Emily was pacing back and forth in the hospital waiting room. The back of her hands were pressed to her forehead, the fronts -her fingers and palms- were stained crimson red. It was not her blood she wore, and though she had washed and clawed at her hands for a good fifteen minutes, the colour held strong. Her chest was tight as she took in hard, deep breaths. She felt sick.
This wasn't supposed to happen. It was simple and easy. Why had she felt the need to take on such a huge responsibility?
8 Months ago
A knock at the door startled her. Emily looked up from her files and raised a brow at the scruffy haired Brit standing in the doorway.
"I thought you were in Budapest for the week," she stated as she closed her laptop. She leaned back in her office chair and crossed her arms over her chest.
Emily wasn't that surprised to see Clyde Easter in her office on a Thursday afternoon. He frequently visited her, never for any particular reason, and it was often very distracting when she was rushing to get reports out. Of course they were friends and it made London feel a little less lonely. Clyde was one of the only people Emily truly felt comfortable around, but she couldn't hide how irritating his presence could be when she was busy.
Clyde strolled into her office and flashed her a dashing smile, then shut the curtains to avoid any unwanted attention. He then took a seat on the couch in the corner and opened his briefcase.
He tossed a large yellow envelope onto her desk without saying anything.
"I guess work can wait," she said to herself softly. He wasn't always so forward about things, but when he was, Emily knew the situation was serious. Clyde obviously wanted her help.
She prayed it was something that would get her out into the field again. She loved being in charge, but she no longer got to chase down the criminals and hold a gun. Emily Prentiss needed action in her life and writing up reports wasn't cutting it.
She stared at the envelope intently for a quick moment then curiosity took over. She leaned forward and immediately opened it, dumping its contents all over her desk. Countless pictures and documents spilled out as it opened, some smaller pieces falling onto the floor.
"What's this?" She flipped through a folder scanning the pages, quickly trying to make sense of the material she had been given.
"Why don't you see for yourself," he suggested. Clyde then made his way to the filing cabinet against the wall and pulled the handle on the third drawer down. It was where Emily kept the alcohol. After a long or difficult case she was known to invite members of her team up to her office for a drink. It wasn't conventional but they enjoyed it.
Clyde pulled out two glasses and the bottle of Scotch for himself. He began to fill his cup. "Anything for you darling?"
"There should be a nice Cabernet Sauvignon in there somewhere."
He put back the second glass and reached for a wine glass and filled it with the red. Then he walked over to Emily and handed her the wine.
She nodded with a smile then turned her attention back to the pile of papers scattered in front of her.
The files contained mission details and information on Clyde's latest obsession. A former CIA turned MI7 intelligence agent who had quit his job 16 years ago to focus on what he called Project Renegade. The project was said to be powerful and dangerous; though no one truly knew what it was.
That's what Interpol had been fearing most.
"Brian Sinclair," she whispered, glancing at him and took a small sip of her drink.
He was a legend to her, to most agents frankly. Not in the way that they idolize him, but more that they had only ever heard stories. Not many people had met him, and if they had they were not open about it. Tales of him spread fast in the break room like most rumors do. He was known as a crazy agent who crossed over, then gave up his career for a project. Brian Sinclair was someone you heard about but never believed existed.
Clyde was lounging on the couch with one leg crossed over the other and had already finished half of his drink.
"Let's just say Budapest wasn't a success," he said, looking down at his scotch; he swished his drink around in the glass.
Clyde was recently contacted by an informant who gave him information on Brian Sinclair's whereabouts. He had heard that Sinclair was fearing for his life so they had planned to meet in Budapest earlier that week. He promised to share the details of the project but things didn't go the way anyone expected.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Frankly Emily didn't have time for guessing games. However, Clyde liked to make everything more difficult.
"He's dead Em… And now Project Renegade is in the wind," he said, concern evident in his voice. "I need your help. Sinclair has a 15 year old daughter. Her name is Addison," he continued, then he slugged back the last of his scotch and put his glass on the ground beside his feet.
Emily was puzzled by Clyde's plea. "I can go talk to her for a bit, if you need it," she offered. She would volunteer herself for anything to get out of the office for a few hours. Lord knows she needed a change of pace.
"I was thinking something more extensive…" he trailed off.
"I don't have time for your games Clyde," she shot back. She had far more important things to take care of compared to Clyde's situation.
"I realize that, and I'm getting to it if you would just listen. You have never been one for patience." He smirked as he recalled every time he had told her to wait for backup before chasing after a criminal. She never did; and she always got the guy. She didn't like to be held back by anyone.
Emily glared at him.
With anyone else, he would have kept joking but he knew not to upset Emily Prentiss. She was a force to be reckoned with and truly she frightened him.
He decided to continue pleading his case. "The girl isn't safe, nor is she emotionally stable enough to go into foster care. She knows a lot about her father's work, whether she realizes it or not. I need you to get close to her and find out everything you can about Renegade."
She let out one loud laugh. "Wait, let me get this straight. You're asking me to play house with a 15 year old so you can fish out anything she might not know she knows?" She shook her couldn't believe he was asking her to do such a thing to someone so young.
"Well…. yes, exactly." He clasped his hands together. "I think she's lying. You know I would do it myself if she were..."
She sighed and cut him off. "I know, I know. If she were fifteen years older."
"I'm not good with kids. But you are," he reasoned.
Emily bit her lip and shook her head. "No, that's never going to happen. I'm not going to use some scared little girl. Can't you just leave this one alone? Sinclair is dead and if he truly did not tell anyone what or where Renegade is, then there isn't anything to worry about."
"She needs protection as much as I want someone on the inside. You're maternal, you would be perfect for this."
Emily blinked in surprise. She swallowed hard to try and get rid of the lump in her throat. "I wouldn't say that."
"You are and she's a kid… well a teenager. I'm not asking you to do another Doyle." He chuckled but immediately knew what he said was uncalled for.
Emily levelled her gaze at him, then started gathering the papers back into the envelope. "I have better things to do. You need to go," she demanded through clenched teeth and she tried not to raise her voice. She was struggling to control her temper.
Clyde knew he had hit a sensitive spot by bringing up Ian Doyle. He stood up and walked to the door avoiding her eyes. "At least talk to her for me, will you?" he asked, but before she could answer, he left the office.
Emily met Clyde that night at an Interpol safe house outside of London. The house was a small, wooden, two bedroom cabin that sat amongst acres of forest. Agents surrounded the perimeter; they hid in bushes and behind trees, protecting the young girl who resided within those walls.
Clyde waved her in and walked Emily down the hall to where the girl was staying.
"Just get her talking," he said before he knocked on the door twice.
There was no response, so Emily pushed the door open slowly and stood in the doorway, watching the young girl. Moonlight shone down upon her head as she sat curled up on the window sill. She hugged her legs tightly, pulling them against her chest. She looked thin but strong, and about average height. Her long dirty blond hair was pulled back in a high ponytail with a pink hair elastic. She stared blankly out the window, observing the wind blow through the trees.
"Hi Addison," Emily said from her spot by the door. "My name's Emily. Clyde asked me to come speak with you."
Addison turned her head so she could get a better view of the dark haired lady in her room. Without hardly moving, she looked Emily up and down, then went back to staring out the window. She wanted nothing to do with these people.
Emily shrugged, stepping fully into the room and closed the door behind herself. She moved the teen's sweater over and sat down on the bed.
"I know this isn't where you want to be right now," Emily said softly. She didn't plan on asking the girl about her father's work just yet. She wanted to establish a rapport with Addison first, and hopefully make her feel a little less alone in the world.
Addison continued to ignore the strange woman in her room. She just wanted peace and quiet so she could think about everything that had happened in the past few days. Her father's passing was finally becoming real and she was worried about what would come of her.
Emily sighed. She knew she had to try something else. "What are you looking at, Sweetie?" She stood up and slowly entered the girl's territory. She stepped with caution, scared she might set her off. "It's a nice night, isn't it?"
Emily was now standing directly behind Addison. The girl blinked quickly a few times, as if she were startled by the agent's close proximity. Then, she turned and gave Emily a death glare, her lips pressed into a thin line. However, Emily did not back down. Behind her calm composure; Emily could see fear and confusion gathering in the young girl's blue eyes. She stared back at Addison, mirroring her expression, then she tilted her head.
Emily was beginning to realize why Clyde needed help; getting Addison Sinclair to talk was a mission in itself.
"I'm sorry about your father. He was a good agent back in the day," she said softly with a sad smile. Emily reached forward and ran her hand up and down the girl's arm, trying to comfort her.
Addison shook her way free from the stranger's hold. "Ne parlez pas de mon père," she mumbled to herself as she pushed past Emily and went to lay on the bed facing the wall.
Emily was not sure she was supposed to hear what the blonde had said, but decided to answer in French anyway. "Je m'excuse. Je comprends que c'est difficile d'accepter ce qui est passé." She tried soothing Addison again by slowly rubbing her hand along the girl's back. Emily was surprised when her touch provoked no resistance.
Addison turned to Emily and she could see the sorrow in her blue eyes. "I'm not struggling to accept this. You don't get it... I don't have anyone else. I don't have friends because we were always moving around, and I don't know any family, if I even have any. I would think I don't because they keep discussing what they're going to do with me, and I keep hearing the words 'foster care' coming up," she ranted as tears welled in her eyes and began trickling down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry." Emily wrapped both arms around her and when Addison didn't try to fight her way free, Emily gently pulled her into a tight huge. Addison leaned into Emily, with her head resting on the older women's shoulder.
"No, you're not." she mumbled, her voice muffled by Emily's coat.
"I really am, and if I could do anything to help you I would," she lied
"You don't even know me," Addison replied as she looked Emily in the eye.
Emily tucked a rogue strand of hair behind the girl's ear. "But I know what it's like to feel completely alone. No one should experience that pain. Ever."
At first, Addison had been tense to Emily's touch because she didn't feel comfortable, but now she had completely sunk into Emily's body. She wrapped her arms around the kind agent, holding on for dear life as waves of sobs rocked her body. She melted into Emily's embrace and cried into her shoulder.
Emily continued to sooth Addison until she began to calm down. As her tears slowed and her sniffles became fewer, Emily let go.
Emily used her thumb to wipe the girl's face dry, then she squeezed Addison one last time. She held the girl away from her so she could see her eyes, then Emily smiled softly. "If you need anything, you can call me or ask Clyde to call me." Emily searched her pockets and pulled out a business card and a pen. She turned it over and added her cell phone number. "Day or night. Okay?"
Addison tried to smile and nodded, then she took the card from Emily hand. Emily walked over to the door and opened it. She looked down the hall and could see Clyde watching anxiously.
Suddenly she jumped when two arms tightly wrapped around her waist. She reached her arm around and turned to see Addison one last time.
"Thank you, Emily... for talking to me and everything."
"Take care of yourself sweetie." Emily nodded and rubbed her back, then walked out the door and closed it. She stood outside the door, held her breath and smiled. As badly as she didn't want Clyde to be right, she wanted to take the job. She wanted Addison Sinclair.
Once Emily was down the hall she looked at Clyde. He stood leaning against the wall with a smug smile on his face.
"What?" she asked, frowning and narrowing her eyes at him.
He chuckled and shook his head. "Nothing."
He knew that she would be perfect for the job, even though she had said no earlier that day. He was going to convince her otherwise.
She stared at him for another few minutes, then gave up and walked away. "Goodnight Clyde."