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It had been a shitty week. Another shitty week on top of three shitty weeks at Quantico, which had followed seven shitty months in Paris; which in turn, had followed the shittiest of shitty months facing down the ghost of her past. And Emily had had enough.
She had spent those three weeks at Quantico, the first three since her ‘resurrection’, treading water; walking on eggshells; being polite; trying to fit in; trying not to notice the tension between Reid and JJ and Derek and herself… and, yeah, she’d had enough. Enough pretending. Enough lying. Enough lies to last a lifetime.
So tonight, when the gang were headed out to O’Keefe’s to celebrate putting yet another psychopathic son of a bitch behind bars, she called off, citing a headache and a mountain of unpacking still to do. Another lie. She wondered if she would ever get to tell the truth again? She wondered when the last time she told the whole truth was?
When the elevator stopped at her floor, she stepped out and padded along the corridor. Her eyes roamed the walls and carpet. If the BAU felt like it no longer ‘fitted’ – then neither did her old apartment. This place? She used to love it. It was home. It was safe. It was somewhere permanent, somewhere secure… and then Ian Doyle turned up and suddenly ‘safe’ was the last word she would associate with it.
Now whenever she was here, she could almost still feel him. Watching. Waiting.
“Christ.” She whispered to herself, running her fingers through her hair. It was crazy – he was dead, she saw him die with her own two eyes... but she couldn’t shake the unease that permeated every aspect of her life now.
With that thought at the forefront of her mind she stopped, suddenly. She had an eerie feeling, a gut feeling that she knew better than to ignore. It felt like someone had been here. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and drew her gun. She fought back the memories of finding a freesia outside her door; the hang up calls; the endless nights of sitting awake, booby trapping her place and waiting for him to come.
Her fingers stroked alongside the trigger as she crept closer – and then she saw it: the crate sitting there right in front of her door. Her heart stilled for a second, her eyes catching sight of a note attached to it.
And then she heard sounds coming from inside the crate and she sagged against the wall and wiped at her brow, exhaling in relief.
Holstering her glock, she approached the crate and squatted down to pluck the note free. It was on strawberry pink paper – the words written in glitter pen in Penelope’s unmistakable scripted handwriting. “He missed you. We miss you too. I hope a few snuggles will clear up your ‘headache’.”
Emily scoffed at the quotes around the word ‘headache’. “Damnit Penelope.” She muttered with a soft chuckle, and hefted the crate into her apartment. “You getting fat buddy, huh?” she cooed, opening the little cage door and pulling Sergio into her arms.
At first, Sergio tried to wriggle free of her grip – but then he recognised her scent and his eyes met hers, and suddenly the wriggling became snuggling and his deep purr reverberated against her neck.
“Hey buddy.” She whispered, nuzzling him with her nose. “How should I murder Penelope, hmm? Poison? Cut her brakes…?” She sighed. Penelope had been badgering her almost since the day she returned to see Sergio – but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t seem to bring herself to do it. It was cruel to him when she was whisked away from him almost eight months ago now. He must have been confused and upset…and now it seemed just as cruel to him to suddenly be back in his life. She sighed again and decided maybe the universe in fact did her a good turn by her never having had children. If it was cruel to a damn cat, then how cruel would it be to a child – to have them be at risk from Ian; and then believe their mom was dead... and then have their mom just fucking walk in and say ‘hi honey, I’m home’.
Sergio purred loudly, rubbing his head into the crook of her neck.
She closed her eyes and smiled softly. “Are you mad at me, Serge?” she asked.
He answered with a louder purr, nuzzling her neck and cheek.
She pulled back and looked at him, scratching behind his ear the way he always loved. He loved it now too, judging by the way his eyes closed and his body relaxed against hers.
“I missed you. I really did. Damn stupid cat.” She laughed. She pressed her nose into his fur and inhaled deeply. “Damn you, Penelope.” She muttered. “Forcing me to take my little Serge.” She grinned at her cat and kissed the top of his head. “What’re we gunna get you for dinner, huh? I wonder if Ms. P has –“ she bent down to check the cat carrier and lo and behold… “Bingo!” She plucked out the tin of food and grinned. “Jesus Christ, Sergio – she’s been feeding you the top of the range, hasn’t she? No Economy Tuna for you these days.”
She sighed and set Sergio on his feet while she opened the tin and scooped the contents into a bowl. The feel of Sergio’s warm body snaking around her shins made her smile. It almost felt like the last ten months or so had never happened. Almost.
As her cat eagerly began eating, Emily petted him gently and plopped onto the couch to text Penelope.
‘I hope you know that I will kill you.’ She grinned and texted again. ‘Thank you, P. I think I needed this more than I thought.’
‘So I’m not in the proverbial dog house?’ came back almost immediately.
‘Cat house, maybe.’
‘And your headache?’
Emily could see the air quotes as she read the word. ‘Better.’ She added. ‘You’ve been spoiling Sergio, you know.’
‘I thought he deserved it. He cried for weeks when you left. Just like we did.’
Emily winced and pondered her response. ‘Well I appreciate you forcing my hand.’
‘Oh sweetcheeks… I figured it’d do you good to have a cute little dependent to take your mind off everything. Maybe reconnecting with him is the easiest first step.’
‘You’re too smart. Thanks.’
Emily set her phone down and turned to look at her Sergio. As if on cue, he leapt up onto the couch and curled up beside her, purring happily as her fingers toyed with his fur.
Unconditional love. That was what Sergio gave to her. So often in her life, love felt purely conditional. Her mom’s fault, no doubt… but it always followed her. Her mom’s love was always ‘conditional’; the Church? That too – they sure as Hell kicked her out as soon as she made a mistake. And the BAU? Maybe that was why she had found it so damn hard to reintegrate with them – because she was so sure that she had lost their love as well as their respect. Penelope seemed to think not, but… it was a nagging voice in the back of her mind, telling her that she was no good for them, and they’d be better off if she just disappeared again.
Sergio nudged her hand and climbed onto her lap. “Sorry Serge – was I ignoring you, huh, my little diva?” She lifted him up to eye level and chuckled as he craned to lick her nose, drawing him close, his head resting on her shoulder.
She closed her eyes, feeling his warmth and weight, and finally feeling at peace. “You never judge me, do you? So long as you have a bed, a bowl of food and a cuddle, we’re good, aren’t we. I wish it was as easy with Humans.”
Sergio looked up at her and blinked.
“You think it is, huh?” she asked him. “You think I should just pull up my big girl pants and go join the guys at O’Keefe’s, huh?”
Sergio mewed in response.
“You’re a clever little puss, aren’t ya?” She sighed and kissed him firmly. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m not going to make things better sitting up here wallowing in self pity.” She rose from the couch, her fingers scratching gently along Sergio’s back. “Okay – you win! I’ll just grab my keys and a jacket and I’ll be home by midnight, ‘kay? I might even let you sleep in the bed with me if you’re good.”
Emily gave him one last kiss and smiled as she grabbed her phone.
‘P – It’s me. I’m on my way. Sergio’s orders. See you all soon!’
Simple as that. And maybe, maybe, everything would start to fall back into place. She sure hoped so.