SUMMER CHILD, emily prentiss

𝟎𝟎𝟒

"𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠"
𝑁𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 23, 2022
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: 𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

After Emily closed Charlotte's door, leaving her sitting on her bed, Charlotte pulled her knees up to her chest, smiling lightly as she looked around her room.

The electric keyboard Emily got her for Christmas, after she found out that Charlotte played piano. The two ukuleles hanging on the wall, Emily didn't understand why she needed two. She told her mom that they were different, one was a tenor, the other an acoustic-electric concert. Emily didn't know what that meant, but relished in the sound of her playing regardless.

Then there were her two guitars. Her acoustic-electric Fender she saved up for 2 years to buy, still in its carrying case from bringing it to and from college. And her electric guitar, a white Fender Strat, a low end guitar but it did the job for what she needed it for.

She looked at her bedside table; there were 3 framed pictures. There was one of her, Emily and the team the day she was adopted. There was also a picture Charlotte took of Sergio on her windowsill during a snowstorm. It was her favorite picture of the furry feline, taken months before he inevitably died.

But as her eyes drifted over the third picture, tears fell from her eyes; a picture from the night of her high school graduation. The team had gathered at Rossi's mansion, and even Reid came over for the night.

Someone had taken a picture of Emily and Charlotte playfully wrestling on the couch. Charlotte was basically tackling her mother, but it ended with Charlotte on the ground with Emily standing over her, both laughing until their stomachs hurt.

It was one of her favorite memories, that night. Charlotte picked up the frame, hugging it close to her chest. Her tears fell harder and she curled herself up on her bed.

She wished so badly that things could go back to the way they were. She didn't have enough time with Emily, her childhood was plagued with trauma, and she wished she didn't have to grow up so fast.

Now she was an adult, expected to go to college and get by on her own, when in reality she had already gone through more in her 18 years than most adults would in a lifetime.

Before long, Charlotte fell asleep in the fetal position. She was clutching the photo of her and Emily, laying on the top of her comforter, her bedroom light still on.

-

Meanwhile, Emily had not yet fallen asleep, and decided to go downstairs to make a cup of tea. Maybe then she could fall asleep, quiet her mind a bit.

She walked into the hallway, immediately noticing the yellow light shining from underneath her daughter's door. She figured she hadn't fallen asleep yet, but didn't hear any noise as she stopped in front of the bedroom.

She quietly opened the door, only to see her daughter asleep on top of her bed. She walked closer, realizing she was hugging something, tear stains marking her face.

Emily delicately pulled her daughter's arms apart, taking the picture frame, and pulling the covers over her.

She looked at the picture and smiled, her mind wandering to the exact moment it was taken. She quietly placed the picture frame on the bedside table, and gently brushed Charlotte's forehead and blonde locks with the back of her hand.

She turned off the bedroom light, but didn't leave. Instead, she slid under the covers on the right side of the bed. Almost instinctively, Charlotte rolled over, nestling herself in her mother's arms.

It was the best night's sleep either of them got in nearly three months.

-

Charlotte woke up to the sun shining through her curtains, and arms wrapped around her. She smiled when she realized her mom must have slept in her bed.

Her alarm clock read 6:38 AM, so she just nuzzled closer into the embrace and closed her eyes once again.

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸

ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ

"Char, your breakfast is getting cold." Emily yells up the stairs, willing her daughter to stop rummaging through her dresser drawers and to eat something.

Finally, she hears footsteps coming down the staircase, and returns to the kitchen to meet her daughter.

"You made breakfast?" Charlotte asks surprised, suddenly aware of the faint smell of... burnt pancakes?

"Um, I tried," Emily laughs. "Care for some slightly crispy chocolate chip pancakes?"

She places a plate in front of Charlotte on the kitchen island as she takes a seat.

"Thank you, they actually don't look too bad." Charlotte teases, but somewhere in her voice Emily can tell there was genuine gratitude.

"So, what would you like to do today?" Emily asks, sitting next to Charlotte, a fresh cup of black coffee in her hand.

"Can we just hang around here?" Charlotte asks timidly in between bites of pancake.

"Yeah, of course we can," Emily smiles lightly, her eyes drifting to her daughter, who seems to be lost in her thoughts.

She can't help but notice the way she picks at her breakfast, as if she's deciding whether to eat each piece of food. And even though she hadn't hugged her daughter in over two months, when she wrapped her arms around her, she swore she had gotten significantly thinner.

Emily is well-aware of Charlotte's struggles with eating. She tries to be supportive and also encouraging. But it's hard to find a balance between enforcing rules around food and not pushing her daughter.

She just constantly hopes that her decisions won't cause any more harm on her daughter.

"Hey... earth to Charlie." Emily says quietly, a sad smile on her face, her voice laced with a loving concern.

Charlotte looks over quickly, her mom snapping her out of her thoughts. "Oh sorry."

A slight smile, Charlotte's signature mask. Emily sees right through it as she always has.

"Just eat what you can honey." Emily stands, planting a kiss of the top of her daughter's head.

Charlotte wants so badly to stop her mom from walking away, wishing the words wouldn't get stuck in her throat.

But she swallows them anyway, and her mom walks up the staircase. Charlotte feels worlds away, and every time she prolongs the conversation about not returning to college, she drifts a little further.

Can she tell I'm losing myself? I wish she would hand me a flashlight, it's so dark without her shining her light.