Presumed Dead - Emily Prentiss x Reader

It'll fix.

(1614 words)

the therapist is the same actress that plays Jane in criminal minds but i fully had greys in mind when writing about her as a therapist so just pretend she doesn't already play someone you know.

September 8, 2011

'Okay, so shall we start with you telling me a little bit about yourself?' Doctor Myers asked.

She was middle-aged; late forties, early fifties, you guessed. Her face was wrinkled from years of laughter, yet somehow all the wrinkles managed to avoid her eye area, where the skin was so smooth, it looked as if she had concealer on naturally.

You followed each line on her face outwards to her ginger hair that fell either side of her face limply in a flat bob.

'I'd rather not.' You replied hostilely.

'Okay.' She replied. 'Can you tell me why that is?'

Her voice had a raspy undertone. You figured she'd been a smoker in some past life. A life before she only had enough minutes between appointments with traumatised FBI Agents to familiarise herself on her patients' notes.

'You're getting paid for this anyway, right?' You checked. 'I don't want to be here, you'd probably rather sit and drink coffee for an hour and get paid for it. Two birds, one stone.'

'Is there a reason you're feeling so defensive, Y/n?' She asked.

Who does she think she is?

You looked her up and down, sizing her up. She wore navy blue chino-style trousers with a navy blue T-shirt and a pale blue cardigan.

You're dressed like the only thing you want people to know about you is that you like the ocean and yet you're calling me defensive?

'No.' You replied.

Myers inhaled dramatically, crossing her leg and dropping her pen down onto her notepad.

This wasn't worth missing a new episode of Law and Order SVU for.

'You're right.' She said suddenly. 'You don't have to talk to me. We can sit here wasting the hour if that's what you'd like.'

You smiled limply and nodded.

'Would you like a coffee whilst we pass the time?' She asked, standing from her seat and replacing her body with her notebook.

You watched as she walked towards her kettle.

You'd think some hotshot therapist could afford a coffee machine.

'Sure.' You replied.

She filled the kettle with water and clicked the button, standing awkwardly in silence the whole time it boiled.

You shifted in place, wishing the kettle would hurry up so you had something to do with your hands through this silence.

As soon as the switch flicked back up, Myers was turning around and busying herself making the coffees.

'How do you have it?' She asked with her back to you.

'Black. No sugar.' You said.

As she poured coffee into the mug and got some milk out for herself, you looked around the room.

The obligatory tissues on the table, of course. Predictable.

You turned your head around to a painting on the wall of the ocean.

She really does like the sea.

Of all the years you spent in therapy when you were in your teens, you'd never seen an actually good painting in any of the rooms you'd sat in.