Take Three: Third Life
Chapter 2: The Aftermath
Summary: It's been eight years.
Spoilers for Lauren, 6.18, Valhalla 6.17 and Sense Memory 6.14, Hopeless, 5.04, Demonology 4.17, and Damaged, 3.14.
Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds, CBS does…but they don't deserve to.
On with the show and enjoy, you guys! Many thanks to vampiremuggle, Faith Crain, i luv emily Prentiss 2012 and TaliDaniellaDavid for reviewing!
Location: FBI Headquarters in Quantico, Virginia. The BAU, bullpen and offices.
Date: March 7, 2012.
A lot has changed in a year. And it was a year to date when they lost a family member, a friend, a colleague.
It's been a year since Emily Prentiss died.
Morgan.
He can't sit in the bullpen and do paperwork anymore, not without Prentiss in the desk adjacent to him. He can't sit and face the fact that he couldn't save her this time, the time when she really needed it. He can't sit and face the fact that if he looks over she wouldn't be there, grinning at him and asking if he wanted to get something he eat.
He can't sit and face himself and his demons.
"She never made it off the table."
He heard JJ's words echo in his head, and as always, it made him think.
If he'd gotten there a minute earlier, would it have been enough to save her life? If he'd tried harder to look at the case dispassionately, would they have caught Doyle before he shoved a wooden stake in her stomach? If he had pushed harder in that taxi cab, would she have been safe and alive now?
It's been a year and he still was haunted by her last words to him.
"Let me go…"
He couldn't let her go. Not his partner, not his friend, not his colleague. No matter what capacity she came in, the kick-ass FBI agent, or the friend, he could let her go. He might have to sit in solitude forever doing paperwork, but he could never ever let her go.
He worked with her for five years. She did her share of teasing, berating, supporting and defending him in five years. It was too much to confront the fact that he never said so much as a thank you to her for those five years.
It's been a year, and he still hasn't recovered.
Garcia.
Her figurines and color haven't been enough to distract her lately. After that fateful day a year ago, the colors in the world seemed to have dimmed.
Her omniscience wasn't enough to save her sister, her friend, her confidant.
Omniscience wasn't enough to save Emily Prentiss.
She tried, God how she tried, but it was too late. The second that cursed person named Ian Doyle, or so loving dubbed the-stupid-dambass-murderer-leader-of-the-breakaway-IRA-faction-who-should-get-his-balls-ripped-off, had gotten out of North Korea, her sexy FBI agent's fate was sealed.
On hindsight, she knew that once her girl had gotten into this, there was no way she was coming out alive.
She's changed a lot, this past year. When her phone rings, she doesn't answer with inappropriate, but tolerated answers. When the team calls her for information, she speaks with a clipped and precise tone, and never goes off topic, like she used to.
She doesn't call Reid 'boy genius' or Morgan 'hunk of dark chocolate thunder' anymore. All those names are associated with "my-sexy-kick-ass-FBI-agent", and that topic still rips at her fragile heart even a year later.
She and JJ haven't had one of their Tuesday morning breakfast for a month, because it just seems wrong to have her and JJ, and not have Emily Prentiss with them, laughing and teasing.
No, nothing will ever be the same. Unless the heavens above take mercy, and give all of them back their friend.
Reid.
The one thing that hurts him most is that he never got to say goodbye.
JJ's haunting words to them still lingers in the forefront of his mind. It would almost be a blessing if he couldn't remember those seven words, and the whole ordeal that went with the words, "She never made it off the table."
Seven words, and his world was shattered.
No more could be sprout the randomest statistics and have her genuinely be interested in half of them. Never again could be talk to her about Star Trek, or zombie apocalypses, or alien invasions, or have her beat him at chess or poker. She could never tease him about having 'baby geniuses' or that bartender and if he was going to call her back.
He was one of the pall-bearers at her funeral, and even then he was still broken, tears running down his face at the prospect of never seeing her again. His friend, Emily Prentiss, wouldn't be at the bullpen, when he returned at a week, sneaking her files into his stack or teasing Morgan about his 'thousand push-ups a day' routine.
He wouldn't hear Garcia interrogating her about her latest date, or overheard her talking to JJ about his godson.
The only person who knew about his headaches, migraines and the images in his head, had taken his secret to the grave.
And really, he kind of expected it.
After all, Emily Prentiss was not the kind of woman who'd throw up at a crime scene. He was a profiler, for seven years, and it wasn't enough for him to realized sometime was seriously wrong with her.
"Lauren Reynolds is dead."
He guesses he could now say, "Lauren Reynolds and Emily Prentiss are dead."
Even though Lauren Reynolds and Emily Prentiss are one and the same.
Rossi.
Every day, he walks into the bullpen and into his office, looking straight ahead, because he knows that if he looked any other way, he'd look at her desk, which hasn't been emptied or cleaned, and he'd break down, just like he did at the hospital a year ago. When he sits in his office, drinking his coffee with a shot of whiskey, he remembers a long time ago when Emily Prentiss, Hotch and himself shared a bottle of Jack Daniels after a case.
He remembers the vulnerability in her eyes when she learned that John Cooley might have been the rogue priest's next victim. He remembers the way she supported him with the Galen family.
He remembers the strength she shared with him, over the last four and a half years, and he can't help but feel he's lost a daughter.
He had to asked Seaver to profile her, for god's sake, because they were all too close and Seaver had only known her for a few weeks.
He especially knew that Prentiss was private, and he should have kept her closer a year ago and a day, when he and Hotch were giving the profile of Doyle. He should've known the lengths she went to protect him and the team.
Not that they're much of a team anymore.
Yes, they still caught the bad guys. Yes, they're still passionate about their jobs, but there was no playful bantering, or flirting between Morgan and Garcia. There was no more nights out at the bars, no more hanging out at each other houses, nothing that showed that they were family.
Nothing.
Emily Prentiss' death tore them all apart.
Hotch.
Everything's changed.
Yes, they put away the bad guys away each time, but it never seems to make up for the one time they didn't.
A year ago, they didn't catch Ian Doyle, and the team, especially Emily Prentiss, paid for that mistake.
Admittedly, he knows that Prentiss is still alive, under a different name and in a different country. He knows that JJ is keeping an eye on her and has agents following her, making sure that Ian Doyle won't come close enough to her to take her again.
He knows that currently, she's safe and that's all that matters.
Well, not quite.
His team will never be the same again. That flawless bonding that once was now isn't. It died with Emily Prentiss and it looks as if it'll never be reestablished.
He misses the playful bantering and flirting and laughter that came from the bullpen. He misses Reid's "physics magic" rockets and the doink sound it makes when it hits one of the unlucky people in the surrounding area. He misses Garcia's teasing answers and inappropriate messages. He misses Morgan's presence in the bullpen, because he knows it's what keeps the rest going. He misses Reid's random statistics and quotes on the plane.
Most of all, he misses Prentiss' snarky and sarcastic comments, when they've been called in at four in the morning and he misses her contagious laughter and the wide grins. He misses the way she and JJ would walk in sometimes, when JJ has a day off, and have coffee for everyone, including him and Dave.
He misses her acute minds on cases when they really could've used it and the way she could lighten the atmosphere with one light-hearted comment. He misses the way she'd stubbornly refuse to go to the hospital even if she got bashed in the head by a two by four.
Maybe the thing he misses most about Emily Prentiss was her self-confidence and strong, supportive presence. Maybe he misses the way she had walked him back to his apartment after his attack from Foyet. Maybe his misses the way she had resigned so she wouldn't help end his career. Maybe he just misses her.
Not the colleague, not subordinate, the friend, the partner.
He misses Emily, not Agent Prentiss.
Location: Paris, France, Élisabeth Moreau's house.
Date and time: March 7, 2012. 9:05 PM
JJ.
She pities the woman in front of her. She's lost so much in the span of a year.
She's lost her family, her identity, her friends, her home, her safety. She's lost the support and the purpose the FBI and the BAU gave her. She's lost the meaning of life, really. She's lost Morgan's older brother routine, and Reid's crazy and analytical mind and his ability to play a good game of chess. She's lost Rossi, her father figure, and Hotch, the solemn presence in her life since childhood. She's lost Garcia, the bubbly, way-too-hyper-and-giggly sister.
She's all Emily Prentiss has left.
Only she, Jennifer Jareau, knows where Emily Prentiss is. Even Hotch doesn't know. And it's her assignment. Her baby, her husband doesn't know where she is right now. They don't know when she'll be back, and she's so afraid that if Doyle comes back, he'll come for her too. For her, and Emily, and Henry and Will, because of her.
Sometimes, she wonders why she does this job. A job that could very well leave her child, her flesh and blood, childless just because she chases the world's most dangerous monsters, and protects those who need protection.
The way Emily Prentiss needs her protection right now, as much as she loathes to admit it.
She pities the shell of the woman that was Emily Prentiss.
Emily Prentiss was sweet, funny, sarcastic and supportive all rolled into one. She was lively, and outgoing, although extremely reserved. She liked Vonnegut and chick flicks. She liked chocolate and coffee, two things JJ could always provide.
But this woman in front of her isn't anything like Emily Prentiss. She doesn't talk, doesn't respond, doesn't eat unless forced, doesn't move, doesn't do anything unless forced too. She's already thinking about taking this shell for help.
But she doesn't blame her.
If she were in Emily's shoes right now, she'd just end it. End the fear of Doyle following her, end the fear of him finding Declan, end the fear for her family being killed because of her.
She's nowhere near as strong as Emily Prentiss, and she really hopes she never will have to be.
Location: Unknown.
Date and time: March 7, 2012. 8:09 AM
Doyle.
It's been a year since Emily Prentiss died.
And he's no closer to finding his son that he was a year ago.
He wants revenge, but he needs to evade all the countries and their intelligence agencies. CIA, MI6, InterPol, all. They all want blood.
Namely, his blood.
A/N: Hopefully that makes up for the wait you guys. I was thinking about pairings, so if you'd like to see some pairings, shoot me a review or PM. Any pairings work, but JJ/Will is established already…soo… and please, no slash. Can't do it and make it good. But if you really, really insist, I'll do my best.
Prentiss/Hotch, Prentiss/Rossi, Prentiss/Morgan, Prentiss/Reid, Ashley/Reid, Garcia/Morgan...anything of the sort.
Also, I couldn't do one point of view for Seaver and do it justice, so I just left it out. We haven't been given too many Seaver and Prentiss scenes, so not much to go on for that.
Next chapter up tomorrow!
-S12