the day had been relentless.
emily had been up before dawn, her phone buzzing with an early case consult before she even had her first sip of coffee. she didn’t even get to kiss her kids goodbye before school, like she swore she always would. meetings dragged, paperwork piled higher than she could manage, and fielding interdepartmental politics drained what little patience she had left. a particularly grueling debrief had kept her at the office later than expected, and by the time she was finally able to leave, the weight of exhaustion settled deep in her bones.
her drive home had been spent in silence—no radio, no calls—just the rhythmic hum of the tires against the pavement. a headache pressed at her temples, but she pushed through it, her thoughts drifting to home. to her family. to her kids, especially to the little girl who, despite everything, always made the world feel softer.
the front door clicked open, and emily stepped in, the weight of the day visible in every line of her posture. her grey-streaked hair was clipped back, though strands had slipped loose, a testament to the number of times she’d run her fingers through it out of frustration. her bag hung heavy off one shoulder, her blazer unbuttoned and wrinkled from hours of wear. the scent of something warm and familiar—pasta, maybe—wafted from the kitchen, and the faint clatter of dishes told her jj was finishing dinner. they had always agreed that not both of them would work late at the bau. one of them, whoever could, would do school pick-ups and make dinner - ensuring the kids had a somewhat normal and balanced life.
laughter, distant and unbothered, floated from upstairs. henry and michael were in their usual pret-dinner retreat, likely hunched over controllers, deeply immersed in whatever game had their attention that night. too old and too cool to hang around the kitchen, and, conveniently, too busy to be drafted into dish duty.
emily paused just inside, letting the door close softly behind her, and turned toward the living room. there, on the rug scattered with books and toys, sat aria.
she was perched on her knees, her straight light hair slightly messy from a day spent in motion, her favorite stuffed bunny beside her. but more than playing, she had been waiting. it was clear in the way her wide, expectant eyes locked onto emily the second she stepped through the door, how her tiny shoulders tensed before melting into relief.
emily took in the sight of her daughter—how delicate she looked in her soft, faded pajamas, her tiny toes curled against the rug, her gaze so open and unguarded it made emily’s chest ache. she seemed too precious for the world outside these walls, too gentle for the sharp edges life would inevitably throw her way. emily feared, more than anything, how the world would treat her baby, this sweet girl who had only ever known love. the thought of anyone hurting her, of anything tarnishing that innocence, made something deep in emily coil protectively, fiercely.
the moment aria noticed her, her little face lit up, a soft, shy smile tugging at her lips. her small hands lifted in a gentle wave, her fingers wiggling in greeting.
“hi, baby,” emily murmured, her voice low but tender. she dropped her bag by the door and shrugged off her blazer, tossing it onto the arm of the couch. aria’s smile grew, and she pushed herself up to sit straighter, as though it took all her tiny energy to focus entirely on her mama.
jj peeked out from the kitchen, a wooden spoon in hand, a knowing smile on her face. “welcome home,” she said, her tone warm but quiet enough not to interrupt aria’s moment with emily. “you made it just in time. dinner’s almost ready - i’ve got to drag the boys out of their rooms soon.”
emily gave jj a grateful look but couldn’t tear her eyes from aria. stepping closer, she crouched down to the rug, reaching out a hand. aria immediately scooted toward her, her soft hands landing clumsily in emily’s.
“did you have a good day?” emily asked as she brushed a strand of hair from aria’s forehead. aria didn’t answer with words—she rarely did when she was this calm—but she nodded, her little fingers curling around emily’s palm.
“mhm.”
aria was always a quiet baby, and now toddler. she was so soft and precious that emily prayed. truly prayed, for the first time in decades. she didn’t even know to who she was praying to, but if someone was listening - she hoped they would help protect her daughter’s innocence.
“mama’s here,” emily murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of aria’s head. “i missed you.”
aria responded with her version of a hug, her small arms wrapping loosely around emily’s neck, her head pressing against her collarbone. emily closed her eyes for a moment, breathing her in, her stress melting away with every second she held her daughter close.
“wub you.”
emily couldn’t help but smile so wide, her dimples showed.
“i love you too, my sweet girl.”
jj stepped fully into the room, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she leaned against the doorway, watching them with a soft expression. “you ready for dinner?” she asked, tilting her head toward the kitchen. “or does she need a few more minutes of mama?”
emily exhaled, still cradling aria, and smiled at jj. “...few more minutes,” she said, her voice lighter now, the burden of the day momentarily lifted.
aria nuzzled into her shoulder, her tiny fingers tracing absent patterns on emily’s sleeve. “mama stay,” she murmured sleepily.
“i’m not going anywhere, baby,” emily promised, tightening her embrace.
jj nodded, understanding, and started her way upstairs to pull the boys out of their games - leaving emily and aria curled together on the rug, safe in each other’s warmth, where dinner could wait just a little longer.
mama was home.