Death Is Nothing To Sing About, a Criminal Minds + Glee Crossover fanfic

Author's Note: One thing you should know about me: I love music, and I passionately love to sing. It's pretty much my life. If my school had a glee club, I would have been in it. Anyway, I love the TV show "Glee" (Matthew Morrison is so sexy...but that's not the only reason why), and of course (as you very well know by now), I am hugely obsessed with "Criminal Minds." So, you put them together, and this is what you get. Hope you love it. :)

Disclaimer: I own neither Glee, Criminal Minds, the song "No Air", nor the song "If I Die Young." They belong to Fox, CBS, Jordin Sparks, Chris Brown, and The Band Perry, respectively. Also, I couldn't have written this without the book "Glee: the Beginning," by Sophia Lowell. A huge scene in this story came from that book, so it's only right that I include it! :)

"We have another case," Hotch announced grimly.

Morgan sighed. "Where this time?'

"Lima, Ohio. We'll have time to brief on the jet, but basically, all three victims go to McKinley High School." He paused. "Well, two of them are students, and one was a cheerleading coach."

"Any other connection, besides the high school?" Reid asked, gathering his belongings as they spoke.

JJ checked her notes. "They all had something to do with the school's glee club, but other than that…no."

"What is a glee club? Not to sound old, or anything," Dave added quickly.

"It's pretty much musical theatre," Emily explained.

"But with more singing, and less acting," Reid elaborated.

"Exactly."

Hotch nodded vaguely. "Alright, everyone, wheels up in thirty."

~.~.~

"So, I already talked to the Lima Police Department, and they gave us full jurisdiction. In other words, we're riding solo; the investigation is ours," JJ spoke up, walking over to sit by Dave.

"Great. Now we can really get down to business," Emily said.

Morgan nodded from beside her. Opening his folder, he said, "Okay, so the three victims, Sue Sylvester, Tina Cohen-Chang, and Quinn Fabray, were all killed by a series of extremely shallow knife wounds, and a gunshot wound to the head. They all bled to death in their own cars."

"So, it has to be someone who knows all three people. That's way too much rage for random killings," Dave stated plainly.

"And it has to be someone who all three victims knew," Emily mused. "They all let the unsub into their cars, so that indicates an established sense of trust."

"Prentiss is right," Hotch agreed. "Also, look at the wounds."

"Shallow means not that much strength," Reid pointed out. "So either, a weak teenage boy…"

"Or, a woman," JJ finished.

"Alright. But why?" Emily asked.

"That's the one question that's almost impossible to answer," Hotch said. "The victimology changed each time; Asian girl in late teens, Caucasian girl in late teens, Caucasian woman in mid-forties…"

"So, the only connection is McKinley High's glee club." Morgan paused. "Looks like there's someone we really need to talk to."

"Who?" JJ asked.

"The club's coach," Hotch answered.

Dave nodded. "Definitely."

~.~.~

"Will Schuester?" Emily called, knocking on the door of his Spanish II class.

"Yes?" He looked up. "How may I help you?"

"I'm Agent Aaron Hotchner, this is Agent Emily Prentiss, with the FBI." Hotch introduced as the two of them flashed their badges.

Will looked at Emily intently. Ignoring Hotch, he said, "FBI? You?" His unrelenting gaze made his thoughts obvious.

She shrugged. If you don't mind, we need to ask you a couple of questions."

"Not at all." Hotch fidgeted uncomfortably as Will flashed Emily a perfect grin.

"You've heard, of course, about the recent murders," Hotch began.

"Yes," Will said gravely, his demeanor immediately changing. "It's just awful; Tina and Quinn were quite the students. The others are devastated."

"Did they have any enemies?"

"Everyone in glee club has enemies; every single person on the football team, and each one of the Cheerios," he answered.

"Cheerios?" Emily asked curiously.

"Sorry, the cheerleading squad," Schuester clarified. "But, I can't imagine anyone capable of…murder."

"Were either of the students involved with a…dangerous crowd?" Emily asked.

Will thought it over, shook his head. "Not at all."

"What was Sue Sylvester's connection to the glee club?" Hotch asked, pulling out a plain black pen and taking notes.

"She…abhorred it. We were her rivals," he answered.

"Then it had to be something personal…" Emily murmured. Speaking up, she asked, "Did she have any problems with any of the other teachers?"

"Female faculty members, in particular," Hotch added.

Will contemplated the question. "No. At least, I don't think so."

Hotch's eyes narrowed as he noticed something interesting. "Mr. Scheuster, are you married?" he asked, glancing at the telltale difference in skin color where a ring had presumably been on his finger.

"Recently divorced."

Emily looked at Hotch, understanding his train of thought. "Do you mind telling us how recent?"

"About…four weeks." Schuester's eyebrows came together in confusion. "Why?"

Disregarding the man's question, Hotch asked, "What is your ex-wife's name?"

"Terry Schuester…" He stopped. "Wait, you don't think she has anything to do with this, do you?"

Emily shrugged. "We can't be sure until we have evidence, but anything is possible."

Hotch and Emily walked towards the door. "We'll be in touch," he promised.

They were about to leave when Emily said, "Oh, wait. Would it be possible to speak to the club members?"

Will's visage brightened slightly. "Yes, of course. In fact, I was heading there right now."

~.~.~

"I heard from a few teachers that McKinley has a rich Glee history," Hotch said conversationally, as the three of them walked down the school's long hallway.

"We did. See those trophies?" Schuester asked, motioning to the display case. "When I went here, we won sectionals every year, and we even won regionals once." He stared at the shiny brass statuette of a figure singing into a microphone. "We had so many kids trying out for Glee that we had alternates, and second alternates." He glanced at Emily. "We ruled the school. You should have seen us."

"I would have liked to," Emily commented, wondering what the man in front of her had looked like as a teenager. Probably just skinnier, with the same mop of curly hair.

Will turned his head, and his eyes rested on a Cheerios trophy. One, two, ten, fifteen Cheerios trophies, all with brass girls raising pom-poms. There was nothing wrong with physical abilities, he thought. But the school used to be able to cater to more students than just the physically gifted ones. Things had really gone downhill since his days as a student, when someone with musical talents was just as admired as someone who could throw a touchdown, execute a perfect curveball, or do a slam-dunk.

It kind of broke his heart.

As they walked into the choir room, Emily appraised the small gathering of people performing "If I Die Young" from the Band Perry. The notes resonated within them, filling them with an odd chill and a sense of cruel irony. "This is a pretty impressive group you've got here."

He smiled appreciatively. "Thank you." A beat passed. "They…they've been trying to get their minds off the deaths," he disclosed. "The m…" He broke off, unable to finish the word. "Singing seems to be the only thing that has been able to work. For a while, at least. Their parents are going crazy, security around campus has been doubled – tripled, even – and there's a moment of silence each day on the morning announcements. The kids can't escape the memories." He let out a tired, worn sigh. "They were all very close," he finished.

Hotch nodded. "I understand."

As the conversation died down, Emily and Hotch continued watching the group, identical impressed expressions on their faces as Mercedes and Rachel sang an octave higher than everyone.

As the musical number ended, Will realized that Emily had been quietly humming along. "You know this song?"

She nodded. "I keep up with a lot of modern songs…to be honest, I was in my high school's glee club," she mused.

Hotch and Will looked at her, surprised. "Really?" they asked in unison.

Her lip quirked into a half smile. "Yeah."

"Hey, Mr. Schuester, who are our visitors?" Puck asked warily, walking towards them, the others following close behind. The two profilers noticed that each club member was wearing black.

"Everyone, this is Agent Prentiss and Agent Hotchner with the FBI," Will introduced. "And this is our glee club. Kurt Hummel, Noah Puckerman…"

"But you can call me Puck," he directed towards Emily, who snorted quietly in response.

"Finn Hudson, Mercedes Jones, Artie Abrams, and Rachel Berry," Will pointed out proudly.

"You were in your high school's glee club?" Rachel asked Emily, intrigued.

"Yes," she answered, oblivious to Hotch's amazed look.

"Can you sing?" Finn asked somewhat tightly, unsure about how to react in a situation like this. Unsure how Quinn would react. Don't go down that road again, he internally chastised.

"Oh, yeah."

"Then show us," Puck said, putting in a CD. Quinn's favorite, he mused sadly.

"Oh, uh…now?" Emily asked, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Please?" Kurt asked.

"You don't have to sing alone, you know," Will said nonchalantly. "We could do a duet."

Music really has gotten their minds off the murders. Emily arched a perfect eyebrow. "I'm not so sure about this…"

"Come on," Will insisted. "One song, then you can interrogate everyone. I mean, look at them," he added. "They all want to hear you sing."

"It's interesting, you know," Rachel said. "An FBI agent who can sing."

"It's a pretty novel idea," Artie agreed silently, his mind somewhere else; on Tina.

Emily sighed, knowing that they weren't going to back down any time soon. "Fine," she relented. They've already gone through so much, anyway.

Puck pressed play, and the first notes of "No Air" by Jordin Sparks and Chris Brown filled the room.

Emily couldn't help but chuckle. "I love this song. I know practically every word."

Will grinned. "Then that's perfect."

"You get first verse, he gets second, and chorus together," Mercedes instructed, her normal excited tone somewhat diluted by unspoken memories.

Emily nodded vaguely.

Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air…

If I should die before I wake
It's 'cause you took my breath away
Losing you is like living in a world with no air
Oh…

I'm here alone, didn't want to leave
My heart won't move, it's incomplete
Wish there was a way that I could make you understand

So how do you expect me
To live alone with just me
'Cause my world revolves around you
It's so hard for me to breathe

Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air
Can't live, can't breathe with no air
It's how I feel whenever you ain't there
It's no air, no air
Got me out here in the water so deep
Tell me how you gonna be without me
If you ain't here, I just can't breathe
It's no air, no air

No air, air
No air, air
No air, air
No air, air

I walked, I ran, I jumped, I flew
Right off the ground to float to you
There's no gravity to hold me down for real

But somehow I'm still alive inside
You took my breath, but I survived
I don't know how, but I don't even care

So how do you expect me
To live alone with just me
'Cause my world revolves around you
It's so hard for me to breathe
Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air
Can't live, can't breathe with no air
It's how I feel whenever you ain't there
It's no air, no air
Got me out here in the water so deep
Tell me how you gonna be without me
If you ain't here, I just can't breathe
It's no air, no air

No air, air
No air, air
No air, air
No air, air
No more

It's no air, no air

Hotch smiled as Emily hit the high note perfectly. She's amazing, he thought.

No air, air
No air, air
No air, air
No air, air

It took a while, but soon, the whole room erupted into applause. Will smiled. "Wow. If you ever get tired of being the FBI, you would make a pretty damn good singer. And…we could always use another glee club coach."

She smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."

~.~.~

Interrogation went rather quickly. When asked about Terry Schuester, each student said practically the same thing. Although she could be super nice and really funny, there was something…off about her.

"Sure, I trust her," Rachel answered Emily, yet not quite meeting her gaze. Instead, her attention was on her fingernails, as she worried away at her cuticles. "It's just, she's kind of clingy, you know?"

"What do you mean?" Emily asked, crossing her legs casually.

"Well, lots of people are saying that the reason she and Mr. Schuester split is because she was jealous."

"Jealous? Of what?"

"I don't know. Mr. Schuester spends most of his free time with us, so I guess she felt like he was drifting away, or something." Rachel shrugged. "But it could be something totally different. I mean, I'm no good at relationships…"

"She's weird," Puck told Hotch. "I mean, I respect her and all because she's my teacher's ex-wife, but that doesn't mean I have to like her."

"What makes you dislike her?" Hotch asked, glancing over at Emily, who was now talking to Mercedes.

"She kept trying to pull Mr. Schue away from glee. Apparently, she whined a whole lot about it, too."

"Whined about what?"

"How he was trying to avoid her, and all that crap." He rolled his eyes. "Honestly, she was one messed up woman."

A thought hit Emily. "Has she ever asked you for a ride?"

Mercedes nodded. "Yeah, once. I couldn't take her because we had after-school practice, but…" She gasped. "Oh my gosh, weren't Tina, Quinn, and Ms. Sylvester found in their cars?" Emily nodded grimly. "Do you think she's the…the murderer?" Her voice trembled slightly as she fought back tears.

Emily leaned back in her chair. "I don't know. It certainly is possible, though."

"Do you drive yet?" Hotch asked Artie.

He shook his head. "Nope," he mumbled.

"What about you?" he asked, turning to Kurt.

"I get my permit in a couple of months, but no."

"I can drive," Finn said, before Hotch could ask. The agent narrowed his eyes. "Has Terry Schuester ever approached you and asked -"

"For a ride?" Finn interrupted, anxious to finish the question and answer session; the sooner it was over with, the sooner he would stop being haunted by images of Quinn; her smile, her laugh, her beauty. He shook his head to clear it. "Yeah, she has. What about it?"

"Did you?"

"No. I had football practice, and honestly, I don't trust her that much." He mulled it over. "She creeps me out," he admitted carefully.

Hotch nodded and motioned to Emily. Both of them stood and walked towards Will, who dismissed the class. "We're done for now, but we should be back…tomorrow, maybe," Hotch said to the agitated club coach, who nodded slowly.

Emily smiled slightly. "Hang in there. We'll inform you as soon as we have new information."

He relaxed a little. "Alright. Thank you."

Hotch and Emily wandered towards the door when Will spoke again. "Agent Prentiss?" he asked tentatively.

She turned towards him. "Yes, Mr. Schuester?"

He paused, his eyes following Hotch as he dialed his cell phone and walked out of the room. "Please call me Will."

"Then call me Emily," she retorted kindly.

"Emily…" He cleared his throat. "You have an incredible voice."

She fought to suppress the blush creeping up her neck. It had been a long time since she had received that compliment. "Thank you."

"Of course. And, I…I was wondering, if you had some free time tonight or tomorrow, or whenever…if you would be interested in having lunch – or well, dinner - with me," he finished almost shyly. "To talk about the children, and Sue, and anything else your team needs," he added at her pause.

She looked at him intently. "I…I don't know if I -"

He nodded immediately. "I understand. It's way too sudden," he rambled. "I mean, we just met and -"

"No, no, no, that's not what I'm saying," she interjected. "I was trying to say that I wasn't sure if I have free time, but if I do…" She chose her words carefully. "It would provide great insight towards the case," she answered.

"Really?"

"Yeah," she said, giving him a reassuring glance.

"Oh. Wow. Um…great. If you can, give me a call and I'll pick you up. Or we could meet here and drive to some place." He shook his head at his nerves. "Is…that okay?" he asked unsurely.

"It sounds perfect."

~.~.~

"So, JJ called and said that she talked to Miss Pillsbury, the guidance counselor, and Mr. Figgins, the principal. Both confirmed that the kids - and Sue Sylvester, for that matter - were all clean; there was no involvement with gangs, drugs, anything like that." He paused. "They also aren't comfortable around Terry. Apparently, Mr. Schuester has told her more than once not to visit him at the school, and she even had to be escorted out by the security one time." He glanced at the brunette briefly. "Kind of persistent, don't you think?"

"More like obsessive. Will told me that she lied about being pregnant so he wouldn't leave her," she answered, idly texting someone on her phone.

Hotch tried to ignore the fact that Emily had said 'Will' not 'Mr. Schuester.' "He was going to leave her?"

She shook her head. "That's exactly my point. He wasn't. She was just paranoid and insecure. Of course, then he ended up filing for divorce."

"Hmmm. I don't blame him."

"Neither do I." She looked up at her boss. "Hey, are we going to be busy tonight?" she asked, thinking about Will.

"No. Why?"

"No reason…I was just wondering if I would have time to go to dinner with someone," she said vaguely.

His lips stretched into a thin line. "Is it Schuester?"

"Excuse me?"

"Prentiss…Emily, you know that you're not supposed to form relationships with victims during a case," he said sternly.

She scoffed. "Who said we were in a relationship? We just met, for God's sake. He's just taking me to dinner. So we can talk about the case, so I can learn more about Terry's behavior, and so I can see where the kids are on the grieving scale."

"So it is him?" he asked, his voice raising.

"Why do you care?" she retorted. "And what about Derek and Tamara? You never called them out," she tossed back.

"I don't trust him," he lied, trying desperately to say something, anything, that would change her mind.

"In other words, you're jealous," she stated.

His silence was her answer.

As they pulled up to the local precinct, Emily immediately pulled off her seatbelt and opened the passenger side car door.

"Emily…"

She shut the door and walked away. Pulling out her cell phone, she called Will and told him that she would be able to make it.

Hotch rested his head in his hands and leaned against the steering wheel. "Will I ever catch a break with this woman?" he murmured miserably.

~.~.~

Will eyed the woman sitting in front of him. Silky red top, dark denim - almost black - jeans, knee high leather boots…her hair was pulled up in a really loose bun, with several wisps falling down and framing her face.

She looked amazing.

He glanced down at his own outfit. Khaki pants, navy button down with thin white stripes…unruly curly brown hair…

Eh. Could be better.

Her expressive eyes met his and he smiled. "Alright. I already said the most interesting things about me. Now it's your turn."

"Hmmm…okay, well, besides glee club, I was in debate, chess, creative writing, photography, and psychology club in high school."

"In other words, you were a total nerd," he teased.

She laughed. "Exactly. I was on the varsity volleyball and basketball teams in both high school and college. I know how to speak six languages; Arabic, English, French, Italian, Russian, and Spanish. I love to read. Kurt Vonnegut is my favorite author ever. And…I love my job. Passionately," she added.

Will was impressed. "Favorite movie?"

"Inception. What about you?"

"Shutter Island."

"Both starring the amazing Leonardo DiCaprio. Imagine that."

He chuckled. Glancing at their empty plates, he asked, "You ready to go?"

She stood. "Yeah."

The drive back to the hotel Emily and the team were staying at was relatively short. Walking into the lobby, Emily smiled sweetly. "Thank you so much. I really enjoyed it."

"I did, too. You're excellent company."

"Just like you."

There was a brief beat of silence.

"Well, I have to go get some rest for tomorrow," she said quietly. "Hopefully the kids will be okay. I mean, I know it's going to be hard, and it'll be a long while until they accept it but…" Her voice trailed away.

He nodded in understanding. "I hope so, too." A long stretch of silence lapsed between them, during which neither of them felt like leaving. Finally: "Emily, um…can I kiss you?"

She bit back her smile. "It's cute that you have to ask."

He carefully leaned forward and, placing his hand on the back of her neck, pressed his lips to hers. She closed her eyes. It felt so good. His lips were so…soft. And his tongue…

The concierge pointedly cleared his throat, and the two broke apart reluctantly. "Um…do you want to go up to my room for some…coffee?" Emily asked tentatively.

His thumb gently brushed across her perfect lips. "I'd love to."

And that was that.

~.~.~

"We've got news," Morgan announced. "The gun used in the McKinley High murders is a ballistics match to a gun used in a previous, unrelated breaking and entering."

"That gun was sold to a pawn shop in Cleveland," Reid said, taking initiative. "And guess who bought it?"

"None other than our lovely Terry Schuester," Dave answered.

"Good. Now we have enough for an arrest," Hotch said. Turning to Emily, he added, "Let's go, Prentiss."

~.~.~

The two profilers were driving to Terry's house when Emily received a phone call.

"Prentiss," she answered.

"Emily," a breathless voice on the other line said.

"Will? What's wrong?" she asked, glancing at Hotch and putting her cell on speakerphone.

"Terry. She's here. At the school. And…and she has a gun," he reported, exhaling sharply.

"Okay, stay calm and we'll be there in less than five minutes," she said, as Hotch turned on the siren, swerved around the car in front of them, and stepped on the gas.

~.~.~

"Terry, put down the gun," Emily said slowly. "You don't want to hurt anyone here."

"No! How do you know what I want?" the ex-wife screamed, her eyes wild.

"I don't. But I think you should let Will talk to you before you make any…" She glanced at Terry's shaking finger pressed against the trigger. "…decisions."

"Please, Terry," Will begged quietly. "Don't do this."

"Why the hell not? You're the one who hates me," she said, choking on sobs. "You're the one who loves this little club more than you love me. It's all you ever talked about!" she wailed.

"I don't hate you. Not at all," he assured.

"Then why did you leave me?"

"Because you lied," he confessed. "And that wasn't the first time, either. I felt that if you couldn't trust me, and you thought you had to lie to make me stay, then…there was something wrong with that equation." He shook his head. "Please don't do this," he repeated. "Just go with the agents, and we'll figure something out."

Finally, she relented, dropping the gun on the ground with a loud clatter. As Emily handcuffed her, she asked, "Do you still love me, Will?"

He didn't answer.

She snapped, proof that she was unstable. Struggling against Emily's strong grip, she yelled, "I knew it! I hate you, Will Schuester! I hate you!"

Watching as two officers too her away, he ran a hand through his hair. "Well, that certainly was something."

Emily nodded, and patted him on the back soothingly. "Yeah. Come on. Let's get you home."

~.~.~

"So…I guess this is goodbye," Will said, standing by Emily on the BAU jet's landing strip.

"Yeah, I guess it is," she said somewhat sadly.

"I'm really glad I met you, Emily," he admitted. "Of course, I wish it had been under different circumstances, but…"

She chuckled. "Same here. So…if I'm ever in Ohio…I can give you a call?"

"Definitely." He kissed her slowly, neither of them noticing how Hotch grimly looked away. "Have a safe flight."

"Thanks." She glanced back at the team. "Bye, Will."

"Bye, Em."

~.~.~

Hotch looked down at the woman sleeping soundly against his shoulder. Gently removing the speakers of her iPod from her ears, he turned the music player off and set it on the table in front of them. Pulling her blanket over her shoulders, he ran his finger over her jaw, barely caressing her cheek, and vainly wished for what he thought would never be his.

"Aaron."

Hotch turned to the voice and immediately dropped his hand in his lap. "I thought I was the only one awake."

Rossi's all-seeing eyes met his. "You love her, don't you?" he asked quietly.

Hotch looked, once again, at Emily. Smoothing her hair out of her face, he said, "Yeah. Yeah, I do." Sighing, he turned off the reading light above him, encasing the jet's interior in darkness. "Good night, Dave."

"Good night, Aaron."

Author's Note: Well, that's that. Thinking of Emily in a glee club is an epic win. :) And, notice how I put that Hotch thinks Emily could never be his...well, he's wrong. Because, you all know me too well, and I will always be an H/P shipper. For...forever. Tell me what you think! :)