bathtime and thought spirals
the warm water emily made sure was warm enough, but not too hot, splashed against the porcelain as aria kicks her little feet, sending ripples through the lavender suds. the rubber duck in her hands lets out a sharp squeak as she squeezes it with all the might of her small, determined hands. aria giggles, quiet and breathy, the sound pulling emily back.
she blinks, dragging herself out of her thoughts she’d been lost in, her eyes refocusing on the little girl in front of her. aria is focused, her brows furrowing slightly in deep concentration, watching the way the duck fills with water before she releases it, sending a small spout shooting back into the tub.
normally, emily would find joy in this moment—watching aria discover, hearing those soft little laughs, soaking in the simple happiness of a child at play. something she made sure aria experienced.
but her mind? her mind has been going a million miles an hour since this afternoon. since elle. since jj’s name was mentioned.
her fingers tighten slightly on the edge of the bathtub, her knuckles pressing into the cool porcelain, her focus somewhere else entirely.
was there something there? between elle and jj? elle had that smirk, that knowing glint in her eyes, like she’d seen something in emily she wasn’t ready to confront. like she’d seen her shifting when she mentioned jj’s name, something she thought she hid well. but it was like elle knew.
and more than that— elle had known emily. not just from her name, not just from passing mentions in bureau files, not just as the person who took her old spot at the bau. she’d looked her up. she’d seen information, and that— that made emily uneasy. because she had spent her entire life perfecting the art of hiding. hiding parts of herself. hiding what she wanted. hiding who she was, who she used to be just a few years back. her whole existence had been about being careful, about being just enough but never too much, about keeping things buried deep enough that no one could ever see them, not fully.
and now? elle had seen information, and emily didn’t know what that contained. elle had also spotted something in her, emotionally, or at the very least, was starting to see it.
emily exhales through her nose, forcing herself to focus.
aria, blissfully unaware of the storm in emily’s head, tilts her head back slightly, her dark curls sticking to her damp cheeks, her tiny hands squeezing the duck again, delighting in the same squeak she’s heard a hundred times before. emily watches her, the warmth in her chest cutting through the noise in her mind, anchoring her back to right now.
emily shakes her head slightly, letting out a slow, steady breath.
"having fun, bug? "
aria’s big brown eyes flick up to hers, filled with nothing but innocent joy, her tiny hands lifting the duck toward emily like it was the greatest treasure in the world.
"swimmin’!”
emily smiles, pushing everything else aside.
"yeah, baby," she murmurs with a voice so soft only aria gets to experince, reaching out to gently squeeze the duck in the toddler's hands, making it squeak once more. "ducks swim."
but the thoughts come back. almost immediately - that it actually takes emily by surprise.
the undercover work. falsified backgrounds. years of moving through spaces like a ghost, like a shadow, slipping between identities so seamlessly that sometimes she forgot what was real. no one was supposed to know. not really. they promised her that was hidden. that woman, was hidden - though she was a mere child when is started.
and then there was aria.
emily glances at her, watching the way her little fingers dip into the water, tracing patterns in the bubbles. aria doesn’t talk much aside from her safe spaces with emily, doesn’t shriek like the other toddlers she sees in coffee shops or at the park. she watches. she listens. she absorbs.
just like emily.
aria was supposed to be hidden. safe. safer than their mother ever kept her.
her eyes flicker to the bathroom. it used to be just hers. clean lines, chic modern finishes, everything carefully curated. but now—
now there are rubber ducks in the tub, foam letters sticking to the wet porcelain. the lavender-scented bubble bath beside her ridiculously expensive shampoo. baby lotion tucked under the cabinets next to diapers and wipes, nestled beside her retinol and zit cream.
her towel hangs on the rack, dark and neatly folded. beside it, much smaller, is aria’s—soft, fluffy, with a little hood and a bunny face on top.
emily swallows hard. this is her life now. not running. not hiding. not slipping through the cracks.
this. whatever the fuck, this is.
aria splashes again, giggling softly, and emily exhales back to reality, shifting forward onto her knees. “okay, bug,” she murmurs, ignoring her damp pants from the splashing, reaching for the baby shampoo. “let’s get this done.”
aria hums, content, tipping her head slightly as emily works the shampoo into her dark curls, her small shoulders relaxing under emily’s touch. emily keeps her movements slow, gentle. her mind drifts again, but this time, she doesn’t fight it. because just for a second, the thought brings warmth.
foam letters cling to the side of the tub, bright colors against the white porcelain. she barely glances at them at first, but then—
j.
her fingers still, just for a second.
jj.
god. she can’t stop thinking about her.
her hands move automatically, massaging the shampoo through aria’s hair. but her mind is somewhere else entirely; that warm feeling turning into anxiety she felt like she wasn’t technically allowed to have.
was there something between jj and elle? was it just history? something fleeting? something jj hadn’t wanted to mention?
jj is mine.
the thought comes unbidden. raw. possessive. untrue. it actually makes emily wince; she has no right to even think it. she's not an object. not a prize.
but worst of all? jj isn’t hers. not in the way emily wants her to be. not in the way that makes her stomach twist whenever jj laughs, or brushes against her in the bullpen, or looks at her like she’s trying to see her. but emily doesn’t want to think about anyone else with her.
she swallows, blinking, focusing back on aria.
this is what matters. fucking focus emily. focus on aria. keeping her safe. making sure she never wonders if she’s loved. making sure she never feels like you did.
“almost done,” emily murmurs, rinsing the shampoo carefully from her little curls.
aria hums again, sleepy now, tiny fingers rubbing against her own cheek.
emily exhales. wipes a bit of foam from aria’s forehead. and as she glances back at the j on the tub wall, she lets herself linger on it.
just for a second, and not a second longer.