A/N: Just so y'all know, in this universe (and probably most of the ones I have) Haley is alive. For the sake of the story, I'd rather her be around and having Jack rather than Hotch constantly having to leave him with Jessica. With the way these stories go, I have no way to add mini-Hotch into them, so let's pretend his mom is alive and Foyet was arrested before he killed her. I like Haley for the most part, so I won't write her as villain, if there ever is a time where I write her! As of now, she is merely mentioned in passing.
/\\\/\\\
They had taken to holding one another's hand on the jet. It was what they considered to be their last act as a couple before the harsh charade of professionalism began.
The team rarely commented on the tiny display of affection. Every once in a while Derek would say something along the lines of, "Em, you'll need both of your hands" When he would hand her his laptop across the aisle. Or once or twice, Rossi would take the seat next to Aaron to see what they would say or do about it.
Of course, every time, the startled-and almost sad-look that crossed Prentiss' face did more to move the plucky Italian than Hotch's fierce glower. It took quite a bit to upset the unflappable Emily Prentiss, but when it rarely happened, the men in her life did everything they could to rectify it.
Aaron's strong fingers wrapped around her own did wonders for her as they flew to Maine.
They both hated cases that involved children. It hit them personally what with Jack being in their lives. During their relationship, the precocious seven year old had taken to Emily like a duck to water. He called her his "Emmy"-or when he was hyped up on the sugar and soda she spoiled him with, "Emmy-Bemmy-Bo-Wemmy". She was positive that she would never love another child more than her sweet Jack-Attack.
But then there was Henry. Her gorgeous best friend's even more gorgeous little boy. The towheaded preschooler was nearly a carbon copy of Mattie Burroughs.
Without a word, Hotch removed the autopsy and crime scene photos of the boy from JJ's file when she sat across from them on the jet. She gave him and appreciative smile and took his lead on keeping the whole exchange silent-even though everyone had watched it happen.
She would have sucked it up, and flipped through the pictures, all the while pretending the sweet young face looked nothing like her boy. And she would have bit back the tears when that plan would have inevitably failed. She was a mother, and she was allowed to be weak from time to time.
Hotch made it easy for her though.
It wasn't a weakness if your boss didn't give you a choice in the matter.
They were barely in the air for five minutes when the laptop in front of Derek let out a shrill ring. "That was fast Mama." He said, pulling Garcia up on video chat and turning her to face the rest of the team.
Penelope gaped at the group, startled. It was as though they had called her and caught her off guard. "Um...we have a...Um...Well..." She stammered, glancing down at her desk and tapping her fingers against the surface.
"Pen, what's going on?" JJ's tone held a hint of amusement at the quirky analyst's display.
Less amused at the prolonged silence, Aaron spoke up as well. "Did you find something Garcia?" He demanded, looking back to his file. He had a lot of victimology to go over during their short flight.
"Sir, we have a problem." Penelope was quick to speak after his commanding tone snapped her out of her stupor. "A tiny...well kind of big...a tiny-big problem."
"With the case?" Reid peaked over JJ and Morgan's seats.
"No...Nope."
"What's going on Baby Girl?"
"Em," Garcia addressed the brunette, who instantly sat up. "Please don't be mad."
/\\\/\\\
Elizabeth stormed out of her study and stomped down the stairs. "Gregory!" She called to the afternoon chauffer. "Get the car ready!"
After her deafening shouts, she held her cellphone back to her ear. "Don't worry Emily, if she's in Virginia, I'll track her down." She promised. "I'll call you when I find her!" She hung up and slipped the phone into her purse before heading out the door that Gregory had just barely opened for her.
Yes, she wasn't the great investigator that her daughter was, but people often forgot that she raised that daughter. Though on most days, it was from afar or with the help of a full staff, but at the end of the day, Emily Prentiss was her girl. Her spitfire.
She had tracked the rambunctious teen down in countries they had only been in for two days. One time, she found her outside of a hostel four hundred miles from the French Chateau. And that was before they days of Google Earth and cell phone tracking. With nothing more than mother's instinct and an outdated map of France, she found the fourteen year old, smacked whatever illegal drug she had just purchased out of her hand, and shoved her into their limo with more strength than even she knew she'd possessed.
When it came to her children, Elizabeth Prentiss was a force to be reckoned with.
/\\\/\\\
Swan's Island had a very small airport that mostly catered to tiny puddle-jumpers and cargo planes. The FBI jet looked positively massive as it awkwardly landed in the tiny space provided.
The tension as they disembarked was heavy.
With the stress of the case, the last thing they needed was a missing ex-assassin. Again. Because the last time Molly vanished, nearly a dozen former mobsters began to appear across the country sans limbs.
Emily's teammates assured her that her sister-in-law had probably just wandered off to explore Quantico's massive campus. She had always been curious about the facility and it made sense for her to take it upon herself to take an unauthorized tour.
But they didn't believe their own words. The gut feeling-a mixture between the fear of an Unsub and the fear for a victim-that they associated with Molly Prentiss was bubbling up. This dread wasn't for the woman herself, but for those who might get in her way. If she was on one of her self-appointed missions, then she wasn't going to be back until it was complete.
"You go to the station with JJ and start the profile." Aaron ordered quietly as they approached the SUVs at the end of the tarmac. "Keep your phone on and let me know the instant you hear something."
Prentiss nodded and shoved her hands in her pockets. Initially, she was going to interview Hank-the van driver-with Morgan. After nearly an hour and a half of her constant fidgeting in her seat must have prompted the Unit Chief to have Reid take her place. Of course, when it came down to it, she would have done her job without a hitch-she did it the last time Molly went AWOL-but it wouldn't have been good for her mind.
Hotch tried to give her a break from compartmentalizing when he could.
Knowing that she needed the tiny bit of comfort, he leaned down to kiss the top of her head before turning to climb into the driver's seat of his and Rossi's car.
With a shaky breath, Emily watched them pull away. JJ was next to her, quiet and calming as she always was-despite the apprehension she'd been feeling all day from the case. It was incredible how soothing the blonde could be regardless of the situation.
"Ready?" She asked, looking to Prentiss with a soft smile and waited for her to nod before moving to their own SUV.
Emily would drive, as she always did. Having her relinquish that one tiny bit of control could have pushed her over the edge and JJ wouldn't do that to her. She wasn't impaired physically or mentally, so it wasn't a matter of safety. Even at her worse, Prentiss knew better than to get behind the wheel if there was any chance of her not being able to operate to the best of her ability.
On the few family road trips they had been able to take over the past couple of years, when Henry would get too fussy, she'd put in his favorite CD. She had burned the twenty-nine songs onto the disc when he was only a few months old and it never failed to mollify him.
Today, she took a similar approach with her friend. But rather than the soft ballads about twinkling stars and farmers, she knew Emily Prentiss preferred the likes of Fleetwood Mac.
Attaching her phone to the cable coming from the car's stereo, JJ flipped on Rumours and relaxed into her seat without saying a word.
Prentiss couldn't help but tighten her mouth into a small smirk when Stevie Nicks' voice began to flow through the speakers. Taking JJ's lead, she didn't comment on the obvious music choice. Instead she turned up the volume a couple of notches and rolled down her window to let the crisp Maine breeze flow in.
Sometimes it wasn't so bad working with a bunch of profilers.
/\\\/\\\
"It appears that Hank Greer has Hypertensive Retinopathy in his left eye." Spencer mused, flipping through the thick file in his lap. "That can severely impair vision, why would they have allowed him to drive a van full of kids?"
"Why would they have let him drive at all?" Derek added, keeping one eye on the mailboxes they passed to find Hank's house number.
The island was small, but it was still hard to navigate with its labyrinth of roads and disorganized neighborhoods. Homes were scattered about between pharmacies and bars, making it very difficult to locate the residence.
"That kind of makes him an unreliable witness." Reid winced, hating to state what they were both thinking. "I mean, it doesn't necessarily put him in the suspect pool, but his statement won't hold up in court."
Morgan nodded. "Well, if nothing else we can get him off the road after all of this." He pulled into the dirt driveway with a fish mailbox at the end of it.
Neither of them mentioned what went through their minds this time.
There aren't any kids left to drive now.
/\\\/\\\
Swan's Island didn't really have a police station. It was more like two double-wide trailer in the middle of a rocky field. A small wooden walkway connected the two structures in an attempt to make them one.
It didn't work.
There were two officers on duty when JJ and Emily arrived. Andrew and Gilligan-they waved the women off when they asked for their last names-were nice kids with ill-fitted uniforms and eager eyes. Their combined age still put them below Hotch, but they did what they could to appear professional and-for lack of a better word-manly.
"We decided to give you folks the second office." Andrew obviously deepened his voice as he gestured the adjacent "office"-aka, the other trailer.
Prentiss smothered her smirk and ducked her head as JJ thanked the young man. It was cute that he made it sound like it had been his decision to allow them to have the space. Garnett had told them about the arrangements that had been made for them prior to their departure, so this wasn't news to them. But they let the kids continue with their act.
For God's sake, the only weapons on their belts were expandable batons and single cans of mace. And Emily doubted that it was from a lack of funds. These guys could have been pictured next to "trigger-happy" in the dictionary.
"Will your Chief be joining us?" JJ asked. She too kept her face stoic even though it was hard to take either of them seriously. Gilligan had a ginger-colored strip of peach fuzz on his upper lip-a sad attempt at a mustache that was only visible because his skin was so pale. Andrew on the other hand had no trouble whatsoever in the facial hair department. In fact, it looked as though he had not been introduced to the fine art of shaving.
He was in serious danger of cultivating a pretty vile neckbeard.
"He just ran out to pick his kid up from soccer practice." Andrew answered her, placing his hand on his mace as though he was ready to use it. The agents would have been concerned if they weren't positive that they could destroy him before he even took the safety off of the tiny canister. "His wife's hair appointment ran to long, so she couldn't make it."
Emily bit her lower lip and raised her eyebrows. "Great, well let him know where to find us?" Her voice went up at the end, to give it the characteristic of a question, but it was clear to all that this was an order.
The boys nodded and watched the agents exit with poorly concealed awe.
It was one thing for the small town officers to encounter the FBI, but it was a completely different thing for them to be this attractive. If Emily were in a better mood, she would have 'accidentally' dropped her pen just so that she could bend over in front of the practically pre-pubescent cops.
But she refrained today. Because half of her mind was occupied by Molly.
Stupid, stupid Molly.
/\\\/\\\
Hank was a tall and haggard man with gray curls winding around the sides of his head but avoiding the top to reveal a shiny pink scalp. His house, though fairly large and well built, had obviously seen better days.
Without him saying it outright, Morgan and Reid deduced that he'd been a widower for at least a decade and it was quite clear that his wife had been the caretaker of the estate. Weeds took over the front lawn and the porch and the hedges were overgrown with knotweeds sprouting from them and clinging to the side of the slate gray side paneling.
Inside wasn't much better. It wasn't unsanitary, just cluttered. Newspapers were stacked on every surface-from what Spencer could see, the oldest one dated back to 1976-and six tiny dogs were constantly underfoot.
Derek practically sprinted down the front steps and towards the SUV. He didn't have a problem with canines per say, but Chihuahuas-or whatever the hell those things were-did not make his top ten list of species that contributed to society. In fact, after that interview, he decided that they were definitely the weakest link in the animal kingdom.
Polite as usual, Spencer hung back, thanking Hank and giving him their cards just in case he could help them further in the investigation.
"I feel like I'm covered in fleas!" Was the first thing Morgan said once they were both inside the vehicle. He shook his arms out and rubbed the back of his neck in an attempt to wipe away the imaginary insects.
Pursing his lips, Reid tilted his head. "That would be unlikely this time of year." He noted with a furrowed brow. "Fleas and other parasites aren't usually common in the latter part of the year, especially in the north. On top of that, with this being an island with a much colder climate than what would be found on the mainland, I doubt that there would be a huge issue with fleas even in the height of summer."
The speech was background noise as Morgan navigated back onto the main road. It was better to just let the young genius wear himself out rather than attempt to stop him mid-lecture. After a few minutes-when they were less than two miles from the station-he had to change his strategy.
"Reid, do you see that?" He hit the brakes and pointed across the road towards a small row of shops. There were a couple of people making their way up and down the sidewalk with shopping bags in hand.
For a moment, Spencer was clueless. Mostly, he was disoriented after being cut off unexpectedly. But with a couple of blinks to assist in his regrouping, he was able to focus on the area indicated.
Leaning against the wall just outside of the drugstore's entrance was a redhead wearing a dark blue coat and a cream colored beret. Despite the frigid temperature, she seemed to be enjoying a strawberry ice cream cone.
"Should we call Emily?" Reid asked, placing his fingers over the red buckle that would release his seatbelt. He figured that it would be risky to wait for Prentiss to get out there to retrieve her sister-in-law, but he still felt compelled to inquire.
Morgan confirmed his thoughts with a firm shake of the head. "No, she'll probably be in Canada by the time we dial." He was exaggerating, but he wasn't too far off. Molly Prentiss, on top of being a world class assassin, was an expert in evasion. She could hijack any vehicle with nothing more than spit and concentration.
It was beyond them why she was on Swan's Island, but it didn't take Reid's IQ to know that her presence was not a good thing.
Before they could reach for their handles, Molly spotted them. But rather than fleeing-as they expected her to do-she simply waved and pushed herself off of the wall to begin walking over to them.
It looked as though she had been expecting them. She wasn't alarmed or panicked. Her face and posture were relaxed as she checked both ways before crossing the road.
Derek rolled down the window as soon as she was within earshot. "What the hell are you doing here?" He demanded, earning a puzzled pout from the woman. "You have Emily worried out of her mind!"
"I left my phone at home." Molly explained, wiggling the handle of the back door until he unlocked it. She climbed in and removed her hat with a small huff. "I thought she would just figure out I was coming up."
"Why would she have figured that?"
"I mean, profiler..." She shrugged and sniffed. "Sorry, I guess I should have found a payphone or something."
"Yeah, that would have been smart." Morgan bobbed his head and slammed the car back into 'drive'. "But not contacting us isn't the dumbest thing you did today!"
Molly snorted and buckled her seat belt. "You've got that right, I should have gotten the cookie dough." She murmured, glaring at the half-eaten cone in her gloved hand. "This is basically sorbet. There aren't even bits of strawberry in-"
"I'm not talking about your damn ice cream!"
"But while we're on it, did you get it nearby or-?"
"Reid!"
"Sorry."
Rolling her eyes, Molly laid her head back against the seat and sighed. "Okay, I shouldn't have come up here without asking." She admitted. "But I thought it would be better to just do it that way. Emily gets really pissed when I don't follow her orders."
She had been really good about it lately. While healing from her surgery and other various injuries, Molly was the perfect patient for both Elizabeth and Emily. Yes, she bitched and moaned to her heart's content, but it was mostly light-hearted. It would have made her convalescence much worse if she fought them tooth and nail the whole time.
But hell, she was walking just fine! And with a sick bastard was roaming about, killing the weak, how was she supposed to stay put?
"How did you get out here?" Spencer asked, hoping to head Morgan off before he continued his tirade. Emily was probably going to freak out on her as well, so it was best to not totally overwhelm her.
"The jet." She responded as though it should have been obvious.
"You weren't on the jet." Derek pointed out. He had used the restroom and the kitchenette's curtain was wide open the whole flight. There was nowhere for her to hide.
"Yeah, I was in the cockpit."
"Cockpit?" Spencer's brow furrowed. "The pilots wouldn't have let you ride up there. Not without telling Hotch at least."
"The pilots weren't there." Molly huffed.
It only took a moment for the men to figure out what she was implying.
The flight didn't seem to be any different from the usual ones. They had just chalked the bumpy landing up to the tiny runway. It didn't occur to them that an assassin without so much as a valid driver's license had been behind the wheel.
"Son of a bitch." Derek muttered, shaking his head and silently thanking God that they weren't dead.
/\\\/\\\
Penelope hung up her phone and let out the tiny giggle she'd been holding in throughout the three minute conversation with Morgan.
Yes. What Molly did was dumb and very, very dangerous, but it was kind of funny.
Maybe it was the immense relief at finding out that the redhead was safe and not on another choppy-choppy spree across the Midwest-or perhaps it was the nine espressos she'd chugged after losing said redhead-but she couldn't help but let the giggle turn into full on laughter.
"Oh...Emily is going to freak out." She breathed, trailing off and letting her smile drop when something occurred to her. "She's just going to kill her." She swallowed, and winced as she began to imagine the fury that she had so rarely seen Agent Prentiss display. "Gee-whiz, she's going to beat her to death with her own leg."
/\\\/\\\