another thing to the list.
emily had started her jounrey home that night later than she wanted, later than she should have, and it clawed at her. tears stung her eyes as she walked out of the bau doors, and by the time she made it to the parking lot, she was pissed. pissed atherself, pissed at thejob, pissed at the goddamn fact that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t be in two places at once. worst of all? pissed at jj.
she yanked open the driver’s side door, slid into the seat, and slammed the door shut behind her. her breathing was heavy. frustrated. she let out a noise that was somewhere between a growl and a sigh before she smacked the steering wheel, gripping it tight before she rested her forehead against it. her heart was racing. her body was tense.
“get it together, emily.”
she muttered the words into the silence, forcing herself to take a deep breath, but it didn’t do a damn thing to loosen the tension curling in her spine. emily didn’t smoke around aria. ever. she hadn’t smoked in the house, hadn’t even smoked in the car since aria had been with her fulltime. but tonight? tonight was different. her hands shook as she reached for the center console, flipping it open and rummaging under insurance paperwork, old receipts, extra snacks she kept for aria in case of emergency, a spare pacifier. there. beneath it all, tucked away like a secret, was the crinkled pack of cigarettes.
she pulled one out with her teeth, already rolling down every single window as she reached for the lighter. the flame flickered against the night air, and she inhaled deep, her lips tight around the filter. the burn was immediate. sharp and hot in her lungs. it made her head feel lighter for just a second, long enough to close her eyes and exhale through her nose, watching the smoke swirl in the night air.
“okay. it’s fine. you’re going home.”
she mumbled the words, forcing herself to believe them as she took another pull, the nicotine buzzing through her veins in a way that was so much fucking weaker than what she actually needed right now. her hands flexed on the steering wheel before she finally shifted the car into reverse, turning her head to check the back before she backed out of the parking space.
and that’s when she saw it. aria’s car seat, right behind her, where it always was.
emily’s throat tightened.
next to the seat, a board book that was abandoned, half-open, the pages creased where aria had been flipping through it on the way to daycare that morning. a pacifier sat in the cupholder, forgotten, half-chewed from where she’d gnawed on it absentmindedly as she listened to emily talk. there were graham cracker crumbs in the seat crease. emily clenched her jaw so hard it ached. a year ago, she would’ve never let so much as a single wrapper clutter her car. she had rules. she had a system. she liked things clean, controlled, predictable. but now? now there was always something. a sticker left behind, a toy forgotten, a tiny sock tucked into a corner of the seat. and instead of frustrating her, instead of making her roll her eyes, it just made her chest hurt because it was proof. proof of all the ways her life had changed. proof of all the ways aria had changed her.
emily closed her eyes for a second, exhaling slow as she pressed her foot down on the brake and shifted the car into drive. the wind from the open windows pushed strands of hair into her face, mixing with the scent of tobacco, leather seats, the faint smell of aria’s sweet baby scent lingering in the backseat. and underneath it all? jj. emily swallowed hard, gripping the steering wheel tighter as she forced herself to not think about it.
but she could still smell her. even now. even after jj hadnt been in her car for four days now, even after they had fought, even after emily had stormed out of the bau because she couldn’t fucking stand the way jj had made her feel today—her perfume still lingered in the passenger seat. embedded into the fabric, soaked into the air, wrapping around emily in a way she couldn’t escape.
she took another long drag of the cigarette and sighed. because this? this was killing her in ways she couldn’t wrap her head around right now. so she drove, and tried her best to forget about it.
emily’s drive home from the bau usually took about thirty minutes. tonight, she made it in twenty. the roads were empty at this hour, the traffic lights in her favor, but the speedometer had hovered a little higher than usual, the pressure on her foot heavier than it should have been. by the time she pulled into the driveway, she barely let the car come to a full stop before shifting into park. she cut the engine, exhaled through her nose, and let her forehead rest against the steering wheel for just a second.
the windows were still cracked, the evidence of her cigarette lingering in the air. emily grabbed the bottle of fabric spray from the glove compartment and sprayed the interior down. a precaution. when the scent was masked enough, she grabbed her bag and stepped out, the cool night air hitting her like a slap. she rolled her shoulders back, flexed her hands once before locking up the car.
it was time to pull herself together. she could fall apart later. for now? she had to thank caroline, pay her, and see her out. she walked up the steps, unlocking the door and stepping inside, immediately greeted by the familiar warmth of home. low lighting. the faint hum of the baby monitor. the scent of lavender and vanilla from the diffuser in aria’s room upstairs, that had traveled down throughout the night.
caroline was already by the couch, gathering her things, but she turned with a small smile when she saw emily. bright-eyed. composed. like she hadn’t just spent the last three hours wrangling a restless two-year-old who was still adjusting to a sleep regression.
“hey, welcome back. how was work?”
emily forced a tight smile. it wasn’t a question she wanted to answer.
“long,” she settled on, setting her bag down by the door and reaching for her wallet. “how was she?”
caroline perked up at the question, shifting into what emily now recognized as her detailed recap mode. she rattled off the night’s events like a debrief, organized and thorough. aria had eaten dinner well, played with her animals, insisted on watching the same episode of blue’s clues twice, had a small meltdown at bedtime but settled with her bottle and the facetime call.
emily nodded along, grateful, and appreciative. she really was. caroline was great. but tonight? tonight, she just needed silence. her exhaustion was a living thing, heavy in her limbs, crawling up her spine. the weight of the case, the weight of the fight with jj, the weight of aria crying for her over the phone, it was all pressing down on her, inch by inch, second by second.
still, she smiled, nodded, paid caroline, and thanked her like always, even walked her to the door, exchanged polite goodbyes. and then? finally, finally, finally—she shut the door, locked it, and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. a sharp breath. a second. a third.
sergio was at her feet before she even registered his presence, his familiar weight rubbing against her ankle. his tail curled around her calf, and when she let her hands drop from her face, he looked up at her, blinking slowly—that knowing, feline way he had always had about him.
she didn’t have to say anything. he knew, just like he always had. emily exhaled, bending down to scratch behind his ears, her fingers threading through soft fur. for a moment, just a moment, she let herself lean into the comfort of it. because sergio had been here before all of this. before aria. before jj. before emily had ever thought she would be standing in her own home, exhausted from parenting and a job that never let up.
yet he was still here, being the same loving asshole he always had been. so maybe one thing hadn’t changed, too much.
emily slipped off her heels, holding them loosely in one hand as she made her way upstairs. the familiar creak of the fourth step beneath her weight was the only noise in the quiet house. she barely registered it, though her mind was already pulled toward the one place she needed to be. halfway up, her foot nudged against something soft. she glanced down, spotting a tiny white sock, the edges embroidered with delicate lace. aria’s. probably one of the dozen she had hurriedly folded into the laundry basket that morning at 5 a.m. while half-functioning on caffeine and muscle memory.
emily bent down, picking it up with her free hand, rubbing the delicate fabric between her fingers for a brief second. then, she continued her ascent, sock in hand. when she reached her bedroom, she pushed the door open just enough to step inside, dropping her heels in their usual spot near the dresser before stepping right back into the hallway. because first, she had to check on her. emily pushed open aria’s door slowly, carefully, mindful of how every little sound seemed magnified in the stillness of the night. the soft glow of the nightlight bathed the room in warm, golden hues, casting gentle shadows over the walls.
there she was. aria. sleeping. completely lost to the world, her tiny body relaxed in the way only toddlers could manage. she was sprawled out on her stomach, hands holding both of her cheeks, her body melted into the mattress. one leg was curled up beneath her, while the other was stretched out, peeking from beneath the edge of her blanket—a habit she had from the very beginning, one that made emily smile every time. her pacifier had slipped from her lips, resting near her mouth. her soft, dark hair was tousled in every direction, wispy strands sticking to her forehead from the warmth of sleep. her lips were parted slightly, breath slow and steady, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that emily could probably match with her own eyes closed.
she was wearing one of her bamboo footie pajamas—the navy blue ones with tiny white stars scattered across the fabric. the ones emily always reached for on nights when she needed aria to be extra cozy, extra warm, extra safe. she had told caroline this weeks back, and it seemed she remembered.
emily reached out, pressing a gentle hand against her daughter’s back, feeling the warmth beneath her palm. a small, contented sigh escaped aria’s lips. she barely stirred, but emily felt the way her tiny body melted further into the mattress at the touch, sinking deeper into rest, completely trusting. emily rubbed slow, lazy circles between her shoulder blades, her fingers barely pressing down, just enough to let her know she was there. still here. always, here.
aria’s breathing hitched for a second, before settling back into its steady rhythm. she wanted to stay here all night. she wanted to scoop aria up in her arms and snuggle her tight, but it would no doubt wake her up. so, emily forced herself to leave. it wasn’t easy — pulling herself away from the quiet rise and fall of aria’s breaths, from the warmth of the nursery, from the smell of lavender and baby shampoo that made her feel so grounded. but she knew she had to.
because she was exhausted, and with the way things had been going, aria would be up in the next two hours anyway. she would hold her soon enough. emily stepped back from the crib, taking in one last glance at the tiny, sleeping figure curled up beneath the blanket. then, she exhaled softly, pressed a kiss to her fingertips, and brushed them lightly over aria’s back before finally, finally stepping out. she closed the door quietly, letting the latch click into place, then padded down the hall toward her bedroom.
the second she stepped into her room, she went straight for the bathroom. she turned the shower on first, twisting the knob all the way to hot, because she needed it, the heat, the steam, the way it would seep into her skin and chase away some of the weight she was carrying. she pulled off her blazer first, then unbuttoned her blouse, tossing both into the small laundry basket in the corner. she peeled off the rest of her clothes, kicking them aside, before stepping into the shower. the second the water hit her? she sighed. not just any sigh, but one of those deep, tension-releasing exhales. the kind that came from somewhere deeper than her chest, like her entire body had been holding it in all day.
she stood there for a moment, her head bowed, arms braced against the tile as the water poured over her, soaking into her hair, cascading down her back. then, she started her routine. shampoo first—fingers massaging into her scalp, slow, deliberate. she let it sit while she reached for her face wash, rubbing the familiar cream into her skin, washing away the long day, the exhaustion, the stress. then, conditioner. she ran her fingers through her hair, detangling slowly, methodically, like she was working through knots far deeper than the ones in her curls.
she let the conditioner sit while she soaped up her body, letting the scent of eucalyptus and sandalwood fill her lungs. the act itself felt almost meditative—something familiar, something routine. but it wasn’t fixing anything. no amount of scalding water or deep breaths was washing away the feeling sitting heavy in her chest.
she wasn’t stupid. she knew what it was. the guilt. the anger. the exhaustion. she rinsed off, shutting the water off and stepping out onto the soft bath mat. steam billowed around her, clinging to her skin as she reached for a towel. she dried off quickly, wrapping the towel around her body before heading back into the bedroom.
her nighttime routine was just as methodical. it always had beed. she rubbed lotion into her skin, coconut and vanilla, something subtle, something comforting – something that contrasted the sandalwood from her body wash beautifully.
she pulled on an old, well-worn college t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. ran a brush through her damp hair, then tied it into a loose bun, because she was too tired to bother with drying it, and finally, she grabbed the case files from her bag and crawled into bed, spreading them out across the covers.
she was going to focus. she had to focus. she had to push aside the exhaustion. the frustration. the absolute burning fucking rage she still felt toward jj for making her feel like she was anything less than capable. she had to push aside the guilt, the ache in her chest from knowing she wasn’t there when aria needed her tonight.
because this case? it was important. she needed to be sharp. she needed to be present. but as she stared down at the pages in front of her, the words blurred together. her mind drifted. back to aria’s cries through the phone. back to jj’s face in the office. back to how utterly fucking lost she felt right now.
and the worst part? she loved them. both of them. more than anything. yet, right now, it felt like she was either letting them down—or being let down herself.
however, somewhere between the first and second case file, emily fell asleep. not intentionally. not because she allowed herself to rest. but because her body simply shut down, and the exhaustion had finally won. she would’ve stayed that way, half-sitting, pen still loosely gripped between her fingers, case files spread out around her like a blanket of unfinished work—if the cries from aria hadn’t cut through the silence at 3 a.m.
the sound ripped emily from sleep like a gunshot. her eyes flew open, blinking against the dim glow of the bedside lamp she’d forgotten to turn off. her brain lagged behind, still trapped somewhere between unconsciousness and reality. the weight of fatigue sat heavy on her chest, fogging her thoughts.
for a moment, she didn’t move. didn’t even breathe. the baby monitor beside her bed, perched on her nightstand, always set to full volume, always there because she needed to hear aria the second she made a sound—flashed with activity. she didn’t know when she started, if she was already at this level of volume.
it wasn’t just fussiness. not the usual sleepy whimpers. no, this was a cry that made emily’s stomach twist. louder. sharper. more desperate. emily jolted up, sending papers cascading off her lap onto the floor.
“fuck—okay, yeah, i’m coming, i’m sorry—”
her voice came out rough, thick with sleep, as she moved too fast. her heart racing, body already in motion before her brain caught up. sergio, curled up on the stack of case files beside her, let out an indignant meow when emily shoved them aside in a frantic sweep. she barely registered it. the room around her was a mess — case files spread out, notes scribbled in the margins, her laptop half-closed but still on, screen dimmed from inactivity.
the weight of the entire case was scattered across her bed. the weight of everything. and aria needed her, now. emily shoved the last of the papers onto the nightstand in one unorganized heap, pen still tucked between the pages. the baby monitor flickered wildly beside it, aria’s cries filling the room, filling emily’s chest with a pressure she couldn’t ignore.
she was moving. barefoot, practically running down the hall. the air in the house was cool, still, untouched. the soft hum of the ac, the faint scent of lavender from the nightlight diffuser in aria’s room, all of it was the same. but the sound of aria’s sobs—hiccuping, breaking, desperate—made everything feel off-kilter. her fingers grazed the doorframe as she swung into aria’s room, breath unsteady, body tense.
emily’s chest tightened at the sight of her. aria was red-faced, crying her heart out.
tears streamed down her heated cheeks, her tiny body trembling as she fisted her pajama shirt with clammy hands. it wasn’t her usual midnight fussing. it wasn’t even the crying emily had grown used to during this sleep regression. this was borderline screaming.
emily scooped her up immediately, and the second aria’s burning skin met her own, her stomach dropped. she was hot. too hot. her cheeks flushed a deep red, nose pink, body clammy, and sweat sticking the fine baby hairs at her temples to her forehead.
“oh sweetheart,” emily murmured, pressing her lips to her forehead, confirming what her hands already told her. aria was sick. the weight of the realization settled heavily in her chest. on top of everything else, now aria was sick.
“okay, okay, shhh, baby, i’ve got you…”
emily rocked her, swayed, paced the room in slow, methodical movements. she pressed her cheek to aria’s overheated little head, whispering soft reassurances.
“mommy’s here. i’m here, baby. you’re okay.”
her voice was low, even, a lullaby in itself. she rubbed circles into her back, rocked side to side, and hummed soft, familiar tunes against her temple. aria’s cries slowly started to fade into whimpers. her tiny hands, which had been grasping at emily’s shirt desperately, loosened. her body, stiff with distress, melted just a little bit, but not enough. her breaths were still ragged, her body still burning up. emily squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, pushing down her own exhaustion. focus. aria needed her. no time for anything else.
she moved toward the bathroom, stepping carefully through the dimly lit hall, murmuring words of comfort the whole way.
“i know, bug, i know. you don’t feel good. i’m gonna help, okay? mommy’s gonna help.”
she hated this. the feeling of her daughter, so small, so helpless, feeling so awful, and she couldn’t just fix it. she flicked the bathroom light on, and it bathed the space in a soft glow. aria sniffled against her shoulder, letting out a weak little whimper as she shifted.
“i know, baby, i know…”
she needed to calm her down, just enough – because she needed to get medicine in her. and aria? hated medicine. fought it like hell every single time. but emily couldn’t let this fever rage unchecked, so, she made a quiet decision and ignored the sharp sting of guilt in her gut.
she had to do this. with a quick, practiced movement, she grabbed the baby thermometer from the counter, brushing aria’s damp hairs aside and running it across her forehead. it beeped instantly. emily didn’t even need to look at the number, she already knew it was high.
101.3.
emily exhaled sharply, placing the thermometer back down. she needed to cool her down, and that started with getting this damn medicine in her. she grabbed the bottle of baby tylenol from the medicine cabinet, quickly measuring the dose into the small syringe. she wasn’t going to give aria time to fight it this time. she had to be quick, precise. emily took a deep breath, adjusted her hold on aria, then pressed the syringe between aria’s lips and squirted the medicine in before she had a chance to react.
the second aria swallowed and realized what happened, it was over. a fresh wail tore from her throat, her little body stiffening like she had just been completely and utterly betrayed. emily sighed, her heart breaking, but she held her tight.
“i know, bug, i know,” she whispered, kissing the side of her head, her free hand rubbing slow, soothing circles into her back. “im sorry…its over, you did so good..”
aria sobbed harder, pushing her face into emily’s neck. her little fists clung onto the fabric of her shirt again, but her strength was waning. she was exhausted, emily felt it. she rocked her gently, swaying side to side, whispering soft reassurances against her hair.
after a moment, she grabbed a washcloth from the cabinet, and ran it under cold water. aria whimpered, curling tighter against emily as she shifted. emily carried her straight to her bedroom, settling onto the bed with her, letting aria rest fully against her chest.
“okay, baby, let’s cool you down, okay?” she whispered, running the cool cloth gently over aria’s flushed cheeks, her warm little neck.
aria let out a tiny, breathy whimper, her body melting just a bit more. emily could tell she wanted to fuss, to push the cold cloth away – but she didnt have it in her. emily sighed, her lips ghosting over her damp curls. she sat there, cradling aria against her chest, her fingers tracing slow, rhythmic lines down the toddler’s spine.
up and down. gentle and soothing. aria’s bare skin was still too hot, radiating with the fever emily was desperate to break – praying that the tylenol she betrayed her with would soon kick in. the pacifier bobbed softly between her lips, the tension in her tiny body slowly unwinding under emily’s touch. her breaths, once shaky and erratic, started to even out.
emily kept patting her bottom, her palm resting against the warm curve of her back, the softest little sighs escaping from aria as she finally, finally started to settle.
thank god.
emily exhaled, letting her cheek rest against the top of aria’s damp curls. the room was quiet, save for the occasional hum of the a/c kicking on, the rustle of fabric as emily adjusted to get comfortable, the little suck, suck, suck of aria’s pacifier as she calmed. she could feel aria’s tiny hands curled against her chest, fingers twitching slightly as she drifted. even now, she was still holding on to her. like she knew emily wasn’t going anywhere. emily wasn’t.
she reached blindly for her phone on the nightstand, not even bothering to check the time before unlocking it and typing out a quick text to hotch.
emily: aria is sick. fever is at 101.3 right now. i’m not going to be coming in today, i’ll try to work some from home. i have some files i took with me yesterday.
she sent it, locked her phone, and set it back down, right on top of the stack of case files she had barely made it through before passing out earlier. she didn’t even give herself time to think about work. didn’t check for a reply. didn’t set an alarm. none of that mattered right now.
she just shifted down into the bed, pulling the comforter over both of them, letting aria’s small, fever-warmed body settle fully into hers. sergio, ever watchful, jumped up lightly onto the bed, curling himself against the back of emily’s legs. she closed her eyes.
for the first time that night, her breath finally matched aria’s. steady. soft. safe.
the rest could wait.
the next morning, jj had made up her mind the moment she walked into the bau. she was going to talk to emily. because the feeling in her chest—the one that had followed her home last night, curled up beside her in bed, stretched itself into her dreams, and settled in again this morning, it wasn’t leaving. and the only way she could get rid of it was to fix this.
she had almost called emily last night. the words sat drafted in a text message at least three times before she deleted them all. give her space, she told herself. she needs to breathe. but the second she stepped through the bullpen doors and glanced at emily’s desk, just a desk…no emily. jj felt the first ripple of unease.
emily was always here by this time. and even if not, and aria had a rough morning, she’d always text. maybe not today. jj tried not to jump to conclusions, but her stomach clenched in a way she didn’t like. the weight of last night, of emily’s words, of that look emily had given her before walking out—it was all still there, still tight in her chest. she ran a hand over her face, took a breath, and sat down at her own desk, willing herself to wait.
but as the team started gathering for the morning briefing, jj couldn’t keep quiet. she glanced at the clock. emily was never this late. jj frowned and finally spoke up.
“aren’t we waiting for emily?”
she didn’t expect hotch’s answer. he barely looked up from the files he was sorting through as he replied, flat and simple, like it was nothing.
“aria’s sick. emily isn’t coming in today.”
and that hit jj. hard. like a gut punch. like the floor had shifted beneath her and she hadn’t been ready for it. not that aria was sick, though that alone sent something sharp and painful cutting through her.
it was the fact that emily hadn’t told her. because jj loved aria.
and goddamn it, emily knew that.