Dancing In The Morgue - Chapter 2

Death Must Be Awesome

The purpose in all life is death.

- Sigmund Freud

Every day at work in the Morgue was the same: cleaning up had nothing to it. Emily had to disinfect all the instruments after the doctor had made an autopsy (Why bother? It's not like the dead guys will get an infection...?); she had to make sure the autopsy room was all tidy and she had to clean the offices after 4 PM, because rich people don't work after that hour.

She had seen dead bodies before. She couldn't resist the urge to open one of those drawers containing real human cadavers. They looked so dead. They sometimes had their eyes wide open, and it felt like they were gazing at her. Some of them even appeared to be slightly grinning, like they actually enjoyed being dead.

Death must be awesome she thought to herself. You get to lie here all day, not doing shit. Just lying in a drawer at some local Morgue, while everyone around you is working... While the world keeps spinning and birds keep flying and the planets rotate around their axis and then around the sun. You're just here, you're not existing anymore, you just are.

That morning, however, was not like every other morning at the local Morgue, for Emily. Despite the usual New Jersey cold and wind, that morning was anything but ordinary.

When she arrived, she saw someone at the door, someone she had never seen before. It wasn't a doctor, it wasn't someone from the office, it wasn't one her fellow cleaners. It was someone with an FBI vest.

Being the Morgue, there was always some dead guy who was, well, dead, because they had been murdered, so the FBI was not exactly something Emily had never seen before. However, never that early in the morning and never literally BY the door.

She was intrigued, but she pretended it was none of her business (which kind of wasn't) and prepared to start her working day as usual.
She was about to open the door when the FBI person approached her.

"Excuse me?"

The FBI person was a man. A tall skinny man, who looked more like a squint rather than a Federal Bureau of Investigation agent. Emily furrowed her eyebrows, giving him a curious look.

"Yes, sir?" She couldn't believe he was a real FBI agent. Aren't FBI agents supposed to be strong and shit? This guy looks lighter than his gun, I don't even know how he bears the weight of his own clothes!

"I'm Special Agent Spencer Reid, from the FBI" He introduced himself, showing her his badge.
She examined it. It looked like an FBI badge. Not that Emily had seen one up close before.

"Excuse me, is this real?" she asked, examining his badge a little more, like she actually knew what an FBI badge was supposed to look like. "You probably stole this somewhere, agent Spencer L. Reid. What does the L stand for?" She teased.

He was looking at her like she was insane. He couldn't believe some bratt would actually question his authority. She looked like a bratt at least. Not very tall, a very regular frame, neither fat nor skinny, pretty average looking overall, except for the extravagant hair color, as orange as well, an orange.

"Excuse me, miss, I am a real FBI agent and I can arrest you!" he said, failing to make her feel threatened. His voice was way too high pitched, and his overall figure was way too funny.

"Okay, Spencer Reid, if that's your real name. What do you want from me?"
Emily was usually shy, but some people made her really want to come out of her shell. Spencer, from that moment on, was one of those few people. Something about him made her want to just mess with him. Probably the fact that he was so puppy-looking and clearly socially insecure, even though he was carrying an FBI badge and a gun.

Just the way he wasn't sure of himself, even being a cop. He looked like a fairly fragile person, on the inside and out. His brown eyes had dark circles under it and seemed dipped in darkness, like he's the offspring of a serial killer and a mentally demented woman. He reminded her of a darker version of herself, maybe that's what attracted Emily so much about that mysterious man.

"I want to ask you a few questions, if that's okay." He almost studdered. She found it cute that an SSA from the FBI actually has a studder when trying to sound more frightening. Truth is, there's nothing frightening about Spencer Reid. He just looks cute and adorable.

"If that's okay?" she said, ironically, mocking him. "Come on, you're an FBI agent, just say I want to ask you a few questions. No need to say please and beg like a little bitch!"
She usually wasn't this rough, especially with people she doesn't know, but, well, he was asking for it! Him and that something about him. That little something that made Emily tremble from top to bottom whenever she looked into those mysterious sad eyes of his.

Honestly, Emily saw in him someone she herself could relate to. He had that deep sadness to him that Emily knew so well. And he was just as awkward as she was, which was a bonus. However, she wasn't that insecure, at least on the outside.

"Okay, just come with me and be as honest as possible." He ordered, grabbing her arm firmly. She smiled to herself at the fact that he had actually a grip on her arm. It was kind of a turn-on.

"See? That's how you do it!" she smirked. For some reason, she felt like flirting with that guy. He seemed like someone who wouldn't exactly be all macho on her and well, he was cute in a completely twisted geeky way. And he had a tiny studder when he was trying to show off his authority, how insecure and adorable could someone be?

Keeping his grip on her arm, he took her to a gray car parked close to the Morgue's door.
Inside the car, she decided not to flirt with Reid, since they weren't alone anymore.

"I'm Special Agent Derek Morgan." The guy on the wheel didn't look like someone she could mess around with the way she had messed around with Reid before. "Emily Bronson, you need to come with us to a special facility in order to answer a few questions about the murder of Mr. Richard Broson and Mrs. Katheryn Bronson.

Those named made Emily quiver inside. Her parents.

Emily had chosen not to talk about her parents' deaths anymore because it was her way of coping. Pretending they were still alive, spending some time really far away, was Emily's way of dealing with the fact that they were both dead and, even worse, that they had died in the most horrible way there is. So, two FBI agents showing up at her work, wanting to talk about it, wasn't exactly something she wanted, five years after that cold night she wished never happened.