Back at it with Chapter 8. This is another long chapter with heavy dialogue, but it is going to be the second-to-last and I didn't want to break it up into two short shots. Sadly there's only a brief mention of the team in this chapter. I couldn't really find a way to shoehorn them in. Fret not, at least one of them will be back in a prominent way next time.
Thank you all once again for the feedback. I have to confess to taking perverse pleasure in the nerves and apparent confusion the end of the last chapter caused. However, unlike the meanies on Criminal Minds, I do not believe in making people wait two weeks for a resolution. Hopefully the ensuing chapter explains all.
Enjoy!
Light flooded her field of vision. She couldn't make out anything. It was too hazy, too blurry. But there was definitely light. And noise. A grating, high-pitched noise. Where was that sound coming from? Where was he? Hell, where was she? And why the hell did she hurt so much?
It was the sudden increase in the frequency of bleeps from the heart monitor that first drew Polizzi's attention. His momentary relief at seeing her awake flooded away when her saw her face. She was wide-eyed, panicking.
"Hey, hey, hey. Prentiss. Prentiss," he said, scrambling to her side. "It's alright. It's alright. Look at me."
He might as well have been talking to a wall. She continued frantically thrashing around. He knew he needed to stop her before she hurt herself. She'd almost knocked the oxygen tube out of her nose as it was.
"Prentiss, look at me," he demanded loudly. Technically she outranked him, but he didn't think that mattered all that much at the moment. He succeeded in getting through to her. She met his gaze, and began to settle down.
"Polizzi?" she finally asked, her groggy voice barely above a murmur.
"That's right," he said, relief flooding his face. "Just relax. You're okay."
He set his hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her back down against pillow. The muscles in her neck and shoulders relaxed as she allowed him to guide her back down.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"Dar Al Fouad Hospital. Still in Cairo. It's nighttime. You've been out for almost 24 hours. Do you remember what happened?" He assumed she did, since she seemed to remember who he was, but habit prompted him to ask anyway.
"I decided to skip work and break into my Mother's office," she quipped.
"That's one way of putting it," he laughed.
"Is she okay?" Emily asked seriously.
"Who? Your mother? Yes, she's fine," he answered. "She's been in here most of the day, but I think she's downstairs getting something to eat. They treated her for exhaustion when we first came in, but otherwise she's doing well. In much better shape than you are."
"What's the verdict?"
"On you? The shot nicked your external iliac artery," he answered. "The bullet was still inside when we brought you in, which probably saved your life, because it apparently it actually plugged some the bleeding."
"If it had gone clean through I would have bled out and been a goner," Emily deduced.
"Precisely. Somebody was looking out for you." Polizzi confirmed. "Part of your hip is fractured, they put some screws in to hold it together. No weight on it for 2 to 3 months."
"Great," she scoffed.
"And you also had a concussion and a fractured cheek bone courtesy of one Mr. Jensen, I believe. He still feels quite badly about it. I took the liberty of telling him it was probably the least pressing of your problems."
"I think that's a fair statement."
"I have to say, even though your reputation preceded you before I met you, I'm still impressed," he said admiringly. "I've been thinking about taking a desk job for a year or two now, and I've never dealt with anything this insane. I can't think of anybody else who can pull off what you pulled."
"I had some help," she answered. "I couldn't have done this without you. You probably saved my life at the end there. I owe you one."
"I think we've both been in this business long enough to know better than to keep score," he answered kindly. "Anyway, I'm just glad you're awake and coherent. You had me worried when you first woke up there. You looked as if you'd seen a ghost."
"It felt like I did," Emily commented. She wasn't sure why she was telling Polizzi this, but she felt an urgent need to talk to somebody about it. Elizabeth was out of the question, and for some reason, Emily instinctively felt she could trust this man, even though she barely knew him.
"I had a dream about my father," she explained, staring furtively at her hands. "It's a long story, but he died a few years ago while I was undercover. I couldn't be there when he went, and I've carried around all of this guilt over it. In my dream I tried to tell him I was sorry, but he wouldn't let me. He told me it wasn't my fault. And he just kept telling me to go back, to go home."
"I don't know that all means, but it felt so real," her voice trailed off.
When she glanced back up at Polizzi, she saw that he was studying her intently.
"What is it?"
"Are you sure it was a dream?" he asked cautiously.
"What do you mean am I sure?" she questioned, not following him at all. "Of course I am, what else could it be?"
"Well, I, uh, didn't want to have to be the one to tell you this," he swallowed. "But, when you first went into surgery they…they lost you for a minute or so."
He gazed at her with a mixture of pity and anxiety, clearly feeling guilty about causing her extra distress and fearing how she would react.
"Again?" she finally managed softly.
Whatever Polizzi had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that.
"Again?" he asked, wide-eyed. "What do you mean again?"
"Never mind. Again, long story," she said, holding up her hand in an effort to get him to drop the subject. Emily could tell he was tempted to ask her more about it, but he respected her wishes and didn't press anymore. She was thankful. She had enough to process without re-hashing more painful and confusing memories. She pulled herself upright, lifting her hands to her head and rubbing furiously at her brow, trying to make sense of what she'd seen and what Polizzi had told her.
"So you don't think it was a dream?" she asked after a moment.
"I don't know," he replied. "There are a lot of things in this world I can't begin to understand, and I believe a lot of things I'll never be able to prove or fully explain, but I believe it's a distinct possibility that you saw your father, and he sent you back because he knew it wasn't your time. That your race was not yet run."
Emily stared at him blankly.
"I've studied human psychology for years," she replied. "I know more about the way our minds work then I ever wanted to. And I know that the most logical and probable explanation is that, in the middle of trauma, I either dreamed or hallucinated about the things that have subconsciously been bothering me the most."
"And yet you're not actually sure that's what happened, are you?" Polizzi observed astutely.
Damn he was sharp. He was also right, and it was making Emily uncomfortable. Polizzi could sense this, and looked genuinely apologetic as he recused himself from the room.
"I, uh, I should go get your Mother," he said. "She'll want to know you're awake and alright."
As he left the room, Emily threw her head back against the pillow, deep in thought. Was it possible that Polizzi was right? Had she truly seen her father? Emily was hesitant to embrace the possibility. It would be taking the easy way out. Relieving herself of her guilt by choosing to believe that her father truly had spoken to her and told her she'd done nothing wrong. To Emily that seemed like mere wishful thinking, embracing a fantastical story to make herself feel better when the more likely explanation was that it was all in her head, a trick played by a traumatized brain working in overdrive.
On the other hand, Emily couldn't pretend she didn't believe in the afterlife, or at least that there was something going on after the end. For much of her adult life, she had resolutely avoided thinking about the subject, but when she'd coded in the ambulance the night Doyle stabbed her, she could avoid it no longer. She definitely experienced something. She wasn't quite sure what. She just remembered it was cold and dark and unnerving. And she knew her experience wasn't a one-off anomaly. Reid too, she knew, had experienced something when his heart momentarily stopped at the hands of Tobias Hankel. He was firmly convinced that he'd felt a warmth and saw a light, and Reid tended to be even more committed to logical analysis and empirical proof than Emily was.
So perhaps it was true. Maybe the experience could change. Maybe her father did understand and there indeed was a better future waiting for her. The truth was, she didn't know, and until it finally was her time – whenever that turned out to be – she never would. Besides, Emily couldn't bear thinking about all of this much longer anyway. The anxiety and strain was making her head hurt, and her hip and face were causing her enough pain as it was.
Mercifully, her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing in the doorway.
"Hey," Emily said upon seeing the Ambassador.
"May I come in?" Elizabeth asked.
"Yeah, of course. Have a seat," Emily insisted, using her heavily-taped IV-laden hand to indicate a at the bedside.
When Elizabeth sat down, Emily was shocked by her appearance. Her faced looked drawn, with deep shadows under her eyes. Emily had seen her mother distressed before, but the Ambassador always maintained her composure. Now she appeared almost completely despondent. It was a new look on her. One Emily did not like.
"Are you alright?" Emily interrogated.
"I think I will be," Elizabeth replied, not willing to entirely confess to her state of distress, but also not bothering to lie. "This has all just been quite the ordeal. But I'll get through it. How are you feeling?"
"I've been worse, but I've also been better," Emily answered truthfully. "How are all of the others?"
"Most of them are okay. The staff are shaken up, of course, but they'll be alright. Four of the six soldiers made it out okay. They regrouped and went back in to look for the others. They found Richards. He broke his leg when the tunnel collapsed, but he's going to recover. Rogers didn't make it. They don't know if it was the rioters or friendly fire in the confusion that got him."
"Dammit," Emily swore, closing her eyes and clinching her fists.
"Emily, there was nothing you could do," Elizabeth insisted. "We're lucky any of us lived. Every single person in that building would have died if you hadn't shown up."
Logically, Emily knew what her mother said was true, but that didn't make swallowing the news of the courageous Sergeant's death any easier.
"He had a wife and two boys," Emily sighed.
"Yes. How on Earth did you know that?"
"He had a tan line on his ring finger," Emily observed. "That could have just meant he was recently widowed or divorced, but he also wore a thick chain around his neck. My guess is he wore his ring on it so he didn't lose it while he was working. He also had the names Trevor and Michael written on the brim of his helmet. Those must be his sons."
"You noticed all of that?" Elizabeth responded incredulously.
"It's my job to notice those things," Emily replied. "I just feel so terrible for his family. Even though I'm sure they knew he had a dangerous job, nothing ever prepares a family for that."
Emily couldn't help but think of the far too numerous examples of families of law enforcement officials the BAU team met over the years, having to tell them that their police officer husband and father or sheriff's deputy wife and daughter wasn't coming home. To her surprise, Elizabeth let loose a sardonic snigger.
"What's so funny?" Emily demanded.
"Nothing," Elizabeth answered. "It's just ironic, that's all."
"I'm not following you," Emily replied.
Elizabeth sighed, internally debating whether to continue. Emily could tell that whatever her mother was thinking about was something she'd kept buried for a long time. Before Emily could say anything else, her mother began rambling.
"Emily, it's obviously no secret that I was never a great mother," Elizabeth confessed. "Richard and I both wanted a child. Always intended on it. But we also both had fast-developing careers we intended on keeping. Even though we knew that would keep the two of us living apart most of the time. So when we had you, we didn't know what we were getting into. We decided that it would be best if you stayed with me. Your father was constantly traveling, and even though my assignments changed with the political winds, I at least tended to stay in the same place for a few years at a time. We thought you'd be more stable, more secure, better educated if you stayed with me. We wanted what was best for you. We really did. But we didn't make you enough of a priority. I didn't make you enough of a priority. I always treated you like just one thing on my agenda to deal with. One important thing to be sure, but not the single most important thing, which is what I should have done. I think Richard and I both realized we had no idea what we were doing becoming parents. We never talked about having another child, we just silently agreed not to and that we would do the best we could for you."
"You did fi…" Emily began.
"Emily, don't lie to me," Elizabeth cut her off abruptly. The ambassador always hated being interrupted, and now it bothered her more than ever. She wanted to get something off of her chest and was not about to let Emily stop her.
"We did not do fine," she continued. "We tried to do what we thought was best. We sent you to good schools, tried to introduce you to children from other families. But we didn't do enough in our own family. And you resented me for it. I know you did. It wasn't a secret. And you were right. But you turned out well despite it all. Of course you rebelled – I knew about the cigarettes by the way – but you were a bright student and a hard worker. You won a scholarship to Yale. Then on to graduate school at Georgetown. I was intensely proud of you. I managed to excuse my failings as a parent by trying to convince myself that I had something to do with your success, and by convincing myself that once you were an adult and had a life and career of you own, I would reach out and we'd come to an understanding. Maybe we would never be friends, but at least we could get along. Respect one another."
"I did always respect you," Emily insisted. This time it wasn't a lie. Emily had been angry at her mother for a very long time. But she had always recognized her talent and her hard work.
Elizabeth didn't snap at Emily this time, so Emily took the risk of venturing a little farther.
"Why didn't you ever say anything to me?" she asked. "And what does this have to do with what I said about Rogers' family?"
"I never said anything because of what you chose to do," Elizabeth answered. "I hoped that after you graduated you would go into academia, or the foreign service, or an administrative career track. I didn't know exactly what you did get into Emily and I still don't, but I knew enough about how the government operates to put it together. A vague-sounding position at the Department of Defense. No talk about your work. Traveling all the time, sometimes for months on end. Calling your father and I even less frequently than you normally did. I knew whatever you were doing was dangerous and might get you killed. It didn't get any better when you went to the FBI. Then I did know what you did – you chased down some of the sickest people in the country. Just another thing that might get you hurt or killed. Getting close to you meant that I would also worry about you all the time. And if I didn't get close to you, it wouldn't hurt if I lost you. Then I did lose you – or at least I thought I did – and it still hurt. A lot. When I found out I hadn't, I felt relieved, but I also felt betrayed. And I was angry that you went back to the FBI. Angry that after all of that you went right back to constantly sticking your neck on the line, without any regard for yourself or what it's like for the people who care about you. I used that anger as an excuse not to reach out. As justification for putting the onus on you to make that first call."
Emily finally put together what her mother was getting at. Her mother had avoided getting close to her as an adult because she didn't want to be one of those families who lived in fear of losing a loved one. Her pathological fear of making herself vulnerable led her to keep her emotional distance from Emily.
"And I never did," Emily said guiltily. "I just used my anger at you as my own excuse."
"None of this is an excuse," the Ambassador replied. "Just an explanation. I'm not excusing what I did. Besides, you did reach out, Emily. You came here."
"I wouldn't call that reaching out exactly," Emily countered. "It was a little bit different from calling you up and asking you out for lunch."
"Well what would you call it then?"
Emily thought for a moment.
"I don't know. I just know I didn't want it to end that way. I always intended to call you, but I don't know when I would have done it, if ever," she admitted. "I just knew I couldn't stand there and watch that door slam shut."
"I thought it might have last night," her mother answered softly. Emily could see Elizabeth was on the verge of getting emotional. She reached out her hand and closed it around the Ambassador's wrist.
"It didn't," she reminded her mother. "We're both still here. We've got another shot."
"Lunch when we finally get the hell out of here?" she added hopefully.
"I'm buying," the Ambassador insisted, finally cracking a smile.
"For once, I'm not going to argue with you."
…
Four Days Later
After finally managing to get herself changed, Emily hobbled her way out of the bathroom. She was getting much more adept at navigating around using crutches, which was good considering that was how she was going to spend the next few months.
She took the opportunity to examine herself in the mirror hanging on door to her room. She had to admit she looked a pretty sore sight. She'd lost several pounds in just a few days and it showed on her face. Her clothes were also less than flattering. Realizing the clothes she wore the day she came in were a blood-soaked mess, Polizzi had been thoughtful enough to run out and find her something more comfortable to wear. The snap-on jogging pants were actually a good idea. They were the right size and much easier to change into than would have been the case with a regular pair. The Egyptian National Soccer Team sweatshirt (Football Team – Emily reminded herself internally – not unlike Clyde, Polizzi had given her a tremendous amount of shit when she said soccer), on the other hand, was too large and swallowed her slender frame. That was the drawback of letting a man do the shopping.
On the bright side, the bruising on her face was much improved. The discoloration was beginning to fade and the swelling had gone down. Emily thought a few more days and some solid food would help her regain her strength and improve her somewhat gaunt appearance, then she'd just have to wait for that damn hip to heal.
She was looking forward to getting back home to London. The doctors has barred her from flying for a few weeks, but Clyde had arranged for them to travel back to Europe by a chartered boat then take a private rail car to London. The Ambassador would be traveling with them. The U.S. government wanted to recall her to Washington immediately, but Elizabeth resolutely insisted on making sure Emily got settled back in London before she returned to the United States. According to Morgan and JJ, the Ambassador had apparently threatened to spill the beans to the international media about the fact that the attack on the Embassy had been coordinated by a member of the U.S. military and not a riot spun out of control as the official story stated. She was immediately given extra time to return home.
As Emily double-checked her bag to make sure her Glock was packed and unloaded, Polizzi rapped on the door.
"Phone call for you," he said, handing her his own cell phone.
"Who is it?" she asked.
"Easter. He said he tried your phone but it went straight to voice mail."
"Battery's dead," Emily observed, pulling her own phone out of her bag. "Are our rides here yet?"
"I was just on my way down to check," Polizzi answered, handing her his phone. Emily eased herself into a sitting position on the bed before accepting it.
"Hello Clyde," she said, pressing the phone to her ear.
"Hello darling," he said with his typical bright sarcasm. "How are we today?"
"My heart's breaking at the thought of leaving Egypt," she quipped. "Seriously though, I'm hoping we'll be on our way out of here within the next hour or two."
"About bloody time you get back here," he continued to tease her. "I'm sick of doing your paperwork. By the way, you have a hiring decision to make when you get back. You're down an intelligence analyst."
"What? Why?" she asked.
"Steven Perry's mother-in-law has cancer. He and his wife are moving back to Toronto. He got a job offer that he had to act on immediately. I told him to go."
"Alright," Emily replied. She was disappointed to hear it. Perry had been a bit of a dullard, but he was a good man and reliable agent. "I'll start thinking about it once we get underway. You have any minimum threshold qualifications I need to know about?"
"They have to speak English and put up with you. Don't you think that's hard enough?"
"Very funny, Clyde."
"Honestly, Em, just worry about getting back home. The rest of it can wait. Call me when you get to the Continent. And charge your bloody phone, will you?"
"Thanks Clyde."
"Bye, darling."
Shortly after Emily ended the call, Polizzi came back into the room.
"Everything good to go?" she asked.
"Yep," he confirmed. "Your mother's getting her bags downstairs. I came up to grab yours."
"Thank you, again," Emily said. "And thank you for not telling my mother anything I said about my dad," she added. "I think it's a little more than she wants to handle right now."
"Your secret's safe with me, Prentiss," he promised.
"I still can't believe I told you," she remarked. "Nothing personal," she added hastily. "I just really don't know you all that well."
"Fair enough. Maybe we'll have to work on that," he smiled slyly.
That gave Emily an idea.
"Hey, how serious were you about taking a desk job?"
"Pretty serious. Why?" he asked.
"How do you like London?"
That's all for Chapter 8. The story wraps up in the next chapter, most of which I wrote several days ago. It just needs some fine-tuning and will be up soon.
I hope you enjoyed! Thoughts/comments/reviews are welcome as ever!
