By Helena Fallon
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds and no infringement of copyright is intended: I have just borrowed characters and added a few of my own.
It had been a quiet week with the team kept busy with work at Quantico. The team had shared the profiling requests and now both Hotch and Hilton had a pile to look over and assess a random selection. It was normal procedure to keep profiling skills honed and these random checks were used for personal assessments. None of this really worried the agents, it was their work and they all felt confident about their skills. But the consensus of the department was that Hilton would make sure that he looked over all the agents' profiles because it was one way of assessing their strengths and weaknesses.
Emily Prentiss took her last file into Hilton's office and placed it on the stack leaning against the desk. There must have been 40 files piled on the floor and wondered if Hilton would laboriously go through every one, or just select an example from each agent. Emily felt tired and tense and for the first time, since joining the F.B.I., lacked confidence in her work. She had always succeeded at everything she had turned to. Nothing had defeated her at school or university; hers had been a charmed life until now. She had felt that the move to Quantico was the natural step in her career and that her experiences in the Bureau formed the perfect foundation for a BAU placement. However, these past few weeks were proving to be a nightmare, especially since the arrival of Hilton; he had really shaken things up since his first day. Emily was not the only one feeling some pressure from the new man.
Morgan had been particularly diligent after the first day, not wanting to draw attention to anything else that Hilton could pounce upon. The department noticed that since Hilton's arrival, both Morgan and Reid had changed their appearance. Morgan looked dashingly elegant in a light grey suit but he added a splash of colour with his plain dark ties which co-ordinated with the pastel shirts. Reid no longer slouched away his full height and gone were the patterned vests or thick woolly cardigans. The department were adjusting to seeing him in smart slacks, plain shirts and, if cold, a plain cashmere v necked sweater or vest. But the casual observer was usually struck by the flamboyant ties, which usually accompanied the sober attire. These were always made of silk and complimented perfectly the colours that he was wearing, but the patterns and colours were usually striking. It didn't take long for a new nickname to take hold: the Prof.
Emily had slipped into the empty conference room to escape the few staff clearing their desks in the bullpen. Prentiss was not normally so evasive but this week she just didn't feel herself. She sat in a chair at the round table and tried to relax before driving home. Emily reasoned with herself that it was because she didn't want to hit the tail end of the commuter traffic, but she was actually just too tense and wanted to try and relax a bit in this quiet oasis. She began to think about the pleasant things she had done in New York the previous week, but then it only brought her back to her present predicament. Prentiss knew Hilton did not trust her and wondered what the rest of the team thought of her.
"Emily…Emily," he said, but she felt paralysed for the moment. Then he reached out and gently touched her arm that had been casually resting on the table; it seemed to break the spell.
"Emily, are you all right?" he said again. Emily had not noticed that he had sat down in the next chair and was scrutinising her.
She mentally shook herself, this was not Hilton's penetrating gaze but the far more compassionate one of Spencer Reid. She thought once again what beautiful eyes this man had; he seemed so young but also conversely ancient in his knowledge. Spencer was so aptly named the Prof now, he would not be out of place striding the corridors of Harvard, but he had experienced far more in his short life than any short sighted dry academic.
"Yes…sorry, yes," she stumbled, but those large expressive brown eyes mirrored their owners concern.
Spencer shyly removed his hand and Emily felt bereft of the humanity of his touch. He waited watching her try to steady herself into her normal confident composure, but Emily was failing to find her normality.
"What's wrong, Emily?" his voice softly soothed her jangled nerves, "This is more than Hilton coming to the department."
She wanted to speak, to trust someone with the pressures she was feeling. Her throat constricted and it felt as if there was physically an obstacle in her windpipe. She was caught in the warmth of his eyes and felt her own usual glacial exterior melt revealing the very sensitive inner Emily that she hid from the world. Emily was an expert at hiding this vulnerability. She had learnt at an early age that her parents had wanted a son, and she had tried to make up for their disappointment by having the qualities she perceived other adults valued in their boys. She excelled in sports and was academically a high achiever, and in her career, she set herself goals and strove zealously to achieve them. But Emily was not as ruthless as many career women in a man's world.
"I can see that you are very unhappy at the moment, you're been very tense since the Breitkopf case," Spencer quietly stated, his eyes never leaving her face.
Emily sensed an overwhelming wave of suffocating pressure surge through her; she felt tears well up and could not stop them trickling down her face. Emily was mortified. She hated to show such weakness, she'd never seen her mother cry; at that moment she just wanted the room to disappear and take her with it away from all of this.
He reached out and gently squeezed her hand. "It's all right, whatever it is. Perhaps, if you can tell me, we can get it all into perspective," he offered, and Emily shuddered at the unusual emotions that were raging through her uncontrollably at that moment. He reached into his trouser pocket with his other hand and brought out an old fashioned fine linen handkerchief, which he pressed into her hand.
"Take your time, it's clean," he said, indicating the linen in her hand. He sat back in the seat and waited patiently for her to gather the inner strength and reach a measure of calmness. Emily finally blew her nose a few times and took deep breaths to get the sobs under control. She felt very embarrassed by her outburst, but only found understanding in the eyes of the man who patiently waited for her.
Emily didn't know how long it took for her to feel that she could speak, but there was no pressure from Spencer. She found his quietness comforting and now understood why J.J. would sit next to him in companionable silence on the plane or in the car. Emily usually sat with the more extrovert Morgan and their banter made the journeys pass quickly, but she could not have imagined herself breaking with Morgan as she had obviously done with the youngest member of the team.
"Sorry," she finally whispered, "I don't normally loose it."
"There is nothing to apologise for, something has obviously happened to put you in such distress. I promise you that what is said inside this room will not be spoken of outside it," he assured, and Emily knew he was sincere. Spencer was a gentleman, it was perhaps an old fashioned concept these days but it was a quality that was entwined within his character.
She thought for a few moments wondering where to begin, but finally plunged in before she lost her nerve to share the burden that was weighing heavily on her conscience.
"After the Breitkopf case Strauss had me in her office, quite bluntly, she told me that it had been her influence that put me here and now she wanted payback," she drew breath and carefully watched Spencer's reaction. There was only an attentive look and no judgement of her statement, so she pressed on.
"Strauss wants to finish Hotch's career, she blames him for the team being at times out of control and sees us as reckless. She wants me to spy on the team or she'll ruin my career too," she finished, relieved that she had finally told someone.
"Do you believe we are reckless and out of control?" Spencer gently asked.
"No, I can only comment on what I have seen, but out in the field we have to make decisions which ordinarily might not be considered. You know what I mean, like when we let Breitkopf go so we could get the children back. Then, well you know Sarah's death…perhaps we should have been more helpful with the Maryland police but without Gideon we probably wouldn't have found Tracey Belle and…Well you see what I mean don't you, it's not a clear black and white decision."
"No, unfortunately we do not deal with normality and to an outsider some of the decisions we make must appear quite bizarre or later with hindsight…but that's why we have debriefings, to help us review out own actions, to see if things could have been done differently. But hindsight doesn't help when we have to make split second decisions, and then we have to be strong enough to live with the consequences," replied Spencer evenly and a companionable silence seemed to fill the room, helping to soothe Emily's overwrought emotions.
"Do you think Strauss is right about wanting to remove Hotch?" Reid suddenly asked.
"No, I think Hotch is a good team leader who tries to keep the team focused, but I think Gideon was a loose cannon at times," Emily replied honestly, hoping that he'd not be offended by her criticism of Gideon.
Spencer nodded in understanding, "Gideon was never the same after he lost his team with the Boston bombing. He didn't always react quickly enough to the problems of the team."
"He was wilfully negligent over you when you returned after the Henkel case," Emily firmly stated, and was surprised at the vehemence of her voice.
"That bothers you?" Spencer enquired.
"I got slapped down for pointing out certain things I noticed…I mean you were obviously suffering, you know with post traumatic stress, but he was ignoring your distress. I lost confidence in him over that…I mean you were his protégé and he treated you so…" she stopped, "Sorry, I think Hotch should have done something about it."
"Hotch thought Gideon was doing something because Gideon kept reassuring him that he had it under control. It's all right, I had Catherine and Arthur, my psch…and finally Hotch got to know what was going on and took a more active role." he soothed, "It all seems a long time ago now.
Does Strauss really have a hold over you?" Spencer suddenly asked, refocusing on her problem. A distant part of Emily registered that this man, who was 10 years her junior, was a very good psychologist.
"I wanted to move to the BAU. I'd worked 10 years in the mid-West and felt that this was where I wanted to be next. I let it be known, being the child of ambassadors that sort of networking is just natural, but it's the first time that I've had it turned against me."
"It was a bit naïve of you, considering your background. Personally, I've just let my genius status work for me and try to keep out of the under current of politics that runs through this organisation.
So, do you have any thoughts on what you are going to do especially as Hilton doesn't trust you?"
"You've noticed uh…" she said gloomily.
"You were pretty upset after your interview with him and you have been beavering away since on your work. You worked extremely hard when you first arrived here because Hotch had not chosen you and you had to prove yourself to him and the team. Unfortunately, Hilton has probably seen straight through you and he's waiting to see what you are going to do about the situation you have got yourself into," he said with a refreshing honesty.
"I don't want to be Strauss's pawn," she answered and felt a weight lift now that she had spoken it out loud.
Spencer nodded and added, "Then let go of the hold she has on you."
It seemed such a simple statement, but it stunned Emily in its simplicity, and wondered if she really understood what he meant by it. Spencer read the uncertainty in her demeanour.
"When I first returned to the unit, I questioned my existence here. I had faced death several times during the Henkel kidnap and it made me take stock of my life more than any of the other situations I'd been in. I knew I loved Catherine and that she was central to my life. I also questioned if I wanted to stay in the F.B.I. I'd sort of just let Gideon persuade me to come; it sounded an interesting line of work in which to apply my skills for the greater good. Anyway, Catherine and I discussed alternative careers if I chose to leave; it was very liberating. Sometimes we forget that there is a world outside the Bureau. "
"Like what?" asked the now fascinated Emily.
"I'm only 26 even now and with 3 PhDs, so there was the obvious choice of returning to academia in any of the three areas. If I hadn't have met Gideon, I was thinking of going to Med. School to use my psychology in mental health services and was toying with training as a psychiatrist. Then there was the music, I thought about teaching the lute."
"You're a lutenist!" and then her eyes fell on the long fingers and she felt foolish. Emily could imagine a stringed instrument, and one as difficult as a lute, would be a challenge for a genius.
He smiled but persisted, "So Emily, Strauss sees you has a career agent so think outside the confines of the Bureau's box. What could you do if you were not with the F.B.I.?"
She'd never seriously given it any thought before; she had thought it a prestigious organisation to work in and one that her parents would approve of.
Spencer broke the silence, "You have an M.A. in French 19th century literature, so you could teach French," he suggested.
"Yeah, but I'm also fluent in German, Spanish, Russian and Arabic."
"Excellent! So how could you use them?" Spencer encouraged.
"As a translator, at the U.N., for a company with interests or trading with these countries," she clarified and suddenly began to see the value of the exercise. Reid had given her a different perspective; Erin Strauss didn't own her. Emily had skills that would be welcome in other organisations. It was a simple exercise but it lifted her mood. Prentiss smiled at the man; she felt a new sense of hope surge through her.
"Now you know what you need to do," Spencer stated, bringing her back to the present.
Emily knew what she had to do but knowing and doing don't always come easily, "I don't think I know how to tell him?" she replied, as she felt her revived confidence begin to slip away.
"Emily, you have to tell Hotch; trust him and you will not be disappointed. At the moment you're not sleeping well because your conscience is telling you that you have to tell Hotch," Spencer said firmly. She couldn't deny his accurate assessment of her demise.
"Tell me what, Emily?" Hotch's deeper voice cut into their conversation and both agents visibly jumped. "Well?" he challenged, and then his face softened as he saw that she had been crying. He looked at Spencer, who met his eyes with a steadiness he had come to know, and he sensed that Reid had been helping Emily over some distress.
"Emily, I overheard Spencer say that you should trust me, I hope I am worthy of that trust, but I did not hear what went on before that. I know Spencer will keep his own counsel because he's probably promised you, so I have to rely on you trusting me. Would it be easier in my office?"
The woman looked to Spencer hoping to regain some of her fragile confidence, "You can trust Hotch, he will understand and you won't be disturbed in his office," Spencer assured, and silently berated himself for not closing the door when he had found Emily.
Emily nodded her thanks to Spencer, and gave him a weak smile as she gathered up her courage before facing her boss, " You're right, this should be said in your office."
Prentiss rose and walked out. Hotch gave Spencer a searching look, "Is she OK?" Hotch asked softly.
"Yeah, she's been under some pressure, but she's use to getting her own way," he replied, getting up and making his way to the door. "Catherine's picking me up tonight, she collected my car from the garage after its service,"
Hotch smiled, "You trust her to park here?" he teased.
"She'll be able to find an easy space this time in the evening," Spencer easily replied, and made his way down the stairs as Hotch entered his office and closed the door.
Half an hour later, Emily left Hotchner's office and made her way back to the bullpen. Spencer was at his desk reading his e-mails. Emily sat down and looked over to him, he looked up after sending a reply and smiled.
"Thank you," she said simply, and was rewarded with a radiant grin. Emily was beginning to realise that Spencer Reid had far greater depths than Morgan had dared to poke at. She didn't doubt that in a few years time, Reid would be a senior agent watching the dynamics of the team. That he was an excellent profiler was not in question, especially after he had caught David Smith, but she now had a respect for his personal integrity and the way he had gently helped her.
"Hi, Catherine!" he beamed, and Emily turned to looked at the women who had captured their genius.
"Hit any thing?" he teased.
"I did not!" she stated indignantly, and Emily couldn't stop the smile that swept across her face.
"Honestly, listening to you, anyone would think I'm always having accidents…Just because the family kept telling him their version of the time I swerved to avoid the bear…" she explained to Emily.
"Which lead to the sheriff swerving to avoid you and the park ranger swerving to avoid the sheriff…" continued Spencer gleefully.
"Wow, what really happened?" asked Garcia, who had appeared from her lair just as Catherine had arrived, " I'm Garcia…"she beamed.
"This is Emily," Spencer added, but felt he was suddenly superfluous as the invisible bonding of sisterhood swept the three women into a huddle near Garcia's room.
Spencer finished his e-mails and shut down his computer. In the background he could hear the women's laughter, it sounded good and was just what Emily needed at that moment.
"Thank you," said Hotch, he stood quietly beside Reid's desk, with his brief case in hand. Spencer merely nodded; both men trusted each other and it made life easier for themselves and the team. Reid did not know what Hotch was going to do about Strauss, but if Hotch left, Spencer knew that their unit chief had many paths open to him. Reid hoped that it wouldn't come to that, but Hotchner was a lawyer and the skills he had learnt in the F.B.I. were useful for other agencies. Spencer put on his own tailored wool jacket and picked up his leather satchel, which was still part of his attire, and made his way to the gaggle of laughing women.
"Goodnight, ladies," called Hotch as he passed, and flashed them a rare smile. Hotch was pleased that Catherine had made the effort to make an appearance at the office. She didn't like to interfere with Reid's work and kept deliberately in the background to keep their home life separate from work. Aaron Hotchner appreciated that his wife did exactly the same thing. Hayley tried to keep her distance unless it was an official function, but it was far easier for her with a young child.
As he drove home, Hotch thought over what Emily had told him. It was a typical Strauss move and suspected that it had been her who had told Karen Steyer about the case of the prostitutes being murdered in Washington. Hotch had upset Steyer because he would not fit into her agenda; perhaps Steyer was at the bottom of this move to get rid of him. He turned on to the freeway, the traffic was lighter at this time in the evening, and found it quite relaxing to just drive and unwind. He would ring Hilton later, after he'd played a little with Jack and eaten with Hayley. Hotch knew he could rely on Hilton at his back. As Aaron turned into the drive of his house he reflected that he trusted Reid too, and was pleased that Spencer was proving himself worthy of the trust and respect needed to one day be the leading psychologist of the team.
The front door opened and Jack appeared in Montana Mice pyjamas. Hayley smiled her greeting as Jack called, "Daddee! Look, mice!" as he pointed at his bright clothing, covered in the Mice characters from a familiar series of books.
"Mommy and Jack have been shopping," Hotch stated, he never told her that he knew the real identity of Amy Sequoia. He picked up his son and forgot about work for a few hours. Jack insisted that his Daddy look at the two new books they had bought.
Hayley handed them over as father and son sat on the couch together, "I got Amy Sequoia's latest…it's lovely about a bear called Solomon. There was a special offer on the first 'Montana Mice' story with half price pyjamas this week as a promotion," explained Hayley.
"Oh yeah, and Mommy likes the Montana Mice," replied Hotch.
Hayley grinned, "It's a bit too old for him at the moment but he likes looking at the pictures. That woman is so talented, there is so much detail in them. The bear book is for younger ones and Jack loves it so be prepared… you'll be saying it in your sleep!"
"Look Daddee!" Jack commanded and Hotch was swept away into the world of Solomon Bear. Hayley's prediction was spot on, Jack insisted on "'gain, Daddee!" six times and he now knew the words by heart. Fortunately, Jack was also slipping into sleep and he carried his precious son up the stairs to his little bed.
Meanwhile, there was a special late night meeting of men being held in a room in the Pentagon. This was a meeting dealing with matters that were far away from the gentle and loving actions within the Hotchner household.
"And you have managed to track these money transfers for the past 11 months," a balding giant asked the tall thin man opposite him.
"Yes, the information led us to an account in the Cayman Islands. I thought initially it was drugs money but then I followed the threads of where the money was coming from. There are 28 names involved, as you can see, some have influential positions in organisations. Some of the payments go back over 2 years. "
"Will, this is…Oh God, we have to handle this carefully; we have to be 100 per cent sure," another middle aged suited man said.
"I have personally checked these banking details, they are all correct, there is no mistake," the tall thin man, called Will, asserted with confidence.
" My New York office is compromised and Quantico, we have to be careful not to scare them. When we are ready to act, it must be a well co-ordinated sweep of the suspects so they cannot warn any of the others," said the Director of the F.B.I.
"We will need the utmost discretion," the giant said, "We are dealing with the judiciary and senators and congress…I just can't believe these names,"
"They are all being discreetly watched; we have to keep changing the teams so they don't get suspicious. We are relying mostly on electronic surveillance of their homes and places of work," said a quiet greying Afro-American.
"This must not get out to the media, it could bring down the government and our enemies would enjoy watching us squirm in the media spotlight…You can just imagine the headlines that could beam around the world!" the giant said.
"We must concentrate on gathering the evidence so they can not wriggle out of it. This is not as straight forward as it seems. There is secrecy for a reason and I don't want to jump to conclusions until I have solid proof. Some of these people are being paid to turn a blind eye; others blackmailed because they have been caught in compromising positions. I have only been able to follow these threads because a priest heard a dying man's confession and his conscience won over church ruling. We had to promise that we would never reveal his name, he would be ruined if it was ever known how we found out about these people," Will said calmly.
"Will's right, we must continue with our operations and be prepared to act within hours should the situation call for it," the Director said, "Now lets discuss the logistics of taking these people. I, for one, am going to need helicopter teams I can trust and it would be best not to use F.B.I. people to take into custody their own…"
The small group continued their deliberations well after Aaron Hotchner had fallen asleep.