The ice in her glass is melting slow, like everything else lately. Scotch number… she’s lost count. Doesn’t matter. It’s a Tuesday. Or maybe Wednesday. She’s not checking.

She doesn’t know why she’s here. Not really. She told herself it was the paperwork, the late nights, the endless carousel of grief and justice. But that’s not it.

Not tonight.

Tonight it’s JJ’s smile when she talks about Will. It’s Tara’s quiet texts from someone she won’t name. It’s Rossi, for Christ’s sake, still finding love in the wreckage.

And Emily? Emily comes home to silence. To a half-drunk bottle of wine and a couch that knows her shape too well.

She’s tired of being the strong one. The capable one. The one who always knows what to say when someone’s world falls apart.

She wants to be a woman. Not a profiler. Not a unit chief. A woman. Soft. Held. Desired.

She wants a reason. Just one.

---

The bar’s dim, like it’s trying to hide its own regrets. There’s music—low, smoky, something with a bassline that feels like a heartbeat. People are dancing, laughing, leaning into each other like they’ve got nowhere else to be.

She’s buzzed. Not drunk, not sloppy. Just loose enough that her guard’s down and her heart’s louder than her head.

It’s 2am. She should’ve left an hour ago. She meant to. She always means to.

But then—her. She sits beside Emily like it’s the most natural thing in the world. A woman. Warm eyes. A smile that doesn’t ask for anything. Just offers.

“Hi,” The woman says.

And Emily—Emily fucking Prentiss, who’s stared down serial killers and buried friends—feels her stomach flip like she’s twenty again.

She’s 54. Fifty. Fucking. Four. And she’s still waiting for someone to look at her like she’s more than the job.

She stays. Of course she stays. Her body’s begging for sleep, but her heart’s got other plans.

“I’m Emily,” she says, voice low, a little rough around the edges. And for the first time in a long time, it feels like enough.

She’s not trying to be young. She’s not trying to be anything but real.

She just wants to feel. And tonight, maybe she will.

Hopefully.