Shattered Perception

five // pages

e.p.

My eyes scanned over the page, the familiar scrawl of the blonde laying in the bed covering most of the first quarter of the notebook. The doctors had been clever in telling her to write everything down, even the smallest thing could trigger her memory to be recalled even in the slightest.

That's what they had said, although I haven't seen any progress being made.

Not yet anyway.

So every night at around 9 o'clock, just before designated bedtime, I would leave JJ's room so that she could write down her thoughts, how her day had gone, what she had learned, and if we got lucky that day, maybe even a memory or two.

We hadn't been quite that lucky yet.

I was willing to wait. Without a doubt, I was willing to give Jennifer Jareau all the time in the world if it meant that I would be getting her back. But would I truly be getting her back?
Immediately, I shook my head, my raven hair swiping over both of my shoulders as though attempting to brush away the mere thought. I loved that woman. I always had and I most definitely always would. We made a promise to each other to look after and love one another until the day we died. Until the day that Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss were no more.

Unfortunately, at this point, Jennifer Jareau was buried deep within the woman who sat on the hospital bed day after day; the woman who was attempting to relearn everything about who she was.

They truly did give me a fair warning when it came to the journal. Caution particularly surrounded the mention of who I was, why I was there waiting alongside her bed for any sign of a breakthrough.
The doctors told me that JJ had no idea who I was.

Still.

It tugged at my heartstrings in the slightest to hear these words, but I just was not seeing what was being told to me. Every day when I went into the hospital room, the one that was now covered in bouquets of flowers that caused the room to have a hint of every colour of the rainbow from the lovely Garcia, baskets of her favourite foods from Rossi who was the one in which JJ would speak to in regards of what to make for dinner on any given day of the week, the generous stacks of books that littered the tile floor from Reid, a laptop with all of what were JJ's favourite movies downloaded right onto it from Morgan, and cards that were hand drawn by Jack and accompanied by letters of condolences on the back from Aaron.

All I had to offer, however, was myself.

Nothing materialistic could be given from me, Emily Prentiss, to Jennifer Jareau in that state. Everything that I would have given her would have resembled us. It would have been us. From handwritten notes with little quips to cups of coffee with double cream and three packets of sugar, just the way she liked it; I couldn't even get her bouquets of red roses, which she used to think were so cliche, but we both knew that they were undeniably her favourite.

I wanted so badly to bring her the photos that she had once set as her backgrounds on her phone and computers, the ones of us, as a couple, smiling from ear to ear no matter the location. The ones in which her fingers were always wrapped around a cup that seemed to be of steaming coffee, but we both knew that she much rather preferred hot cocoa over coffee. But she wouldn't know any of that right now. So all I could leave her was the little sticky notes around the room, surrounding her in facts of who she was.

When I opened the journal for the first time, I couldn't help but to give a small smile. JJ had just left the room to shower, and once I heard the water pelting the ceramic bottom of the shower, my hand slid under her pillow to grasp the journal that I knew she kept. Normally, Jennifer Jareau would be humming away in the shower, her sultry voice accompanying the pounding of the water against her skin, the condensation appearing against her and disappearing only to be replaced again. My neck craned and I tried my hardest to catch even the smallest of hums escaping the washroom. No luck.

I merely skimmed over the first few pages because I knew that I did not have much time before Jennifer would be back out to me. Truly, I did care about those first thoughts after the accident, but I wanted to see where she was at now. I wanted to see what Jennifer Jareau had to say about now. About what was going on right now.

"Shit... What's her name again...

Emily? I think it may be Emily."

As soon as I read those words, a bubble of anger began to bubble in the pit of my stomach. My hands gripped the journal a little too hard, my chewed fingernails digging as best it could into the leather front cover and the page containing the heartbreaking statement ripping slightly in the centre.

How was this fair even in the slightest?

Jennifer's eyes never lit up like they used to; every morning the blonde used to be up only a few moments before myself, but I would find her standing in front of the window stretching. As soon as I would speak, JJ would practically prance her way over to the bed, leaning over top of me to press a gentle and sleep laced kiss to my lips, and during this moment I would catch sight of her eyes. The baby blues that had reeled me in from the first sight I caught of them. They sparkled, literally, in happiness and glee and bliss and content and love.

Love for life, love for a new day, love for comfort.

Love for me.

~~~~
this is going to hurt a lot