He said...he said I made the same decision they all do. I guess meaning his previous victims. I chose myself, no question. He said it was the same decision any 'man of God' would make. He saw us all as sinners. We profiled moral enforcer from the get-go, he's about as moral enforcer as they come," you chuckle. It's not funny.

"Make you choose...? Choose what?"

"Which one of us dies," you say quietly, so quiet you hope she didn't hear. Her mouth falls open slightly.

"And you chose yourself?"

"He was already torturing me, Em, I didn't want him to hurt you, too." She looks down at the creases on your hand. "I didn't know what to do. I knew he would eventually kill you, but...at that point he hadn't told me what the others had done, and I was so high on those, those drugs, that I didn't...I didn't even think about the implications." You try not to break. 

"That's impossible, Y/N. It's an impossible choice stone-cold sober, especially knowing we'd both end up dead if he followed through. I...I'm so sorry, love,"

"Emily. I'm okay now. He stabbed me, so what?" She cracks up.

"'So what?' You got stabbed and your attitude towards it is 'so what?'"

"Hey, listen, you don't get to judge until you get stabbed, okay?" you laugh, hurting your wounds. You wince.

"Oh, baby, no, does it hurt?"

"Just a little. I'm okay, babe." You played it down so she didn't get so upset. You hated to see her this way. It hurt her more than it hurt you, and fuck, it hurt you a lot.

-

Emily always feared when you fell asleep. She'd hold your hand and wait until you woke up, but it was terrifying every time. You would shake awake, as if you had been falling in a dream, but it was always a nightmare. About being stabbed, or Emily being shot in the head by your captor, or just screaming and thrashing around in that shed. 

"Y/N, Y/N, it's okay, you're safe. You're in the hospital, you're safe. I'm right here." You nearly broke her hand squeezing it so hard. 

"Em...please..." You were hyperventilating. Emily was worried that touching you too much would send you into a flashback, but you maintained your death grip on her hand. "Emily,"

"I'm here, love, you're okay. I'm right here. You're okay, baby." You lean back and close your eyes.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," you say, your voice low and ashamed.

"Honey, nothing's wrong with you. You're traumatized,"

"Please...don't leave me, Emily. Don't leave,"

"I would never, baby. I promise. I'm right here. Do you need anything?" You swallow and shake your head. 

"Emily...I love you,"

"I love you too, sweetheart. Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"I'm okay. I, uh, I need you here. Just stay with me,"

"Of course. I love you,"

"Love you,"

"You wanna go back to sleep, baby?" You saw the worry in her eyes.

"I, I'm scared, Em." She kissed the back of your hand again. "Please. Just kiss me, Ems," you attempt a laugh. She's afraid to hurt you. "I promise you won't hurt me. I'll tell you to stop if you do, okay? Promise." Emily bites her lip and leans over the rail of the bed to kiss your hairline. You giggle, and she smiles apprehensively. 

"Was that, are you hurting?"

"Not from that, no,"

"Good. I just don't want to hurt you, baby." You put your other hand on top of hers. 

"Em. I know you're scared,"

"I'm the one who should be saying these things to you," she says. 

"You're scared, Ems. I know. You're not gonna hurt me. Okay? Just give me a kiss, baby. It's all alright." Emily shakes her head and looks up at the ceiling.

"You're in the hospital, honey, and you're reassuring me. I love how much you care. I'll give you the world if it'll make you happy."

-

After a couple weeks you were discharged from the hospital. Emily took you home, and took another week off to help you with the transition home. You had to take a month.

The first night, Emily offered to sleep on the couch, so she wouldn't move in the night and hurt you. You teared up. "No, Em, don't do that. You're coming to bed with me." 

The two of you lied in bed, and she put her arm over your chest, her thumb stroking the side of your breast as she hummed a song, trying to put you to sleep. "Twenty-six. I didn't ever find out why that number was significant,"

"We thought it might be the year, 1926. Eve's Hangout was closed that year, and while you were in the hospital, the police found that he was obsessed over that for some reason. Not obsessed like gay people would be, obsessed like he wanted to kill people 'cause he's homophobic,"

"Yeah, I got that part," you chuckle so you don't cry. "Twenty-six scars. Should compare with Hotch sometime." Emily laughs at your dark joke and lifts up your shirt. 

"Still hurt?"

"Only a little, think the meds are helping with that, though." You sigh, and Emily runs a gentle finger over them. "Stop," you wince. 

"Sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean—"

"I know you didn't, love, it's alright. Will you...will you play with my hair?" Emily smiled and kissed your cheek.

"Of course, my love."

Until you fall asleep, she runs her fingers through your hair and makes loose braids, then undoing them like the waves washing away a sandcastle. For one night, it seems like everything might finally be okay.