I only just found this still sitting on my laptop, I actually thought I'd published it long ago, but nevermind. So here it goes.
I hope you guys enjoy!
Cheers, Kassandra
Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
The Shades of Jealousy
by Kassandra Luem
Chapter One – To see him in your place
She puts her arms around him and you watch them walk away. You can't help but think that a few weeks ago, this would've been your place.
Because you used to be the one with whom she went to grab something to eat after work. You used to be the one she called late at night when she couldn't sleep. Needless to say, you haven't gotten a call from her for one month.
Ever since that fateful day you decided not to stand in her way of happiness anymore. Now, as you watch them walk away, you can only bitterly shake your head at how willing you were to play the selfless martyr. And you have to admit, if you had known before just how much it would hurt to see the two of them together, you're not sure you would've been able to go through with your actions any more.
Maybe you thought things wouldn't change all that much if she was with some detective who lives half across the country. What a fool you've been.
It changes everything.
The long, lingering glances now carry the bitter taste of being a mere game to her, the casual touches now are empoisoned by the knowledge that they're never gonna lead to more. Every moment you cherished before, every gesture that used to brighten your day now only adds to the pain gnawing at your stomach, twisting your insides until you're hardly able to breathe. There are days when you feel ready to shatter if she so much as glances your way.
They disappear into a car and the sound of the door falling closed resounds unnaturally loud in your head. Doors falling closed. You wonder when everyday occurences got so fucking poetic. Doors falling closed. It's just what's happening with your life. Well, rather you pulling the door closed yourself and then smacking right into it.
You run a tired hand through your hair and turn to go home. All you want by now is to hide in your own little sanctuary, to be left alone with your thoughts, with your self-pity, your pain and your missed chances.
So it doesn't really help when Garcia calls you and asks whether you want to join the team on a night out. JJ and her detective will be coming as well. After having a fancy dinner, of course.
You never felt less like going out.
The thought of having to observe the two of them for a whole evening twists your stomach into knots so tight that having dinner is just completely out of the question. As was having breakfast this morning. Or lunch at work. But that's another question.
You're just about to decline politely when it occurs to you that this would be the third time in a row you didn't come along for drinks. The third time in a row in one month. And you just know that this time it's gonna rouse questions. Which is about the last thing you feel like you have any energy left for.
You're already feeling fragile enough as it is, without having Penelope looking at you with this caring, open expression in her eyes, a ''come on, you can tell me'' on her lips.
And so you decide to take the offer, even though you know that this evening will beat every dinner with your mother on your list of most horrible evenings ever. You close your cell phone and get into your car. You've got two to three hours before you have to get going again. Which means you have two to three hours to figure out how you'll make it through tonight. Without staring at them like some mindless idiot. Without crying every time you see them kiss. Without screaming that this is your place every time he takes her hand.
Because in truth, you know it isn't.
You've been fooling yourself the entire time you told yourself that JJ felt something for you as well. Something beyond friendship. Because JJ's straight. End of matter.
And even if she wasn't, she could surely do better than some Ambassador's twisted, nerdy daughter who has to put her emotions into compartments because she never learned how to properly deal with them.
Except that now, you find you can't put your feelings into compartments. And it scares you. It makes you feel vulnerable and out of control. And you have no idea how to deal with that.
But you find you don't really have a choice. Because everyone expects you to be happy for her. As any good friend should. Everyone, including her. And you can't stand the thought of letting her down.
You remember the disappointed expression on your mother's face all too well, everytime you just couldn't quite meet her expectations. And you know that you couldn't bear to see that expression on JJ's face as well. So you pretend to be all happy and carefree everytime she talks to you. Which almost makes you feel glad that she seems to have cut you out of her life to a large extent. Because it's so damn hard to pretend that you're not sure you'd manage to keep up your act if she actually took the time to talk to you more often. Still, you're not sure what hurts more: Talking to her, pretending not to love her or not talking to her at all.
Somehow, your mind can't seem to wrap itself around the fact that she just doesn't need you anymore. That now, she's got someone else to talk to, someone else to tell her everything will be alright, when she starts doubting. Someone else to try and brighten her day after a hard case. Just someone else for pretty much everything you used to do for her. And you know, the sooner you accept it, the better.
She doesn't need you anymore.
Most probably she's never needed you, specifically you, at all. Most probably she's only ever needed someone to be there for her when things got rough. You just happened to be there.
Tears cloud your vision, making it difficult to manoever in the heavy evening traffic. So much for learning to accept that… Sighing, you pull into the parking spot in front of your apartment building, one hand brushing tiredly at the tears running down your cheeks. You can't remember crying so much ever since you were twelve and your grandfather died. And you almost start to hate her for making you feel like this. Like someone had cut you open from the collarbone down to your hip and every waking second you can feel the wound all over your body. Almost. Because inspite of the pain, the tears and the despair you can't quite bring yourself to hate her.
You quickly check your face in the rearview mirror before getting out of the car, sighing at the running mascara and obvious dark circles under your eyes. You don't exactly need any evidence of your troubled emotions later. Later. When you'll have to see them together. For the whole evening. Your stomach protests again and you're suddenly glad you haven't eaten anything all day.
You have no idea how you'll survive this evening.
But then again, you don't exactly have a choice. So it'll have to be the trademark Prentiss-mask again. Smile, be fun and entertaining and don't ever let them see you cry.
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A/N: So what do you think? Anyone still interested in that old story of mine?