A/N: This is a Hotch/Emily story for the most part. Other team members will make appearances, but it's not a case-fic or anything like that. It will be multi-chapter, and I've already finished most of the story, so with any luck I'll be able to update regularly until the story is complete. Please, if you have any thoughts or constructive criticism, comment away! It would be much appreciated. Enjoy!
"What the hell, Hotch?" Emily Prentiss' scathing voice echoed down the halls of the BAU as she followed her boss back to their office. They had been out on the West Coast for a case - a strangler targeting successful brunettes. There had been five victims before the BAU had been able to catch the guy, and would have only been four had they gotten there an hour earlier. Needless to say, all members of the team were exhausted, having taken the case hard. However, one in particular wasn't willing to let this one go, quite yet. She was royally pissed, and as she followed their boss, the rest of the team had lagged behind - not wanting to be in the thick of this argument, but not wanting to miss it completely. The fact that Hotch hadn't yet turned around to face her left Emily even more incensed. "I said, what the hell?" Her voice was low, dangerous, and the noise of her heels on the floors added to the overall feeling of intimidation. She was gaining on him, her steps quick and sure, and he knew it. Agent Hotchner stopped, and turned deliberately to face his team member. He saw the murderous rage in her eyes, and gave an internal sigh. He was expecting this, knew his actions would have consequences, but was really hoping he wouldn't have to deal with it. Which wasn't fair to her, he supposed. And he knew her better than to assume she wouldn't voice her discontent. He had given her a lot of reasons to be discontent today, and he knew it.
"What is it, Agent Prentiss?" he asked, his voice controlled as usual. He saw his colleague bite her lip with supressed anger. He hazarded an educated guess that it wasn't about to stay supressed much longer.
"You know exactly what I am talking about!" She fought to keep her voice in check, knowing she was making a scene. "I cannot believe that after all these years of working together, that after everything I have proved to you about who I am and my abilities, that you would think so little of me to actually order me to stay behind, and humiliate me in front of my team and the entirety of the Portland police department!" She took a deep breath, not nearly finished with her tirade. "And then you had the audacity not to allow me into the interview, when you know I was the best person to get him to talk, given the victimology. Rossi even told you so! I am an excellent profiler, and I am MORE than capable of taking care of myself. I am not some petulant child that you need to babysit!" She spat the last sentence at him, her words perfectly enunciated and therefore sharper, and for a half a millisecond one might have been able to see the seemingly invincible Unit Chief wince. He didn't like making her mad, he didn't take pleasure in the way she was looking at him as if she wanted to rip him to pieces. But he didn't know how to get her to understand. Hell, he himself didn't understand. Something about this case, the victims, made him feel uneasy putting her in a room with that psycho. And he was fully aware he wasn't giving her the credit she deserved, but it was hard to care with the pictures of dark-haired women marked with hand prints around their necks still fresh in his mind.
"Agent Prentiss, I am sorry if you were hurt by my choices, but as the leader of this time it is my job to make the decisions. I did not think that you would be needed at the take-down or in the interview," measured calm was his voice. Knowing he had just given the world's lamest excuse to a trained behavior reader, he hastened to add, "besides, I was uncomfortable with the personal interest you were taking in the victims, and thought it best that you were not allowed to continue to do so." Emily's eyes grew even darker as she swallowed Hotch's rationalization. Like always, it stung that her ability to connect with the victims of the heinous crimes they witnessed placed her at a disadvantage within the Bureau.
"Personal interest?" her voice was full of contempt and derision. "It's called having feelings, Hotch, not that you'd know anything about that, you cold bastard," she said venomously, knowing and not caring at the moment that those words would hurt. She didn't particularly want to hurt him, of course, but he had done so to her with his actions today, and, as most would, she was lashing back. The two stood in a silent standoff for a moment, neither one giving any tells. They were both experienced profilers, but both were frozen, unreadable at the moment. Then -
"Why?" her voice was a harsh noise into the silence.
"Why, what, Agent Prentiss?" he spat back, beginning to get annoyed. At her, for cornering him and making him explain when all he wanted to do was go home, give Jack a kiss, and fall into bed immediately. But moreso, at himself, for getting into this predicament in the first place. He knew she was an experienced agent, he knew she was as good if not better than himself at what they did, and he had no doubts that she could absolutely take care of herself in any situation. But he hadn't acted like he believed any of those things today; hence the current standoff.
"Tell me why," she challenged. "Why did you take the rest of the team out to catch this guy, and why did you order me like some stray dog to stay put? And then don't even let me at him, when you know I would've gotten him in half the time it took Morgan. Why, Hotch? It is because you don't trust me, still? I thought we had gotten past that years ago. Is it because I'm a woman? Is it because you don't think I could have taken him? I could have, Hotch, and you know it. Is it because you don't think I can handle myself in there with him? You've seen me go head to head with tons of these guys before, and I've done just fine. So you tell me. Why?" Her voice had regained an eerie calm, but her eyes still flashed with rage.
Rage, and hurt. Confusion. The rage he could deal with - it was the other things he couldn't bear to see. He knew she was right on all counts, of course she was, but he couldn't justify his actions anymore than he already had. Which is to say, he couldn't really justify his actions at all. The stare-down continued, and he knew she was waiting for an answer. He knew he couldn't give her one, so he thought an apology would be the next best thing.
"Emily," his voice soft. "I'm sorry."
Apparently not. She looked at him incredulously, fuming still. She took a deep breath, and though her voice would be strong, the slight moisture gathering at the corner of her eyes betrayed her true emotions. Hotch swallowed noticeably. It was one thing to see the strong Agent Prentiss enraged and demanding answers. It was quite another to see Emily, the woman, crying because she had had a shitty day (and a shitty day because of him). "My name is Agent Prentiss, sir." The last word was dripping with so much contempt and anger that Hotch winced visibly this time as the brunette agent strode right past him. He could practically feel the heat of her anger radiating off of her. He stood still for a minute or two, trying to process and internalize what had just happened. He still wasn't sure of it. He wasn't sure of his actions, though she had seemed plenty sure of hers.
"She's right, you know." A quiet voice came up from behind Hotch, and he sighed.
"I don't have to justify my actions, JJ," Hotch replied, more harshly than he intended, turning to face his other female agent. She studied him quietly, a profiler in her own right, and saw the well disguised conflict in his eyes.
"As a boss, that's true, Hotch," she agreed. "But as a teammate - as her friend - you royally sucked today." Hotch gave a mirthless smile at her choice of words, so reminiscent of Emily.
"I know," he murmured. And he really did. She had been nothing but a wonderful friend to him, especially considering how bleak some of the past months had been. And this is how he repaid her, he thought humorlessly. Great job, Hotch, he mentally berated himself.
"She deserves an explanation." JJ continued, always the voice of reason.
"I know," he repeated. And then a beat. "I don't know if I have one."
"I know," now it was JJ's turn to mimic him. "But I think you owe it to her to at least try and figure one out." She gave him a sympathetic smile
"JJ, what would we do without you?" Hotch finally gave a true smile, and JJ was relieved to see it. "Flounder around in a sea of monotone syllables and eyebrow quirks," she quipped. "Goodnight, Hotch."
"Goodnight, JJ. Give Henry a kiss for me."
"And Jack one for me, boss man."
That, he thought, was a doable request. Figuring out how to fix things with one Emily Prentiss? That was going to take some work.
