always been mine - emily prentiss x reader

chapter seven // breathe.

i'm sorry about last chapter but this one's worse

WARNINGS: homophobia (including religion), child abuse/child sexual abuse mentions (heavily), family shit (as always), panic attack

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"What did you and Nate talk about, honey?"

"Nothing," you told her curtly. Emily understood that you wouldn't talk about it. When you were upset, it was either all bottled up or very obvious. And you hated talking about your childhood. Emily was in the dark about most of it, as you explained to her that you had a shitty family and didn't talk to them, and didn't say much more. She had to be content with the little information she got.

"Okay. I'm not gonna push you, I know you don't want that...but I'm here whenever you wanna say something, love." She drove the rest of the way silently, glancing at you every once in a while.

You got up to the room that night and laid on your back, clasping your hands and putting them over your closed eyes with a massive sigh. You felt Emily next to you. "It's okay, love. I'm right here." 

You sat up and curled into a ball, avoiding her eyes, and took the pillow that had been underneath your head, using it to muffle your sobs. Emily's heart shattered. She put her hand on your shoulder, just her fingertips, but quickly pulled back when you flinched at her touch. 

The two of you sat for a minute or so, Emily fighting her own tears, and you looked up with a red, teary face. "I'm sorry," you croaked.

"Don't apologize, love, you have nothing to apologize for,"

"Yes, I do, I'm the worst, I'm sorry for putting you through this,"

"You're not putting me through anything. I'm here with you, I love you." 

"Emily..." You wrapped your arms around her, and she kissed the top of your head. 

"My sweet girl..."

A few minutes went by, and you took the TV remote off the table and turned on some show you didn't recognize. The volume was as low as it went without being muted, and Emily understood. You always needed some other activity going on while you talked about something painful.

"I...I want you to know...but I don't...I don't want you to...to have to feel like...like you're dealing with this,"

"Hey, listen to me. I would do anything for you, okay? You can tell me anything. I promise. I won't judge you, and you're not— eyes on me— you're never a burden to me, you got that? Never." You nodded, feeling your tears rise again. "Start wherever you want."

With a deep sigh, you began, adding unimportant details and taking numerous pauses to collect yourself. "I came out when I was eleven. In the summer, going into sixth grade. It was June, I think. And then, y'know, my mom said all that stuff about hurting people, and...and she said that she didn't know of anyone who could help me, but that Grandma would want me to...to go to church." 

Breathe.

"She always blamed other people. Grammy was a saint, let me tell you!" You scoffed in an attempt to be funny. If you were going to bare your trauma to your girlfriend, you might as well laugh a little before you get into the real heavy stuff. "Good woman. Devout Catholic, but not, like, a 'Bible-thumper', as my mom would say, she was so kind...But church. Uh, Mom didn't...she took me to church every Sunday, and," you put on a voice to imitate your mother, "'Father Mark was kind enough to meet with me after Mass every week.'" 

You played with the seam on the pillow you were still holding.

"Um, he...his job wasn't to talk to me about Jesus or anything. My mom thought that...well, I don't know if she knew...no, she did, why am I defending her?" Emily bit her lip. "He..." You dug your face into the pillow again. "I can't..."

"It's okay, love. You're safe. I'm right here. They can't hurt you anymore, love." She rubbed your back and started to ask questions to determine what had happened. "Do you wanna keep going?"

"I can't say...I never told anyone..." She kept her hand on your back.

"Okay. Do you want to tell me? It's okay if you don't, no one's gonna be upset with you." You nod slowly into the pillow. "But you can't,"

"Mm-mm,"

"Okay. Do you want me to ask?" After a moment of thought, you nod again. "All right. If you wanna stop, that's okay too. We can just lay here. That's perfectly fine, love,"

"Okay..." you manage to say. 

"All right. did the priest — Mark was his name?"

"Mm-hmm,"

"Did he hurt you, physically?"

"Uh..." Your voice was muffled from still being against the pillow so you didn't have to look at her. "Define physically,"

"Did he hit you?"

"Um, no,"

"'Define physically'...did he use his body to hurt you?" You nod violently. "But he didn't hit you." She was dancing around the question. "I..." You started hyperventilating, and she forcibly removed the pillow from your arms. She wouldn't touch you without knowing you asked for it, not while you were like this. You leaned into her and she put her arms around you. You breathed together until you were more steady. "Love, we can stop,"

"No,"

"Are you sure? You're really upset, honey,"

"I'm sure. You can keep asking." You grabbed the pillow back, which worried Emily slightly, but she wanted you to be able to do what you needed to cope. 

"I'm sorry I'm asking, but..."

"It's the natural next question," you accepted. "Go ahead,"

"Did he...did he rape you?" You had no tears left to cry but dry-sobbed into the pillow while nodding. "Honey..." Emily put her arm around you apprehensively, and you leaned in to let her hold you. She cried, too,  kissing your head every few seconds. 

"Can you do something for me?" you asked as loud as you could, which wasn't very impressive.

"Anything, my love, anything,"

"Call Garcia. I need her to check something,"

"Right now?"

"Yes. My phone's over there, just hand me yours." Emily did so, albeit very confused, and Penelope answered right away. 

"Hello, gorgeous!"

"Hey, Pen, it's Y/N, Em's right here, I'm just too lazy to get my phone," you chuckled to stop from crying.

"Oh! Y/N! Hi! How are things going?"

"Uh, fine. Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"Uh, can you look up arrest records for Catholic priests in eastern and central Massachusetts?"

"Uh...anything more specific?"

"Child sex abuse charges,"

"Oh...dear,"

"Please, Penelope,"

"Yeah, okay. Do you have a name?"

"First only, Mark. I don't know his last name,"

"Mark O'Malley, he's from the same town...you are...oh, no, this isn't about the case, is it?"

"Uh, when was he arrested?"

"Seven years ago, he was convicted on six counts of statutory rape and he's in prison at MCI Concord,"

"Thanks, Garcia,"

"Wait, don't hang up!" You sighed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Garcia. I'm fine. Thanks so much for the information." Emily looked at you waiting for an answer. "He's in prison in Concord on six counts of statutory rape,"

"Sure he's having a wonderful time in there—" Emily was cut off by her phone ringing.

"Garcia, I'll talk to you when we get back, okay?"

"No, it's not that, there's another body."

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yikes! sorry bout this one