Work Text:
Emily Prentiss is used to pretending.
At age 12, she hides under the covers of her bed, trying her hardest to tune out the sounds of her parents screaming in the other room. She falls asleep with her hands pressed against her ears, and when she wakes up in the morning, she sits at the family table, in between her mom and dad. She pretends she didn’t hear their argument, pretends she didn’t hear the shattering of glass, pretends she doesn’t see how tired they both look, and how they refuse to meet her eyes.
A few months later, when she wakes to find all her father’s things gone, she pretends she’s surprised.
Her mother looks at her differently after that. Emily knows it’s because she inherited his hair, his nose, his eyes. Her father may be gone- his photos stripped from the walls, his clothes torn from the closets- but Emily remains. A constant reminder of his existence. Emily pretends not to connect these dots, pretends not to notice that when her mother does talk to her, it’s in short, two-word sentences.
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The first real school Emily goes to is a private Catholic high school in Rome, and she’s not popular by any means. She meets Matthew Benton in the library during lunch hour, reading a book by an author she’d never heard of before. Kurt Vonnegut. When she asks him about it, he hands it to her, tells her it’s the best book he’s ever read. Matthew introduces her to John Cooley, and from that point on, she has friends. They hang out on the weekends, providing a needed escape from the silence of her house. She loves them, truly loves them.
She pretends she doesn’t notice the way John looks at her when the three of them go out together. The way that he stares at her ass while she and Matthew skip stones in the lake. When he asks her out the first time, she says no, says she just wants to be friends. But he’s persistent, and when they sleep together, she pretends that she’s into it.
In the weeks following, she pretends she doesn’t notice the nausea, or the way her bones ache like they’ve never before, or her missed period.
Theres some things you can’t ignore forever though, and when she is forced to tell John the news, he runs. Matthew curses him out, but he stays away. Emily pretends this doesn’t hurt as much as it does.
In the dim lights of the shoddy clinic, Emily can just make out Matthew’s face. He holds her hand tight, tries to distract her from the nurses’ whispers. He’s right by her side when she’s knocked out, and when she comes to, sore and bleeding, he’s still there. Upon returning to school, she tries to ignore the looks everyone gives her, the names they call her behind her back. She tries to ignore the way John avoids her like the plague. She pretends it doesn’t bother her, pretends words are just words.
She gets hooked on the pills the clinic gave her for the pain. She splits them with Matthew as they ditch school, and they take turns sneaking out to buy them in the middle of the night. She pretends she doesn’t notice how Matthew changes, how his words become angry, his face hollow and angular. She pretends she doesn’t see these same changes in herself when she looks in the mirror. She’s ruined him, but she can’t help him, not when she’s ruined as well. So, she pretends she’s not aware that she’s slowly killing herself with drugs and booze, and dragging her only friend down with her.
When her mother tells her they’re moving, this time to D.C., Emily doesn’t put up a fight. There’s too many memories in Rome that are better to forget. She is sad about Matthew though- the only person in Europe she would miss at all. When she tells him, they cry together, and she promises she’ll visit. She pretends not to be lying through her teeth.
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In D.C., Emily transforms. She wears her hair in dark spikes, paints aggressive eyeliner on her face, and pierces her belly button with a sewing needle in her bedroom. She ignores her mother when she yells at her for her fashion choices. She skips class more often than not; hangs out at the park smoking cigarettes with classmates that she hardly knows.
She gets invited to parties, the unsupervised kind where the music is always loud, and the drinks are always strong. She only goes for the alcohol, stands in the corner while to rest of her peers dance and make out and let loose. Not her, she’s so lost in thought that when the police come knocking down the door one night, she doesn’t have enough time to run before they’re cuffing her and leading her into a cop car.
Her mother bails her out. She screams at her for hours, tells her if she doesn’t get her shit together, she’s as good as dead to her. So, despite her rebellious streak, Emily cleans up. She goes cold-turkey on the pills (they were costing her a fortune anyways), eases up on the smoking (though never completely stops), and applies to college (Ivy Leagues, per her mother’s demands). She pretends to be better. Sometimes, she does it so well that she convinces herself.
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College drains her bank account. She works long hours at the diner across town, but the pay is shit and she’s so exhausted that she can hardly function. She refuses the help from her mother, who tries to throw money at her every time they see each other. Emily hates it, but after a few semesters, when the dollars show up unannounced in her account, she says nothing. Pretends she doesn’t notice.
College goes by in a flash, and she’s offered a job almost immediately. Interpol, a place where she can help people. A job where she’ll make a difference. The travel doesn’t hurt either. She says yes immediately.
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Emily truly loves her time at Interpol. For once, she feels like she has a purpose. Her coworkers are talented and funny and the first real friends she’s had since Rome. They go out on their free weekends together. The small missions they go on as a team prove successful, and Emily’s name quickly becomes known. Emily tries to be humble, pretends that she’s not delighted at the recognition she’s getting, the work they’re doing.
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After about a year of working at Interpol, her boss comes up to her with a proposition.
Ian Doyle, terrorist.
They’re planning an undercover operation, and he wants her to be the lead.
Lauren Reynolds, lover.
Emily’s never done anything like this before.
One year, maybe longer.
Emily hesitates, but then she remembers.
Emily Prentiss has spent her whole life pretending. She has practice, she’s perfected the art. Now, she has the opportunity to do something good with it. To help people. How could she refuse? To refuse would mean to sacrifice the lives of dozens. To refuse would be to admit all the time she spent pretending was for nothing. She couldn’t live with that.
Emily Prentiss is used to pretending
So, she agrees.