A/N: I actually didn't mean to write this... I was trying to write an intro for a different story and I just kept going... so here's this! This is a more in-depth look at Emily's childhood and her relationship with the Ambassador. There is a bit of Hotch in this story, not a lot, but he does show up. I need to clarify: Emily's relationship with Hotch is strictly platonic in this story. Please remember that. Are they really good friends? Yes. But nothing more. Definitely a sibling-ish relationship. It has minor spoilers and references t (The Last Word), 4 x 17 (Demonology), Lauren/the Doyle arc (season 6), and 2 x 20 (Honor Among Thieves), but they're very small. Please review!

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Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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Anyone can have a child and call themselves 'a parent.' A real parent is someone who puts that child above their own selfish needs and wants.

In the beginning, her mother balanced her job and her daughter well. She would make sure her daughter got to experience cultures all around the world. Whenever she could get a bit of time off from her job, her and Emily would go to the Louvre if they were in France or the Colosseum in Italy. They would go to tiny local cafes, just the two of them, and get some local delicacies. One of her fondest memories is of her and her daughter sharing a chocolate croissant under the Eiffel Tower.

In the beginning, the Ambassador put her all into making her unconventional job work for her daughter. She did everything she could to make her daughter happy. She tried to only accept positions in picturesque places like Germany or Italy or France. When her job would make her leave her daughter for a week or two to do some other small job overseas, she would call every night.

"What's the new language today Mommy?" 6 year old Emily Prentiss asked over the phone. This was one of their most cherished traditions. Wherever Elizabeth was in the world, she would learn how to say "I love you" in the native language, and then teach it to Emily over the phone.

"Oh today, my little duckling, it is Portugeuse."

"I'm not a duckling!" Her daughter's tiny giggles filled Elizabeth's heart with warmth.

"Well of course not! But you sure do act like one Em."

"I do not!" Her high pitched voice made her smile to herself.

"Yes you do sweet girl. Anyways, are you ready for the language of the day?"

"Yes yes yes!" Her excitement was clear over the line.

"Ok, ok, patience Em. It's eu te amo."

"Eh-too-ahmo. Like that?"

"Just like that. You're a very fast learner Emily."

"Thank you! Oh, and Mommy, guess what?"

"What?"

"Maria and I picked the first strawberry from our garden today!" She felt a pang of guilt. Emily's favorite food was strawberries, so as a fun little experiment, they decided to try and grow their own strawberry plant. For weeks, Emily carefully watered it and gave it lots and lots of sunlight. It sat on her bedroom windowsill for 3 whole weeks before a tiny green sprout broke through the surface. She was so excited that she ran through the Embassy to show it off. Everyone was in a good mood that day; Elizabeth's coworkers absolutely adored Emily.

"Walter! Look! Our strawberry seeds sprouted!" Walter was the head of security, and had been for the last 6 years, but he was also the closest thing Emily had to a grandfather.

"Wow! Would you look at that! Isn't that so fascinating?" He said, matching her enthusiasm.

"It's awesome!" She gushed, giddy at her tiny little sprout.

"Mom? Are you still there?" Emily's little voice on the phone broke her out of her reverie.

"Yes darling, I'm still here."

"Maria said it's time for me to go to bed. Eu te amo mommy.

"Can you ask Maria to send me pictures of your strawberry please? Eu te amo baby."

"Bye Mommy."

"Bye sweetie." A few minutes later, her phone dinged with a message from Maria. Emily was dressed in a bright yellow dress with her hair in two french braids, holding a little strawberry plant with a large red berry right in front. She had a big smile on, and one of her front teeth was missing. Elizabeth's heart ached from sadness. She wished she could have been there. She wished she was in her daughter's life more in general. But she had worked her whole life for this career, and as much as it hurt, she wasn't about to give it up.


When they offer her the promotion a month later, she hasn't even hung up the phone before she's accepted it. It would mean more moving, and she would be around even less, and she would be stationed in some less tourist-y places, but if that's what she had to do to further her career, then so be it. Emily would understand. She would adjust. She always did.


"Emily, I'm home!" She hasn't even finished her sentence before she has an armful of seven year old.

"Hello Emily. I brought you something."

"You did? Really?"

"Yes really. Let me get into my bag and you can see it." Emily released herself from around her mother's neck, albeit reluctantly. She had been gone for the past month. The new position filled up her schedule, so they didn't talk every night, but Elizabeth called the second she got a chance.

"Here it is," she announced, handing her an object wrapped in tissue paper. She tore through the wrapping to reveal an ornate music box with delicately carved Russian flowers. She gasped.

"Mommy, it's beautiful!"

"Emily, doll, why don't you go put that in your room?" Maria suggested. Emily carefully held the fragile box as she made her way back through the Embassy to her room. Maria approached the Ambassador. On paper, Maria was just Emily's nanny. But she had practically raised Emily herself, and her old age and caring nature made Emily view her as a grandmother. Even Elizabeth saw her as a mother figure for herself, though she'd never admit it. Pouring both of them a cup of tea, Maria patted the chair next to her. Elizabeth sat down and sipped her tea.

"She misses you." Maria brought up after they had sat in silence for a few minutes. She sighed.

"I know."

"You only get one chance at this Lizzie. Don't throw it away. You've missed most of her life already. Did you even realize her piano recital was last week?"

"It was?" She asked, a mixture of sadness and shock. "Did you record it?"

"Of course I did, but she was really upset that you weren't there or at least congratulate her over the phone."

"I know, I wish I would have been there, but with this job…"

"Lizzie, I've been working for you for the past, what, 10 years? I started as a housekeeper before I graduated to nanny. You're her world, honey. Everything she does, she does to try and impress you. A few weeks ago, I walked in on her furiously practicing her piano piece because she thought that maybe if she was good enough, you'd show up. At some point, you need to ask yourself what's more important: your daughter or your job. Now, it's late, and I think you owe it to Emily to tuck her in tonight.

She repeated the question Maria had asked her as she helped her daughter get ready for bed. When did she grow so tall? She asked herself as she switched off her daughter's light.

"J'taime, papillon."

"J'taime mama."

Elizabeth smiles and closes the door, leaving ever so slightly cracked so the warm hall light seeped in a bit. At some point, you have to ask yourself, what's more important: your daughter or your job?


The next time she's offered a promotion, she hesitates only slightly before accepting. Emily's eight now. Her birthday was last week, not that Elizabeth had been there. She had called her that night though. She tried to convince herself that was good enough. The new position would require even more moving than the last, and even if they weren't moving, Elizabeth would have to travel often. Some of the places were remote and didn't have reliable cell service. She would have to talk to Emily later. But she would understand. She always did.


When Maria hands in her resignation two months later, Emily is devastated. She understands though. She always understands. Maria's grown-up daughter is pregnant, and Maria wants to be home so she can spend time with her grandchild. Her real grandchild. Maria promises that this isn't goodbye, merely farewell. She promised to write and call as much as she could, and she would try and visit when she could. Emily puts on the fake smile that she learned all those years ago, and tries to be happy for Maria. She's going to be a grandmother, a real grandmother, and she knows that kid will be the luckiest one alive.

She doesn't bother to hire another nanny. At first, she was waiting because Maria's departure was so fresh. But then she saw that Emily took care of herself just fine, and didn't need a nanny. So she didn't bother to get one. Emily was fine. She was always just fine.


"Emily, I'm home!" She calls into the foyer, dropping her bags to the floor. Emily's nine now. She doesn't run across the house into her mother's arms like she used to. She walks over, the only sign that she's even happy her mother's back is her beautiful smile. It's been 3 months away in Saudi Arabia, with bad cell phone reception too. She hugs her tightly, and holds on as if her life depends on it, but she still feels Elizabeth pulling away too soon.

"I missed you Mother."

"I missed you too. I got you a new book."

"You did?"

"Yep, right here." She pulls out a novel called Flowers in the Attic. "It's about 4 children who are locked in an attic for years by their vicious grandmother." Emily accepts the book and thanks her. She doesn't bother to remind the Ambassador that she's already read it, and the others.

She's not sure she would even care if she did.


Long gone are the days where the two of them would explore the local cafes and shops. Long gone are the days where the two of them would explore whatever crazy new country they were in. Sharing a chocolate croissant under the Eiffel Tower seems like a lifetime ago.

What really breaks her though, is when her mother stops teaching her 'I love you' in different languages. Throughout it all, every promotion, every move, every obstacle they've had to overcome, that had been her rock. Her constant.

When she's talking to her mother over the phone late at night because the time zones are so drastically different, and her mother doesn't laugh softly to herself or call her 'papillion' or 'duckling.' Instead of cherishing every second of their time together, she seems annoyed and eager to get off the phone.

"Look Em, I'm sorry, but I have to go." She sighs. She knew it was coming.

"Ok. أحبك mother."

"What? Look, I'll call you when I can. Bye." She hangs up the phone. That's when Emily realizes that her mother didn't understand what she said. And she didn't say it back.


She misses Maria. She hates to admit it, but she does. It's been two years since she left, but she misses her soft hugs and her soothing words. She wants someone to take care of her, to hold her, to let her be a kid again. Instead, she's holding her hair back as she doubles over the toilet bowl with a nasty case of stomach flu. She hears the door open, and in a delirious, fever driven thought, she thinks it's her mother.

Her mother is home right now, not for long of course, but when Emily tried to tell her she was sick, the Ambassador shushed her and said she was too busy to deal with her right now.

"Go to your room Emily, I'm working."

"Mother, I'm-"

"Must I repeat myself, Emily Elizabeth Prentiss? You know better than to disturb me when I'm working. I don't have time to deal with you right now." She gives up, instead choosing to just go back to her room and wish for this to pass.

When the door opens, she knows in the back of her mind it's not her mother, but she wishes it was. It's only when she feels the strong, calloused hands on the back of her neck holding her hair back does she recognize who it is. Walter. She gives one more painful dry-heave into the toilet bowl before collapsing against the bathtub. Walter wipes the sweat and puke from her face before sticking a thermometer under her tongue.

"102.3. You've got something nasty in your system, Little Emily." All he gets is a pathetic whimper in response. Walter hands her a glass of water for her to swish the vomit taste from her mouth. She tries to stand, but her frail body gives out from under her. Walter catches her and picks her up in a bridal carry. It wasn't difficult, Emily's always been tiny.

She feels Walter's strong arms carrying her and she curls closer to him. Part of it is that she's feverish and freezing, but part of it is that she's desperate for any sort of comfort. He puts her gently in her bed and tucked the blankets tightly around her. He disappears only to return a moment later with a bucket in case she pukes again. He wipes her face with the cool cloth once more and can feel the heat radiating off of her.

"I have to go now, but I'll be back in about an hour, ok?"

"Please don't go," she pleads. He knows that if Emily is begging anyone for anything, she must be in pretty bad shape.

"Ok. I won't go. I'm just going to ask Eleanor to cover the rest of my sift, ok?" She nods weakly.

Emily doesn't move from her bed for the entire night. She simply lies there in misery, listening to music and looking at the rain falling outside.

Her mother doesn't ask how she is once.


"Emily! I'm back!" She calls into the foyer. It's become ingrained into her routine. Emily soon emerges from her room and comes down to greet her.

"Mother," she says stiffly. Elizabeth doesn't notice her hostility.

"I got you this lovely candy from Canada! It's blueberry, your favorite!"

She doesn't even care enough to correct her. She remembers all those years ago when they grew strawberries from seed. They had sprouted 4 and planted them in a mobile planter so they could take them with them whenever they moved. She stopped caring about what her mother remembered a long time ago.


"Your mother's home," Walter pokes his head into her room to see her lying on the bed looking out the window, headphones in both ears.

"Good for her," she replies bitterly. Walter sighed. He expected that. "She missed you."

"She has a funny way of showing it!" Emily half-shouts before she takes a few deep breaths to calm herself. Elizabeth had been in America while Emily was in France for 2 weeks. The area she was in had perfect cell phone reception, but the Ambassador hadn't called once.

"I'll talk to her."

"I'm sorry Walter. It's not your fault. It's just…" she sighs deeply. "Sometimes I think she forgets that I even exist." He thought about telling her that wasn't true, but she was right. The only reason the Ambassador even had Emily in the first place was because politicians with children get taken more seriously. She was a pawn to further Elizabeth's career.

"Just… go easy on her later, ok? She doesn't do it on purpose." She snorts, but agrees nonetheless. He decides to go and talk to Elizabeth so he can hear her side of the story.

"Hey Walter," Elizabeth greets him as he sits down to talk to her.

"You didn't call."

"I know, and I'm sorry, I was just so busy-"

"Too busy to manage a 10 second phone call in 14 days?" He asks softly. She sighs. He's right.

"How mad is she? 1-10?"

"Honestly? An 8. She's your daughter. Liz. She deserves better than this."

"I know she does, but…"

"Just… try and think about how what you're doing is hurting her. Your job, the constant moving, never having her mother around, it has a negative impact on her, ok?"

"Ok. Thank you Walter." After he leaves, her phone rings. She rubs the bridge of her nose. They have to move. Again.


"Emily?" No response. She slowly pushes the door open to see her daughter lying on her bed, headphones in, book in hand. She sits down at the foot of her bed.

"Emily, I'm sorry to tell you this, but we have to move again. Egypt." Her daughter just shrugs. She became numb to her mother's job a long time ago.


When she walks into the foyer after 3 weeks in Japan, she's surprised to see Maria standing there.

"Maria? What are you doing here?" Maria looks at her with disappointment and a tad of anger.

"You really did forget, didn't you? I thought you were just too busy, but no Lizzie, you actually forgot."

"What?" She asked, confused. Maria crosses over to stand in front of Elizabeth.

"Emily turned 12 last week. You didn't call, text, even acknowledge it."

"What? That's impossible." There was no way she had forgotten her own daughter's birthday, right? As she pulled out her pocket calendar, she was shocked to see that Maria was right.

"Lizzie, 4 years ago, I asked you a question. What's more important to you, your job or your daughter? It looks to me like you've already made your choice." Maria turns on her heel and walks back up the stairs.

And it looks to me like you've already made your choice.

Those words couldn't be more true.


1 Year Later

Elizabeth hears someone opening the back patio door to the garden. Quietly, she puts on her slippers and a robe and makes her way out to the garden. She sees Emily curled into a ball on the pavement in front of the strawberry plants. She's crying quietly to herself.

"What do I have to do? I try to be the perfect daughter, and it's still not enough. I play piano, I speak 7 languages, I go to all of her stupid dinner parties, and yet there's always some flaw. I can't do anything right. I dance with all of her perverted politician colleagues that fucking grope me the second they get a chance. I smile, I put on the frilly dresses, I get a boyfriend to try and live up to her ideals when I actually want a girlfriend. I do everything she's ever wanted, I play her stupid game, I play my part as the pawn that was only even brought into this world to help her job. Her fucking job, which is the only thing that truely matters to her. I'm just a footnote to the Ambassador's precious career." She rants to no one in particular, just the night sky and the strawberries. She doesn't realize Elizabeth was listening.

"She's exaggerating, right?" She thinks aloud to herself. "I mean, no one actually touches her at the dinner parties right? And she doesn't actually want a girlfriend, right? That's just a phase. Right?"

It's that night when Elizabeth realizes she doesn't know her daughter at all.


At the next dinner party, she watches her daughter very carefully. When one of her older colleagues, a large man in his late fifties, asks her to dance, she sighs but puts on that fake smile she perfected so long ago. Sure enough, his hands start moving the second they hit the dance floor and Emily just closes her eyes and pretends it's not happening. She swears she sees a tear leak out of her eye, but just as it appears, it's gone as Emily swipes it away.

Walking very quickly, she approaches her daughter and spins her out of the man's hold in one fluid motion, as if it were just part of the dance. She starts dancing with her daughter, something they haven't done since Emily was 6 and had to stand on her mother's feet. She holds her daughter close to her as they slowly dance their way away from the man. Once they're a safe distance away, she leans down slightly to whisper into her daughter's ear.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to bother you…"

"How long?"

"Pretty much all my life. It started when I was six, I think."

"Why didn't you tell Walter, or Maria?"

"At first I didn't understand what was happening. Then it just became the new normal." Elizabeth's heart shatters. Her daughter had been dealing with this for 7 years?

"Excuse me, Ambassador, but may I have Ms. Emily's hand for this dance?" A different man this time, but she feels her daughter shrink closer to her and knows that the look in his eyes isn't innocent.

"I'm sorry Jeffery, but she's all mine tonight. I haven't gotten to dance with her in a long time. Too long." He huffs and glares at Emily but turns around and leaves anyway. As soon as he's gone, Emily abandons her dancing posture, throwing her arms around her mother's neck in a hug.

"Thank you," she whispers, and Elizabeth wonders what else her daughter was hiding from her.


When Emily's friend Olivia comes over a few weeks later, her daughter is over the moon. Olivia was the only friend she had been able to make in Germany so far, and she was ecstatic that they had an open spot in her schedule to see each other.

Elizabeth watches from the window as the taller girl embraces her daughter tightly. They stay like that for several moments, perfectly content to be in each other's arms.

I get a boyfriend to try and live up to her ideals when I really want a girlfriend.

Were Olivia and Emily dating? She decided to observe them a while more. Olivia spun Emily around and even from the window, she could see that relaxed happiness on her daughter's face that had been absent for so many years. She was smiling and laughing like she didn't have a care in the world.

Olivia grabs Emily by the hand and pulls her towards the garden. Emily follows her as they run towards the small sect of the garden they'd claimed for themselves. They're out of sight from Elizabeth's spot by the window, but she's seen enough. Even if the two weren't a couple, Olivia made Emily happy.

Happy in a way no else ever had been able to.


2 Years Later

This is it. She's going to do it tonight. She's going to tell her mother her big secret that she's been keeping for all these years.

She sits down at the table in a pair of jeans and old vintage black t-shirt. She has dark eyeliner on and her hair in pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail.

"Mother… I have to tell you something." Elizabeth raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. "I-um, well, I-"

"Spit it out Emily. Prentisses do not stutter."

"I like girls the way I'm supposed to like boys," she blurts out, and holds her breath as she watches her mother's reaction.

"I don't understand."

"Mother, I'm not straight. I'm gay. I'm a lesbian. I like girls." The words fall out of her mouth clumsily. She watches her mother with bated breath.

"No you don't. There's no such thing. It's not natural. This is just another one of your ways to rebel from me, isn't it? Another way to spite me?" Emily's eyes widen in horror.

"W-what? No! This has nothing to do with you!"

"Go to your room. I don't have time to deal with this right now." Despite her best efforts, tears fill her eyes. Her mother, the one person who was supposed to love her unconditionally, didn't accept her. Walter was just outside the kitchen and heard every word. He sighed and clenched his fists. The Ambassador really needed to sort out her thoughts.

"Yeah, I guess I should have expected that. Seeing as you haven't had time for me in 15 years," she spits out, her voice filled with bitterness. She runs out of the building before anyone can stop her. Walter comes into the kitchen.

"That's low Elizabeth, even for you."

"Am I wrong? Leviticus 18:22 says-"

"Leviticus also says you shouldn't wear mixed fabrics, what's your point? And since when have you been one to care about the Bible? I've never even seen you pick one up."

"It doesn't matter, she's just doing this to make me mad."

"Elizabeth, has it ever occurred to you that not everything revolves around you? That Emily is her own person outside of being your pawn to help your career? That she's an actual human being with emotions and thoughts and feelings instead of some mindless doll for you to dress up and show off? She needed her mom just then, not Elizabeth, not the Ambassador, her mom, to tell her that what she was feeling was ok, it was alright, that it wasn't sinful and filthy. Emily hasn't needed you in years, but the one time she does you deny it to her and make her feel disgusting and worthless. And you call yourself a mother." She had never seen Walter get mad like this before. He had always kept his cool, no matter the situation.

But she realizes it's because he's more of a parent to Emily than she's been in a really long time.


Emily runs out of the house before anyone can stop her. She doesn't stop running until she reaches her friend's house, John Cooley. There's no cars in the driveway so she knows his parents aren't home. Tears are streaming down her face, making her expertly applied eye makeup run. She knocks furiously on the door, and when John opens the door, home alone while his parents are at some party, she kisses him. She doesn't feel a thing, but maybe if she does this then it will fix her, make her normal. Finally make her worthy of her mother's attention.

John knows she's gay, but when she kisses him, he doesn't stop her. They stumble to his room.

Other than the pain, she doesn't feel a thing.


When she makes the walk home in the early hours of the morning, she still feels disgusting. She needs to shower. She regrets it, she regrets all of it. It didn't do anything. It didn't fix her.

The tears begin flowing, even though she tries to stop them. She opens the gate to the garden and walks in as her body is wracked with gut-wrenching sobs. She curls up in a ball next to the strawberries. She remembers when she first planted them with her mother almost ten years ago. When her mother would teach her 'I love you' in all those languages. She still remembers every single one. When her and mother would explore their new home, just the two of them, and they would laugh and smile and cry together. When her mother would rock her back to sleep after a nightmare. When her mother was actually her mother.

After about an hour, though Emily doesn't actually have any sense of time in the garden, her sobs have quieted down to small whimpers. She lays down on her back and looks up at the stars, like how Maria and her used to do late at night.

"Your mother is looking at these same stars, wherever she is," Maria would whisper as she stroked her dark hair. The snow begins to fall. It's January and freezing, but she doesn't notice. She doesn't care. She gets up to her feet and dances with herself, barefoot in the snow. Her dark hair floats around her head as she spins. Her and Olivia would often sneak out and dance together, beneath the stars. Olivia was long gone. Her and her family had moved to a completely secluded part of Alaska that had no contact with the outside world. She hadn't heard from her since.

She dances and dances, loving the way the tiny beautiful snowflakes sting her skin. She knows she shouldn't be out here; that she's going to get frostbite. But she doesn't care. She doesn't care about anything anymore.


She doesn't register the effect the cold is having on her slim body until she collapses to the ground. She makes no effort to move, instead just lying there, wishing everything was simpler. She looks up at the stars and wishes she could join them. She's not sure how long she's been out there, only that it's still very dark and quiet, when she feels someone lifting her up. In her hypothermic state, she doesn't know who it is. Her first thought actually goes to her father, shocking her, seeing as he walked out when she was four and hasn't seen him since. Her mind clears and realizes it's Walter. Of course.

He asks no questions, doesn't say a word, just carries her back to her room. His dark brown skin is in direct contrast with her pale, almost blue skin from being out in the cold for so long. Both of them have little specks of snow on their clothes and on their skin. He gently places her in her bed and lays her blankets on her before disappearing to get a heating pad and some warm coco. Her core body temperature is much too low. He never asks any questions. He doesn't judge her.

God, how she wishes her mother was like that.


She notices the signs a few weeks later. It seems as though she can't catch a break. As though this is the universe's sick way of teaching her some dumb lesson. She takes the test at 3:00 in the morning. It's positive. John doesn't want anything to do with her. It's her problem, not his. She goes to Matthew. He finds a doctor. Doesn't ask any questions. Doesn't judge. It reminds her of Walter.

It reminds her how it's not like her mother.


Elizabeth knows. Emily doesn't know she knows, but she knows. And she knows why. She knows exactly what happened. Maybe not exactly, but she knows that Emily got pregnant that day at dinner, and it was her fault.

She wishes Emily would come to her. But she doesn't. She knew she wouldn't. Emily hasn't come to her with her problems in a very long time.


She starts sneaking out more after that. She starts doing drugs, smoking, drinking, anything she can to escape the controlling hands of her mother. She learns how to scale the vines of ivy that climb their way to her bedroom window. She plays some music on her radio to make it seem like she's inside her room listening to it.

Not that her mother notices she's gone anyway.


She doesn't trust anyone. She hasn't for a long time. On some level, she trusts Matthew, and Walter. Not fully, but it's there. If Olivia was here she would trust her, but she's been reduced to a distant memory.

She wishes she could say she trusts her mother, but she doesn't. She hasn't in almost ten years.


Walter retires just after she turns 16. It hurts, but not as much as it should. She's learned how to compartmentalize everything, and this is no different. She'll miss him, of course, he's been there for her these past 16 years, but his family, his real family is more important. His departure is much like Maria's, only she doesn't cry. Crying is a sign of weakness, her mother used to tell her. She hugs him and watches him drive away, before disappearing to the woods behind their latest house. Not home, always house. She doesn't have a home.

They're in Ireland currently. It's absolutely beautiful, and there are sheep roaming freely in the countryside. She goes to the woods behind the property. About a mile in, there's a meadow, and it's like something out of a fairy tale. It's a clearing in the dense trees, so the sunlight feels warm on her skin. She's wearing a black dress that goes midway between her knee and ankle. It has long sleeves but she wears her favorite cardigan with it anyways. She wears that cardigan almost everywhere. It's the one Maria made her when she was eight. She had made it big so that it "would fit her for years to come." She wraps the soft material around her tightly in the cool October breeze and remembers the times when life was easier. When her, Walter, and Maria played a prank on her mother. The strawberries. Walter carrying her around on his broad shoulders as they looked at the landscaping around the front of the building.

The meadow has all kinds of wildflowers growing in it. There's a brook that lines one side of it, colorful rocks and minnows making seem all the more alive. The birds sing and bees buzz, and a sheep and her baby lamb nudge her with their fuzzy heads. She feels at peace, a feeling she hasn't felt since Olivia was here. No one knows about this place, and no one will know. Ever. She never lets anyone see her leave or lets them follow her, and it's so deep in the woods that they can't find it on their own. It's better that way.

It's her escape from the world.


As soon as she meets the new head of security, Walter's replacement, she knows he's going to be trouble for her. He towers over her, his 6'3" height plus combat boots makes him almost 10 inches taller than her. She stands up straight and tries her best to appear confident and intimidating, but the way he leers at her makes her want to shrink down to the size of a mouse.

He's just like those god-awful politicians she would have to dance with, that she still has to dance with sometimes at balls and galas. After her mother saved her that one time, she thought it was over. She was so wrong. She knows the look in his eyes all too well. She's going to have to spend a bit of time looking over her shoulder.

She's used to it.


The next day, she's in the kitchen making herself a cup of coffee. He comes up behind her and clamps a fat hand over her mouth. She's pinned between him and the kitchen counter. She knew self defense, and she was quite good at it, but she was in no position to fight. Her arms were pinned to her sides, and his legs were pressing hers into the cabinets. Not even mentioning the fact that he was at least 150 pounds heavier than her and about 9 inches taller.

"If you scream or call out for help in any way, I'll kill your mother," he threatens her. The hand that's not holding her mouth shut sits on her stomach. It makes her way towards her chest when she decides she's tired of being the victim. Screw the chances. Screw the fact that she's half his size. Screw all of it.

She bites down on his hand hard, until she tastes blood. He screams out in pain.

"Bitch!" He shouts before spinning her around to face him before punching her hard in the face. Ouch is all she thinks before she's bringing her knee up to hit him in the balls. He falls to the ground in agony.

"You'll pay for that!" He goes to kick her but she's already moving. Gracefully, she moves to his right side and pushes him onto his stomach. She twists his arm behind his back and is happy to hear him cry out.

"Don't fucking touch me," she growls into his ear. The other members of the security team come rushing in, responding to the sounds of a struggle.

"He tried to touch me. He failed," she smirked. The other agent stood there, still a bit confused before one of them steps forward to handcuff him.

"Aaron, will you take her statement?" A young man steps forward and gestures for her to follow him. Agent Hotchner is his name, and he's nice enough. She can tell he's new though.

Her mother comes in later after hearing what happened and hugs her, really hugs her, like she used to.

"Emily, I'm so sorry, I should have known what he was- did he hit you?!" She catches sight of the large bruise forming on the side of her face.

"Yeah, but I got him back for it," she smiles, and for the first time in forever, she thinks her mother is proud of her.


It's late November when she gets the letter. Her hands tremble as she opens it.

Dear Ms. Prentiss, we are pleased to inform you you have been granted early acceptance into Yale Uni-

She drops the letter in joy. She did it! She made it in! She's 16 and applied to Yale on the long shot of getting early acceptance. And she made it! The first thing she does is call Walter and Maria. They're ecstatic for her, of course. The next thing she does is go try and find her mother. She's in her office, phone pressed up to her ear. She waits in the doorway for her to hang up the call.

"Mother?" She asks cautiously as she steps inside.

"What, Emily?" Her mother has her head in her hands, and her eyes are covered. On second thought, maybe she shouldn't tell her mother. She didn't seem in a very good mood currently. Then again, when was her mother ever in a good mood?

"You remember how I applied to Yale earlier this year? Well, I got my letter back and… I got in. Move-in day for the new semester is January 7th."

"Oh. Oh, Emily, that's great!" She made her way around the desk to hug her daughter. She was a little surprised at her mother's reaction. She expected a nod, maybe a small smile if she was lucky but certainly not a hug. Her mother holds her shoulders firmly as she steps back to take a look at her.

"You know I'm proud of you, right? I know I don't say it nearly as much as I should, but it's true. It's always been true." The words make tears spring to her eyes. She's spent her entire life trying to impress her mother, and to hear that validation from her was just… incredible. She hugged her mother again. Elizabeth was a bit shocked but also ecstatic that Emily hugged her. As far as she could remember, Emily hadn't initiated a hug with her in years.

She hugs her back, holding on tightly to the daughter she thought she'd lost.


"Mother, I need to talk to you," Emily says, and suddenly she's one year younger, on that night that changed her life. They hadn't talked about that night once, and Emily decided that she had to clear the air with her mother before she went off to Yale.

"Do you remember when I told you that I like girls?"

"Yes…"

"Well, that hasn't changed, and it's not going to change." Elizabeth sighed, and almost told her daughter it was just a phase again, when she remembered Walter's words to her a year ago. She needed her mom just then, not Elizabeth, not the Ambassador, her mom, to tell her that what she was feeling was ok, it was alright, that it wasn't sinful and filthy. Emily hasn't needed you in years, but the one time she does you deny it to her and make her feel disgusting and worthless. And you call yourself a mother. This was her second chance. And she wasn't going to screw it up.

"I know. I know and… I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said a year ago. I'm sorry for not supporting you. I'm sorry for not accepting you. I'm sorry for everything I've done wrong in the past 16 years. And I hope that one day, not today, but one day, you can forgive me." Emily looks at her, her mouth open and eyes wide. It was safe to say that was not the answer she was expecting.

"Close your mouth Emily, you are a Prentiss, not a clownfish," she jokes, and Emily can hear the smile in her voice.


She decides to go back out in the garden to dance in the snow one last time before going to Yale. She tip-toes out of her room, barefooted, wearing her favorite dress. If it wasn't for her lack of footwear, you might think she was going on a secret date. But no, she was sneaking out to the garden.

Her dress was black and went down to her knees. It cinched in at the waist and the skirt flared out. It was long sleeved and had an overlay of lace. She opens the door quietly and loves the feeling of cold air hitting her skin. Walking out, she looks up to the sky. It's snowing, but the clouds don't cover the sky in a blanket. She can see the stars shining brightly, and she begins to dance.

She's only been outside for about 10 minutes when a voice breaks the beautiful silence.

"What are you doing?" It's Aaron Hotchner, the agent who took her statement back in November.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm dancing in the snow."

"Why?" He asks, confused. She sighs.

"Because," she smiled, "Sometimes it's good to just forget about all of the problems in your world for a moment." He raises an eyebrow, skeptical.

"Don't knock it till you try it," she laughs, and grabs his hand, pulling him into the garden. The two dance under the stars, laughing and smiling. Aaron has no idea how to dance, and his boot-clad feet keep stepping on her bare ones. He spins her, and she trips on a rock, pulling them both down into the snow. They collapse on the ground, laughing.

"Don't your feet get cold?"

"Yeah, but I don't mind. It's refreshing, you know? My feet are used to being shoved into heels and flats and sometimes it's nice to just feel the ground beneath my toes." He nods. He understands.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" He says after a while. "The snow, and the stars. The silence."

"Why do you think I dress up? It doesn't feel right being among such beauty without putting myself together a bit as well. In some strange way, I feel like I owe it to the stars."

"That's poetic."

"A lot of the stuff I say is poetic. Comes with the territory of being an edgy teenager," she jokes. He laughs and looks at his wrist.

"Shit. I'm sorry Emily, but I have to go. My check-in is in 5 minutes."

"Go. This was fun. It's nice to have someone to dance with, isn't it?"

"It is. I'll see you around."

"Probably not, actually. I'm leaving for Yale tomorrow."

"Yale? You're 16."

"Early admission. Be kind to your wife, she sounds lovely." Aaron smiles.

"She is. Goodbye Emily."

"Goodbye Aaron." He leaves her there in the snow to go to his security check-in. And for the first time in a year, she thinks that maybe, just maybe, she can trust again.


She barely talks to her mother at Yale. She'll send her a letter to let her know she was ok, or maybe a phone call, but nothing more. Emily was having the time of her life at Yale. She's top of her class despite being younger than her peers. Her girlfriend is beautiful and kind and the only person in this world that's allowed to protect her.

The years go by and she can say with minimal hesitation that they're the best years of her life. She's finally allowed to do whatever she wants and be her own person without thinking about how it'll make the Ambassador look.

They contacted her in her senior year. His name is Clyde Easter, and he wants her to work for the CIA. She's looking between the two men, the other's name is Sean McAllister, and she can tell they're serious.

She makes a half-laugh sort of noise. They're asking her, a girl who's barely an adult, that can't even legally drink yet, to work for the CIA. She pretends to think for a second, but she already knows she's going to accept.

"I'm in."


She's here. The BAU. She finally made it. She opens the door and sees Agent Hotchner sitting at his desk. He looks different from the night in the snow, but she supposes that makes sense seeing as it was almost 20 years ago.

"Agent Hotchner? I'm Agent Emily Prentiss."

"Emily! How are you?" He remembers her.

"I'm good, how are you?"

"Good, good. So, what can I do for you?"

"Well, I was hoping you could tell me where I can put my stuff."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm supposed to start here today… at the BAU."

"I'm sorry, Agent Prentiss, but there's been a mistake. It's been good seeing you again." Agent Prentiss. Like he doesn't even know her.

Like that night in the snow never even happened.


She convinces him to let her into the team. She knows she'll have to prove herself, and that it won't be easy, but she's ready for it. She finally made it here.


The first time she's seen her mother, talked to her face-to-face in 14 years, and it's for a case. She sees her in the bullpen with two other women she doesn't recognize, talking to Anderson.

"Mother?" She says as she walks out onto the catwalk. Her mother smiles at her and she's both confused and happy at the same time.

It's explained a few minutes later. A case. Of course. But she's here. She's here, and she doesn't hate her. So that's something.

"Why do we have to end up in a debate?" She asks as they look for leads in her mother's latest office. Her mother looks downcast, as if she's asking herself the same question.


"I don't think I've ever seen you doubt yourself before."

"I doubt myself all the time Emily! It's just... not showing it. That's what being a diplomat's all about." Emily thinks about this before she blurts out hastily, "Would you like to go to dinner?"

Elizabeth smiles at her daughter's question.

"My treat?"

"Of course."

And there it is, a step towards the broken connection between mother and daughter.

I am a strong woman because a strong woman raised me

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