Power Outage
Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone in regards to Criminal Minds; the show and its characters belong to a bunch of people who aren't me. I am merely borrowing the characters for my own amusement. Dance puppets, dance.
Author's Note: I wrote this fic based on a dream I had about Criminal Minds. Even in my dreams I can't stop obsessing! Many, many thanks to Mingsmommy for her help and advice. Even insanely busy, she took time out to help; she's that awesome. And a big thank you to the ever helpful Smacky30 for the beta.
"Tall and tan and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes walking…" When Emily heard the man standing next to chuckle, she realized she'd been murmuring the lyrics just a little too loudly.
Blushing, she muttered, "Sorry."
"Don't worry about it," the tall, blond agent replied. "It's not hard for these songs to get stuck in your head."
She gave him a small grin. "I just wish they would play something a little better to get stuck in my head." She inclined her head to the speaker in the corner, where the Gilberto Astrud song piped into the elevator.
"I hear you," another rider agreed, a female wearing a lab coat. "I know they added the music to appear more welcoming to visitors and to boost morale among agents, but this stuff is awful. We have some of the most sophisticated technology in the country, and they play this."
The large, heavily muscled man on the other side of Emily snorted. "The only thing this music makes me want to do is a boost a shot gun to the speaker." He blew out a breath. "I know they just started this little experiment, but I hope they shut this crap off real soon."
Right after the man finished speaking, the smooth elevator came screeching to a halt. Gasps and one very loud "Whoah!" filled the small space. The sudden stop in movement caused Emily's heart to drop somewhere in the vicinity of her toes as she grabbed onto the bar on the back wall to keep from falling. Darkness filled the elevator before one tiny soft light replaced the fluorescent beams.
Even though her heart raced in her chest, Emily managed, "Well, it looks like you got your wish."
"What's going on?" the other female asked shakily.
The large man took a few steps forward to the control panel. "Hopefully it's nothing." Opening the small door, he took out the emergency telephone. As he dialed, Emily unbuttoned her jacket, running her hand over the handle of her gun. She hoped it was just a power glitch, but she wanted to be prepared for anything.
She didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until the man turned to the group, and announced, "It's a power outage. The whole building has lost electricity. There doesn't appear to be a security breech."
Emily's posture relaxed. "It's nice to know we still have the greatest technology." She released a long breath. "Did they say how long it will be until the power comes back?"
Snorting, the man shook his head. "Apparently it's going to be a while. They're not sure what caused the problem, but there are other elevators that are stuck. And we're not supposed to try to open the doors until the bomb squads have cleared the elevator shafts." In a biting tone, he added, "They'll call back when they call back."
Letting her head fall back against the wall, Emily closed her eyes. "Great," she drawled.
A moment later, she reached into her pocket for her cell phone; she wanted to at least let someone on the team know she was in the elevator. But looking at the screen, she found she didn't have any service bars. Even better. Groaning silently, she sank down.
Since it was obviously going to be a while before the doors opened, the others joined Emily on the floor. The group passed the time talking about everything, from choosing the proper playlist for the elevator music to drafting a very sternly worded letter to the engineering department for not attaching the elevators to backup generators. The language of the letter became more colorful as the small room became increasingly hot and stuffy. When Emily peeled off her damp jacket, she looked at her watch; it had been almost an hour and a half.
Rubbing her hand on the back of her soaked neck, she wished she had a hair band with her. "I guess the crews had to build their tools, which included mining for the metal."
"In China," the blonde man, Brad, added.
Another long fifteen minutes later, there was the sound of sweet music to Emily's ears. And it wasn't that annoying Brian Hyland song; the phone on the panel rang. TJ, the large man, reached up to answer it while everyone else stared expectantly at him. After he listened for a moment, he said, "Okay," before he promptly hung up.
"What did they say?" Emily asked.
Placing his hands in the crack of the door, TJ replied, "The shafts are clear. Now let's get the hell out of here."
Muscles straining against the sleeves of his white shirt, TJ grunted as he pried apart the inner elevator doors. As soon as they opened, he cursed loudly. "We're about a foot and a half short of the floor!"
Emily stood, noticing the elevator car wasn't quite aligned with the floor's inner doors. "Can we get this other set of doors open?"
"That's not a problem. But let's make sure we don't get shot by whoever is on the other side." His big fist pounded on the metal. "Hello! Hello! Can anyone hear me?!"
A moment later, a voice on the other side answered, "I can hear you. Can you identify yourself?"
"I'm Agent TJ Palmer from Organized Crimes. I'm in this elevator with three other people. I have the elevator doors open and I was about to open the floor doors."
"Hold on a moment! We'll get a key and see if we can open the door from our side."
Taking a quick look at her watch, Emily crossed her arms over her chest. "They have thirty seconds before we bust down the doors ourselves."
Only few moments later, the person returned, telling them he had the keys. The exposed latches started to rattle, but because the elevator car wasn't lined up with the floor, the door wouldn't open fully.
"Oh to hell with this," TJ muttered, before he slid his hands into the gap. Grunting, he started to pull the doors apart. Soon, the doors gave way, and opened completely.
The group was greeted with darkness, save for the light coming from the people on the other side carrying flashlights. One at a time, each person was helped off of the elevator.
An older man, holding the keys, asked, "Is everyone here okay?"
Emily nodded. "We're all fine. Just slightly undercooked." Sighing, she gestured to the darkened hallway. "Obviously there hasn't been progress in getting the power on."
"No," he shook his head. "No one knows what caused the power outage or how long it will take to get it back on."
"Can we go back to our departments?" Brad inquired.
The other man nodded his head. "As long as you have level four security clearance, yes. You can't take the elevators, but obviously, you know that." The corners of his mouth lifted ever so briefly; just enough Emily enough to want to deck him. "You'll have to take the stairs, and we can't let just anyone wander through the building." He eyed each one of them. "There are people stationed throughout the stairwells so have your IDs ready. If you do not have level four clearance remain here until the power comes back on."
The FBI security team had examined every aspect of Emily's life when she needed to obtain level four clearance, even the name of the French Bulldog she had when she was six. For once the snooping into her senior prom date actually came in handy. She thanked everyone for their help before she took a flashlight and headed to the stairs.
As if the five flight trek down to the BAU wasn't bad enough, many security guards stopped her along the way. It felt like high school again when the teachers would reprimand her for wandering the halls during class.
After being stopped for what felt like the umpteenth time, Emily finally pushed the door open to the BAU floor. As she walked down the long hallway, she noticed a figure walking toward her. From the heavy steps, she thought the person was a man.
She heard him start to say something, but never gave him a chance to begin. "Damn it, I work on this floor!"
"Emily?"
Surprised, she stopped, shining the light up to the man's face. "David?"
"Yeah." Rossi quickly walked to her. "Jesus, Emily, are you all right? Where the hell were you?"
Sighing in disgust, she waved her hand absently. "I'm fine. I just got stuck in an elevator when the power went out." At his widened eyes, she assured him, "Its fine, Dave. I tried to call, but I couldn't get any service. If the elevator slid down to the basement and a prisoner was on the loose, then it could have been one of those really bad action movies."
Both of his hands gently grasped her shoulders and he searched her eyes, as if he were trying to determine if she'd just lied to him. "Are you sure you're okay?"
She rolled her eyes. "We were almost forced to eat the dead, but we managed to hold off."
He wearily scrubbed his hand over his beard. "Emily, I was really worried about you."
His somber tone managed to snap her out of her sarcasm. It was the same tone she heard before, when he rushed her out of the Liberty Ranch. "It's okay," she assured him. "I was just stuck in an elevator. It wasn't big deal."
"That's true." He brushed his fingers down the side of face, causing her to shiver. "But the power went out and I didn't know where you were. Or if you were even okay. I just…I wanted…"
The pause between them was heavy, saying more than words ever could. She really wished she could see his eyes in his in the dark so she could confirm what he meant…what she hoped his words meant. Then his hand slipped around behind her neck and he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.
Oh, she thought. Oh, I guess so. Then she stopped thinking, and just sank into the sensations.
Surprisingly, his goatee wasn't rough; the hair prickled pleasantly against her chin and the flesh below her nose. His lips moved gently against hers; no force or heavy pressure. Just sweet, soothing probing against her lips…her unresponsive lips.
She tried to respond, but it was damn near impossible. The sheer joy of being kissed by David Rossi was completely overwhelming.
She'd be lying if she said she hadn't fanaticized about kissing him before. How his goatee would feel, the taste of his mouth, his breath on her face. Nestled somewhere in those fantasies, among the delicious chemistry, was the relationship part; where he cared for her beyond a colleague. And based on what she was experiencing, she knew her dreams were nowhere near as good as reality.
.
Emily just figured the forever after part would never happen.
When she was fifteen, she and a couple of friends disappeared for a weekend, hitchhiking all the way to Paris. They ended up spending one night outside because the hostels were booked up. They actually had to steal some money just so they could make it back to Italy. When she joined her mother for breakfast Monday morning, the Ambassador hadn't noticed Emily had vanished.
Emily had only been gone a handful of hours today, apparently worrying Dave greatly.
The reality of everything finally sank in just as he started to pull away. She made a slight noise of protest, and he was back again, kissing her as gently as before. Thankfully her flashlight had a wrist strap. Slowly, she brought her trembling hands to his cheeks. There, she laid her palms against his face. The slight stubble was rough under her skin.
Inhaling through her nose, the clean, masculine scent of his skin invaded her senses, making her head swim. The heat of him radiating against her was warm and inviting; like being wrapped inside of a large, fuzzy blanket. Moving her hand up his face, Emily traced the skin behind his ear. He rumbled happily, causing her heart to skip a beat.
A long, blissful moment later, they gently pulled apart. Resting their foreheads against each other, their heavy breaths intermingled.
"I've been waiting two years to do that," Dave told her quietly.
Rolling her eyes, Emily continued let her arms rest around his neck. "Well, it took you long enough."
She smiled when he chuckled, but then she stiffened when she heard someone walking toward them.
"C'mon." Taking her hand, he led her in the opposite direction of the steps. "We'll go to my office."
As they walked through the darkened bullpen, Emily noticed there was a distinct lack of flashlights and people. "Where is everyone?"
"Some are in the breakroom with Garcia telling ghost stories. Everyone else is in the conference room listening to the Orioles game on the battery radio Hotch keeps in his office. And Reid is reading in JJ's office."
"He got kicked out of both rooms, huh?"
As soon as they made it to his office, Dave shut the door, and took her flashlight, placing both of them on his desk. He then drew her closely against him, resuming what they started in the hallway. As wonderful as it was to be kissed by him, she couldn't help the little voices of fear, doubt, and heartbreak creeping into her head. But when he cupped her cheeks with both hands, she told those voices to shut the fuck up.
Deciding she couldn't wait any longer, she teased the seam of his lips with her tongue. He was more than willing to comply, opening his mouth. Moaning, her knees nearly buckled as their tongues touched for the first time. For some reason, she always thought Dave would taste like a fine dry, red wine. But he actually tasted like freshly baked snickerdoodles, a wonderful combination of cinnamon and sugar cookie dough. And Emily loved snickerdoodles.
His lips then make a slow journey from her mouth to her neck. Almost involuntarily, she tilted her head to give him better access. She discovered her neck was much more sensitive to his facial hair. It sent a delicious shockwave through her nerve endings as he rubbed his goatee there.
Before she became too preoccupied with getting her hands on the rest of his skin, she whispered his name.
"Yes?" He murmured against her throat.
Those annoying voices from earlier had fought their gags, and spoke loudly in her head. "What…what are we doing here?"
In the muted glow of the room, she could see the corner of his eyes crinkle with mirth. "Well, I'm pretty sure the teenagers today still call it making out."
Rolling her eyes only gave her a momentary reprieve from her nervousness. "Look, I've never been the girl that's always asking where a relationship is going or what this is about. But I have to ask…" She stopped, trying to figure out how to word her question. "What is this about?"
Wordlessly, he led her over to the large leather sofa against the wall. Sitting down, he drew her into his lap, with both arms around her waist. She was about to open her mouth again, but she felt him trembling slightly. She rested her head against his shoulder, giving him a moment.
Finally he broke the silence. "When you came charging into that bar in Indianapolis, I knew I wanted you in my life. No woman has ever rescued me from myself before. But I knew…I knew our job would make any relationship that much more complicated."
Emily went rigid at his words, and started to stand up, but he held her tightly in place. "Prentiss, I'm not so stupid that I would jerk around an armed woman." He gently squeezed her. "I'm a man and it takes me a while to get to the point of the big feeling reveal speech. I just need a few extra minutes, okay?"
It took a moment, but she eventually settled against him again. Part of her still feared what he might say, but curiosity won out. "All right," she told him quietly.
He took a deep breath. "When we go out into the field, I make myself have some distance with you." Resting his forehead against her temple, his voice lowered. "But it's never easy to see you get hurt. So I have this distance…this mindset so I don't ask to be paired up with you every time to make sure nothing happens to you. Or ask to be the one who takes you home and stays up all night with you when have a concussion."
Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to concentrate on the low, soothing rhythm of his deep voice. There was something endearing about Dave speaking softly to her. She simply melted against him, allowing him to go on.
"Here in the office, I don't need to put those guards up, because, we're in an FBI building in the middle of a very large marine base with the headquarters of the United States military nearby," he deadpanned, snorting. "You don't get much safer than that."
Taking her hand, he entwined her fingers. "And then the power goes out, and nobody knows what's going on, and I didn't know…" He trailed off for a second. "…where were you were, and that thing where I can make myself be detached isn't there. And I don't want to hide how I feel any more."
He brushed his lips across hers once, then twice. "So you better let me take you dinner, because if you won't see me outside of work, roundtable is going to be incredibly awkward with me kissing you the whole time."
Emily was thrilled the power hadn't come back on; otherwise he would have seen the goofy grin on her face. Just a few hours ago she'd gone to the forensic lab to drop off some papers for another day's work. Now she sat in Dave's arms as he told her he wanted her. The warmest feeling of happiness bloomed in her chest, leaving her in an amazing state of bliss.
When she finally answered him, she couldn't keep the amusement (or sarcasm) out of her voice. "You want to kiss me in front of everyone over pictures of corpses? That's disgusting, Dave."
"Which is why you should go to dinner with me." He touched his lips to her earlobe again, causing her squirm. "Because then we can make out in more private places where there aren't bloody pictures and where Reid isn't likely to spout off random facts." This time he kissed her lips. "So…would you like to have dinner with me…maybe, when they decide to let us out of here?"
It was even more endearing that tough, arrogant, bad-ass David Rossi sounded like a nervous seventeen year boy asking the pretty girl to prom. And she was that pretty girl.
She sighed heavily. "I guess one insanely expensive meal won't hurt."
"Well, at least I know you're using me for my money up front."
Leaning down, she brushed her lips on his nose before journeying down to his mouth. Dave leaned further back into the sofa taking her with him. So much promise and hope was infused in a sweet and slow kiss.
"I suppose we should tell the others you made it back okay," he grumbled when they both needed a little oxygen. "Do you prefer baseball or would you like to hear what scary story Garcia has?"
Emily pretended to consider that…for all of about two seconds. "Or we could just stay here and make out some more."
Dave grinned and then tugged her mouth down to his. "That sounds like a really good plan," he whispered just before he kissed her.
The End