Chapter One
"To love at all is to be vulnerable." -C.S. Lewis
Emily Prentiss idly twiddled her thumbs as her diligent mind scrambled in thought. She was in desperate need of a manicure, and her petite hands started to prove her strenuous work. A consuming exhaustion was threatening to swallow what was left of her conscious energy. The previous night, consisting of an ad infinitum of tossing and turning, was not one of revitalization. An unsuspecting guest had been visiting her dreams, and Emily did not know what to make of it. She could, without difficulty, picture his deep brown eyes…captivating every last bit of her attention…
"Prentiss," A squeaky voice interrupted her reverie. "What do you think?"
Emily tilted her head upward to find Garcia's face plastered with a concerned, furrowed look. The rest of the team joined as they studied her clearly distracted expression. Emily froze at a loss for words.
"I, um," Prentiss stuttered, praying that her subconscious might have listened to any part of what Garcia was previously stating. "I think…that…"
"Prentiss," Aaron Hotchner's firm, demanding tone called. "Can I see you out in the hall for a moment?"
Emily, not sure what else to do, nodded dumb stricken and followed Aaron's lead outside the door. She could sense her heart's staccato beat begin to accelerate into a rapid pulsation. Her heels clicked on the tile floor of the BAU, ricocheting off the plastered grey walls. Exhaling, Emily built the courage to look him in the eye.
"Yes, sir?" She asked innocently, though fully aware he could detect her discomfort.
"Tell me what is bothering you." Hotch replies almost immediately. His forwardness catches Emily off guard.
"Nothing, sir. I'm just a little tired, that's all." She answers, internally cursing her lack of ability to lie.
Hotch's mouth firms into a grim line, his brow furrowing in a suspecting manner.
"No, there's more, and I'd appreciate if you'd tell me." He snaps.
Prentiss planted her hands on her hips and leaned her weight to one side. There was nothing she couldn't stand more than when Hotch's domineering control-self pushed her past her limits. Ever since she was little, Emily remained introverted. Keeping to herself was all she was taught to do. Admitting to herself what she felt was a challenge, let alone admitting it to her boss.
"Hotch, I'm telling you the truth, I promise. Let's just go back to the case, okay?" Emily started to pass him when he reached out his arm to block her access.
"Emily, you know you can talk to me." Hotch tells her in a hushed tone. "About anything." He adds.
Prentiss reluctantly looked upward to meet Aaron's gaze. It held hers for what felt like days. Her chest rose and fell, her breath quickening with every inhalation.
"I'm. Fine."
Hotchner hesitated, sighing in discontentment. Grudgingly, he moved his arm to let Emily through. She hastily scurried back into the room to find a room full of eyes all set on her. Disheveled and still a tad dazed, Prentiss took her seat and attempted to ignore the obvious stares. As she collected her things, her eyes caught Derrick Morgan's.
What was that about? He mouthed, his handsomely outlined jaw locking back in place, waiting for an answer. Prentiss exhaled and rolled her eyes in response.
"Alright, Garcia, what do ya got for us?" She endeavored to change the subject. Garcia subconsciously gave her a puzzled look but it is quickly overcome by a look of business.
"Well, let's see. Okay we have three females, all in their early to mid thirties, all brunette, each one brutally raped and stabbed multiple times in their own beds. This is…the…south end of Boston, Massachusetts. Grace Williams, Lisa Melz, and Nicolette Thibeault." Penelope elucidates, searching for information on the papers she's clutching in her hot pink polished nailed fingers.
"None of the stab wounds are anywhere near close to the heart, it must have taken the victim several stabs before dying." J.J. adds, her expression one of slight disturbance.
"Actually, there are many techniques and areas in the human body that can repeatedly be stabbed without causing major blood loss. The pain is that equivalent of a stab aimed toward a major artery, but the mortem is achieved much slower." Spencer Reid stated matter-of-factly.
"The murders were all reported from 8-12a.m." Garcia supplemented.
"Do we know the times of death? Or cause?" Hotchner asks, studying the screen displaying the vile murders of three young women.
"No, sir. But we do know that they each one worked at the Sowa art fair every Sunday in the south end, as well.
Hotchner reviews his papers with the team and comes to a conclusion.
"Looks like we're going to Boston."
The jet contained a tension thick enough to cut through with a knife. Looks of curiosity mixed with concern were detectable on the team's faces. Aaron Hotchner remained even more distant than usual, and Emily Prentiss tried her best to keep to herself. Turbulence occasionally shook the plane, causing her to jump a bit.
"Alright, baby girl, tell me whatcha got." Morgan video called Garcia playfully, hoping to lighten up the mood. It was difficult when the conversation was revolved around three murders of beautiful young women.
"Okay well," Garcia's nimble fingers slid around the keyboard. "Nicolette Thibeault worked on the 11-4 shift of a pet adoption stand in Sowa on Sundays. She had just recently broken her engagement with her fiancé and boyfriend of five years."
A picture of the young woman and her fiancé showed up on the small computer screen. She wore a floral sundress and six-inch heels, yet her boyfriend still had at least a foot on her.
"That puts him as a possible unsub." Hotch stated.
"Garcia, how tall was she?" Spencer Reid asked, his eyes fixed on the picture.
Clicking sounds of the keyboard were heard and soon Garcia answered with, "Five foot two. Her boyfriend was six foot four."
Reid nodded in response, digesting the information.
"So her fiancé could have easily overpowered her, overcome by anger with the breakup, felt the need to show his power over her by raping her and then killing her." J.J. plays with the idea.
"What's Nicolette's ex-fiancé's name?" Morgan asked.
"Matthew Campbell. Thirty-five years old, works as an English teacher in a music and arts high school in Boston. Has been arrested for battery and assault from Nicolette in 2009, but she quickly dropped the charges after being released from the hospital after a night."
"Alright, Reid and J.J., and Morgan will go to the morgue and inspect the body, Prentiss will accompany me to talk to Matthew." Hotch declared.
Prentiss froze when she heard her name. Just her and Hotch? Alone? That was highly unusual. She felt the familiar knot in her stomach begin to twist. Getting to her feet, she started for the lavatory to remain calm. She heard footsteps behind her.
"Emily," Hotch whispered, trying not to let the rest of the team hear him. "Where are you going?"
"To the bathroom, Hotch, okay?" Prentiss answered, irritated that he was questioning her every move.
"Prentiss you will talk to me with respect or I will remove you from this case entirely, do you understand?" Hotch barked. Emily was taken aback from his overreaction. But she was tired of his need to control everyone, and her irritability today was not easily monitoring her actions.
"Hotch, don't you think you're overreacting a little?"
"You will address me by 'Sir' unless I say otherwise, do you understand me?"
Emily's entire body tensed and heat began to rush to her cheeks. Why was he acting like this? Yes, he was usually subliminally trying to prove his masculinity and control, but nothing ever like this. Emily could feel the anger begin to build up inside of her. She was a strong woman, no doubt about it.
I could kick your ass, if I wanted to. Prentiss thought to herself, feeling her lip curl.
"Sir," She exaggerated the 'sir,' knowing it would push his buttons. "I don't think there's any need to remove me from the case. And I just feel you've been acting…differently toward me, that's all." She carefully chose her words.
Hotch inhaled, his masculine shoulders rising and falling. His intense brown eyes were a mix of inquisitiveness and anger. Emily couldn't profile him if she tried.
"Get back to the case." Hotchner ordered, turning his heels in one slick and returning to the stunned team.
Hi everyone, thank you so much for reading. I haven't written anything for FanFiction in a while, so this is a little rough. Please feel free to review, it helps me get inspired to write. Continue to read, more will be uploaded shortly!
