CHAPTER THREE: SURVIVAL AND CHANGES
Hotch survived. After about the second hour, he'd said to hell with it. Had decided to just release the tension within himself and make sure they were both as comfortable as possible. If that meant having agent Prentiss practically in his lap, than so be it. He'd just…enjoy…the experience, and push it out of his mind once it was all over. He'd just sit back and enjoy the first real human contact besides his son he'd had since his wife left him—even if it was just contact from an unaware colleague. Hotch would take what he could get.
The second half of the trip went much better. Hotch had shifted again turning his body partially against the window. It freed up more room for her to cuddle close. Which she did. He kept his hand behind her, helped keep her steady as the curves in the road worsened. It wasn't the most unpleasant trip he'd ever experienced.
It was a moment out of time for him; but he was determined she'd never know quite how it affected him.
Taggart's eyes met Hotch's in the rear view mirror. "Well be there in about fifteen minutes, better wake Sleeping Beauty, there."
The sarcasm was hidden, but none of the profilers missed it.
"I think she looks more like Snow White, with the hair and all." Dave said, mildly. "And we're all the dwarves."
"Morgan's Dopey." Garcia snickered, reaching over the seat and gently shaking Prentiss awake.
Prentiss fought waking, actually turned her face into Hotch's shoulder. She…pouted…he realized. It took nearly five minutes of team cajoling, shaking, and teasing to wake her.
Hotch made sure he wasn't holding her any longer. He'd hate for her to be embarrassed. And he suspected she would. She wouldn't want to appear…weak…in front of her team leader. She would want to appear confident and capable at all times.
Sleeping in your supervisor's arms would not fit into that image. Not for her.
He analyzed the strange sense of loss he felt when she pulled away, before deciding it was just the human need for physical closeness affecting him.
She blinked slowly, big dark eyes reminiscent of his son's upon waking. Dark brown, darker than his. Jack's were darker brown, too.
Strange he'd never noticed just how dark her eyes actually were before.
She ran one hand over her face, her cheek, where a red spot showed from being pressed against the crease in his jacket. She said nothing, smiled so softly at Dave and Derek's teasing. After a few moments, her yes cleared and her countenance changed from soft, sleepy, vulnerable woman to calm, cool, professional agent. The mask he was most familiar with. He wondered if she always did that as she looked directly at him. "We learned anything new?"
Yes, that you've incredibly soft skin. Feminine skin, skin that makes a man want to touch you, to feel it over and over again. He frowned severely, and she stepped back. He relaxed his features, not wanting her to think he was displeased with her. "Nothing probative. Have concluded it was most likely a local, in his thirties or early forties."
She nodded, stepped away from him even more. Had she always done that? Had he always made her retreat like that?
He wasn't always a severe man, he thought. He remembered joking and laughing, even with his teammates. He'd cut up all the time with Jason, Morgan, Elle—he'd laughed with them all the time.
And then Elle had been shot, Jason had left, he and Hayley had split. Responsibility for the entire team soon rested on his shoulders. He'd functioned the best he could, with the new team he'd been given. Including Prentiss, including Dave.
Dave and he were friends, and he knew he could depend on the older man. He'd never let himself depend on Prentiss. His fault. He'd simply…overlooked her.
She hadn't deserved that. She was a good agent, and a kind, compassionate and caring woman. And they probably had a lot in common. Could probably have been good friends. If he hadn't made it clear there was a line between them.
He asked himself if he'd done that to keep himself from getting close to someone like he had Elle. Elle had destroyed a good deal of his trust, and he wondered if Prentiss had unfortunately suffered the backlash. He decided then that she probably had. He probably truly owed her an apology. A big one.
Maybe that was why she'd not even looked to him for comfort after coming out of that damned Colorado compound. Why she'd hugged Reid, let Derek lead her to the ambulance, why she'd let Dave drive her home after their plane had landed. Why JJ and Garcia had stayed with her for a few days, until she wasn't so sore.
She'd asked nothing from him.
He couldn't blame her.
He was just her boss. She was just his subordinate.
She never teased him. Never smiled at him directly, even. He knew barely more about her than he had when she'd first started.
He knew nothing about her personal life. Hadn't even known she liked the theater.
She probably knew more about him by hearing things in the BAU, but he couldn't recall ever hearing anything about her.
He didn't know who she dated, who she was friends with, who she wasn't friends with. He knew no more about her than he'd chosen to see.
And that was mostly how she functioned as an agent.
The vehicle slowed to a stop, jerking him out of his reverie, and he looked around, taking in the ranch where they'd be staying. He had to bite his tongue to keep a low, crude curse from escaping.
Except for the snow on the ground, and for the lack of a small private church, they could have been on the Seperatarian compound in Colorado. Even the shutters were the same color and style.
It shouldn't have surprised him, he decided. The style of the Colorado compound and this Montana ranch were common to this part of the country. He shot a quick look at the woman beside him, worry for her touching his mind.
Her face was carefully schooled, not revealing anything. Her body was held deliberately relaxed. She was determined—he could feel that—not to let any anxiety show.
Dammit. He hated that she had to be that way. He leaned closer. "You ok?"
"Of course, sir." She said, in a low voice. She didn't look at him. "Just ready to get to work."
He fought the urge to tuck her back against his chest and order Taggart to turn the vehicle back around. To get her—and Reid—hell, all of them—away from this place. Instead, he opened his door. "Good. The sooner we find this guy, the sooner we get back to DC."
"Yes, sir." She said. He decided then that he hated that word, hated it when it came from her lips. it was like a fence or a wall built to stand between the two of them. She followed him from the vehicle, and he watched as she zipped up her dark green parka. Her hat was raised to hide her dark hair and white knit hat. She had those dark glasses on she favored. All he could see was her mouth, which was lax. She took her bag from Morgan, who bumped her shoulder in comfort, then slung it over her shoulder. She tucked her mitten clad hands into her pockets. She said nothing. Just stood back and watched the rest of the team unload their belongings.
Reid stood at her side, the two of them dressed in nearly identical coats. They were both tall and lanky. Both wore dark sunglasses. Both held their bodies slightly taut. Neither of them was lost to the similarities between this place and Colorado.
Both earned another degree of his admiration.
The ranch doors opened and another parka-clad person exited. He was taller than Hotch by a good three inches, wider than Morgan. He ushered the team inside with little hesitancy.
They stood in the foyer, removing hats and gloves before anyone spoke. The new man turned toward Taggart. "This the FBI team? Kind of scrawny lot, aren't they?"
"Scrawny?" Garcia asked. "I'll admit JJ, Em, and Reid, maybe…"
"Sorry, hon." The new guy said, smiling, showing a dimpled smile. Hotch supposed some women would find his rugged looks attractive. "Didn't mean any insult. Just expected your whole team to be as big as Superman—or Wonder Woman."
"That's Superman, right there." Garcia pointed at Hotch. He fought a smile at the nickname she'd stuck him with years ago. "Wonder Woman's hiding behind Dr. Reid. She's a bit drowsy right now. Car rides are her Kryptonite. The rest of us are various members of the Justice League, here to help out in your time of need."
Reid shifted, so that Prentiss was more readily visible. Hotch's eyes narrowed when the other man's sparked. Prentiss had removed her coat, revealing that lilac cotton shirt she favored. He had to admit the lower neckline was…eye-catching…as he ran a critical eye over her figure. And the tight charcoal fatigues she wore outlined her rear and legs…nicely. Hotch shifted, chalking his body's reaction up to residuals of having that leg pressed so close to his for so long.
Hotch turned, blocking the man's line of sight with his own body. "I'm SSAIC Hotchner, this is my team, David Rossi, Dr. Spencer Reid, Jennifer Jareau, Penelope Garcia, Emily Prentiss, and Derek Morgan."
"Sheriff Allen Harris at your service. And Welcome to the Lucky N. I've only five rooms available, but two of'em have double beds. I'll let you sort yourselves out. Dinner's in an hour, then after that, I figured I'd show you where you can set up and get to work. We've decided to run the investigation from my place, seeing as I have the space, am close to the scenes, and can provide suitable mounts if needed. Can any of you all sit a horse?"
"Yes." Prentiss said, drawing all eyes her way. "What? Does that surprise you?"
"Everything about you is surprising." Dave said, patting her shoulder. "It's been a few years since I've ridden, but I probably won't fall off. You, Em?"
"A few weeks, actually. My horse is stabled at my mother's. I've not had a chance to get up there for the last few weekends." She said.
The ambassador had probably paid a pretty penny for riding lessons, Hotch surmised. It didn't surprise him in the slightest.
"Anybody else?" Harris moved closer to Prentiss, stepping almost past Hotch to do it. Hotch didn't like that.
"Yes." He said. "It's been more than a decade, but I've ridden before." They'd had horses at his father's vacation retreat in northern New York throughout Hotch's childhood. He'd go to the stables and ride for hours. Just to get away. To think. To be alone.
He bet Prentiss used her horse for the same purpose.
"Good." Harris said. "That'll come in handy. I'll show you to your rooms."
Hotch watched him gallantly pick up Prentiss's bag, offer her his arm. Smile charmingly. Hotch decided then that he didn't like Harris. Something about him made Hotch furious.