A/N: Here's the deal. The italics are a flashback sequence that will be played out through the story. It's probably also worth a mention that the time difference between the east coast of the States and the western side of the U.K. is five hours. I've been working on this one for awhile now, and I hope you all like it!
Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, or anything related to the show...or anything else...
"Um… am I interrupting something here?" Emily spoke from one of the many monitors scattered about. Garcia jumped, pausing mid speech to survey her lair. They had set up a weekly chat date, one that Emily was almost exclusively late to; that was if she didn't end up having to cancel and reschedule. It wasn't difficult to see how the current scene could have been misconstrued. Garcia was on her knees, stage right, facing Derek. He was on the left of the camera, and laughing hysterically at Penelope's reenactment of Kevin Lynch's second proposal in as many years. Apparently the poor guy had thought that his first attempt had been lacking in clichés.
Garcia was on her feet in a flash, and moved to her rightful place quickly. "Oh finally," she cheered. "You're back! I was beginning to worry."
"Sorry, Pen." Emily grimaced. She knew that Penelope missed her because, at the end of the day, she missed every one of her friends at the B.A.U. just as much. "I just had to jump down Jensen's throat because he thought that it would be perfectly fine to obtain and serve a search warrant on a Member of Parliament without running it by me first."
"Did he get what he needed from the search?" Derek asked. He was now leaning over Garcia's shoulder, having invited himself to the conversation.
"Well, he found a few million dollars worth of illegal substances and weapons," she answered nonchalantly. "The only problem is that the warrant wasn't exactly official. He didn't have a signature to legitimize it."
Derek's expression turned to a thoughtful one. Emily knew the man like the back of her hand, and that look told her that he was weighing out the facts at his disposal. "Sounds like the Cat did what he had to do. Actually, come to think of it, sounds like something you'd do."
Emily nodded. "Which is precisely why I put my ass on the line for him and used some contacts to cover it up." She added a little smirk to let him know that she was still, very much so, mischievous. The action had brought a slow, but brilliant smile to his face as well.
That had been three months ago. It was now about a year since his trip to London with Penelope, though he could imagine the tisk he would have gotten from Spencer for that thought. The Kid would have said, 'ten months, two weeks, three days, fourteen hours and give or take fifteen minutes.' It had taken Derek a few minutes, and a sheet of paper, to work that out. He wasn't exactly able to focus on his job at the moment though. This time it was because he found a pen that he had covertly borrowed from her desk a few years back to finish up an incident report. He knew for certain that it was hers, not many F.B.I. agents gnawed on the ends of their writing utensils. The distance hadn't been too bad though, really; they'd been in touch. Not a day went by that they didn't exchange a text message at the very least. That was, up until the day he had talked to her in Penelope's office. Why had all communication between the former partners ceased so abruptly? That would be because Derek Morgan was a fool. That was a fact that he was all too ready to admit, if she would only allow him the opportunity.
A throat clearing in his forefront tore his attention away from the device in his hands. Garcia wasn't exactly the type of person to sneak up on people, fluorescent blurs tend to be noticeable, but she was standing tall in front of his desk. He hadn't even realized that his office door had opened. It's funny how an inanimate object can entrance a person so entirely. Then again, it wasn't the ink pen that had turned his brain to mush. "I'm sorry, Penelope?" He couldn't figure out exactly what it was that had brought the exuberant techie to see him. "We're we supposed to get lunch today or somethin'?"
She had her hands on her hips and a scowl set firmly in place. It didn't take a profiler to see that she was about an inch shy of complete belligerence. "What have you done?" Morgan definitely did not have an answer for that. His brows knitted together and he gave an involuntary shrug to indicate so. "I just had a little talk with the other members of the Justice League." Colorful descriptions aside, he already didn't like where this was going. "It's been four months for Hotch and three for J.J., Spence, Dave and me." He shook his head, still at a loss for whatever it was he was about to be apologizing for. "Exactly how long has it been since you've talked to Wonder Woman?"
There it was, and he actually deserved the third degree this time. It was entirely his fault that Prentiss had cut them all off. He knew precisely why she had done it, and he honestly couldn't blame her for it. He'd probably caused her a lot of grief in the course of that short conversation. He had said a lot of things that should never have passed his lips, especially given that the conversation had been via video call. There were some things that were just supposed to be said in person. "I don't know," he lied, "three months or so? That day in your office was the last time I spoke with her."
Her eyes narrowed. The woman could be downright intimidating when she was determined to get to the bottom of something. She stepped forward and, leaning down, put her hands on the front edge of his desk. "That's interesting because that's the last time I talked to her as well, and no one else has heard from her since." Her voice was deadly low, and he knew that she had come to the conclusion that whatever had happened had transpired that day. He noticeably swallowed the nervousness that realization caused, Penelope was not the type of person to relent.
He stood from behind his desk, clearly uncomfortable with being forced into a defensive posture. "I don't know what you want from me here, Garcia? She's the head of an entire Interpol division, Prentiss has a lot on her plate."
That was the second time that he had addressed Penelope by her actual name, and she did not miss it. "You need to fix whatever it is that happened between the two of you, and now." He opened his mouth with a retort, but she only raised her hand to silence him. "I mean it, Mister." Those were her parting words. He knew she was right, but he didn't even know where to begin. He was in for a long night to finish up his week as it was, one that would only be made longer if he didn't focus on what he was supposed to be doing. If someone on a different continent wanted to avoid you, it could be done with relative ease.
However, it wasn't that Emily was avoiding him so much as she was just pretending that he didn't exist altogether. She was a few thousand miles away, and not exactly in a position to deal with their falling out. That's why she was doing her absolute best to keep the whole mess compartmentalized for a later date. She told herself that she'd visit D.C. the first chance she got. That they could figure out how to deal with it once they were in the same room. Until then, she would settle for having plenty of time with her thoughts.
It had been a long day at Interpol, longer than usual, which meant that it was dark out and virtually everyone had left for the night. Everyone, that is, except for Liam Winchester; or, as Emily liked to think of him, 'The British Aaron Hotchner'. The man did more paperwork than she thought humanly possible. After a week or so as the boss, she had figured out that he had taken to doing a lot more than was necessary. He had the option to delegate, but chose to do the work himself. When she'd confronted him about it, he'd waved it off saying that his people deserved social lives. She liked, and respected him a great deal. That's why she hated the idea of having to do what she was about to do.
Winchester and his team had put in a request to transfer a prisoner to their offices for questioning two days ago. Wales was pretty far away, and it'd be a bitch if they ended up having to do a follow-up interview. He was just finishing loading his laptop into a canvas messenger bag when she entered the bullpen. 'Poor sap probably thought he'd be getting some sleep tonight,' she thought.
Liam's whole body sagged as he noticed the woman walking in his direction. "What is it this time, Boss?" He couldn't quite suppress the smug expression that was slowly washing over his features. "You got another case for me, or does the copy machine need toner?" Maybe he was a little more like David Rossi than he was her former unit chief. "Don't I do enough around here?"
Emily just shook her head, smiling at his antics. "This one's on you, Pal." She held up the folder containing his team's approval. "Your request finally came through. The prisoner," she paused to search for a name, " Mickles?" Her face scrunched as the word left her mouth. "Seriously, Donny Mickles? I think I might have been a mass murderer too if that were my name." Winchester smiled appreciatively at the lame joke, eyes crinkling at the edges. "Anyway, you can pick him up anytime."
"Thank you, Ma'am." He accepted the file and, to her surprise, opened it up on his desk and took a seat.
She squinted at the man. He was in his mid forties, had sandy-blond hair in a shaggy cut and looked like he could handle himself in a brawl. In fact, he looked like he might have participated in a few. Though, as Emily had learned through a late night coffee break conversation, he had gotten some scars during his rugby days. He didn't mind though. He was adamant that a couple of blemishes were well worth a free ride to university. "You know," she said, "you can fill that out at home."
He looked up for a moment, but not at her. He only laughed and went back to filling out the form. "Yeah, but then I'd have to drive all the way back to Wales tomorrow to give it to the warden."
Emily raised her eyebrows at that. "You're going tonight? That's like a four hour drive," she said in stunned disbelief.
"Yeah," he countered, turning to face her, "but there's some beautiful countryside out west." Her face left no doubt that she was clearly over the lighthearted banter. He checked his watch. "Look, I can be there and back by 10 a.m. If I wait until morning, I won't get back until four in the afternoon. That's if Jackson doesn't have to stop every five minutes to hit the loo." Having made his point, he went back to the paperwork.
Emily had heard the other agent get ragged pretty heavily for the fact that he had a seemingly nonexistent bladder. It wasn't a condition that was conducive to surveillance operations. She chewed on her lip for a moment as she contemplated her choices. It was then that she realized how ignorant it had been of her to think that she would be getting any sleep tonight. "Fine, but I'm driving on the way back."
Liam's head whipped back around to his superior. "Funny, I don't recall inviting you?" His smile grew as she retreated to her office to gather her things.
She called over her shoulder, "and you're buying the coffee." That offhanded comment brought out his dimples in full force.
A/N: So, this is my first attempt at actually creating a character (Liam Winchester). I'd like to know what people think of him if it's not a bother. This is my first attempt at seriousness in a story too, I usually go for laughs. Also, I have a strange medical condition... I have to post chapter updates faster if I get lots o' reviews. It's a sickness, really.