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As you finally walk through the door of your apartment, you take a deep breath, relieving the stress from a long day of work and one too many stairs. After standing there for a moment, enjoying the quiet of your apartment, you put your bag on the table and bend down to take off your shoes, but before you can, a ball of black fur and eyes that look like they can and will murder you if you don't feed him right this second walks in between your legs.
“Hey Sergio,” you said as you redirected your hand from your shoes to the meowing cat between your legs.
Knowing Sergio gets like this when he is hungry, you forget your shoes and pick up the spoiled cat. You carry him to his food bowl to see what all his complaining is about. As you walk through your apartment to get to his food dish, you turn your head to avoid the picture on the wall, aware that it will worsen your already fragile mood.
“Are you serious Sergio? Your food bowl is practically full.” You say to the cat curled up in your arms giving you a sweet look.
You roll your eyes as you put him down and walk over to the bin with his way to expensive cat food. “Spoiled ass cat,” you mutter under your breath as you put fresh food into his bowl.
Before you can stop pouring the food out of the cup you are using, Sergio rushes up to the dish, acting like he has not been fed in years, even though it has been only a few hours, “Calm down, damn.” You say to the cat that is already tearing into his food.
You put the empty cup onto the counter. Then you hear your phone ring in the other room. You walk over to the bag you left on the console table and grab it out of your bag to see who is calling you.
Jennifer Jareau
Confused, you answer the phone. You were never close with Emily's team, even more now since her death. You answer the phone, feeling the drop in your stomach and your heart rate increasing just like it did seven months ago when JJ called you out of the blue and told you the love of your life was dead.
Ignoring the anxiety you are feeling, you answer the phone, “What's up JJ?” You ask, fidgeting nervously.
“Hey, are you home?”
From where you are standing, you look around the apartment, confused by the blonde question.
“Yeah?” you answer in a confused tone, “Why?”
JJ pauses before she answers you, “Do you mind if I come over?”
“My apartment is a mess, but if you need to.” You answer honestly.
You hear JJ talking on the other side of the phone to someone in the background before she speaks again, “It won't bother me. I have a young boy at home. I will be there in about twenty minutes.”
“Alright, see you soon.” You say before hanging up.
The next twenty minutes were hell. You finally were able to take off your shoes, but not before you anxiously walked around your apartment cleaning up, hoping it would pass the time quicker. Still, every time you looked at the clock, the time never seemed to move.
Knock Knock Knock
Startled by the sudden noise, you rush to the door. Before opening the door, you look out the peephole. You can see JJ talking to someone. You can not tell who, but you open it anyway. JJ was your late girlfriend's best friend and an FBI agent. She would not bring someone to hurt you.
“Hey JJ,” you say to the blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman, in front of you. You look at JJ to see how she looks; you are no profiler, but you can tell JJ looks stressed and tired. It is written all over her face.
After studying JJ, you turn to the person who is standing next to her, and your stomach immediately drops.
“E-Emily?” You can barely stutter out before your eyes start to well with tears, and your breathing starts to rapidly increase.
Someone is trying to say something to you, but everything sounds as if it is a mile away as you stare at the woman standing before you.
The love of your life is standing in front of you. The woman you buried seven months ago is alive. The woman you grieved and stayed up all night crying because you would never be able to hug her, kiss her, or hold her ever again was standing right in front of you.
Suddenly, you felt sick. You ran back into the apartment, avoiding looking at the picture out of habit, and ran to the bathroom. Where you spilled your guts into the toilet bowl.
As you lay against the toilet, dry heaving, you feel hands on your back and grabbing your hair. You sob into the toilet bowl after finally finishing up the last of the wave of sickness.
Leaning away from the toilet bowl, you fall backward onto the wall, wrap your arms around your bunched-up knees, and start crying. You feel arms wrap around you, still not noticing whose arms you are sobbing into. You let them hold you until you calm down a little bit more.
As your sobs slow down and your breathing starts to get back to normal, you finally look up to see who is holding you, and it is Emily. You could smell her signature perfume and the specific brand of shampoo that only she uses. You can tell it is her by the way she is holding you so you don’t get uncomfortable, but so she can still hold you close.
Emily is alive and real. The love of your life is here holding you as you break down in her arms.
“Emily,” you say quietly, moving your hand up to touch her face, to feel her again after all this time of missing her and her touch.
The raven-haired woman looks down at you with tears in her eyes, “I’m sorry,” before she can finish her apology, you put your lips on hers. Emily kisses you back immediately. This kiss wasn’t rushed or lust-filled. It was slow and sweet. You could taste the salt from the tears on her lips and the vanilla chapstick she applies to her lips.
You pull back from the kiss, and sit in each other's arms, not speaking to each other. You both were too scared to break the silence in the room.
Before either of you can break the silence, a loud meow comes from right next to you, and Sergio tries to move right in between you and Emily.
“I swear that cat is homophobic," you mutter without thinking, not letting the spawn of satan get between you and your girlfriend.
Emily looks at you and then laughs, “What?” She asks, still giggling.
“I’m just saying, every time there is a gay person in this apartment doing gay things, he stops them. It is obviously homophobia.” You say refusing to take back what you said about Sergio being homophobic.
“Cats can’t be homophobic, baby,” Emily says, letting you go from her embrace and standing up. After standing up, she puts out her hand to make it easier for you to stand up.
You take her hand and stand up, rolling your eyes at her. You start walking to the living room. “Well, that cat is,” you say, moving to sit on the couch.
Emily follows close behind you, silently laughing before sitting down right next to you on the couch and pulling you closer to her.
“I’m sorry,” Emily says, suddenly getting serious. As her dark brown eyes stare into your soul.
You take a deep breath before responding in a timid whisper, “I don’t want to talk about it tonight. I only want to lay in your arms all night, cuddled together on the couch or on the bed. I really don’t care which one. I only want you.”
“I can do that. JJ already left, so it is just me and you tonight anyway.” The raven-haired woman says, pulling you closer into her arms.
You and Emily stay cuddled on the couch, holding each other. You both are on the verge of sleep. Before you fall asleep, Emily could hear you whisper, “I love you, Emily.”
“I love you too, baby,” Emily says, not knowing if you are awake or asleep. All she cares about is you are lying in her arms even after everything that happened.