chapter thirty-six // ian

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You call her a thousand times, knowing she'll never hear it. You try all her numbers. She hears one, but you have no way of knowing that. 

"Em, it's me. Wherever you are..." Your voice is heavy with tears and agony. "Please come home. God, why did you think you couldn't tell me any of this, baby? I can't lose you. Come home. Come home and we can make this right, I promise you. You have no idea what I would do to get you back right now. I...I love you more than you could ever know, Em. You promised you'd never leave me, never, and now you're gone and I can't even think about the worst-case scenario because...if, if I do, I don't know what's gonna happen. We are going to find you. I don't know how that sounds to you, like a threat or like salvation, but whichever it is, know that it is coming. I love you, angel. Stay safe. And please, Emily, my love...come back home."

She sobs in her car. She wants to listen to you, she wants to hold you in her arms again, protecting you from the horrors of her past. But she knows this ends one way.

-

Your face is raw from crying, and JJ takes you to sit on the couch in Hotch's office. "I can't imagine how hard this must be for you, Y/N. You should get some rest. I know you don't want to go home, but—"

"How can I sleep when my wife just fucking left me, JJ?" You don't lash out. You don't scream, though everyone agrees you have every right to be angry. No, instead, you're quiet and hateful and desperate. "Thank you for trying to help, but please, just leave me alone." Your manners feel almost sarcastic at this point, but you're just trying not to come off as rude (to no avail).

"I don't want you to hurt yourself." You stare at her, taking your head out of your hands for once. 

"I'm not gonna fucking hurt myself, JJ. Go find my goddamn wife."

JJ gets up and doesn't look back at you until she's out of the room. You made her cry. You feel guilty, but when you search inside yourself there's no reconciliatory energy to be found.

-

You don't sleep for days. Everyone's words, their hollow promises and the cracking of the eggshells under their feet, are drowned out with a dull ache. Emily.

On the plane to Boston, you sit alone while the team discusses. Rossi sits down next to you. "Not in the mood, Rossi." He sighs. 

"What can I do?"

"You can find her,"

"You know how evasive she can be, Y/N,"

"Yeah," you scoff, "I do, she kept her entire life a secret from me, apparently. Please go sit somewhere else, Dave, I really don't want to talk right now."


In Boston, you track her down to a warehouse. You all search every inch of the place, and see Emily on the floor, bleeding out. You catch a glimpse of Doyle running, and leave Derek with your wife. He knows how much you must trust him for this. 

You chase him for four blocks. He's just a little faster than you, and runs down an alley. You shoot three rounds and you're shaking with anger. The third one hits him in the back and he's down. You run down to him, his pained, strangled screams filling the cold spring air. He sees you ponder the question: to kill or not to kill? "Don't you dare—"

Ian Doyle's words and his life are cut off by the crack of your gun. "He's dead," you say to yourself breathily, before repeating it clearly over the radio. "Doyle's dead, Hotch,"

"Wait there. We're on our way."

In ten minutes it's a Christmas tree, emergency lights flashing all over. Derek shows up, his hands covered in blood, and you know it's Emily's. "Tell me," you demand.

"She lost a lot of blood. JJ's with her in the ambulance. She said she'll update as soon as they know anything,"

"I have to get to the hospital." 

Derek puts his hands on your shoulders, leaving bloody handprints on your already blood-spattered button-up. "Whoa, Y/N, slow down, you have to debrief on Doyle,"

"Fuck that, I'm going to the hospital."

-

You fall asleep with your head in Spencer's lap, like you so often were with Emily, and your nightmare was brief. Killing Doyle, over and over again. Could you even call it a nightmare?

Spence shook you awake and you saw JJ standing above you. "We need to talk."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Emily was dead, wasn't she?

You went with JJ into the hall. "What do you know?"

"That you killed Doyle when you didn't have to,"

"I did what I had to do,"

"That's not what CCTV footage says. He was neutralized, you didn't have to shoot him again in the head." JJ puts her hand on your shoulder. You haven't changed your clothes in the three hours you've been waiting there. "Y/N, I get why you did what you did. Hell, I probably would've done the same thing. Hotch agrees with me, but you have to understand, it's out of his hands,"

"What is?"

"You're suspended for three weeks." You nod and look away.

"Yeah, that's fair," you groan. "Well, c'est la vie. I just...I need Emily to be okay." She hugs you and pats your back, and you start to sob. 

"Oh, honey, shh...shh...it's okay, you're gonna be okay..."

Everyone's staring at you when you go back in. "No news, I'm just...overwhelmed," you explain. They all sigh. Now you lay in JJ's lap, and she strokes your hair until the doctor comes in. 

"Emily Prentiss?" You hop up.

"I'm her wife,"

"Ah. She suffered several physical traumas, and she flatlined in the OR, but after we got her back she remained stable and I believe she'll make a full recovery." Everyone laughs gaily and hugs one another. "Wow, so you're all here for Miss Prentiss?"

"Yeah," you laugh. "Thank you so much, Doctor." You shake his one hand with both of yours and you find that you can't stop smiling. 

"She's not awake yet, it will be a couple hours, but you can come in and see her, I can see this has been a long night for you." He glances at your bloody shirt. How was this poor surgeon to know you killed a man not six hours ago? 

—————

i know it moved really fast i'm sorry

but am i faking her death? i may be a bitch but i'm not gonna write that shit. nah nah nah not right now (probably not at all for this story but still) 

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