A/N So I've creaed this off shot, because I completely forgot Emily's mother was dead and a couple of reviews reminded me of the fact. So this is an offshot world. Emily's mother did not die. Rather her death was faked so that they could catch the man resposible. Anyways on with the show. Oh I own nothing.

Tornadoes cause houses to fall on the just and the unjust alike. Sometimes they bring along passengers. A cute little girl in a checkered dress with a little dog, who helps solves the world's problems. And sometimes a witch who helps create problems for the world.

This tornado brought the "Wicked" Witch of the Middle East.

Unfortunately, for Emily there was no warning that the tornado was coming. Not until it dropped a house on her.

Emily had been sleeping more and more since leaving the hospital. It helped her heal, and helped keep her from going mad with boredom.

The fact that the shrill ringing phone woke her from a peaceful slumber should have been a clue.

She sleepily reached for the unwelcome noisemaking device. She answered without checking the caller ID.

"Mmmhh. Hello," she answered, still half asleep.

"Emily, dear. It is your mother."

That woke Emily up. She sat up in bed, "Mother. Ho-how are you?"

"I am very well. I heard of your, ah, unfortunate experience. I am at your apartment, but it appears that you are not."

Unfortunate experience, always so proper. Using euphemisms to cover ugly words and experiences. "No Mother, I'm not at my apartment. I'm staying with my boyfriend while I recover."

"I see."

This is not going to go well.

"Well Emily, I shall need you to give me the address of where you are currently residing."

"Yes Mother."

/

She wasn't riding a bicycle. She didn't have green skin. She didn't have a pointy black hat. She wasn't saying, "I'll get you my pretty. And your little dog too."

But still...

Opening the door, for a brief moment Emily had the feeling that she was Dorothy and standing before her was the Wicked Witch of the West.

How messed up was that? Emily was a grown woman of … well, she told everyone 27. And she was imagining herself a scared little girl facing someone whose sobriquet was "The Wicked Witch of the West."

An overactive imagination is not always a good thing.

It was her mother's words that brought her back to the present. The were polite, unfailingly polite. At least on the surface. But Emily had been hearing them for years. She could hear the disappointment that lurked under the surface.

"Well. Are you going to invite me in or are we going to stand on the porch for everyone to see all day?"

Emily definitely felt 14 again. Small and always making mistakes. She stepped back and off to the side as she spoke, "Of course, Mother. Please come in."

Elizabeth Prentiss rarely walked. She moved in two manners. One was calm business like, much like a man – head up, back straight, shoulders back. It was a walk that said I'm in charge, and though my sexual organs are on the inside and not the outside, I'm still better than you.

The other was the one she employed now. Like she was royalty deigning to make an appearance before the masses. Looking at her you would have never known, that she had recently been shot. She took a quick appraisal of the modest house.

It failed miserably.

It was nowhere good enough.

Emily didn't have to be a profiler to see the subtle shifts in her mother's body language. The advantage or disadvantage of having spent her childhood with this woman meant that she could read those subtle shifts like a book.

Aaron's house was not up to the Ambassador's standards.

Emily braced herself for the fight she knew was coming.

"Emily, pack up your things. This is no place for you to recover. I'm taking you somewhere proper."

Emily closed her eyes; this was not going to go well. This was going to be bad. "No."

That stopped the Ambassador cold. She had been moving further into the house, likely looking for the bedroom to help Emily pack. She didn't want to be here any longer than she had to. "No? Young lady-."

"No mother. I am perfectly happy here. And I'm not leaving with you."

"And why not? Clearly this place is ill-equipped to help you recover. You need constant care. Is there someone here right now to help you? Or are you on your own?"

"Aaron will be back soon."

"I see. And is 'Aaron' a qualified medical professional?"

Emily exhaled softly. She couldn't let her mother know this conversation was getting to her. "No, mother he's not. He works for the FBI."

… "Not Aaron Hotchner, your boss?"

Emily didn't say anything. What could she say?

"Emily. How could you let this happen? How could you let it come to this? Do you know what you are now?"

"What I am? Who are you to judge me?" Emily took a breath and counted to ten. "You need to leave. Now. Mother."

"Emily I-."

"You've made your feelings towards my boyfriend and his house perfectly clear."

"Very well. I shall come back when you are calmer, and more willing to have a reasonable conversation."

"Sounds like a plan Mother." Of course that will be when Hell freezes over so don't hold your breath.

Elizabeth Prentiss calmly walked over and politely kissed her daughter on each cheek. She turned and walked out the front door, her head held high. Looking at her one would never know she had just lost an argument with her only child.

The tension that was holding Emily up escaped her body the second the door closed. She wearily collapsed onto the couch in the living room.

The world was spinning and contracting. And she didn't know what she was going to do.

She didn't notice the door opening. She didn't hear Aaron call out her name. She was lost in her thoughts.

He noticed her dazed and unresponsive form sitting on the couch. He moved towards her. He crouched down and looked up at her, "Emily, hey."

"Aaron. You're back."

"What's going on?"

"My mother was here."

"Oh. I'm guessing it didn't go well."

Emily barked out a laugh, "No. No it did not go well. She disapproves of our relationship. And she wants me to go with her and 'recover,'"

"Does she disapprove because I'm your boss, or just disapprove of me in general?"

"Because you're my boss."

"Life isn't giving you a break."

"No. … This doesn't change anything Aaron. I still want to stay here. I still want to stay with you." She took his hands in hers.

"Good. I want you to stay. … I think I might have thought of a way for us to keep our jobs and stay together. Well at least give us a chance."

"Really? Do tell."

"It goes like this."

A/N Review let me know what you think.