A/N: I'll be posting a few oneshots and small stories today since I finally have time! I'll be back in about a week with longer stories and more consistent uploads but right now I'm driving across the backcounty of the US so... anyways, please read and review!
"I am not sick Hotch! Honestly, I'm fine. Seriously," Emily protested as Hotch stared at her, unconvinced. If the constant sneezing and coughing that she spectacularly failed to hide didn't tell him enough, her paler than normal complexion and runny nose did. Oh yeah, Emily Prentiss was sick, and from the looks of it, it wasn't any simple cold. But to his dismay, Emily was not just sick but also incredibly stubborn.
"Prentiss, you look like hell."
"Gee, thanks Hotch, that's just what a girl wants to hear," she replied with sarcasm dripping from her words. In reality, she did feel like hell, but she wasn't going to give Hotch the satisfaction of knowing that. Her head was pounding, she felt like she was in Death Valley and Antarctica simultaneously, her eyelids were heavy, her nose was pouring snot, her throat was a raging fire, refusing to be put out even by the best of honey lemon teas. Her entire body ached, and everytime she stood up or moved she felt like she was going to collapse. Her vision was swimming. And to top it all off, her stomach was doing cartwheels. She had already made 3 unscheduled trips to the bathroom to throw up.
Reluctantly, Hotch left her alone. She was still doing her job to the highest standard, as usual, so other than his own personal worry for her health, he had no reason to send her home. And pigs will fly before Emily Prentiss admits she doesn't feel good. So he settled for keeping an eye on her from his office window, not missing the way she occasionally rushed to the bathroom or her almost full trash can, filled to the brim with used tissues.
She subconsciously pulled her blazer tighter around her shoulders. She was freezing, but she had work to do and she wasn't going to go home until it was done. No matter how incredible it sounded. A hot bath with a warm bed waiting for her afterwards… It was a pretty difficult dream to resist.
Fighting to focus on her report in front of her, she wrote the last few lines as quickly as her trembling hands would allow and sighed her name. Placing the file with a stack of around 7, she lifted the papers and slowly made her way up the stairs to Hotch's office. Taking a deep breath to try and steady her and hopefully make the room stop spinning, she continued up the stairs. By the time she made it all the way to Hotch's office door, her knees felt like jelly and her vision was starting to go dark around the edges. Nevertheless, she pushed it aside and handed the stack of files to Hotch, who turned around quickly and placed them on his desk.
"Oh, and Hotch, I… I need… I need to get Rossi's signature on… the top… one…" she breathed out.
"Emily?" He said with concern. How did she look worse than before?
"I'm fine, Hotch, just a bit lightheaded. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do," she told him, her weak body pushing past him slightly to go back to her desk. He grabbed her by the shoulders, stopping her in her tracks. It wasn't difficult, she had the physical strength of a pear right now.
"Emily, just go home. Why are you staying here?"
"Because, Hotch, I'm not sick and I have work to do," she replied as she started walking back to her desk. He caught up to her, and matched her pace. As she reached the stairs, she blinked strongly and shook her head a bit, trying to clear the brain-fog.
"Prentiss, are you ok?" Hotch asked. Judging by the looks of her, she was definitely not fine.
"Hotch, I…" She never finished her sentence as she unexpectedly collapsed.
"EMILY!" Hotch yelled as he caught her, just before her head hit the floor. His yell also attracted the other members' of his team's attention, and they all came sprinting towards their 2 friends.
"Hotch, what the hell happened?" Morgan demanded as he grabbed Emily's limp body in a bridal carry, relieving Hotch from his awkward under-the-arm carry. He swiftly carried her to JJ's office, the closest office to them, and placed her on the couch.
"I'm not sure, she said she was lightheaded, but then she just fainted."
"Her temperature's through the roof," JJ commented. She had taken her place besides Emily, and had a hand on the brunette's forehead. 'It's got to be at least 102."
"Did she get a flu shot this year?" Reid asked the room.
"I don't think so, but this seems a little more severe than the flu," Rossi added, looking at his friend passed out on the small couch.
'That's what I'm worried about. She's showing symptoms of a bad flu case, but also Streptococcus, more commonly known as Strep Throat. The combination of the two is extremely uncomfortable."
"Em did say that when she gets sick, she gets sick," Morgan remembered that time they'd been chatting in the bar and she'd told him about how she always gets hit bad when she rarely falls ill. It brought a smile to his face.
"Well, go big or go home, right?" JJ joked from her place next to Emily.
"What? Go home… I told you guys I'm not sick…" Emily was beginning to stir. They couldn't resist a small chuckle that even though she had just collapsed into her boss's arms and had a very high fever, she was still adamant that she was fine.
"Who gets the honors?" Rossi asked the room.
"I guess I'll do it," Hotch answered. Turning to Emily, he said, "Prentiss, you're sick. You can't be at work. Go home."
"What? But I have work to do!" She tried to get up, but was promptly shoved back down by JJ.
"Uh uh Em, you are going home. We should probably take you to the doctor too…"
"I am not going to the doctor, absolutely not."
"Well, if you don't go home now, I'll make you go to the doctor," JJ fired back. It was kind of fun for the rest of the team to see JJ go into Team Mom Mode with Emily, her co-mom of sorts. Granted, Emily was definitely more of a big sister in which she let them get away with a lot more than JJ. Emily considered her options, before admitting defeat.
"Fine. I'll go home. But, I'm taking my paperwork with me."
"Princess, just have a little mini vacation. The papers will be here when you get back," Morgan pointed out. She groaned.
"Alright, fine. I'll go home. I probably just need to sleep it off anyways."
"Prentiss, I'm taking you home. You passed out not ten minutes again. I can't trust you to drive home alone."
"WHAT? Hotch, I cannot ask you to do that. I'll be fine, I'll go home, drink some tea, sleep 15 hours, then be good as new," she argued, not convincing anyone.
"Emily, you didn't ask, I offered. I'm taking you home, and that's an order. We're leaving in ten minutes." She threw her head back onto the couch cushion in frustration.
Ten minutes later, they were boarding the elevator to go back to Emily's place. She had insisted on carrying her own bag, but Hotch stuck close to her to catch her in case she fell again. She opened the door to Hotch's black SUV and climbed into the passenger seat.
A car drive later, they pulled into the parking garage of Emily's apartment building. She hopped out, albeit slowly, and grabbed her bag from the back.
"Thanks Hotch, I'll be back tomorrow hopefully."
"Prentiss, I'm not just going to leave you here alone. What's your apartment number?"
"Hotch, please, you've done too much already," she insisted.
"Apartment number?" He repeated. He wasn't backing down easily. She sighed. She didn't have enough energy to argue.
"2B. 4th floor," she admitted reluctantly. He grabbed his bag and reached for hers, but she grabbed it before he could. She could still do things for herself. They boarded the elevator to her apartment. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, setting her go-bag by the door. She moved gracefully around her apartment, completing what he assumed was her after-work routine. She put her keys in a small bowl on a table next to the door, locked her gun in her safe, refilled Sergio's water and food, and hung her coat up on a hook.
"When was the last time you ate Prentiss?" He asked, the question popping into his head suddenly. She blew some air out of her mouth as she thought. He raised an eyebrow; if she had to think about the last time she ate, he guessed it was probably longer ago than it should have been.
"I think I had a banana yesterday morning," she said, hands on her hips.
"Emily, that was over 24 hours ago!" He exclaimed in annoyance and awe. She just shrugged.
"Wasn't hungry." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"I'll make you something to eat," he announced as he strode to the kitchen. She grabbed his arm weakly to try and stop him.
"Hotch, you really don't have to," she protested feebly.
"I know," he smiled. "You need to rest however, so I'll make something for you to eat and you can try and sleep." She bit her lip in thought. He smiled slightly at her thoughtful expression. She's so beautiful…
"Nothing I say is going to convince you otherwise, is it?" She asked him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He shook his head, biting back a smile. She rubbed her temple as she made her way towards her bedroom. Shrugging out of her work clothes, she put on an oversized FBI t-shirt and some sweatpants. She washed her face and pulled her hair over her shoulder in a braid. Her eyelids were getting heavier and heavier, but she walked back down the stairs anyways; she wasn't going to leave Hotch alone when he was already doing so much-too much- for her.
He heard her footsteps coming down the stairs. He smiled at her appearance- she looked so different out of her work appearance.
"I managed to find a can of soup, but you really don't have that much food, Prentiss," he said with mock-sternness. She smiled tiredly as he handed her a bowl of soup and a glass of water.
"Thanks," she told him, trying to repress a yawn. He took the empty bowls and washed them in the sink before replacing them in the cabinet.
"You should sleep," he pointed out as she yawned once again. She didn't even try and argue, just nodded and made her way up the stairs.
He decided to go and grab some supplies while she slept. He picked up some Advil, cough drops, more soup, and a digital thermometer to take her temperature. Just as he was about to go to the check out, he turned around and went to the ice cream isle. Chocolate chip cookie dough's her favorite, he remembered, chuckling at the memory. They had been at the park with the rest of the team, plus Henry, Will, and Jack of course. Jack was talking to him about the best ice cream flavors. He was adamant that Cookie Dough was the winner, while Hotch said it was definitely just classic chocolate. Emily had walked past and Jack had jumped up to question her about ice cream too.
"Emmy! What's your favo'ite ice cream?" He asked her as she scooped him into her arms.
"Well obviously it's chocolate chip cookie dough! What else could it possibly be?" She said with a smile.
"Haha! See Dad, I told you! Even Emmy agrees!" He looked at Emily with a grin.
"You can't possibly believe that that stuff is better than just plain chocolate."
"Oh no, Aaron Hotchner, I am dead serious. Chocolate chip cookie dough is a gift from God, and I'm not even religious." He laughed as she sat down with him and Jack underneath a large tree. They spent at least 20 more minutes debating about ice cream. It was such a bright memory in his mind.
He completed his purchase and drove back to her apartment, letting himself in with the spare key she had given him to use. He put the soup and ice cream in the cabinet and freezer, and grabbed the remaining items to take up to her. He was about to knock when he heard noises from the other side of the door. To his horror, they were sounds of fear. No, fear was an understatement. They were sounds of complete and total terror.
He hastily set the items in his hands on the small table outside the door. Not bothering to knock, he burst into the room. Emily was thrashing on the bed, occasionally whimpering or screaming. The sight pained him physically. He all but sprinted to her side and reached out to steady her. Then she said something in her sleep that shattered his heart.
"I can't take it." Those 4 words were enough to clue him into what she was dreaming about. A few months ago, Emily and Reid were taken hostage inside a cult. When a reporter leaked one of their covers, Cyrus, the leader, had confronted the two 'CPS workers' and demanded to know the identity of the FBI agent, holding a gun to Reid's head. Emily had said she was the agent to save Reid. He had beaten her to a bloody, shaking pulp while the rest of the team was forced to listen through hidden bugs. They were about to raid the compound, when Emily had spoken, knowing there were bugs planted in the room. "I can take it," she had told them. Those 4 words saved countless lives, but at Emily's pain. So to hear her say she couldn't take it during a nightmare months later, knowing that saying those words would have been the team's cue to come in and get her out, it shattered him.
As he tried to grab her shoulder, she jerked away and screamed, "No!" Even though he knew it wasn't him she was pulling away from in her mind, it still stung slightly.
He tried again, and just barely missed the fist Emily sent flying towards him. She's having a nightmare you idiot, of course she doesn't want someone to grab her. She kept twisting around, and Hotch knew he had to do something. He climbed into the bed next to her and wrapped his arms around her frail form. He whispered to her softly, trying to pull her out of the traumatizing dream she was having. At first she tried to escape his hold, but her body seemed to realize that it wasn't a threatening grip. He kept talking to her quietly and lightly stroked her arm. All at once, her body seemed to snap out of her subconscious. She sat bolt upright, her eyes still filled with terror. He quickly sat up too and made her look at him.
"Emily, Emily look at me. You're here. You're safe." Her dark eyes filled with tears as she looked at him. He didn't hesitate pulling her into a hug. That was her breaking point. For the first time in… well, ever, she allowed herself to be vulnerable in front of someone else. She sobbed into his chest as he rubbed her back soothingly.
"It was Cyrus," she whispered, her voice broken. He waited quietly for her to continue. "I couldn't stop him. And not only did you have to listen, but… but he made you watch," she told him, her eyes glazed over as she recalled the nightmare. "And it was so much worse… it was so real," she sobbed as she subconsciously wrapped an arm around her ribs protectively.
"You're not there anymore, Cyrus is dead. You saved so many lives that day, Emily, you know that right?" He reminded her as he pulled her closer. It was unnerving seeing Emily Prentiss of all people break down like this. Prentiss was always composed when it came to her emotions. That's when it hit him. Agent Prentiss was always reserved and hidden with her feelings. Emily was a human being who felt things just like the rest of them and sometimes needed someone to just tell her it was alright to cry. He had never seen this side of Emily before, and he knew that very few, if anyone, had before.
Finally remembering his original purpose for coming into the room, he stood up. Grabbing the supplies from the table outside, he headed back into her room.
"Open your mouth," he said gently as he held the digital thermometer. She placed the device under her tongue and waited for the beep. She struggled to breath since her nose was so clogged. Finally the device beeped and she was able to breathe once more.
"103.4. That's really high Emily. I'll give you some Advil and put a cool cloth on your head, but if it's not under 102 in the next hour I'm taking you to the doctor." She opened her mouth to argue. "That's not up for debate." She promptly closed her mouth. She was too tired to argue anyways.
"You should try and get some more sleep," he pointed out. Her whole body tensed up. He looked into her large brown eyes and saw the war raging within them. She was exhausted, but she didn't want to go back to sleep. In sleep she was defenseless; she had absolutely zero control in her dreams. When she was conscious, she could compartmentalize and hide whatever she was feeling behind a mask. But at night, she was completely vulnerable to the demons that hid in her mind.
"I'll stay with you if you want," he offered.
"Hotch, you know I can't ask you to do that. I'm already being a huge burden."
"You are not being a burden, and you will never be a burden, Emily Prentiss." She smiled at him, and he knew the answer to his question. She laid back in the bed as Hotch got her an Advil and cold towel.
"You can tell you're a dad, you know?" She jokes as he took care of her. He mock-glared at her and they both laughed, before she broke into a large coughing fit. She quickly got up and ran to the bathroom, and he heard retching from inside.
He found her with her head in the toilet, puking violently. Aaron moved quickly, grabbing her thick side braid and holding it out of the way of her face and away from her still-vomiting mouth. She spit and collapsed, with her back against the bathtub, exhausted. Aaron handed her a glass of water for her to rinse her mouth with, which she accepted gratefully. She leaned her head against the tub, willing her head to stop swimming.
"Emily? I really think we need to go to the doctor," he said timidly. She didn't even try to argue. If it would make her less miserable, she was all for it, even if that was the sterile hell of a hospital. She just nodded slightly, eyes still closed against the tangled mess of pain her head was in.
"I'm going to get some stuff together, and then we can leave, alright?" Again, she just nodded. He was worried. She looked extremely pale, and that was saying something. She was already pale, but she looked deathly and gaunt. Her already small frame looked fragile and weak, she was whiter than snow, her breathing was shallow and labored, her eyes were withdrawn and dark, and she wracked her body with a coughing fit every few minutes.
He busied himself with packing a bag for the hospital. He threw a few t-shirts and sweatpants of Emily's in a bag, along with undergarments. He added her cellphone charger and her book on her nightstand. He smiled at the title. She was reading Catching Fire, the second book in the Hunger Games series by Susanne Collins.
"Why are you reading a YA novel?" He joked from outside the bathroom.
"The Hunger Games is an exciting story for all ages, and I'm rereading it. It's one of my favorite book series." He chuckled. Of course it was one of her favorite series; Emily Prentiss did love her badass female characters. When she read Harry Potter, of course her favorite characters were Hermione, McGonagall, and Luna. The rule applied to almost every book she read.
After putting the bag and his go bag in his SUV, he found her sitting in exactly the same place he left her. Only difference; now she was asleep. He smiled again. He was smiling a lot today. One of the things he learned about Emily in his 2 years is that she had two modes when it came to her sleep schedule. There were times when she could go days and days without any sleep, without it affecting her in the slightest. She would just run on empty for days, one time even a week. Sleeping pills did nothing, even the exhausting task of being on a case didn't cure it.
Then, often following right after the insomnia, she would have a period of sleep where she could drop dead in seconds, leaning up against anything anywhere, whether it be on the jet, in a car, or even standing up and just leaning up against the wall of wherever she happened to be. It was fascinating.
"Emily, wake up. It's time to leave." He pressed his hand to her forehead. She was still burning up.
Nodding slowly, she grabbed the counter and stood up. She was not accounting for the fact that she was still incredibly weak, and her legs instantly gave out when she tried to support herself. She would have cracked her head if Hotch hadn't caught her.
"Sorry Aaron. I seem to be making a habit of that," she joked dryly. In her feverish and exhausted state, she didn't notice her slip of the tongue. He smiled yet again. His first name falling from her lips made him happy. He would never act on it or admit it, but he had realized himself falling in love with Emily Prentiss a couple of months ago. Right after the incident in Colorado, Rossi had finally knocked some sense into him. He pointed out what he had been too blind to see. He had just been sitting on his feelings ever since.
"It's fine. I'd rather catch you than have you getting yet another head injury under your belt," he laughed. They took the elevator down to the SUV and made their way out onto the road. She leaned her cheek against the cool glass of the window. It felt great against her burning skin. Hotch kept risking glances over to her. She looked terrible. He sped up slightly. Pulling into the hospital parking lot, he tried to find the parking spot closest to the entrance. Emily looked like she'd barely make it 10 feet.
"I'm Agent Hotchner with the FBI, this is Agent Prentiss, she's extremely ill." The ER wasn't busy that day, so they were taken back to be examined. Emily was helped onto a gurney and they started to wheel her off. Hotch tried to follow when a nurse stopped him.
"I'm sorry sir, you can only go back with her if you're family or her boyfriend."
"I'm her boyfriend," he blurted out without thinking. The nurse nodded and moved aside, letting him pass. Before going to meet her in the room, he swung by the vending machine to get himself a bottle of water. When he came back, she was hooked up to an I.V.
"So according to the nurse who was just in here, I've got quite a handsome boyfriend," she bit her lip in a failed attempt to stop smiling. His deer-in-headlights expression broke her. She laughed at him as he tried to explain his actions.
"Emily I-I… I'm sorry, I- uh, I wasn't thinking and they weren't going to let me back here and-"
"Hotch, it's fine," she was still smiling at his very out-of-character rambling. As he pulled a chair up to the side of her bed, a nurse came back in with some swabs and a thermometer.
"You two make a cute couple," she commented as she took Emily's temperature. "103.6. You were right to come in. A fever that high is never good. Open," she ordered as she swabbed her throat. "We're testing for Strep Throat and Influenza, if I had to guess you've got both. Add to that the exhaustion from your job and your immune system is worn down to the nub. I'll be back with the results in about 20 minutes." She left and the two sat in a comfortable silence.
"Have you ever thought about it?" Hotch finally broke the silence. She turned to face him.
"Thought about what?"
"Us. Together." She contemplated her answer.
"I don't know. I think about it a lot, but deep down I think I know it'll never happen. Do you?"
"All the time. We could make it a reality, if you wanted to. We could be a couple."
"I don't know. With our jobs, not to mention the FBI's fraternization policy…"
"There are ways around those rules. It's been done before, and they would be stupid to split up our team, with our caseload." Their conversation was cut short by a different nurse coming in to take a few more numbers like blood pressure and pulse.
"Your pulse and BP are above average, but that's normal with a fever as high as yours. Your chart says you've been vomiting, have you been hydrating regularly?" Emily looked at her hands. She definitely had not been hydrating as much as she should have been. "I'll take that as a no then," she said with a look. "Have you taken any fever reducers?"
"She took two before, but I'm pretty sure she puked them up," Hotch answered for her.
"I'll order some more, they should help with your headache too." She wrote some things down on the chart before leaving the room again.
"So…" Hotch prompted.
"So…" she repeated. "...You really think we could do it? Be a couple?"
"I do."
"Then why not? It can't hurt, right?"
"No, it can't. So that's it. That wasn't nearly as bad as imagined." They smiled at each other. A couple. It sounded so strange, so new to Emily, even in her mind. Hotch made a spur-of-the- moment decision to hold her hand as the doctor came in. To his relief, she didn't pull away.
"So, Agent Prentiss, we just got our test results back. And unfortunately, it appears you've won the sickness lottery. Both tests were positive, and I believe you might have a stomach bug as well. Here's your prescriptions, and I would recommend having someone stay with you over the next week. This is only the tip of the iceberg, so it will get worse before it gets better. I'm worried about dizziness spouts, so it would be best to not be alone in case you were to collapse and hit your head."
"She does have a bit of a knack for head injuries," Hotch joked.
"So I can see from your chart. If you take those pills over the next two weeks, you'll be fine. I am ordering you to take at least one week off from work, however. After that, it's really up to how you feel. You can leave whenever you're ready." As soon as she heard the all-clear, she threw the blanket off her legs and stood up. Her legs were shaky, but she didn't fall.
"Let's get out of here," she groaned. She really hated hospitals.
"By the way, the team wants to come by your apartment in about an hour to say hi and check in, but I can tell them no if you want."
"No, it's fine, I want to see them. You should warn them that I look like hell though. There's only so much that makeup can do."
"I'll tell them, don't worry about it."
"Are we going to tell them everything?" They both knew what she meant by 'everything.'
"If you're ok with that. They are profilers, so I doubt we'll be able to hide it for long."
"Good point," she said as she climbed into the passenger seat of the car. They made the short drive home and walked back up to her apartment.
"Hi Gumdrop! Oh my goodness, you're roasting. Come here, sit down." Emily was instantly greeted by Garcia on entry to her apartment, and she smiled at her friend's concern.
"When did that happen?" Rossi asked the pair.
"When did what happen?"
"You two are obviously closer. So when did you ask?"
"I hate profilers," Emily groaned.
"You and the boss man? Really?!"
"As of a few hours ago."
"Damn it Emily!" JJ yelled, startling her. "You couldn't have waited a few more days?"
"What?"
"Come on Jennifer, cough it up." She grudgingly put a twenty into Rossi's outstretched hand.
"You had a pool going?!" Hotch exclaimed, rightfully so.
"I mean, it was clearly justified," Morgan defended. They both rolled their eyes.
"This is the best sickness I've ever had."
A/N: Please review!