Chapter Text
“Lauren Reynolds is dead.”
“Emily Prentiss is alive.”
“Lauren Reynolds is dead.”
“Emily Prentiss is alive.”
Emily mumbled out loud. Each time she repeated the mantra, she dug into her smooth, pale skin with the razor's edge. She ripped off her sleep shirt, using the crumpled cotton to wipe off the beads of blood forming on her forearm. After the blood slowed, she placed the T-shirt on the floor, flattening it out to examine the nostalgic picture printed on the front. It was an old band Tee from her high school goth phase. The shirt was black with a foggy outline of a little boy holding a guitar, and the band name “The Cure” lay printed in the top left-hand corner. She ran her finger over the outline of the boy; he had no visible face or other defining features; there was only an empty silhouette filled with the black cotton of the T-shirt and now Emily’s blood. Emily hesitated momentarily, almost throwing the shirt into the laundry basket to be stripped clean of the filthy blood that seeped into the fabric, but instead decided to stow it in the cabinet under her bathroom sink.
Emily stared for a moment longer in the mirror, squinting at her reflection as if she couldn’t quite understand who she was looking at before a soft knock on her front door broke the trance. Emily flinched slightly at the noise before remembering Ian Doyle could not be at her front door with a P226R to shoot her dead because he was dead. Emily threw on a navy sweatshirt and baggy pair of sweatpants before peering through her door's peephole, curious about who lay on the other side.
“Emily, it’s only me,” JJ said, feeling the raven-haired woman’s tension radiate through the thick wooden door. “I just want to make sure you’re okay; you haven’t been answering any texts, and I-”
JJ was cut off by Emily opening the door. “JJ, hi. I wasn’t expecting any company,” Emily said with a jovial tone and a fake smile plastered on her face. “Uhh, come in, please,” she added, gesturing into her apartment.
JJ’s face fell as soon as the entirety of Emily’s apartment came into view. None of her boxes had been unpacked despite being back for two months. The walls, countertops, tables, and any other surface she could see were bare. The empty liquor bottles beside the trashcan were the only sign of life in the entire apartment.
“Oh yeah, sorry, I've just been so busy and haven’t had time to unpack,” Emily said, noticing the blond's reaction to her barren apartment.
“And the liquor bottles?” JJ asked with concern, lacing her voice.
For a moment, Emily looked like she was going to respond but instead released an exasperated sigh, exaggeratingly letting her hands fall to her sides. A moment of silence passed between the two before Emily decided to speak.“Did you need something…you know, other than checking to see if I'm alive?” she asked with a small chuckle. “Because I'm fine, I'm here very much alive,” she said, gesturing towards her body as proof of existence.
JJ’s gaze followed Emily’s hands, and she examined the profiler's baggy clothing and thin appearance. She then let her eyes move to Emily's face, noticing the dark circles contrasting with her gaunt skin. Despite all this, what was most concerning to JJ was Emily’s eyes. Her dark eyes, which normally shone so vibrantly, now looked lifeless and empty.
JJ let out a quiet laugh of disbelief in return to Emily’s statement. “Are you?”