I've only written Batman stuff on this account so… this is new. Uh… I hope you like it. This took me a while.
Chapter 1:
Emily Mary Prentiss holds the stale beer high as she makes her way through the crowd. Elbows that connect to people that she wasn't quite tall enough to the heads of, press into her as they push past. With every elbow comes the feeling as she's on a ship, the threat of beer sloshing over the side like waves on the deck.
That sensation doesn't leave as a wave of nausea washes over her. She walks past a group of college girls, she can tell because all of them hold drinks rich with alcohol that which amount to harder recovery times and fewer drinks. One of the girls, whose left breast reads ANNA, bounces to the rhythm of the music like a seizing animal. Emily can smell their perfumes mixing in the air and she can see the powder that Anna pats around her neck. It stands out on her too tanned skin as a delicate film from the passionate dancing that makes the heat radiating off of the already too warm bodies feel like a toasty summer night.
ANNA is exactly the kinda girl that Emily was supposed to be. Emily had impossibly high standards set for herself. By now she should have Ph.D. in psychology and she would be running the FBI's Behavioral Unit. At home, she'd have a loving husband who'd have kind eyes like Sam Worthington but a hard bad boy look like Colin Farrell. He works at home, a writer, with their three kids. The genders never mattered but she always hoped for two older boys and a girl, so that they could protect each other. It wasn't until she grew out of pink fill dresses and began cutting her own hair that she realized, none of that would ever happen.
"Packed."
The single syllable word pulls her from her daydream. She looks up at the speaker, surprised that the man before he spoke. His usual silent, reserved personality kept them far apart in a world where they are constantly with one another with only five feet of slick wood keeping them apart. She smiles up at him, a quick, harmless smirk," you can hardly breath in here."
Which was dramatical to the point. As Jennifer and Penelope wade through the sea of people they disappear, gone in the blink of an eye. Their bobbing blonde hair mixing in with all of the other bobbing heads. Which should have been a hard feat since Penelope's loud clothes always made her visible even when her hair wasn't.
He nods and slides a Gin and Tonic to the woman to his left, but his eyes drift to her for just a moment. His silent way of inviting her to keep talking, even if he verbally never responds. That's what makes them a good team, they feed off of one another with no verbal prompting needed.
In partial, it's because she had known him before the bar. He worked a security detail at the ambassador's house. The youth was still present in his round face, the stresses of being an adult just starting to sink its teeth into him. He had a wife, which why he ended up leaving the ambassadors. Less than three years later, he and his wife had a baby. Looking at the haggard man before her, she can only wonder what happened to the man that read by firelight and helped her cook. Where is that baby?
"A Manhattan, please." She already hates the man at her bar stool. His hair is parted dangerously to one side and his arms are defined with just enough muscle to make them noticeable. A classic guy at the bar who either ends up trying to fight you or someone else after one too many martinis'.
She catches Hotch's eyes, dark and questioning, waiting for her to nod her head in the right way and he'd come over to her side and handle the man. She shakes her head though, the woman just in front of him had been generously giving tips all night and she won't take that from him.
Derek and Penelope walk together to the bar with trays full of stale cups of beer. She can only hear the hum of the bar and doesn't catch whatever joke Derek tells Penelope.
"Coming right up," her voice wavers, God she needs to get a grip. Clenching her fist to stop her trembling hands she carefully hands the man his drink.
"Thanks, sweetheart." The wink that he slips at her has her heart beating so hard it feels as if it may crawl out of her chest and leap out on to the bar. It's this simple act that makes her realize what he makes her so uncomfortable. He was the bar fight that ended with three guys in the E.R. and Derek's broken nose.
She glances at Hotch, unsettling nerves and pleading eyes, but his back is turned. Half bent over the bar he keeps solid eye contact with the woman chatting away all the while preparing her drink.
"Let's have a shot," the man has one of those smiles that without knowing him you would find endearing. He's the exact kind of guy that your mom hates and that you don't learn to keep away from until it's far too late. Tonight, she knows that he has already decided that she is his plaything.
"Maxed out," she says, just loud enough to be heard over the music which pounds in her ears.
He smiles and she knows that smile too well. She should have gone with pregnant as her excuse. "Oh honey, if driving is the problem you have nothing to worry about. I'll drive you home."
She glances at Hotch again, praying that he will see her but he's being pulled away by JJ where he will be, no doubt, dragged to a group of college kids so that he can kick them out or calm them down. She wishes he was right beside her, drowning her in the familiar scent of Old Spice and the feeling of body heat.
She tries to sound nonchalant but her voice edges on scared as she realizes that everyone who can get her out of this is in the crowd of the bar. Too far to see her discomfort. "It's fine, what's one more?"
He claps," that's a girl! Vodka, I want this to be good."
At another time she can think about how stupid this man is for just wanting Vodka. It will burn and is usually reserved for hard drinkers and sad people. Either way, she bites back the liquid with the man, even smiling afterward to try and get herself in the good graces of the man.
The man sets his glass down roughly," how about… a Gimlet?" The grin he shoots her pisses her off before he even says anything else. "You know what that is, darling?"
Before she can come up with a polite way to tell him to fuck off, he's back.
"Out." Hotch is on her right side, she can see Derek seething from the corner with Penelope's hands on his chest keeping him rooted, and he's got both hands on the bar.
The man grins and points a finger at Hotch," Aaron, right?" The man's gaze falls to the hands that are inches from his own," that's right, you hit like a bitch."
Emily can see the muscles ripple under Hotch's simple white cotton t-shirt. "I'll only ask once." His voice is deep with anger and she's afraid of what these men are going to do.
The man rolls his eyes and stands up, knocking his stool back," whatever man. Keep the cheap bitch for yourself."
Emily waits for Hotch to punch the man but he doesn't. Instead his eyes are on the floor, fist clenched, and chest heaving.
The man throws both middle fingers in the air and shouts," fuck this place!"
As soon as the man leaves, Aaron looks down at her," okay?"
She nods, trembling from the fear and adrenaline that is now wearing out of her system.
He nods tightly and moves past her, brushing his body against hers.
She presses her palms to her jeans, wiping the sweat that had gathered there off, and nods again. She can do this.
Welcome to Carolyn's, where the bear is cold, and the staff is a family.