Chapter 4: Operation Prentiss

Emily wasn't very talkative as she, Porter and Snipe unloaded their equipment, including surveillance and weaponry, from the plane and into the van. She glanced in Hotch's direction as she worked crouching in the plane cabin to push cases and crates closer to the door for the agents to pick up. Hotch was pacing back and forth several meters away, one hand on his hip and the other holding his cell to his ear as he spoke to his interlocutor with all the seriousness and intensity he could muster. She still had mixed feelings about his idea of getting the BAU to help find and protect Declan, but he had agreed with her that it wasn't time yet to reveal her secret to them – it was something she had to do in person. So he assured her that he would keep her name out of this for the moment.

"I'm not sure about this," Porter said, echoing her own doubts.

"It's a good idea," Emily repeated with more confidence than she felt, but her doubts were hers to keep. "You said so yourself, we have to focus on one target at a time, we'll focus on Doyle, they'll focus on finding and protecting Declan. It's perfect. You won't even have to work with them. Hotch will act as the liaison between the two teams."

"Right…" he said, though he didn't sound all that convinced. He dropped a box into the van then straightened up, stopping for a moment to look at her. "Look, I don't have anything against the BAU, or the fact that you want them to be a part of this, I get it."

"But?"

"But I don't think they realize that there is no catching this man, and you and I both know that if they try to do that, we're gonna lose Doyle again."

Emily hated to admit it, but he had a point. How well did Hotch understand her true intentions? She'd always assumed that he would understand, because he'd lived through something similar with Foyet, but he was also an honorable man who believed in the justice system. She shook the thought away and gave a small shrug. "That's why they'll be assigned to finding Declan, not Doyle."

"Those are not necessarily mutually exclusive things."

"I know, but you said yourself that we don't have enough people to deal with both at once. Hotch is providing you with enough people. And not just any people: trained FBI agents with resources."

"And morality."

Emily threw him a stare, but kept silent as she kept working. "What do you think?" she asked Snipe, who, though very quiet, had impressed Emily with his good judgment over the last few days.

"I think we could use the help," he said and Emily heard Porter heave a sigh. "And if they can protect the kid," Snipe went on, "then all the better. We won't get distracted if we know that he's safe. Isn't that the whole point of this mission? Make sure that Doyle doesn't find his kid?"

"Yeah," Emily agreed as she realized that in the middle of everything she had lost sight of what this was all about. But he was right, ultimately it wasn't about revenge or her own personal vendetta, it was about making sure that Declan was safe. "It is."

"Then that's all there is to it," Snipe said as he placed the last case into the back of the van.

At that moment Hotch came back, phone still in hand. "I just talked to Dave. They've just started a new case in California, but when I told him what this was about he promised he'd get the team back as soon as he could. I asked him to call regularly with updates. I've also been talking to Garcia and Mo. I've given them the flight number you put Declan on seven years ago, as you suggested. She'll get back to us when they find something."

"What if he's not on US soil?" Emily asked.

"We'll cross that bridge if we get to it."

"Have they got anything on Doyle yet?" Emily asked as they all climbed into the van. As a matter of habit she sat in the back with Snipe while Hotch sat in the front passenger seat, leaving Porter behind the wheel.

"Not yet, but they've established contact with the various people you've got underground. They're ready and watching."

The drive to the safehouse-slash-headquarters was done mostly in silence, except for some small talk about jazz music between Snipe and Porter. They had obviously met before this mission and chatted easily, but Emily soon zoned out into her own mind. Over the last few days she had made good use of her ability to compartmentalize. She had pushed aside any feelings of guilt, fear and whatever it was that Hotch's steadfast loyalty made her feel, instead just focusing on the job, trying to visualize what she had to do and how she would do it. However, while she still had no desire for introspection or to face her own demons, she was wondering what Hotch was thinking.

This was probably turning out to be different than what he'd expected, and she wondered if he regretted his decision to join the mission. She knew that this would take him out of his comfort zone, maybe even forcing him to get his hands dirty, and she felt a little guilty for dragging him into this in the first place. But then she shook the thought away. Hotch was a grown man, he knew what he was doing, and he wouldn't have offered to accompany her to Boston if a part of him hadn't already been prepared to do whatever was necessary. But then again, that was before he'd learned that she wasn't alone after all, that she actually had a team of trained spies at her disposition.

They stopped on the way to the safehouse to grab some take-out Chinese food, which they ate after they settled into the house and got all the equipment in. During the meal Emily stayed quiet as Porter and Snipe questioned Hotch about the BAU: the kinds of cases they worked on, what kind of resources they had. They seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say, and Emily found herself a little impressed by their open-mindedness.

Hotch bore the interrogation surprisingly well and Emily noticed that he never asked the questions back, knowing full well that everything he'd ask would be answered by a 'sorry, classified.' Every once in a while he would throw her a look, as if wondering why she wasn't pitching in stories from her own experience, but she was exhausted and didn't feel quite up to it. All this talk about the BAU made her miss it even more, if that was even possible at this point. It was like a constant dull ache in the pit of her stomach now.

"How long were you at the BAU, Prentiss?" Snipe asked, forcing her to take part in the conversation.

"Almost five years."

"It must have been handy to have an ex-CIA agent on your team," Porter commented and Emily fought a roll of the eyes at his cockiness. She'd noticed that he seemed to think the CIA above any other agency. She knew he didn't mean any harm by it, but comments like that always had a way of irritating her a bit.

Emily met Hotch's eyes briefly before she returned her gaze to her plate, her fingers toying with her chopsticks. She wasn't sure why, but contrary to Porter, Emily had always felt a little ashamed by that particular detour in her career. She had done some pretty morally-dubious stuff during her CIA time, and sometimes she wished she could just forget it all. After working for the FBI for so long, being a spy didn't really feel like a badge of honor anymore. Maybe Porter was right, maybe Hotch had rubbed off on her after all…

Seeing that she kept silent, Hotch answered for her. "Agent Prentiss' abilities have always exceeded expectations."

She smiled slightly at his very diplomatic answer, hearing loud and clear what he hadn't said out loud: 'just like any member of my team.' That was something she loved about having Hotch as a unit chief, he respected each and every member of his team equally, regardless of their backgrounds. If a new recruit passed the initial screening of his personal moral and ability code, they earned his acceptance, respect and a loyalty the likes of which she'd rarely witnessed before. How many times had he risked his neck or gone over Strauss' head to keep one of them out of trouble?

After that the conversation turned to some speculation on how long they would need to stay in Boston and Emily soon stopped paying attention. She quickly excused herself, saying something about setting up her room.

The safehouse was equipped with some basic furniture, and the bedrooms each included a mattress – with no blankets - and a chair. Having actually very little to set up, Emily opened her one duffel bag and looked inside: some basic clothing and toiletries to last for a couple of days, a picture of Ambassador, running shoes.

She dropped herself onto the mattress with a sigh as she looked at the dull white of the ceiling and bright neon lights. Though they'd turned on the heat, it was still freezing in the room, so she tightened her jacket around herself. She was exhausted. She felt like she'd been running on adrenaline alone for days now, since her first meeting with Porter, not taking the time to really process what was going on. It had all happened so fast, her head was spinning-

A knock on the door startled her. "Prentiss?"

It was Hotch, and Emily's heart instinctively skipped a beat. She cleared her throat as she jumped to her feet. "Yeah, Hotch, you can come in," she said as she pretended to busy herself with looking for something in her bag.

She gave him a small smile over her shoulder as he walked in, a little awkwardly from what she could tell, as if making sure she was decent before venturing further. Once in, he closed the door behind him and stood observing her in that way that was so unique to him, hands deep in his pockets and head tilted to the side slightly.

"Everything okay? You've been quiet," he said when Emily started to feel like squirming under his stare.

She gave him a smile. "Yeah. It's all good, you?"

"I'm fine," he said in a tone that clearly said he thought that she wasn't.

She shrugged a little. "It's just been a stressful couple of days. I guess I'm not accustomed to the adrenaline rush anymore."

He nodded slowly, as if trying to assess whether she was telling the truth. After a moment, he looked down, his finger rubbing his chin. She knew him well enough to know that meant he was searching for the right words to say something delicate. Emily braced herself, so that when he looked back up she was ready for whatever he had on his mind.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked at last.

"I think so, I mean obviously we just got here so there are still some things to set up, but-"

"No, I mean are you really ready for this? To face Doyle again? Here, in Boston?"

Emily gave him a curious frown. "Yeah, of course, why wouldn't I be?" she said, though she knew she didn't sound half as confident as she should. She had tried very hard to keep any memory of her last encounter with Doyle out of her mind, but she couldn't deny that deep down, she was terrified. She still woke up in a scream sometimes at night, feeling as if the white hot metal was still burning her skin, or everything was fading to black as she lay in a pool of blood…

"It would be perfectly understandable if you had doubts," he said, interrupting her morbid thoughts, trying to encourage her to say more.

"Doubts?" She shook her head. "I have fears and I have hopes, but no doubts," she said once more with more confidence than she truly felt.

He nodded slowly. "Okay," he said, though he didn't look all that convinced, or reassured. "Good…That's good, because I've been thinking…"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe I should join the BAU team to search for Declan when they get back from California."

Emily had not expected that! Her heart sank as she realized that her doubts about this not being as he'd expected had been right, and she sat back on the mattress, confused. Only a few hours earlier he'd told her that she could count on him, that she wasn't alone! What had changed his mind? And why did the idea of him leaving make her feel so lonely? The situation was nothing compared to the long months she'd just spent basically by herself, so why did this feel a hundred times worst?

"Oh… If that's what you want to do…?" she replied in a voice she hoped neutral.

He sighed a little as he walked to the chair and dragged it closer to where she sat. He took a seat, his forearms coming to rest on his thighs. "It's just… I think I could be of more use there. To be honest I'm not entirely sure why you've wanted me here in the first place. Your team has everything under control. You have everything under control and there's no one else more capable to pull your team through this than you."

Emily rose to her feet at this, turning away from him so he wouldn't see how much she disagreed. She bit back the urge to beg him not to do this, and instead kept her voice unaffected. "Hotch, I can't force you to stay, I mean if that's what you think is best…" she said as she returned to pulling the content out of her bag. Anything to avoid meeting his gaze.

She almost jumped out of her skin when his fingers settled on her shoulder, his thumb grazing the skin of her neck as he turned her around to face him. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized he was standing much closer than she'd anticipated, with her nose just inches away from his chin. She didn't dare look up to meet his eyes. "Why am I really here, Emily?" he asked gently, but there was an intensity to his voice that grabbed at Emily's guts, squeezed and held in a tight grip.

She stepped past him and moved away from his touch to put some distance between them so she could breathe again. "I might know Doyle better than you do, Hotch," she started, her mind spinning to find a good reason that would convince him that she needed him here, "but I know him as an IRA terrorist and a weapons dealer – not as a serial killer. I need another profiler who isn't biased by prior notions, someone who can get into his head and predict his next moves. Those guys might be good at infiltration, but they're not trained to understand the way he thinks."

"Prentiss, I'm hardly unprejudiced here," Hotch replied.

Feeling composed enough now to look back at him, she caught him observing her again.

"You don't trust them. Porter and Snipe," he remarked. It was more a statement than a question.

"I don't trust myself!" Emily admitted quickly, before she could stop herself.

But I trust you.

The unspoken words rang between them for a few long seconds as they gazed at each other.

He nodded slowly again, but his calm expression made her suspect that maybe he'd been trying to make her admit to something like that all along. He had obviously not bought her lie that she was ready. Was his threat of leaving just a big scheme to assess her psychological profile? To make her admit to herself that she couldn't do it alone? That should have angered her – and under different circumstances it would have made her furious - but for some reason it didn't this time. Maybe she was just too numb and tired to care, or maybe she knew deep down that confiding such feelings to him had always been therapeutic in the past.

Maybe that was the point. To make sure that she was aware of her self-doubts so that they wouldn't distract her when the time came. She had just admitted to needing someone, which she guessed was as good a proof as any that maybe she wasn't quite ready for all this yet. Her old self wouldn't have cared so much about him leaving, and more importantly, she wouldn't have been so scared to be on her own. What the hell was wrong with her? And when had he become that one person that she relied on more than anyone else?

She figured probably about three months ago.

He put his hands in his pockets again with a small shake of the head. "Okay. It was just an idea. I told you before that I'd watch your back if you wanted me to. I'll do that for as long as you need." His small shrug showed such vulnerability that it reassured Emily somewhat. "I'm just making sure that this is still what you want."

This time she met his eyes squarely. "It is."

"Good." He glanced around the room once. "I'll leave you to ah… settle, or whatever it is you said you needed to do in here. Good night." He went to leave. "Oh, and we've made a night watch schedule in case anybody contacts us. Yours starts at 4am."

Emily blew out a long breath as the door closed behind him and she dropped herself back onto the mattress.

Emily felt somewhat rested and more poised when she went down for her watch. It was still pitch black outside, and the house felt damp and cold as she climbed down the stairs quietly. Because they didn't have blankets yet, before going to sleep Emily had put on a couple of layers of sweaters, in addition to her jacket, and it had kept her warm until she'd woken up. But now she was freezing. She still had a few minutes before she had to relay whoever she was relaying though, so she went to the kitchen and made some coffee. Hopefully that would both wake and warm her up.

Holding her mug with both hands, she made her way to the surveillance room. The door was ajar and Emily could hear voices; she soon recognized Hotch's and Garcia's. She froze for a second, but then her curiosity got the best of her and she walked in quietly. Hotch threw her a quick look over the monitor, his hand raising up to halt her, as Garcia's chatter filled the silence of the room.

Emily sat on the other side of the table, behind the monitor so that Garcia wouldn't see her, and listened.

"…contacted the underground agents, but there's no sign of him yet. It seems a little strange that no one has spotted him in his usual spots. Sir… is it possible that he's not in Boston anymore?"

"We definitely have to be ready for that possibility. That's why we're hoping to locate Declan. If Doyle isn't here anymore, then we can wait for him where he expects to find his son."

"Do you think the others will be back in time?" Garcia asked.

"It's a kidnapping case, and if they haven't found anything within 48 hours..." Hotch shook his head. "Depending on how far ahead of us Doyle is in his search for his son, that might be just enough time. But that's why I need you guys to keep working on this in the meantime. We need to find him first."

"Yes sir."

"Is there anything else?" Hotch asked as he gathered his notes from his conversation.

"Do you think Prentiss is looking out for us?" Garcia asked suddenly, in a small voice that Emily knew oh too well.

Emily gasped and Hotch threw her a look. "I'm sure wherever she is, she's doing whatever she can," he replied truthfully.

She could almost picture Garcia's sad smile. "Yes sir, me too."

"Go get some rest Garcia. And good work."

"Thank you, sir."

Hotch ended the video conference connection and leaned back in his chair, looking at Emily a little absentmindedly.

"You should go get some sleep. You can still catch a few hours," Emily said softly. She had still barely recovered from the shock of hearing Garcia's question. It was like something was stuck at the base of her throat, but she couldn't deal with silence right now.

"Is there anymore of that?" he said instead, pointing to her coffee.

"Yeah, of course."

"Then I'll be right back," he said as he rose to his feet.

"Hotch you don't have to keep me company, you've done your watch. Go get some rest," Emily insisted.

"What if Garcia calls back?" He shrugged. "Besides, we have things to talk about," he said and at Emily's slightly wary expression added, "she's made some progress."

"Oh."

"I'll be right back."

While he was busy in the kitchen, Emily looked over his notes, but there were only disconnected words here and there, along with place names and possibly some addresses.

When he returned he grabbed the chair next to hers. Emily gave him a secretly appreciative look, there was just something about this man out of his usual suit and with 24-hour worth of stubble… She quickly shook the thought away.

"So what has she got?" she asked.

"Not much on Doyle, but she was able to make some progress on finding Declan."

He took a sip of coffee, while Emily anxiously waited for him to go on. "Apparently, once he and his guardian got to Zurich, they made contact with the Irish embassy, maybe to ask for protection. Their trail seemed to stop there, but Mo was able to get access to the embassy's database. I'd rather not know how."

"He found them again?"

Hotch nodded as he took another sip. "Yes, they were apparently under governmental protection for a while, relocated and escorted by the Swiss police. I'm not entirely sure how they pulled that off. But anyways, they were relocated to this address in Zurich," he said as he showed her his notes. "Mo was able to contact the current owner of the house."

"They're not there anymore?" Emily asked.

"No. The owner said he'd moved in about 6 years ago, but he seemed to remember a blond-haired boy when he'd first visited the property."

Emily nodded slowly as she took this in. "So that means they could only have stayed there for a year or two at most. Do we know where they went?"

Hotch shook his head. "That's all we have for now, but the owner did remember them leaving a forward address. The name is different," he looked at his notes again, "a Mrs. Wagner, but that might be a new identity they were using to relocate. I ordered Garcia to get some rest, but Mo was supposed to get working on locating that forward address and look for any passport activity related to that name over the last 6 years."

"Man, those guys are amazing!" Emily said in awe, feeling for the first time that they might actually succeed in their mission. She felt excitement start bubbling in her stomach.

Hotch smiled a little. "Yes, that they are. However we do have to consider the possibility that Doyle might not be in Boston anymore."

Emily nodded. "Yeah, I heard that part. When the others wake up we'll have to figure out a way to get more information on where he might be. Start asking more direct questions."

Hotch nodded, but remained silent, lost in his own thoughts. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, each sipping their coffee while Emily looked once more at the Boston maps, trying to think if she'd missed any of his favorite hideouts. With all the computers on, this was probably the warmest room in the house and Emily was starting to relax when Hotch spoke.

"I never asked you how your departure from Minnesota went."

Emily looked up from the map and met his eyes. She had tried to keep any thought related to that resolutely away for the moment, but now that he mentioned it, memories came flooding back. Had it only been just a few days since she'd dropped Ambassador off at her neighbors' house? She shrugged slightly. "It wasn't easy, you know? But it had to be done eventually."

He nodded in understanding. "You know, when I was there last fall and saw how you and the sheriff lived; quietly, comfortably, away from all the evil – at least when there are no serial killers in town," he added with a small smile in her direction. "I remember wishing my life was more like that."

Emily stared at him, a little speechless. As much as she tried, she just couldn't picture it. "You? No way! You'd get bored, you'd miss the protocol and the challenges, the constant chase, the constant adrenaline." She paused as she saw his slightly amused expression. "Wouldn't you?"

He tilted his head slightly. "I don't know. I love the Bureau and I love what I do, it's part of who I am and I've never been able to stay away in the past. But sometimes I wish I could take Jack away from it all. And I think I could learn to love it. You seem to have."

Emily considered this for a second as the Higginses' faces, golden leaves and lake ripples flashed in her mind. "I guess you're right. I never intended to, but I did grow to love it. It was…"

"Peaceful," they said at the same time, making them both look up in surprise. Emily smiled.

"Anyway, I'm not ready to do that now, but it made me think that there is still that possibility."

Emily nodded, a little awed by this side of him. But the more she thought about it, and adding Jack to the picture, the more she could see it: father and son living in a small house by a lake, Hotch teaching Jack how to swim in summer, and skate in winter. It was a lovely picture.

"Have you thought about what you want to do when this is over?" he asked after a moment, and Emily noticed how he seemed to have no doubt whatsoever that they would get Doyle. She loved hearing the confidence in his voice, it made up where she was lacking.

Emily also realized that she hadn't actually thought about that, not in specific terms. Her goal for the last year or so had been to get to this day, but she had barely thought about what might happen afterwards, if she made it through this. Would she go back to the BAU? Would they even want her back? Or try something else?

"Well, first order of business is to go get my dog," she said only half joking, "but beyond that…I don't know," she said truthfully. "The only thing I truly want is to stop moving in and out of people's lives. I'm done saying goodbye."

Emily was looking at her mug between her fingers, so she couldn't see his expression, but she felt him lean forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. "Have you considered returning to the BAU?"

Emily's head snapped up in his direction. "Of course I have! I just- I wasn't sure…"

"It might not be up to me," he said as he stared at his cup between his fingers. He threw her a look. "But we'd be lucky to get you back." He straightened up. "I just thought I should tell you now, in case the CIA gives you a similar offer."

Emily smiled. "If I have to choose between the BAU and the CIA, it will be the easiest decision I'll ever have to make. I belong in the BAU. I've always thought so."

He looked a little relieved at this. "I agree."

Emily turned serious again as she looked down. "How am I ever going to tell them, Hotch? They're going to be so mad."

He seemed to know whom she was talking about. "At first maybe. But they care about you. They'll understand. They're probably going to be angrier at me for knowing and not telling."

"Still, I don't really see myself just showing up one day, 'hey guys, long time to no see, sorry for playing dead, it was for your own safety!'"

"I could… prepare them for it if you'd like," he suggested and Emily just wanted to hug him!

"Don't you think… Isn't that... I don't know, kind of cowardly?"

He gave her an amused look. "I think it's prudent. Who knows what Garcia might do when she sees you?"

Emily chuckled. It felt good to talk about the team like this, like she was really going to see them again soon. "I'm kind of expecting a beat up. Fluffy pens flying at my head."

"As you should, I think." He turned serious again. "It would truly make things easier if you told them sooner rather than later. Garcia's already named finding Declan 'Operation Prentiss,' I think they have a right to know, now that Doyle's attention is focused on something else."

Emily sighed, he was right. When the team returned to work on this, the operation should be about protecting Declan, not avenging Emily's death. Her feelings about this being unfair to them didn't seem to matter anymore, because she was starting to believe it when Hotch said that they would get through this. She took a deep breath. "I'll tell them when they get back."

She had hidden long enough.

A/N: It doesn't really matter for the story, but it was never really clear to me whether Doyle's housekeeper was really Declan's mother, (maybe I just need to watch it again) but I've always thought it highly unlikely, even though the team referred to her as such. So here I'm assuming that she wasn't his mother, but his nanny or something like that, and that Emily made her Declan's guardian when she sent them on their way.

Stay tuned for some happy reunions…! :-)