2006
Emily Prentiss' Apartment
11:49 pm
"Clyde. I want to see him." Emily Prentiss said firmly into the phone.
"Em, is that you?" asked a clipped Brit voice on the other end.
"Yes, it's me. I want to see him." She said, repeating herself once more, biting her nails in angst.
"See who? Em, what the bloody hell are you on about? Why are you even calling me?" Clyde said, obviously confused.
"HIM. Clyde, I want to see him. NOW." She said a little louder to make her point very clear. She wanted to see Ian, and Clyde was her only chance.
"Em, are you off your meds?" Clyde asked patronizingly.
"No, I'm no—"
"Em, listen. Even if I thought this was a good idea, which, by the way, it isn't; I still couldn't tell you where he is." Clyde said, exasperated.
"Clyde please! I need to—"
"Need to what, Em? Explain yourself, beg for forgiveness, pledge your undying love, eh?" Clyde said sarcastically.
Tears sprung to her eyes before she could stop them. Clyde had known, from the first check in, that she'd been attracted to Ian Doyle. It had been weeks later how he learned how bad an idea it was for that attraction to turn into something more. Clyde knew her intimate feelings for Ian, how she'd confided in him about the internal struggle. He'd even offered to help her get Ian out, in exchange for someone higher up on the INTERPOL watch-list.
But, Ian had refused, leaving her no choice. How badly she'd wanted to marry him, be Declan's mother, to have the perfect life. But life is no fairytale and it had been naïve of her to have even taken the assignment in the first place unprepared, leaving her heart exposed to the carnage sure to follow Ian's arrest.
"Clyde, I've never asked you for anything! I just want to see him, I needto see him." She begged. She hated begging, it was low, undignified, ungraceful, but she was out of options. She'd called every high max prison in Russia, Italy, and America. The search had taken a few years time and years off her life, leaving her last resort. Call Clyde Easter.
"In fact you have, Em. You asked me for the assignment, you asked me to help you get rid of his child you were carrying, you asked me to cut him a deal so you could "be together", you've asked for a lot of things Emily Prentiss, but you can't have this. I'm sorry."
The tears were flowing freely now. Anger and hurt made a physical pang in her heart. This was it. Her last hope had come to a heart crushing, bone shattering, halt.
"So you won't help?" She asked taking a breath.
"No, Emily. Its not safe. Its borderline suicidal. That's WHY we faked your death. If you were to go visit him and him ever find out about our whole operation, every single one of us and our families lives would be in jeopardy. You want to risk that for a one year fling you had with some sexy Irish bastard with a gun? Well, I won't. But mark my words Emily. If he ever finds out about you, he'll come looking for you…" and with that ominous warning the line went dead.