One hundred and fifteen.

One hundred and fifteen point five.

One hundred and fifteen.

Sighing, I turn off my bathroom scale and walk over to the sink to wash my face. One hundred and twenty point five. I splash my face with the warm water. Half a pound above what it was yesterday.

"Dammit!" I yell to my empty bathroom. I close my eyes to calm myself. There's no point in getting upset now, I can't go back and undo yesterday, but I can make today a whole lot better.

I hate this, my constant attention to my weight, and to calories and exercise. I miss when I would eat whatever. But I guess that's what made me so fat in the process. It's a good thing, right? Yes. It's a good thing. I look up at myself in the mirror and just as I begin examining the dark circles under my eyes that won't go away, my phone rings. A case. Great. It's like 7 A.M., can't they wait until I've woken up a bit more?

With a grunt, I move to my phone and answer it.

"Prentiss." I answer in my normal, reserved tone.

"We've got a case." It's JJ. Of course it's JJ, of course we have a case.

"I'm on my way." I reply and hang up. I rub my hand against my temple in an attempt to quell my oncoming headache. This is going to be a long day, I decide. I place my phone down onto the table and make my way to my bedroom where I hurriedly get dressed (out of a need to get to the office quick, but also so I don't have to look at my appalling, fat body.

Grabbing my phone, purse, keys, badge and gun, I leave my apartment and make my way to the train.

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20 minutes later and I'm at work. I follow as the team makes their way into the briefing room and we all take our seats. I glance around at my team members. There's Rossi, cool and collected as ever. Then there's Morgan with his dazzling physique. Next to him is Reid. The kid weighs barely anything and eats so much, why can't I have his metabolism? Stupid men, I think to myself, they have it so much easier. Garcia is sitting opposite me, yeah, she's not thin by any means but you can't help but love her. She has the world's best personality.

As I'm sitting here wallowing in my thoughts, JJ and Hotch enter the room. Hotch doesn't look like there's any fat on him at all, just neat muscle. Okay, maybe there's a little excess fat around his waist but it's nothing compared to me. JJ, fine, she's not tiny, but she looks a whole lot finer than I am, with her petite frame and blonde hair and blue eyes. I can't help but feel a pang of jealousy.

"Let's get started." Hotch's voice pulls me out of my reverie as the briefing begins. I listen intently and give my opinions when and where they're needed, but I can't help but think about what I can eat today and lose weight still. It's a constant battle between my thoughts. Half of the time they'll focus on the task at hand, half of the time they'll focus on food, or calories, or weight. They switch as quickly as lightning hits the ground. It's annoying.

"Wheels up in twenty." Hotch says, concluding the briefing. We file out of the briefing room and head to our respective desks to pick up our go bags and make our way out onto the tarmac and onto the jet with little conversation.

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Twenty minutes later we're sat on the jet about to take off. Reid, Rossi and I are sat around the table and JJ and Hotch are on the couch opposite us reviewing details from the case. Morgan walks over with a tray of pastries that'll serve as our breakfast as we're all up so early. Everyone eagerly takes a pastry and sits back with it, Morgan offers one to me when he sees I haven't yet taken one.

"Eat up, Prentiss, long flight ahead." He says with his signature smirk. Oh how I want one, they're staring at me practically begging me to eat them. But they're full to the brim with sugar and fat. I can't eat them. Two hundred and thirty one calories for the medium croissant, at least, that's what the last croissant I read the nutritional information for was. With eleven point ninety seven grams of sugar and twenty six point eleven grams of carbs? No thanks.

"No thanks, I ate breakfast this morning before we got the call. I'm not hungry again yet." I say. He's satisfied with the answer and turns away murmuring something about if I want one later to just get up and get one. My stomach is screaming at me for nutrition but I can't eat that, it's full of disgusting calories, and not the good kind.

I turn my head to the wall and lean it against it and stare out of the window as we take off. Slowly my eyes start to close and I let them, knowing the on flight briefing won't be for a while.

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I'm awoken after what seems to be only a short while later by Rossi shaking my shoulder gently. My stomach rumbles as my brain returns to consciousness. I subconsciously force the palm of my hand into it to try and stop the sounds.

"Should've eaten, huh?" Morgan says, smirking. I narrow my eyes at him, smiling slightly.

"I wasn't hungry then." I say, smiling.

"Have we got any more food?" Morgan asks everyone. Oh gosh, please don't have.

"No, Reid ate the last one." I almost breathe a sigh of relief when JJ says that we don't.

"I'll eat when we land." I say. Everyone seems content with my answer and we all look to the laptop to listen to Garcia update us.

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We all arrive at the local police station just after two in the afternoon and set about setting up our investigation. My stomach is still screaming at me and the hunger pains are starting to get rather painful. I guess 28 hours without food will do that to a person. I have to remember that it's not my stomach calling for food, but the calories dying.

"Eaten yet?" I look up and expect to see Morgan, but to my surprise, it's Hotch.

"What?" I say back, temporarily forgetting why he's asking.

"After the plane, have you eaten?" He asks again. Lie. And lie now.

"Oh, yeah. I grabbed a cereal bar from the vending machine downstairs when we came in." I lie. His face softens into an almost smile.

"Good." He says, and walks off to return to whatever he was doing. At least he believed that. I shake my head slightly, trying to rid it of unwanted thoughts and get back to my task.

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Shortly later Hotch calls us all over and hands out assignments. JJ and Reid are going to stay here and work with the local PD on going through some old data. Rossi and Morgan are going to see the body in the morgue and get the coroner's report, and Hotch and I will be going to interview the family. Ignoring the pains in my stomach, I grab my phone from the table and leave with Hotch. Walking through the lobby, I notice that there's no vending machine and hope to death that he won't notice. And judging by the fact that we get out of the building and into the SUV without him commenting, I got lucky.

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"Okay everyone, let's leave it here tonight. There's nothing else we can do and it doesn't seem as though our UNSUB will be killing anyone else soon. Let's all check into the hotel and get some food." Hotch informed his team as it drew near to 8 P.M.. I froze. How on earth do I get myself out of this one? Remembering I have about fifteen minutes to come up with a reason, I pull myself out of my state and collect my belongings and follow the team to the SUVs.

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We arrive at the hotel a short time later and go to check in. Hotch hands us all our room keys and gives us instructions to go and freshen up and then meet in the restaurant for dinner.

My room is right on the end of our row, next to Hotch's, then there's Reid, JJ, Rossi and finally Morgan.

"Hotch," I say as I walk past him to get to my room.

"Mhm?" He looks up at me after swiping his keycard.

"I'm feeling pretty beat, I'm gonna skip dinner and I'll see you all in the morning. Tell the others for me?" I say, full well knowing that I'm famished. He frowns. My stomach tightens in apprehension.

"All right." He says. My stomach loosens again. I turn to head into my room, but stop when he speaks again,

"Emily?" He asks.

"Yeah?" I respond. Just let me go, I need to exercise some more.

"Are you feeling okay?" Why is he asking, gosh, I need to get better at lying.

"Yeah." I answer. He doesn't look convinced. "Honestly, Hotch, I am. I'm just so tired."

"All right." He says, albeit reluctantly. I inwardly wince. "Good night. See you at seven for breakfast." My stomach clenches again at the word, but I force a gentle smile.

"See you tomorrow, good night."