Chapter Text
O’keefe’s was busy tonight. Despite it being a Tuesday late afternoon, the bar was already packed and buzzing with activity. Even despite this, the BAU team had managed to weasel their way into a booth. Emily, JJ, Garcia, Morgan, Rossi, and Reid joking and laughing in the corner, Hotch having opted for an early night. After the case they had just had, they’d certainly earned a bit of fun and relaxation.
“I swear to god, the more I’m in this job, the more I realize just how kinky people are,” said Derek jokingly.
“Actually, kink and fetishes are fairly common in the general population, 40% of the population classified themselves as ‘kinky’”, Reid said matter of fact, clearly missing the humor in Derek’s statement.
“And among those 40%, the most common kind of fetish is a foot fetish. Fun fact,” said Emily, smiling lightly and bumping Reid’s shoulder lightly as she chuckled.
“Yea, leave it to Prentiss to know about kinks” Derek laughed.
“Any ‘Sin to Win’ weekends in your future, huh” he continued, still chuckling lightly.
Emily blushed, looking down at her drink briefly before answering.
“No, no, the wins were getting too easy, Morgan.”
The whole team chuckled at that, and a comfortable silence settled over the group.
“Oh my god” Garcia gasped, looking down at her phone.
The group looked up at her, various degrees of questions making their rounds before she smiled, looking at Emily.
“It’s officially been a year!” Garcia exclaimed, getting up from her seat and hugging Emily excitedly.
Emily’s hands came up to Garcia’s shoulders in surprise, as she looked around the group with her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the beginning of a question on her lips.
“Since you came back to us” said Gracia, smiling in the hug and giggling like a child as she held Emily a little tighter. “Oh our Em!”
Emily stilled in Garcia’s grasp.
A year. A full year had passed since she’d left Paris. She should be happy. Anyone could assume that those even months were a special kind of a personal hell for her. Missing her friends, knowing they thought she was dead.
And in some senses, it was true. Those 7 months in Paris were the hardest of her life. But thinking of Paris brought back the memories of what once was.
Their bike rides along the Seine, her lovers’ arms wrapped around Emily’s waist as they laughed together.
The sound of her laughter, and the way she’d flip her hair when she looked away nervously.
The feeling of her soft skin under Emily’s grasp, under her lips. The way she tasted.
The memories came in a rush, like a dam had broken in Emily’s brain, allowing access to the parts that she had worked so hard to push down for what was now a full year.
Before the team noticed Emily’s change in demeanor, she masked her emotions with a warm smile, and lent into Garcia’s hug.
—
The music blared through the speakers of Mia’s speakers as she brought the last of her boxes into the house, her friend Cecelia following behind her and shutting the door. The friends giggled, noticing the song and putting down their loads before starting to scream along.
“ No te asombres, si una noche, entro a tu cuarto y nuevamente te hago mía. Bien conoces, mis errores, el egoísmo de ser dueño de tu vida,” they belted, their hands dramatically emphasizing their words as they continued.
As the song finished, Mia hit pause on her playlist, sighing out a “that was fun” as she sat down on her brand new couch with a smile.
Cecelia smiled, sitting down next to her and putting her head on her friend's shoulder. A comfortable silence ensued.
“You know,” says Cecelia, gently patting Mias tattooed arm, “it’s good to see you like this again.”
“What do you mean?” Mia asked, as she turned her head slightly, looking at her friend as she spoke.
“Well, it’s just that,” she takes a pause. “You know, you were so eager before you left for your trip. Happy and hopeful,” Cecelia sighs. “But then you came back and…that Sarah really did a number on you. And you’ve been doing better, slowly, but now it finally feels like you’re back to your old self again.” Cecelia smiles at Mia, bringing her into a hug.
“It’s good to have you back, is all,” she sighs out.
Mia looks down with a small smile.
“It’s good to be back.” She looks around her apartment, and she can’t believe it’s real. After everything with Sarah, she never thought she would recover from the heartache. She’d spent weeks crying, wallowing in Cecelia’s apartment upon her return from the trip that broke her heart.
And then slowly, things got better. She was back in Virginia, where her support network lay. She got a part time job at a local hospital doing employee psychological evaluations. She got her own place. That was when the FBI’s offer came in. “Due to your excellence in your degree with USU, and your contributions to military psychological research at Walter Reed, the FBI would like to invite you to study at our Academy in preparation for direct entry into our Behavioral Analysis Unit after a year of work,” the letter had read.
Mia hadn’t exactly enjoyed her years of service, so she was hesitant to accept anything as closely associated with it as joining the FBI. Some of it had been fine. But mostly, it was a way to get a degree in what she loved, which she’d done with honors. And the mandatory 7 years of service after that had been … tolerable. Mia had never liked people telling her what to do. She had always been very individualistic, independent.
So one can only imagine the grueling process that was taming that part of herself for over a decade as she studied and served. However, she had been so desperate for a new start that she accepted. Even though it meant 5 months in the Academy, experiencing the same kind of repression that she’d wanted to avoid experiencing ever again when she left the Army. People do crazy things to get over someone.
And now here she was. A year out of the worst heartbreak of her life, and being the better for it. Her own apartment, her way paved into a prestigious career. Really, her life had taken a turn for the best.
And yet. And yet her heart still aches when she thinks of Sarah.
Her smile.
Her red lipstick.
Her raven hair as it fell over her shoulders.
The way her hands felt around Mia’s neck.1>
It was still too much. Mia had a theory that the only reason she’d gotten through the heart ache of it all was because she’d gotten busy; too busy to feel and think about those sweet memories. But sometimes, in the night, when nothing but the summoning of sleep occupied her time and mind, Sarah would return. Suddenly, Mia couldn’t accept the empty bed beside her, the absence of Sarah’s smell, her touches, her caresses. And then sleep would come, and the next day would begin and she could once again pretend to be okay.
But she was far from it.