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Emily should have brought a jacket.
She huffs in exasperation as another breeze washes past her, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake on her bare skin. In hopes of retaining some warmth, she wraps her free arm around her midriff and leans against the balustrade, staring down into the courtyard.
It’s the same story ever year. Has been, for literal decades upon decades at this point. She’ll be convinced winter hasn’t set in enough to bother her yet, figuring she’s just taking a short break anyway, and ends up lingering in the peaceful quiet this space has to offer and subsequently suffers the consequences of the cold evening air.
Oh well. There will undoubtedly be another of Mother’s charity galas same time next year, for her to have a do-over. Maybe she’ll learn from her mistakes, someday.
Emily mindlessly taps her cigarette against her lips until she finally takes a drag, smoke pooling in her lungs. It’s familiar and stupidly soothing, despite the fact that it’s been a while since she last picked up a pack. But it’s a long-standing tradition with herself, to escape the bustle of ‘high society’ and pretence and have a smoke break on the third floor balcony. Even now that she hasn’t had to attend alone for close to thirty years, she will eventually find her way up here with a cigarette.
Like a strange ode to her younger self. In honour of persevering and surviving, and making it all the way here.
The smoke rises and dissipates when she exhales. She knocks her hand against the railing, watching the ash drift down the stories below. In bad years, before, she would go through half a pack of cigarettes, hidden away here. On multiple occasions she had returned to the festivities smelling like a chain smoker and earning herself an earful (or, later, nothing but a tired and disapproving look) from Mother.
These days Emily sticks to one. Just enough to keep up with tradition, without screwing her lungs up too badly.
Because her life has long since expanded beyond herself. She has grown past lost teen, uncertain college graduate, and adult who is sure she needs to constantly prove herself.
Now, she has a job to stay healthy for, and a family she plans to see grow up until her babies someday have babies, and until those babies give them a house full of great-grandbabies. Emily is going to live to see it all, if it’s up to her.
A new gust of wind blows her hair into her face, and she shakes her head to dislodge the grey strands, tucking the mess behind her ear when it refuses to stay in place. Behind her, the door creaks open. The muted sound of music and conversation drift to her ears, and she straightens in faint surprise. Barely anyone knows of this spot’s existence; the solitude is part of its allure. Her brows furrow, but when she casts a glance across her shoulders, the expression smooths and a smile tugs at her lips.
Speaking of babies.
“Hi, lovely girl,” Emily greets as Iris slips outside, shutting the door. She is wearing a coat atop her fancy dress, Emily’s own draped across her arm.
“Hey, Mom.”
Emily holds out her free arm for Iris to slot into her side. They might be the same height, but she’ll never stop being Emily’s little girl.
Iris softens under the warm affection, and Emily soaks up the closeness. Eventually, Iris unlatches from Emily’s side and shakes out the coat, wrapping it around Emily’s shoulders. Emily’s muscles unclench as she finds warmth under the coat’s protection from the cutting wind. Iris reclaims her place at Emily’s side, bumping their arms together.
“What are you doing out here?” The question has barely left Emily’s lips before she remembers why she herself had come out here, and she moves to snuff out her cigarette.
Iris rolls her eyes and shakes her head to stop her, apparently unbothered. “Looking for you,” she answers. She tilts her head up, loose dark waves spilling down her back, eyes squinting behind her frames as she looks up at the dark night sky. With the amount of light pollution in the city it’s hard to see the stars, but that has never stopped Iris from trying.
Her shoulders lose some of their stiffness, the longer she stands out on the balcony with Emily.
Though they’re decidedly different people, it’s tricky sometimes, to look at Iris and not see a mirror of what could have been, had Emily been raised differently. Especially on nights like these. Emily glances at the shimmer of Iris’s dress, peeking out from underneath the coat.
Iris fits in well, dressed to the nines and made up for a fancy night at a gala like this. Much to her moms’ pride, she’s also incredibly smart, well-spoken and a proper conversationalist, and yet, Emily knows she doesn’t feel at home in this crowd. For both her and her brother it’s fun to dress up and pretend for a night, but this isn’t their world.
And Emily couldn’t be happier about that fact.
All of them will spend an evening socializing here, showing up as the powerful family unit of Jareau-Prentisses and chatting up Mother’s acquaintances. And at the end of it all, they’re going home, changing into pyjamas and crashing on the couch for a terrible movie and junk food. ‘Forced bonding’ Hugo calls it with a long face, deep into his teenage years, but Iris always bullies him into sticking around for it anyway, and they know he secretly enjoys their time together.
“Your cigarette is burning up,” Iris says drily.
Emily blinks, looking down to where her hand still rests against the railing and sees Iris is right. She finally takes another drag, raising a brow when Iris leans away and twists around. Breathing out, her eyes track Iris’s weird behaviour. “What are you looking for?”
Iris perks up, leaning behind Emily’s back to the ledge next to the balcony doors. “This.”
When her hands are back in Emily’s sight, they’re holding the pack of cigarettes with a familiarity both startling and concerning. Concern that only grows, when Iris proceeds to shake a cigarette out of the box, holding it between curled fingers as she returns the rest to the ledge and holds out her hand to Emily.
“…What,” Emily says flatly. To say that she’s baffled would be an understatement. She has absolutely no idea what to make of this. Her eyes flicker between Iris’s open hand and expectant look, the latter of which is painted right atop the beginnings of a smirk. “Iris.”
“You’ve got a lighter on you, right?”
She has got to be joking. Emily can’t think of another explanation, and she levels Iris with her best ‘disappointed and tired mom’ look.
Somehow, that only makes Iris’s smirk grow. “Mom? You brought a lighter?”
So, she’s serious, then.
God, Emily needs a cigarette. She looks down at her hand. Correction, she needs another cigarette. The irony of that isn’t lost on her. There’s a whole spiel in her head, about modelling the right behaviours for her kids, steering them away from bad influences, but apparently that hadn’t worked the first time around, and Iris is an adult by now. She is free to make her own decisions, even if those mirror her Mom’s less-than-perfect ones. And Emily knows, logically, that Iris is in college and goes to parties. She’d be surprised if Iris hasn’t gotten drunk one too many times by now, but for some reason she had blocked out the possibility of Iris smoking.
“I don’t think I should enable this behaviour,” Emily says, because she is a hypocrite, and snuffs out the last of her cigarette before reaching for a second. She deserves it tonight, she figures. She fishes her favourite lighter – engraved, a fancy number Rossi had gifted her for Christmas years ago – from the depths of the hidden pockets in her dress, and lights her own cigarette.
After a long pause, she wordlessly passes it to Iris, who does the same.
“Just don’t tell Mom,” Emily says, because she’d like to preserve JJ’s image of Iris’s total and complete innocence when it comes to drinking and smoking, though they both know Iris is well into her last year of college at this point.
Iris rolls her eyes and laughs. “Yeah right, like you won’t tell her yourself. You guys are disgustingly communicative.”
(She’s right. JJ will take one look, ask half a question, and Emily will spill her guts. There aren’t a lot of secrets, after two-and-a-half decades of marriage.)
They smoke in silence, but Emily can’t shake the strange feeling that comes with it. It’s still wondrously scary sometimes, to realise Iris has grown up. How did they get to this point?
“Sixteen.”
The word is so casual and random, it throws Emily for a loop. She looks at Iris. “What?”
“I was sixteen, when I smoked my first.”
Silence follows as Emily processes the confession.
Iris grins, and the mischief is all JJ, for a second. “Stole a cigarette from you, in fact.”
Emily splutters, half-choking on a lungful of smoke, unsure whether she wants to laugh or scold Iris for a teenage infraction years past. “How did you even manage that?” she ends up asking instead.
“Well, you do learn a thing or two when your moms are FBI agents.”
It was probably inevitable, that Iris picked up on the inherently rebellious spirits of her moms, and mixed it in with the natural teenage curiosity. Emily wishes Iris had picked something with less of a risk of being detrimental to her health, but it could have been much worse, all things considered.
“If it helps,” Iris adds. “I practically coughed up a lung that first time, and swore off smoking that night. Didn’t try again until my second year of college with a friend at a party.” She laughs at the memory, and even Emily can’t repress her fond, exasperated smile entirely at the image Iris evokes. “I was so scared of you and Mom finding out.”
“And now?”
Iris might have learned a thing or two, but they would have noticed if she had picked up the habit of smoking regularly.
“I mostly just did it to see that look on your face,” Iris admits with a small grin.
“You’re such a shithead sometimes, you know that?” Emily says, wrapping an arm around Iris’s shoulder and pulling her close in a swell of affection.
Iris hums, leaning in easily. “I wonder where I got that from.”
“Uncle Derek,” Emily says immediately. “Uncle Spencer, Auntie P—”
“—and surely not from you and Mom,” Iris interrupts, sticking her tongue out at Emily.
Emily shakes her head in mock-seriousness. “I have no idea why you would have.”
“Anyway,” Iris continues when Emily lets go and she leans down against the balustrade. “I figured it’d be safe to share, now that I’m a little too old to get grounded for it.”
“Oh, I’d find a way if I wanted to,” Emily says, but it’s all in jest, and Iris knows it. Emily might never stop parenting her kids, but she has – painstakingly – learned how to let go and let Iris explore her freedom and life’s consequences.
(Which doesn’t mean she isn’t dreading having to repeat that process when Hugo leaves the nest. Or that she wouldn’t still open her arms and welcome Iris back for love and advice whenever she feels like she’s in over her head.)
Silence lapses and perseveres until both their cigarettes – Emily’s second, and Iris’s one (and only, if it’s up to Emily) – are smoked down to the ends and they discard them. Iris thinks for a moment, before carefully wrapping an arm around Emily’s middle, cuddling closer. Like JJ, she has always run hotter than the average person. A ‘not-so-tiny-anymore’ furnace at Emily’s side.
Emily closes her eyes and breathes in, savouring the moment. It’s not nearly as often, that she gets quality time with Iris these days. With her off at college, electing to spend her time studying and hanging out with friends instead of coming home every weekend, and with the BAU still keeping Emily and JJ plenty busy, there is less space for shared moments like these.
It’s too easy sometimes, to let these opportunities slip away without notice. Emily presses her cheek to Iris’s head and resolves to be more intentional about taking charge of the slivers of time that are as important as these.
“Did Mom tell you to look for me?” she asks Iris eventually.
JJ, like their kids, is aware of Emily’s yearly tradition. Though she’s not a fan of the smoking, she puts up with the occasional tradition- or stress-induced cigarette break, and has never raised a brow when Emily indicates she needs to escape for a minute.
But Iris shakes her head. She is silent, but Emily can feel the words brewing in her head and waits as she puts them in order.
“I don’t mind the gala,” Iris starts. “It’s fun, if you’re aware of its ridiculousness and don’t take anything too seriously. It’s just… it was a little too loud for me, tonight.” Iris pauses. “Took me a minute to realise, and then I figured you’d be up here, and…” She shrugs, aiming for casual, but not quite getting there.
Emily tightens her arm around Iris. They breathe in the calm of this hide-away as Emily mulls over Iris’s words. She doesn’t begrudge the need for a break – look who she’s talking to – but it feels like something else is at play here.
“Have you been sleeping well?” Emily asks softly.
Iris’s shoulders sag, and Emily knows she hit the nail on the head. “College is a lot,” Iris finally says, sounding small. “And Senior year is… something else. I’m not sure I know what I’m doing.”
“Oh,” Emily sighs. “That sound really tough, love. How long has it been like that?”
“A couple of weeks. It’s just… I don’t know. I don’t know how to feel about it, or how to fix it.”
Emily hums her understanding. She is no expert, in fixing, but she’s had plenty of practice in her life. And she knows that step one to get Iris out of her head, is to not force her to fix it alone. “We can sit down, with us three. Or even with just me or Mom, and see what you need to get back on track. All you have to do, is say the word.”
“I know,” Iris says, though she sounds grateful for the reminder. “I might take you up on it. But for now… This helps. Being home helps. Maybe I’ll have a new view on things after this” – she gestures broadly – “break from everything.”
“Maybe,” Emily acquiesces. Sometimes that’s all that is needed. A tried and true method, for many a BAU case. “But if you don’t, you know you can come to us, right? At any time?”
“I know,” Iris echoes quietly.
Emily presses a kiss to Iris’s temple. "I love you, kid,” she murmurs. “And I’m proud of you.”
It takes Emily longer than usual to pull back from the embrace. In the low light, she spots the watery sheen to Iris’s eyes and smiles kindly. “How about we go back inside to the warmth and find Mom and Hugo? We’ll make our last rounds and head home a little early.”
Iris sniffs once, then nods. “Sounds good.”
Emily grabs her cigarettes and shoves the box into her pocket. “Where were they before you escaped?”
“Mom was getting another drink,” Iris says. She holds the door open for Emily and they slip off the balcony. The different in temperature hits them in the face, and Iris shrugs out of her coat as they find the staircase, heading down in the direction of the wardrobe. “Hugo and I were talking to—” a pause “—Well, I forgot his name, but you know that old-ass diplomat, the one who always tries to set Hugo up with his granddaughter?”
A long-suffering sigh falls past Emily’s lips as she follows Iris down the stairs. “Seriously? You left your brother to fend him off alone?”
“He can handle himself!” Iris defends. Her grin bleeds into her voice.
Emily has to admit she’s right, though. Hugo has grown and come a long way from the shy kid who would hide behind their legs. Though definitely a teenage boy, he is polite and kind and knows his boundaries when it comes down to it. JJ and Emily have made sure of that. “Alright, sure, he can.”
Iris hums and nods. After the end of their conversation on the balcony, Emily expects some sentimental comment to the lines of ‘Mom and you gave us the skills for that’, but instead Iris says, “I taught him well,” with such satisfaction Emily can’t help the bark of startled laughter.
“You are something else, you know that?”
Emily steps down into the hallway and takes her coat off her shoulders, walking beside Iris towards the wardrobe attendees. Her feet are starting to hurt in her heels, which do make her legs look great, as JJ had – very convincingly – assured her before they’d left for the gala, but she’s glad she promised Iris an early escape.
With their coats off their hands, Iris links her arm with Emily’s. They weave past the employees in the halls and find their way back to the main crowd. Despite the bustle, Emily easily zeroes in on the blonde near the back wall, a Hugo-shaped figure at her side. JJ’s eyes lift to meet hers from across the room, gaze flickering from her, to Iris, and back, with an inviting tilt of her head.
Yeah, Emily can’t wait to go home.