Emily had always been good at juggling chaos. It came with the job—leading a team of profilers at BAU, chasing down some of the most dangerous criminals in the country. But nothing in her career had quite prepared her for the balancing act of being both a mother and a father to her teenager.

It wasn’t that she regretted it—not for a second. From the moment she’d held them in her arms, she had known there was nothing she wouldn’t do for them. But between cases that took her halfway across the country, long nights at the office, and the ever-present weight of the job, there were times she worried she wasn’t doing enough.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The apartment was quiet when she stepped inside, too quiet for comfort. Kicking the door shut behind her, Emily set her go-bag down by the door and locked up. She sighed, rubbing a hand down her face, exhaustion creeping into her bones.

She knew she was late. Again.

Glancing at the clock, she winced. It was past dinner, and she’d promised—promised—that she’d be home in time. Guilt curled in her gut as she walked her way to the kitchen. The sink was full of dishes. She didn’t remember leaving it that way, which meant her kid had probably handled their own dinner. Again.

"Great job, Prentiss," she muttered under her breath.

Emily poured herself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as she debated whether to call out for them or give them space.

The framed photos on the counter caught her eye—reminders of a life that felt both too fast and too fleeting. One of them as a toddler, sitting on Emily’s lap, their tiny hands gripping at her badge with fascination. Another from a few years ago, both of them grinning with ice cream smeared on their faces from a summer trip gone slightly wrong. A more recent one, taken by Garcia when they visited Quantico, Emily’s arm slung around their shoulder as they rolled their eyes at the camera.

Emily sighed, setting her glass down with a quiet clink.