Em is 11 months on testosterone in this story.
When the team got to the police station in the Alabama city they'd been called in to, they found themselves greeted with a fair bit more hostility than usual, and the police chief had point-blank informed them that they were there because politicians had decided to stick their noses in police matters, and if he had any say in the matter, the BAU would be on the first flight back to DC.
Given that the case involved the murders of adolescents and young adults that had been going on for almost a month, with more than half a dozen victims, everyone on the team found the attitude of the local cops to be concerning. It wasn't until Garcia's in-depth background of the victims discovered that all were either transgender or questioning, that they realized why.
And one member wasn't going to stand for it.
Late in the morning the day after they flew in, Prentiss stepped right up to the chief of police, asking, "Sir, is the reason your precinct doesn't seem to be taking these murders seriously because the victims are transgender?"
The chief's eyes narrowed as he turned his attention to the dark-haired FBI agent. "Are you questioning my ability to do my job, boy?"
Prentiss shook his head, ignoring the curious gathering of local cops and BAU agents. "No, sir, I'm questioning your inclination."
"You listen here," the chief ground out, facing Prentiss full-on. "If those kids weren't living such deviants lives, goin' against God's law, they wouldn't be gettin' killed. Now I'll do my damn job, but if you ask me, this guy is doin' God's work, riddin' the world of those abominations."
From the sidelines, JJ gasped, covering her face with one hand and whispering, "Oh no…"
Morgan tensed, ready to pull Prentiss back, should his partner take a swing at the cop.
Hotch watched carefully as well, saying warningly, "Prentiss."
"Abomination?" Prentiss hissed, almost laughing even as he shook with tightly leashed anger. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his badge, flipping it open and holding it up. "You wanna read my name and then repeat that?"
Brow furrowing, the chief grabbed the badge, reading out the name on the ID card. "Emily Prentiss." He looked back up, scanning the agent before him, taking in the masculine shape and features, the dusting of dark hair on his chin, not quite meeting his sideburns. "You're a fuckin' tranny?!"
"Do you think I'm an abomination now, sir? Maybe that I deserve to die?"
The chief gave him a nasty smile, tossing his badge on the floor and saying, "Well maybe he'll get you before you get him."
Shaking his head, Prentiss asked, "Why wait?" and slipped his gun out of its holster, keeping the barrel pointed to himself and offering the grip to the chief. "You feel so strongly about it, do it yourself."
"Prentiss!" Hotch snapped, stepping forward in tandem with Morgan and Rossi, even as Prentiss waved them back with his free hand.
The chief looked down at the gun, his expression clearly showing how much he wanted to take the invitation, and Morgan warned, "Don't even think about it, man."
Finally the chief shook his head, stepping back and sneering, "You're not even worth it, girl."
Prentiss watched as the chief walked back to his office, and he slowly lowered his gun, slipping it back into its holster. As soon as it was away, Hotch grabbed his arm, growling, "What the hell was that?"
After a moment, Prentiss met Hotch's livid gaze, deflating slowly. "I'm sorry, Hotch. My temper got the better of me. Won't happen again."
The day after Prentiss's confrontation with the police chief, the team found the unsub, proving to everyone that the locals hadn't really put in the effort of finding him. Unfortunately, they found him after another teenager had been reported missing, and when they closed in, they were surprised to find the teenager with a gun pointed to the unsub.
"Riley," Prentiss called as the team moved in, weapons pointed at the teen who quickly grabbed the unsub, hiding behind him and pointing the gun at the man's head. "Riley, put the gun down."
"No!" the teen yelled, shaking his head and reflexively turning the gun to point at Prentiss. "He was going to kill me! He killed my friends!"
"I know," Prentiss agreed. "Hey, look at me," he said, when the teen eyed the rest of the agents, shifting nervously. "Riley, look at me. I'm going to put my gun away, okay?" Slowly, he holstered his pistol, showing his empty palms to the boy. "You haven't done anything wrong, Riley, how about we keep it that way, okay? Put the gun down, and we'll arrest him for what he's done."
Riley shook his head again, countering, "He deserves to die!"
"That's not for you to decide, Riley. But if you pull that trigger, you're going to go to jail, and he'll never have to face what he's done."
"You don't understand," the boy protested bitterly. "You're just another ignorant cishet."
Tilting his head, Prentiss replied, "No, Riley, I'm not." Making sure the boy kept his attention on him, Prentiss slowly pulled off his kevlar, ignoring Hotch's warning growl of his name for the second time in two days. "Let me show you." Slipping the buttons free of his shirt, Prentiss let the garment fall to the floor, standing exposed in his binder.
The teenager stilled, looking curiously at the agent. "Is that…? You're… you're trans?" he asked.
Prentiss nodded. "Yeah, I am. And you're so lucky to figure out who you are so quickly. Don't throw that away. Revenge isn't going to bring your friends back, and it's not going to make you feel better. Just put the gun down."
Slowly, Riley wavered, then dropped the gun, loosening his grip on the unsub.
Everything moved quickly after that, the unsub yelling about disgusting perverts and diving to the floor for the gun. The team yelled warnings that were ignored, and then several gunshots went off nearly simultaneously.
"You've put yourself in front of a loaded gun much too often on this case," Hotch said reproachfully as he knelt in front of his agent.
Prentiss groaned and, in a voice raspy with pain and adrenaline, complained, "Are you seriously lecturing me right now?" as he held one hand against his side, blood seeping up between his fingers.
Wadding up Prentiss's previously-discarded shirt, Hotch pushed the other man's hand aside and pressed the cloth tightly to his wound. "Well it clearly hadn't sunk in when I mentioned it yesterday, so maybe this time you'll pay attention."
"Thank God you're not a doctor," the younger brunette snarked, "because your bedside manner sucks ."
There are 3 more planned stories in this series, however from this point on, they will be Hotch/Prentiss shippy. Just a heads up in case there's anyone who wants to avoid that and consider this to be the end of the series.