There is a reason I was so dogged about getting this job. Why I paced back and forth in my apartment the four days after I first met Hotch. Why I had one of my contacts at the FBI alert me when the BAU was on their way back. Why I waited for hours in Hotch's office, convinced him to let me stay.
There's a reason I tried so hard to prove myself to the team. Why I jumped at every opportunity to show off my skills. Why I did everything I could to make myself look valuable, like an asset.
There's a reason I didn't connect with the team immediately. There's a reason Gideon thought I didn't feel part of the team, part of the family.
There's a reason.
The reason is that I had to be part of the team. I had no choice in the matter. Not really. I had to be on the team. For her.
I had to be on the team so I could find her.
Amy. My daughter. She was 21 months when it happened. Almost 2. She was precious. Mine.
The minute I found out I was pregnant I knew what she was. A liability. The FBI, Interpol, they give out a lot of awards to their agents. "Mother of the year" isn't one of them. Law enforcement doesn't exactly lend itself to parenthood. Not when you can be called across the country-across the world for that matter- at anytime, day or night. Not when it is your civic responsibility, your sworn duty to put others first.
I knew that. And it's not like her father stuck around to help, either. We'd been dating a few months. Nothing too serious. Mainly he was how I congratulated myself for collaring an international drug smuggler who spent his free time beating his girlfriends. Got back home after a long stint in Europe, found myself an attractive, single guy in a bar and let my guard down.
Stupid. I knew better. I did. But hey, live a little, right? That's what they say. "Ah, you work too hard, Prentiss." "Loosen up a bit, Emily." "You deserve to have a little fun. Put down your cape and tights and live a little, Em."
Well, the jackass got the hell out of dodge when he found out the big deal that comes from a little, blue plus.
All the better. He would have been a terrible dad. So, I made the decision. Kept my liability. I went dark, asked for a sabbatical of sorts and got off the radar. It wasn't easy to pull my when your mom is a former ambassador, you find that people are much more willing to pull the strings, look the other way. I hated using my mother's status to benefit myself. I did. But it was necessary.
Eight months after I found out, my liability was 7 pounds two ounces with a shock of black hair and the most darling green eyes you'd ever seen.
And then 21 months later, she was gone. I left her with the nanny (whose background check I performed personally, one can never be too careful) as I usually did, headed to the NYC field office for the FBI. Nothing out of the ordinary. The day was bland. I didn't have any worries, suspicions. It was a normal day. A boring day. I filed the the crap-ton of paperwork that comes with a officer related shooting, which I had executed the day before. I wasn't worried though. It was a good shot, justified. But that didn't excuse me from the paperwork, so I was chained to the desk.
I got home around 6 (early for me) and that's when I knew. Something was wrong. There was no crying. No babbling. No giggling or mumbling or cooing. I unlocked the door, one hand reaching for my service weapon. Which I didn't have, because it had been bagged as evidence. Because of the damn gangster who had decided to take a shot at me the day before.
All that was left was the quivering nanny, Melissa who was quaking and crying. Amy hadn't been taken but seconds before I had gotten home. Melissa hadn't even had a chance to call. In between gasps and sobs she managed to tell me that she had found the window of Amy's room open. Amy gone. A note in the little bed.
No cops, no feds, no funny business. I'll know.
Catch me if you can.
Ever since then I have received an email every month with a proof of life video. Each is only 30 seconds long.
For two years I have watched my daughter grow up on 30 second sound bites. 102 clips. Not even an hour of footage.
For two years I have spent my free time trying to backtrack emails from dummy accounts, bribing CSI techs to test and retest anything I think I can get them to check without asking too many questions, intimidating possible witnesses, searching for my daughter. For two years, I have hid this secret from the team that became my family.
Two years too much.
A/N: So this idea was given to me by red lighting. I really like where this is going, so strap in for the ride, folks! As always, comments and reviews are LIFE.