Summary: She knows what it's like, falling into an infatuation with a man who can never reciprocate. One-shot
Spoilers: post-Omnivore, but pre-100.
She was only half lying when she told Dante she was a fan.
While Emily Prentiss buried the part of her that listened to death metal and sported black lipstick, the shadows of her past still wandered around her mind, taking control of her thoughts every so often. Of course, she wouldn't be caught listening to his music—although her Manson albums lay unharmed among her collection of Manilow and Sting.
But she can understand the love those girls had for the man—this pale, indifferent specter of a human screaming their deepest desires.
She knows what it's like, falling into an infatuation with a man who can never reciprocate.
At least, she's sure she's felt the bite of reality when fantasy has decided to tiptoe over the realms of her mind. That's not to say that she condones the obsessive cybershrines—as Garcia had put it—made to the musician, and certainly not murder for the improbable love of him. It's what she can't understand—falling into the complete grasp of obsession over a stranger. Wishing to be noticed by their knight (vampire) in shining armor (cape?), and willing to end the lives of strangers to get it.
But isn't that exactly what she's fallen victim to?
No, Emily Prentiss isn't the girl she was anymore. She's not the neglected teen screaming for reprieve through the music she listened to, through the make-up she put on. But she wouldn't think twice about switching places with Hotch, becoming Foyet's target instead. She wouldn't take a second to deliberate becoming the one staring him down as he drives a knife into her, given the chance.
But wouldn't anyone in her situation do the same?
She's alone and he has a child, an ex-wife who certainly hasn't let go of the high school love she found herself in not too long ago.
She really doesn't have anything to lose. He has everything.
While she wouldn't kill an innocent stranger for her unit chief, she wouldn't think twice about pulling the trigger when faced with the man dragging him down to his knees in despair.
So does it mean that she's like these girls, substituting posters and fan mail for death wishes?
It's a question she doesn't want to answer.
My first CM fic. Pushpushpush the nice little comment button, please?