Emily shifted under the covers, not quite awake, but yet, not still asleep. Her sleepy brain noted the slight pressure from the body tangled with hers, and dragged her away from her rest. She opened her eyes, adjusting to the light, and stared around her bedroom. And she was in her own bedroom.
Oh crap.
She knew already that she was clothed. In fact, she knew that when she glanced at her clothes, she'd still be wearing her outfit from yesterday. Emily had let the handsome and kind, junkie football player comfort her last night. Casey was dead. Another one of her girls was dead, and it left an empty little ache in her chest. And, she'd spent the night cuddling with some poor bastard who was trying to get off of cocaine. She shouldn't have let it happen, but she couldn't deny that she'd liked the feeling of his arms around her. Though she wasn't certain it that was due to this particular set of arms, or just that it had been so long since she'd let a man hold her like that.
Sex was fine, but comfort was dangerous.
Derek tightened his arm around her, and nuzzled his face into her neck. His even breathing told her that he was still asleep. She bit her lip, and tried to figure out a way to extricate herself without waking him up. Sure, disappearing while he was still asleep might be rude, but it would table the conversation they definitely needed to have until she'd at least gotten some coffee. If she was lucky they could table the conversation until he was detoxed and gone.
"I can hear you thinking." Emily jumped at his voice. He made a noise reminiscent of a groan. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."
She set about pulling herself out of his arms and her bed. Derek let her go without a fight, and she tried not to frown at that. The man had probably had countless women in his life, surely cuddling with her was nothing special to him. And it shouldn't be to her, but it was.
"Are you at least going to say good morning?" He asked.
She turned and offered him a smile that didn't meet her eyes. "Good Morning, Derek. How are your cravings today?"
"Same as yesterday, but better than a week ago." He smiled and it was the most painfully honest thing in the world.
"That's good…" She ran her tongue along her top lip, unsure of what else to say. "Um, thank you for being there for me last night."
He nodded. "Least I can do."
She pointed toward the door. "I have to shower and get dressed."
"You run a night club, you're day starts at," he turned toward the clock on the nightstand, "8:00?"
"It does today. Nikki's adoption consultation is today, and I may have to shut my clubs down."
"Shutdown? Why, what's going on?"
"Two of my girls have been murdered, and another three girls were murdered nearby here. I can't risk them coming to work." But she couldn't really afford to shutdown either.
"I'm so sorry, Emily," he said. Those soft brown eyes of his were so full of sympathy that she had to look away.
She nodded. "I'll uh, check on you this afternoon."
Then Emily rushed into the living room, where she'd stashed a duffle of clothing while her bedroom was in use. She pulled out clothing, and then locked herself in the bathroom. She ran her hands roughly over her face, silently asking herself what the hell she was doing, jeopardizing Derek's recovery to get a little comfort. He needed to get through the next couple days of detox and then he had to leave. And Emily had to deal with the psycho slaughtering young women in her neighborhood.
None of that stopped her from detecting his scent on her shirt as she pulled it over her head. And none of it stopped the smile that formed on her face.
Emily balled up the shirt and threw it in a corner.
Spencer stretched his arms and legs, working out the stiffness that had settled in during the two hour, nine minute, and 37 second bus ride. He'd never been overly fond of buses, far preferring trains, but bus rides were often harder to trace. He followed the other passengers off the bus in a slow shuffle, and finally made it to the sweltering garage portion of the Port Authority bus terminal. The shuffle continued into the actual terminal when people finally broke off in different directions, and he got a little breathing room.
He glanced around to orient himself to this portion of the terminal, and quickly determined that he was on the second floor. He aimed himself toward the little deli that was by the escalators to the third floor, and marched forward. He at least needed coffee. And maybe a breakfast sandwich. If he remembered the place correctly, it had really good and surprisingly cheap breakfast sandwiches. At least for Manhattan. Now that everything was cleaned up, the city could hardly pass for affordable.
As he approached the deli, he saw a line had formed, and he stood behind the last person. She was pretty and looked to be college-age with dark hair and eyes. The girl wore a backpack on her shoulders, and carried a tote bag on her left arm. The way she bit at her nails and glanced around herself would have been enough to tell Reid that she wasn't a local, even if he hadn't seen the NYC map tucked into the mesh pocket on the back of her bag. He was instantly curious about the girl, who clearly wasn't a tourist.
Tourists were not that nervous.
That meant she was in the city for a purpose. If she'd been meeting a friend or family, she wouldn't be getting breakfast alone, but then what brought her to the city?
"Can I have a large coffee with two Splendas, and uh…"
Reid leaned toward her shoulder, and said, "Go with a breakfast sandwich. They're very good here."
The girl started, but then smiled. "Uh, I'll have bacon, egg, and cheese on a muffin."
She paid and stepped aside with her coffee. Reid ordered his sandwich with sausage, and his coffee black, and then stepped beside her. "There are better pastries and bagels in other parts of the city that you should try if you want to know real New York food."
"Do you uh, live here?" She asked.
"No, but I've spent a lot of time here visiting. I have some friends in Alphabet City. What brings you in?" He hoped it sounded casual.
"Uh, the same actually." The way her eyes darted away was an instant give away that she was lying. Spencer was instantly concerned for this girl, who seemed like she was in something deeper than she realized.
Suddenly food was thrust out in their direction, one wrapped sandwich in each hand, and a thickly accented voice shook the right and then the left hand and said, "Bacon, sausage."
They took their respective sandwiches and both started to move. He didn't want to lose her, so trying not to sound pushy, he said, "Uh, there isn't anywhere to eat these here, but I do know a park nearby. I can take you there."
"Um…" Her eyes darted around again, like she was waiting for someone to attack.
"It's very public. The whole walk there is very public as well." He paused. "Actually, the city is much safer now than it used to be, but you're smart to be cautious with a man you don't know. About 10% of women – "
"Whoa," she said, holding up the hand with her sandwich. "You already sold me, I'll walk with you. I'm on break from school though, so no statistics."
He smiled and ducked his head. "Sorry."
"So, where's this park?" She asked, as he led her down the escalator, and out the entrance along 8th Avenue.
"It's two avenue blocks east."
She frowned. "Is it Central Park?"
Spencer smiled again. "Uh no, that's uptown. We're going to Bryant Park, it's much smaller, but it's a nice park." He then balanced his sandwich on his coffee up, and held out his free hand. "I'm Spencer, by the way."
She performed the same maneuver. "Danni."
Hotch knocked on the door to Mother Night, and hoped that someone would be around to answer it. He'd never been to Emily's club, though he'd known of its existence for years. Even after they'd broken up, he'd kept tabs on her. It wasn't hard, she hadn't changed her name since switching it from Prentiss to Berne upon coming to New York. Their relationship, if you could call it that, had ended before she'd opened the place. It had ended before her previous career had even ended, when she'd refused to see him anymore, refusing to be a mistress. He hadn't realized how ridiculous he was back then, falling in love with a hooker, but he did now.
But Emily hadn't been a hooker to him, not when they made love and not when she inevitably left him in an expensive hotel room wanting more. She was just one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen, and the only woman that ever made him turn away from Haley. Part of him hated her for that, for having such power over him.
"Yes?" A young woman answered the door, unsurprising from what Hotch had heard about the place. She had short dark curls that hung a few inches below her ears and suspicious hazel eyes.
"I'm here to speak with Emily Berne." He held up his Bureau ID.
"She's not here, Agent Hotchner. She should be back soon though, if you'd like to wait inside."
"I would appreciate that," he said. "And you are?"
"Wendy. I manage Mother Night for Emily." She held out a hand, and Hotch was surprised at the firm shake.
She allowed him inside, and he quickly decided that an empty club during daylight hours was an eerie sight to see. Wendy gestured him to the bar, and went to join two other young women at a table. One was African American, and carried visible scars on her upper arm that looked like cigarette burns. The other was Asian American with a short, almost tom-boyish cut. They were talking, but seemed to be mostly passing numbers back and forth.
Hotch sat patiently, and tried not to eavesdrop. He did hear them mention something about having extra money and a football player, and shutting down, which surprised and concerned him. But chose to tune them out. He wasn't there to investigate the club, and he had no desire to get involved in an investigation that would keep him near Emily. Hotch pulled out his wallet, and flipped to the picture of Haley and Jack, letting his thumb trace their faces. Emily was the mistake that almost cost him his family, and her hated her for that, even though he knew she wasn't at fault. At least not nearly as much as he was. The door opened, and Hotch quickly tucked the photo back inside before turning toward the sound.
It was Emily. A young, though very pregnant, African American girl was beside her, her head down, and one hand on her belly. Emily had her purse over her shoulder, a folder of papers half sticking out, and a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Go upstairs and put your feet up, Nik. You don't have to decide anything now, okay?"
The girl looked up at her and nodded her head, but Hotch could see, even from the distance he was at, that her eyes were glassy. Emily hugged the girl tightly to her chest, and then sent her "upstairs" with a hand gesture.
Emily turned toward the table of young women, but abruptly turned back to him. "Hotch?"
"Emily," he said. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, and he hated himself for noticing.
Her postured stiffened and she turned to toward the table of girls. "Could you guys give me the room for a bit?"
Exchanging wary glances among themselves, and casting distrusting looks at him, the girls hurried out of the room. Emily crossed her arms over her chest then. "What do you want?"
"I didn't come here for personal reasons, Emily."
"We never had personal business, Hotch, and we don't have a business relationship anymore, so why are you here?"
"You're mother called me yesterday morning," he paused. "You might want to sit down."
Her body seemed to curl with tension, down to her fingers squeezing her forearms like a vice. "What happened to Danni?"
"She's missing."
"What the hell do you mean missing? Missing from where? When was the last time anyone saw her?" She dropped her arms and stormed a few steps closer to him, her hands curled in fists. This was the woman he remembered, the woman who's sole weak spot was the little girl she'd given birth to and raised for five years.
"I guess you haven't seen her then?"
"No, Hotch. I haven't seen my daughter since the day my mother called me a whore and stole her."
Yes, this woman he remembered well. The woman who had told him to fuck off when he'd come calling the first time 13 years ago, when he was working security for her mother. Her hatred for her mother was as deep as her love for her daughter.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't mean to bring up painful subjects, I just had to know if you'd seen her."
"I haven't."
He nodded and turned to leave. "I'll let you know when we find her."
"What? Are you kidding, Hotch? Tell me what happened to my daughter!"
"I can't divulge information in an ongoing investigation, I'm sorry."
"Don't give me that bullshit, Hotch. She's my child, I have a right to know."
His voice remained steady as he spoke. "You haven't been her mother in 14 years, Emily. You're rights were terminated years ago."
"That wasn't my choice, and you know it!" Her dark eyes were flashing with anger, like sparks in a volcano before it erupts.
"I'm sorry, Emily, but I can't share that information with you."
Her jaw tensed, and her tongue flicked over her lip as she looked away from him. When she looked back, her jaw was just as tense, but her posture was a bit more relaxed. "If you tell me what happened to Danni, I'll give you a freebie."
Hotch stood and stared at her for a moment, amazed that even after so many years, she was still willing to do anything for that girl. It took all his willpower and images of Haley and Jack floating across his mind for him to shake his head at her offer.
Even so, he surrendered in other ways. Something about Emily Prentiss made it difficult for him to say no. "She was supposed to be home two days ago, but she never showed. The locals in Hartford don't know much, and aren't inclined to investigate, so you're mother called in several favors. There are agents poking around Yale as we speak."
Emily's jaw finally relaxed. "Thank you."
He nodded and hurried out, before he gave into any other impulses.
Don't hate me for the whole Emily prostitute thing, her running away to have her baby and becoming a prostitute was actually the idea that set the ball rolling for this story. And good news, next week you get to meet our last team member and I'm excited, because I had fun, as I usually do, writing her. Thank you for reading and for those who do, reviewing!
