Authoress Notes: Sorry for the long absence to those of you who read my fics. I'm still working on the chapters to my other fics, don't worry they will eventually be continued. Now that uni's started I just have a lot less time to spend on them. In the meantime, hope you enjoy!
EDIT: CHAPTER EDITED ON THE 13TH OF DECEMBER TO GIVE MORE CONTEXT TO HOTCH'S PAST IN THIS TIMELINE.
And yes, the Mick who appears in this fic IS the Mick Rawson from the CM spin off. While personally I dislike the spin off, I did love his characterization and his flirtatious banter. Those kinds of characters are always fun to write about.
Title: Catch Me if You Can
By: Clonksholic
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters. Any original characters belong to me. I gain no profit from writing this, and do so solely to entertain.
Warning: Not recommended for ages under 18. Includes violence and sexual reference. Note the rating of the fanfic people. If stuff like that makes you uncomfortable, don't read it.
Summary: AUEmily Prentiss, a FBI Agent, working to solve murders involving apparently supernatural elements. Derek Morgan, a werewolf, working for a leader whom neither him nor the pack has ever seen before. Then, they meet. Hotch/Prentiss/Morgan/Mick
Catch Me if You Can
Chapter 1
Her blonde hair trailed across the pillow as she dragged herself out of bed. She opened the curtains, the sun rushing in and casting an angelic gold film on the room and her.
She looked back at the bed, feeling her face fall as she recognised the meticulously tidy other half of the bed. The sun warmed her skin, but she knew that side of the bed wasn't.
She would not show any weakness. Not before his son. She never had, and never will. When Daddy was away and he would ask, she would smile and hug in an attempt to fill his absence, even though she knew it would never be enough.
She would then take his hand, warmth filling her up to the brim despite its small size.
Thick files were messily spread across the dark chestnut desk. The lamp illuminated the surface, the moth that had been flying by the bright bulb all night finally laying dead beneath it, its wings dry and legs curled.
Calloused fingers flicked open the blinds by his window. A pair of hooded eyes looked out at the scene that unfolded below him, the gaze sharp but patient. They slowly studied the silent, empty office below, eventually settling on the janitor who was looking over for anything he had missed. Then, the gaze averted to the door as it opened to let a brunette woman in. She offered a smile at the janitor, saying something that made them both laugh.
She held the door open for him as he left the way she had come, one of his hands holding a bucket with bottles and sponges, and the other dragging a bucket attached to wheels that had inside it a wet mop.
He knew in just three minutes, a knock would sound, and he would admit the same brunette in. They would exchange greetings, as if nothing had happened, like every other day since that very day his life had taken a change.
The knock sounded, and he lifted his fingers from the blinds and returned to his seat at the desk.
'Come in.'
As he settled himself down on the desk to start the day, he picked up the thick pile of files, bound them together with rubber bands and slipped it into a draw beside his desk.
The door opened as the draw shut closed.
His hands came to rest upon the desk, one on top of the other. They were still as the two pairs of eyes watched the interaction between the two agents behind a simple oak photo frame, the blue eyes of the blonde smiling, hand in hand with both the figure of the tiny smiling boy that stood beside her.
Another day had begun.
.
.
.
Rush hour. A train every ten minutes.
Not the best place to be on a Friday evening after work, hoping to get home for a rare but well earned early night. Emily Prentiss felt as if she had not slept the full recommended eight hours since that day of her graduation from Yale University. Fatigue tugged at her eyelids, as it always did when she relished the anticipation of an uninterrupted good night's rest.
Emily glanced at the electronic timetable, sighing at the fact that she had to wait another four minutes. Minutes that seemed to add up to a long time when her usually busy thoughts and hands lay static with nothing work related to do.
Bright giggles sounded from her far right, prompting her to turn her head to gaze at two children, a girl and a boy, who busily ran between the legs of tall adults standing near the edge of the platform. Whilst to most, their presence brought either a smile or a disapproving frown, for Emily it elicited a sense of perplexing concern, who questioned the whereabouts of their parents. Children of such young age were uncommon at this hour, the 3 to 4 o'clock period being the rush hour for the school students.
Her glances jumped quickly between several people on the platform, searching for an individual or two who would exhibit the awareness of a parent.
She found none.
Sighing, Emily turned her eyes in the direction where the children had now disappeared into the forest of black and grey business suits. She listened, cursing and an instinctive alertness overtaking her fatigue in their absence at the sound of their laughter.
She began to make her way through the crowd, panic rising in her chest as more people began to approach the edge of the platform. A low rumble sounded, signaling the arrival of the next train and confirming her expectations.
Shit.
Her steps quickened at the warning, pushing past the bodies that stood in her way as nimbly as she could.
The bodies crowded around in front of her, pressing in from all sides and forcing her to stop as the train pulled up to the edge, coming to a creaky stop.
The moment she was freed from the crowd, each individual having forwarded in through the train doors like rows of biological robots, she found herself at the end of the platform staring into the large dark abyss of the tunnel.
'The train on platform 9 goes to…'
Emily thought she heard an animalistic growl. Her body tensed as she searched aurally for the sound once more.
Blood completely drained.
Serrated edges of wound suggests bite of animal.
Completely random victimology.
Mostly young.
Vampires.
Fangs.
Blood suckers.
Urban myths.
'Doors closing. Please stand clear.'
The familiar beeping noise that signaled the doors to shut sounded as Emily's hand slowly travelled down to the glock that hung by her hip. Just then, rapid movements visible from the corner of her eye prompted her to swerve, catching a glimpse of the two children from before as the train window rushed past her. The rush of wind tugged at several strands of her dark hair as the train picked up speed, delving into the darkness of the tunnel. As Emily followed its path, she could see the red and yellow lights on its tail flashing mockingly.
Damn it.
She had missed her train.
.
.
.
Eyelashes carefully coated in black framed dark eyes that were outlined like Cleopatra's. She watched each man in the room, like a lioness watching to choose the right prey.
'How much?'
Dark curls brushed her cheeks as she turned to face the sultry deep voice behind her. Her shiny red lips parted into a bright smile as she surveyed him from head to toe.
She inhaled the cigarette in her hand and spoke, 'You know how rare it is to see a man of your caliber around this area of the suburb. At this hour?'
He smiled a crooked grin.
Cute.
'It often means they're looking for someone.'
'And are you that someone?' The man reciprocated, leaning on the counter next to her. The smoke and the strong perfume that radiated from her fur coat tickled his nose.
She leaned towards him, red lips almost touching his nose.
'I can be anything you want me to be.'
She moved slightly closer, her lips grazing his.
'Anything. Anyone. Anywhere.'
He took her hand that held the cigarette, and, not taking breaking their gaze, inhaled deeply from it.
She felt her lower stomach stir with desire as she felt him press up against her.
'How about we take this…outside.' His breathed into her ear, not hiding his need. She smiled into his hair, and let him lead her outside the pub. Envious eyes followed the pair as they headed out, leaving the smoke filled bar behind them.
The moment she was forcefully pushed against the wall after they had just turned the corner informed her that something was wrong. It wasn't that a quickie outside the pub was unusual, it was the enormous strength with which the man pressed up against her, the manner in which he now acted almost animalistic.
His breathing became heavier as she felt him unclothe her, both her hands rendered immobile by his right as it held them both above her head. His hot breath became almost unbearable as she felt the bricks cut into her back.
She closed her eyes and just wished it to end quickly. Something didn't feel right as he began to pound into her. She wasn't sure when the fear had began to set in. Everything became almost methodical, the sharp biting of bricks into her shoulder and back, the dull pounding that pushed her up higher against the wall.
Finally, all of it came to a stop. She breathed out deeply. As her head came back she decided he owed her a large amount for this ordeal. The winter air chilled the sweat that coated their skin. That was when she realised.
Her hands that had previously been grabbing a man's skin were now gripping on fistfuls of rough dark fur. The attack came fast, cutting off her scream as her head landed on the ground, eyes wide open despite the fact that they would never see again.
Pale yellow eyes spared no glance at the head that lay on the concrete. A vigorous sucking noise lasted softly for five minutes, until the body was then dropped, taking place beside the ground.
Then, minutes later, a finely dressed man walked with an elegant swagger away from the alleyway where the body lay.
.
.
.
Emily was never the one to like midnight surprises, but when her supervisor showed up at her door at quarter to eleven, she knew she shouldn't refuse.
Though, considering the rate at which he barged in as soon as she opened the door, there was probably no way she could have.
She glanced at the thick file in Hotch's hands and knew her shower would have to be postponed. Her supervisor sat himself down, the file making a heavy slamming noise on her coffee table.
She tentatively took the couch across from him, plopping down on it comfortably while waiting until he finished flipping through the file and deemed her worthy of his attention. She cleared her throat when he showed no signs of relenting, and only then did his fingers cease.
'We found another victim.'
He had her attention. 'You mean for the animal attacks case?'
He shot her a skeptical look.
'You still don't think it's just an animal?' She questioned.
'You really believe it is?'
She gave a shrug, aware that her supervisor probably already knew the answer. She didn't know what she believed. The recent attacks were as bizarre as they came.
The autopsy reports concluded that the bite marks were unidentifiable as any animal known so far, though the teeth marks seemed to suggest a resemblance to those of a wolf's, while the mutilation on the victims and the targeted organs suggested an almost human awareness.
If what they suffered could even be capable of being executed by the human mind, but in their line of job, they knew that given the right circumstance, people could be capable of anything.
She watched as the soft light from the lamp cast deep shadows across Hotch's face, deepening the lines that had only increased in number since the incident from a year ago.
It seemed that with every lead that became deemed redundant added another crease to his forehead. The file involving Spencer Reid was a long and thick one, and one that had been the target of her chief's obsession since the day he had murdered his family.
While intra-team profiling wasn't allowed, it was hard not to wonder how her supervisor must feel to return to his home, the place he had been living alone since the divorce, where his work still ceased to end.
It was no secret even within the office amongst the other employees what Hotch did at night, the files he took home and the regular check ups with the technical analyst regarding the single case that remained to haunt him – and would continue, she knew, to haunt him until he finally found that man responsible.
There had been many rumours around too for a while, about her supervisor's gradual self destruction, and eventual elimination from the unit, but she knew Hotch was too damn good at his job for the FBI to lose. He wasn't the favourite of many of his superiors, but in terms of skill and on the field, stood shoulder to shoulder with the best of unit.
Despite the trauma he had suffered, he was back on in the office in a week, his emotions once again covered beneath his strict mask that no doubt covered many more scars. They had talked about that too – a work addict, a robot with no emotion who had driven his perfect life with a beautiful wife and son away, which, they also believed, had lead to their eventual death.
She never reciprocated any of these rumours, having harboured a severe loathing for politics and the prospect of rumours, for most of them were never true. What the colleagues and those conspiring against Hotch weren't going to get out of him they were also never going to get out of her.
She knew that most of those on the high end were expecting for Hotch to make a mistake, to show a sign of emotional breakdown that they could use to then shut him off, but she was aware for sure; her supervisor wasn't a quitter, nor was he going to make it that easy for them.
What she was afraid of for him was what was at the end of the line; if or after he did manage to find who he was looking for, what then?
'It was another female victim,' Hotch's voice broke her thoughts. '21, a prostitute.'
Emily nodded, leaning over to view the victim's profile. 'Low risk victim. First of these attacks so far.'
'Well we knew from the first five victims that we were dealing with a relatively indiscriminate killer, the only thing they seem to have in common is that they're all at a young age. Race or gender doesn't matter to these guys.'
Emily paused. 'Guys? So there's more than one now?'
Hotch spared her a glance. 'All bite marks were deemed to have belonged to different individuals.'
'Right,' she gave a nod. 'So have they been able to define what these attackers are?'
'I'm open to any suggestions,' Hotch said. 'So far Strauss doesn't seem convinced it's even within our jurisdiction.'
Emily gave a smirk. 'Yeah, that sounds like her. In her opinion guess we could just call in the local pound to take care of these mutts.'
She shifted in her seat and glanced at the clock. It was getting late.
'Sorry I had to barge in at such a late hour.'
She jerked her head back to her supervisor, who was looking at her with an expression that indicated that he genuinely had accidentally disregarded the late hour.
Emily gave a carefree shrug. 'Not a problem.'
When he glanced back down at his file, she decided to throw in a joke. 'You apologized in the end.'
A year ago, he would have at least shown a hint of a smirk on his lips.
Now, nothing but that same emotionless mask. It was times like this when she wondered if they'd ever get the old Hotch back.
.
.
.
An early morning call ruined Emily's morning as she picked up the cell phone to hear Erin Strauss' voice.
'Prentiss.'
'Good morning, Agent Prentiss.'
She inwardly groaned, fumbling for the keys in her bag to lock her door. 'Ma'am.'
'I trust you're ready to continue with your case this morning?'
She wondered whether she should reciprocate her game and beat around the bush too. She decided to do so for good measure. Hell, she had seen enough of it as a child.
'Yes, ma'am. I'll be in the office in ten minutes.'
She finally succeeded in locking the door, slipped the keys into her bag and switched the cell phone to her other ear. 'May I ask what this call is regarding?'
When she heard Strauss clear her throat, she knew she was going to hear something she didn't like.
'Agent Rawson has just returned from his case in Boston and has expressed his wishes in rejoining your unit.'
Great.
'I was under the impression that Agent Hotchner and I were to work as a pair team for this case,' she reasoned, hastening her steps towards her black SUV.
'Upon further discussion of this matter,' Emily could hear from Strauss' sharp tone that the decision had already been made. 'It has been deemed that Agent Rawson's assistance may be of great value in successfully finishing this case. He is a competent agent, and we feel that his contribution could aid in the current condition of your team.'
Yep, a great example of what a man with a British accent and charm to boot could do to soften a woman like Strauss.
Emily wisely kept her opinions to herself.
'Right, so I should expect him...?'
'He will be joining you and Agent Hotchner starting from today. I trust you will inform him of these changes.'
When Strauss received silence from Emily's line, she prompted her once more. 'Agent Prentiss?'
'Right away, ma'am.'
Emily waited until the woman on the other ling hung up first. She sighed. It had come to a point where she preferred to inform the supervisor's subordinate of important changes rather than the chief himself.
What bullshit.
.
.
.
Hotch didn't seem surprised when she told him the news personally up in his office after she arrived at the office.
'I was expecting something like this.'
Emily's gaze narrowed. 'You're not telling me you knew Rawson was returning.'
'No, it didn't have to be Rawson,' Hotch said, not taking his eyes off the file before him. 'I'm just not surprised that Strauss decided to add another member to our team. We're lucky she didn't decide to add someone completely new.'
She gave a shrug. 'If you'd call it that way.'
Just another way of spying on the old Hotchner. Though looked as if Rawson had done a good job in playing his cards right; despite what he might have had Strauss believe, there was no chance of the British agent betraying her supervisor either.
She had gotten a glimpse of his loyalty from the first day they met, a rather humiliating experience on her part.
'Oh, please, continue.' The familiar refined voice sounded from the door. Their gazes averted towards it to greet Mick Rawson who stood leaning against the frame. 'I can never get sick of listening in about myself.'
'Knocking out of fashion in Boston?' Emily said sarcastically, arms folded across her chest.
Mick gave a chuckle, playfully knocking twice on the office door. 'I can see someone missed me. If you hadn't left the door open I would have realised this was a private conversation.'
The man approached the pair with his usual gait.
'And plus,' he stopped to stand next to Emily. 'I would have thought that we were all past that by now.' He threw her a flirtatious half grin and offered a hand to Aaron.
'It will be a pleasure working with you again,' he said. Aaron gave a solid nod in response, shaking his hand firmly.
'Hope you won't slow us down,' Emily commented as they followed their supervisor out of his office.
'You worry too much,' Mick answered, giving a smirk. 'I finished the case file on the plane back.'
'Huh.'
'Impressed?'
Emily threw him a sardonic glance. 'Not a chance.'
'What's it gonna take?' Mick said, feigning hurt. 'I know. How about we compare theories. Might teach you a thing or two.'
'Why would you need any validation from me when you flatter yourself enough?'
Mick gave a shrug. 'Hey, self-sufficient individuals are rare.'
'Hm,' Emily rolled her eyes. She opened the door to the SUV as Hotch took his place in the driver's seat.
'Narcissistic individuals though,' Emily commented just before she took the seat besides Hotch, 'Not so much.' She motioned to the back seat, indicating his spot.
'Shotgun the front.'
.
.
.
The crime scene seemed one that was typical of your usual dumpsite, except from the look of the corpse it looked as if she had been killed in that very spot where she lay.
The policeman who approached them looked disgusted. 'I hope you hadn't just had lunch,' he commented. 'This isn't a pretty site.'
A stench reached their nostrils as they moved closer to the body underneath the yellow caution tape.
'Well the blood suggests that she hasn't been dead for long. So whatever did this must have inflicted some severe damage,' Mick said.
'Whoever did this is no human,' the policeman remarked, looking away and crinkling his nose as Emily crouched down while she placed latex gloves on his hands.
'Ugh, how can you get near that stuff?' Another policeman who had been standing near by commented.
'It's our job,' Aaron answered curtly, coming to stand beside Emily's form.
Her body was pale and bare, half covered by the fur coat that had been carelessly draped over her. Her arms and fingers were twisted like the limbs of a dead tree.
'What do you see?'
'Her head was severed; the decapitation seems to have come first. Possible sexual assault.'
Mick observed her half exposed body, clothes surprisingly spotless despite the decapitation and mutilations over her figure.
'Something's not right,' he said, joining Emily down near the corpse.
'Not enough blood despite the decapitation,' she said promptly, reaching out to examine her fur coat. She then paused, and gently unfolded the victim's fingers to reveal traces of course dark brown hair.
'Take a look at this.'
Hotch raised a brow as he observed the fur that Emily held up. 'That's a new one,' he commented. 'Get it back to the lab and see if we can get it analysed.'
Mick handed Emily a vile in which she placed the hairs.
'Looks like it's the same killer,' Hotch said. 'Extreme blood loss prior to the decapitation; lack of bite marks indicates that the blood was drained from the neck itself.'
'Judging from the location as well,' Emily added, 'It looks as if the victim was targeted deliberately and for the same reason as the others.'
'We'll see if anyone around her knows her routine. If she was a prostitute there's a chance she was local,' Hotch said.
'Looks like we won't need to make a trek,' Mick commented as he surveyed the bar man emerging from the corner to talk to one of the officers on guard. He was pointing at the woman that lay at their feet, eyes wide in what looked to be disbelief.
.
.
.
The barman, who had introduced himself as Barney, sat in front of them, seemingly uncomfortable in their presence.
'I don't know what her name was; at my bar we don't care about your history or name. As long as you keep quiet, buy a drink and share half your earnings I keep quiet about what you do, whether it's drugs or being an escort for a different man every night,' Barney said. 'She was expensive though, I'll tell you that. The shit that she wore was real, not the faux crap that people around this area can only afford.'
'Was there anything else she was involved in in your bar other than prostitution?' Emily inquired.
'She danced from time to time,' Barney answered, rubbing a hand over his forehead tiredly. 'But that was about it. Most of the customers here keep to themselves; they're either there to see the dancers, meet a hooker or just drink their lonely nights away. You'd be surprised at the number of people we get.'
'So there's no one that caught your eye last night?'
Barney shook his head. 'Every night's different. As far as I know, she was one of the only regulars here; if she had gone out with a guy who frequented my bar, I would know.'
Aaron gave a nod. 'Thank you for your time.'
Emily reached over to hand him a card. 'If you find out or remember anything else, please don't hesitate to call us.'
'Well that was exciting,' Mick remarked as they forwarded out from the dark bar into the sunlight.
'If she was a prostitute it would have meant she left the bar and engaged in the sexual activity willingly,' Emily said.
'Got much more than she bargained for then, eh,' Mick commented, glancing at his wrist watch. 'So we're back to square one then? If it's the same group of killers who commited this murder, given that they all target victims when they're at a vulnerable or accessible state, I don't think this kill suggests a sign of evolution.'
'And with each victim it's obvious that the kills are being committed by different individuals,' Hotch added, unlocking the SUV with the click of his keys.
'First victim, Sarah Daniels was targeted and murdered when she was waiting for the train in the subway at 3 a.m. And you can imagine how busy the underground trains are at that hour.'
'So if they're aiming for situationally high-risk victims, we're looking for killers who lie and wait. Watches their victims, but never for that long; for these guys personalizing his victims plays no part,' Emily followed.
'So I guess we can rule out the theory that they're playing out a fantasy,' Mick said.
Hotch motioned to the policemen on the side. 'Get the body bagged and to the lab. See if they can grab any DNA evidence.' He then turned to the other two agents and ordered as follows, 'We'll go back and compile the geographical profile.'
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.
The bright blaze from the fireplace cast red and orange lights onto the chess pieces scattered across the board. Their elongated shadows cast against the wall made them seem almost human, silent but deadly as a delicate hand hovered over them, contemplating his next move.
The room was dark, the fire crackling away as it delightedly danced on its abundant fuel of wood.
A sudden clatter from the chessboard broke the calm atmosphere, as a black pawn piece rolled off the board, the edge of the table to eventually halt just inches from the fire.
The hand that had gently hovered over the board now gave a rapid swipe, knocking the board and its pieces noisily to the ground.
The corners of lips turned up to form a mysterious smile, eyes gazing down at the pieces that remained rolling, rolling, rolling, rolling away beneath tables, chairs and some, into the red heart of the fire, and others, coming to a solemn stop.
Seconds later, the fire gave a noisy pop, then resumed its crackling once more.