Categories > TV > Criminal Minds > Night Terrors
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Emily Prentiss came out of her sleep violently, with a vicious kick to her boss's shin. Aaron maintained his perpetual poker face, but she still heard a quick and sharp intake of air. That sound brought her abruptly back to reality. 'Oh shit!'. she thought. She couldn't believe she just did that. Emily glanced at Hotch's blank face, wondering if he was upset. He didn't seem to be, but that was just typical Hotch. He rarely showed emotion, even during times of crisis. It was one of the qualities that made him such an effective leader. She swallowed, before trying to speak,
“Oh my god, sir, I am so sorry.” To Prentiss's surprise, Aaron actually smiled. Or at least she thought she saw a smile on his face. It could have been a grimace of pain, but she doubted it.
“Emily, we're not on a case right now, there's no need to call me sir.” He was quiet for a few seconds before continuing, “Also, while you do have one hell of a kick, it's not that big of a deal.” He held up his hand to stop her from interrupting. “This is hardly the first time this has happened to me. It seems to be par for the course.” There was no doubt now that Hotch was at least somewhat amused. They both turned as a new voice entered the conversation,
“Did you know that all polar bears are left-handed?” Reid's voice was still slurred with sleep. Hotch walked over to him, noticing that the young man's eyes were firmly closed. “Obsessive compulsive disorder, commonly referred to ocd, affects about two percent of the population at any given time.” Spencer's voice trailed off as he fell deeper asleep, his muttering becoming inaudible. Emily couldn't help giggling quietly, wincing as the motion bothered her bruised, if not cracked ribs.
“Damn, Hotch, this really bites. It even hurts to laugh.” Hotch gave her a sympathetic look, as he'd had injuries to his ribs before. The pain was one he knew he'd never forget. He nodded, understandingly, knowing there wasn't much he could do to help his agent. But at least there were a few thing he could offer.
“I've been there before. Tell you what, I'll get some tea, and you can take a couple ibuprofen, and I have these as well.” Hotch pulled out the ice packs he'd received from the paramedic, and activated it. He handed it to her, “After the tea's ready, I'll tell you all about the other interesting reactions to bad dreams the team's had. Myself included, along with Garcia.” He almost laughed at the memory, his dark eyes still amused. Emily took the ice pack, not really feeling up to arguing. She knew Hotch was at least as stubborn as she was. Debating wouldn't help matters, make her feel any better, or change the outcome. She pressed the rapidly cooling pack to her forehead, letting it ease the throbbing. She could hear him rustling around in the small kitchen of the jet.
Soon enough, Hotchner was back at the small table, setting down two hot cups of tea. Emily looked at the flavor on the tea bags, chamomile. She was almost surprised that he remembered her fondness for that type of tea, especially when she was tired. It was a comfort thing, and the lack of caffeine made it easier for her to sleep after drinking it. He handed her a small bottle of Advil, watching silently to make sure she actually swallowed at least two.
“Now, Hotch, you said something about the others, and their night terrors?” Emily asked, as she waited for her tea to cool. Hotch sat down across from her, now that it was safe to do so. He answered her quietly, as not to wake the rest of the team.
“It's actually been a frequent occurrence, Emily. Shouldn't really be a surprise, considering the horrors we see. Everyone has bad dreams, and waking someone while they are in the midst of one can be hazardous to your health. I would be more worried if you weren't having nightmares. Take a look around at them.” He pointed at Spencer, who was still fast asleep, lips moving but no noise coming forth, before he looked around the jet at the rest of his group. “Take Reid there, he's got a much stronger left hook than anyone would ever suspect. And Garcia, I can tell you from experience, those troll dolls hurt when they collide with your face.” Prentiss's dark brown eyes were wide, she was having trouble thinking of Penelope, having a nightmare and hitting Hotch, their boss with one of her troll figures.
“Is that why she keeps so many of them at her desk? I wondered about that. They actually make decent weapons?” She tried not to laugh as the picture came into very clear focus in her mind's eye. She was not lacking in imagination, and the thought of the blond tech smacking the boss with one of her trolls was very amusing.
“The dolls may be plastic, but she had one in her hands, and she swung it by the hair. It got me right here, and left one heck of a bruise.” Hotch answered her as he pointed to his right cheek. He'd gotten a lot of funny looks that day, but most of the people outside of the team didn't dare ask. Which was a relief then, even though he found it humorous now. “Now when it happens, we tend to just shrug it off, and ignore it. I've even been guilty of it a couple of times. Never with Haley, thankfully, but Gideon got the brunt of it once.” He took a sip of the tea, enjoying the flavor. Emily had been drinking hers slowly, not even needing to add any sugar to it. He'd prepared it just right.
“It's good to know I'm not the exception to the rule then.” Emily joked, feeling a bit more relaxed about it. Hotch smiled one of his very rare smiles at her,
“Not by a long shot, Emily.” He took another drink from his mug, before he continued, “Why don't we talk about your dream? Was it about the past few days, or something else?” Emily shrugged, trying to be casual,
“It was . . a bit of everything the past few months. The last few cases have been rough on all of us, sir-Hotch.” She corrected herself quickly. “I think this last one was just the icing on the cake. I can still see that woman's eyes, as she realized her daughter was dead.”
More to come, eventually. Comments are most welcome. I hope you've enjoyed it.
Emily Prentiss came out of her sleep violently, with a vicious kick to her boss's shin. Aaron maintained his perpetual poker face, but she still heard a quick and sharp intake of air. That sound brought her abruptly back to reality. 'Oh shit!'. she thought. She couldn't believe she just did that. Emily glanced at Hotch's blank face, wondering if he was upset. He didn't seem to be, but that was just typical Hotch. He rarely showed emotion, even during times of crisis. It was one of the qualities that made him such an effective leader. She swallowed, before trying to speak,
“Oh my god, sir, I am so sorry.” To Prentiss's surprise, Aaron actually smiled. Or at least she thought she saw a smile on his face. It could have been a grimace of pain, but she doubted it.
“Emily, we're not on a case right now, there's no need to call me sir.” He was quiet for a few seconds before continuing, “Also, while you do have one hell of a kick, it's not that big of a deal.” He held up his hand to stop her from interrupting. “This is hardly the first time this has happened to me. It seems to be par for the course.” There was no doubt now that Hotch was at least somewhat amused. They both turned as a new voice entered the conversation,
“Did you know that all polar bears are left-handed?” Reid's voice was still slurred with sleep. Hotch walked over to him, noticing that the young man's eyes were firmly closed. “Obsessive compulsive disorder, commonly referred to ocd, affects about two percent of the population at any given time.” Spencer's voice trailed off as he fell deeper asleep, his muttering becoming inaudible. Emily couldn't help giggling quietly, wincing as the motion bothered her bruised, if not cracked ribs.
“Damn, Hotch, this really bites. It even hurts to laugh.” Hotch gave her a sympathetic look, as he'd had injuries to his ribs before. The pain was one he knew he'd never forget. He nodded, understandingly, knowing there wasn't much he could do to help his agent. But at least there were a few thing he could offer.
“I've been there before. Tell you what, I'll get some tea, and you can take a couple ibuprofen, and I have these as well.” Hotch pulled out the ice packs he'd received from the paramedic, and activated it. He handed it to her, “After the tea's ready, I'll tell you all about the other interesting reactions to bad dreams the team's had. Myself included, along with Garcia.” He almost laughed at the memory, his dark eyes still amused. Emily took the ice pack, not really feeling up to arguing. She knew Hotch was at least as stubborn as she was. Debating wouldn't help matters, make her feel any better, or change the outcome. She pressed the rapidly cooling pack to her forehead, letting it ease the throbbing. She could hear him rustling around in the small kitchen of the jet.
Soon enough, Hotchner was back at the small table, setting down two hot cups of tea. Emily looked at the flavor on the tea bags, chamomile. She was almost surprised that he remembered her fondness for that type of tea, especially when she was tired. It was a comfort thing, and the lack of caffeine made it easier for her to sleep after drinking it. He handed her a small bottle of Advil, watching silently to make sure she actually swallowed at least two.
“Now, Hotch, you said something about the others, and their night terrors?” Emily asked, as she waited for her tea to cool. Hotch sat down across from her, now that it was safe to do so. He answered her quietly, as not to wake the rest of the team.
“It's actually been a frequent occurrence, Emily. Shouldn't really be a surprise, considering the horrors we see. Everyone has bad dreams, and waking someone while they are in the midst of one can be hazardous to your health. I would be more worried if you weren't having nightmares. Take a look around at them.” He pointed at Spencer, who was still fast asleep, lips moving but no noise coming forth, before he looked around the jet at the rest of his group. “Take Reid there, he's got a much stronger left hook than anyone would ever suspect. And Garcia, I can tell you from experience, those troll dolls hurt when they collide with your face.” Prentiss's dark brown eyes were wide, she was having trouble thinking of Penelope, having a nightmare and hitting Hotch, their boss with one of her troll figures.
“Is that why she keeps so many of them at her desk? I wondered about that. They actually make decent weapons?” She tried not to laugh as the picture came into very clear focus in her mind's eye. She was not lacking in imagination, and the thought of the blond tech smacking the boss with one of her trolls was very amusing.
“The dolls may be plastic, but she had one in her hands, and she swung it by the hair. It got me right here, and left one heck of a bruise.” Hotch answered her as he pointed to his right cheek. He'd gotten a lot of funny looks that day, but most of the people outside of the team didn't dare ask. Which was a relief then, even though he found it humorous now. “Now when it happens, we tend to just shrug it off, and ignore it. I've even been guilty of it a couple of times. Never with Haley, thankfully, but Gideon got the brunt of it once.” He took a sip of the tea, enjoying the flavor. Emily had been drinking hers slowly, not even needing to add any sugar to it. He'd prepared it just right.
“It's good to know I'm not the exception to the rule then.” Emily joked, feeling a bit more relaxed about it. Hotch smiled one of his very rare smiles at her,
“Not by a long shot, Emily.” He took another drink from his mug, before he continued, “Why don't we talk about your dream? Was it about the past few days, or something else?” Emily shrugged, trying to be casual,
“It was . . a bit of everything the past few months. The last few cases have been rough on all of us, sir-Hotch.” She corrected herself quickly. “I think this last one was just the icing on the cake. I can still see that woman's eyes, as she realized her daughter was dead.”
More to come, eventually. Comments are most welcome. I hope you've enjoyed it.
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