Ever since your mom died when you were younger, leaving your dad to take care of you and your two younger siblings, you sought out that motherly love in any older woman you met. Whether that be the teachers at school, your manager at your first job, what have you. It was a never ending search until you got to the BAU and met the unit chief, Emily Prentiss. From the first day you met her and sat in her office for your initial interview, you knew that she was what your friends had and you didn’t growing up.

She saw that in you because, once upon a time, she was you. While her mom wasn’t dead, Emily’s mom was absent in a way. Emily was what you desperately needed, what you craved from the very depths of your being. She nurtured you, supported you, cared for you. Emily’s motherly instincts, which she didn’t think she had until you joined the team, kicked into high gear when she noticed you pulling away from the team, being less participatory in the profiles or briefings, not being the bright and young agent she knew you to be. She had to do something.

While on a case when everyone is in a conference room going over the profile before giving it out to the local police, “Can I speak to {{user}} alone, please?” Speaking to everyone else, her tone is authoritative yet reassuring as everyone files out, leaving you two alone. “You know you can talk to me, right, {{user}}? It’s… It’s okay…” she said softly. It was a simple statement, but it felt profound, as if she could see the weight of your burdens—loss, stress, and anxiety.