When Emily woke up the following morning, she felt like she had just swum a thousand laps in the hotel pool. She was tired, a tiredness that sank deep into her bones. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, scrubbed her face with her hands and then staggered off to the bathroom, hoping a shower would revitalize her. Twenty minutes later, she emerged refreshed and ready to face another day with Gideon. As she got dressed, she told herself not to let him get to her, like he done numerous time yesterday. That she needed to be calm and collected, be professional.
"Easier said than done," she muttered softly as she exited the bedroom.
Like yesterday, Emily expected Gideon to be down in the dining room waiting for her to appear so she was surprised to find him puttering around the kitchenette.
"Good morning, Prentiss," he greeted her with a smile when he spotted her.
"Uh…morning. What's going on?" she asked, noticing the pastries and fruit on the table.
"I thought after last night, you might not be up to going down to the dining room, so I thought I would treat you to a traditional French breakfast. When I heard you moving about, I went down to the Concierge and they directed me to a…what are they called?"
"Patisserie," she supplied.
"Right." He gestured at the pastries. "I wasn't sure what you liked so I got a little of everything. Lets see if I got this right. Croissant au beurre, pain au chocolat, pain aux raisins and chausson aux pommes," pointing at each as he spoke.
"Correct, though you French accent is horrible,' she said with a small smile as she pulled out a chair and sat down.
He shrugged and picked up a large cup and saucer from the counter. "And since you are rebelling against your self imposed ban of coffee…a café au lait."
Emily was touched. It was very sweet of Gideon to go through all of this trouble to get her breakfast. It was a side of him she had rarely seen. The ex-agent had a tendency to show it with the victim's family and, on occasion, the UnSub. Wait a minute! Come to think of it, she had never been a recipient of it…until now. Emily's bullshit radar starting pinging. Was he being genuinely nice to her or did he have an ulterior motive? Was he trying to get on her good side and get her to open up about her nightmare and the time she had spent in exile here? If that was true, it was very strategic and slightly sociopathic of him.
Fat chance of that happening, she mentally snorted. I'm on to you, Old Man. You're not getting behind my walls.
"Thank you, Gideon," she said aloud, helping herself to one of each. "This was nice of you."
"You're welcome," he said with a nod, selecting a croissant to munch on as he worked the crossword puzzle from the English version of the European New York Times. "I must say this is different from the breakfasts I'm used to."
"The French do like theirs light, not heavy like ours," Emily said, taking a sip of her café au lait and sighing. Her ulcer had healed so there really was no reason for her continuing to go cold turkey on coffee. She could exercise moderation and have a few cups per week. Maybe she should get herself one of those single serve coffee makers with all those different flavors for her new row house.
"We do like our eggs and bacon," he agreed, turning his full attention to the puzzle.
Emily picked up one of the French newspapers Gideon had grabbed on his way back up and scanned its contents as she nibbled on a chausson aux pommes. She was curious to see if the police had appealed to the public for help in identifying their John Doe since Gideon's revelation had put them back to square one. Nothing. Which was actually sad for the poor man lying on the slab in the morgue. Yet at the same time, Emily was relieved to see that there was no mention that they were actively pursuing a suspect. If they had, it could drive Noah deeper underground, especially if they had printed his name or photo, and made it that much harder to find him.
"Anything?"
She looked over the top of the newspaper to find Gideon gazing intently at her. She didn't waste any time trying to figure out what he meant. He was thinking the same thing she was. Before answering, Emily folded up the paper and set it off to one side.
"Not a word. Which is good for us. It makes our job easier."
"Agreed. Now all we need to do first is to lose our tails."
"They're still there?"
"Yes. One followed me to the…what did you call it before?"
"Patisserie," she said with an amused smile.
"That's it. So we need to a way to shake them without letting them know we're on to them." Gideon leaned back in his chair, idly sipping his coffee as he thought. "Sneaking out the back way would signal the wrong intent."
"Right. We need to shake them in a way that doesn't look like we're trying to shake them," Emily mused, thoughtfully nibbling on a thumbnail. Then it hit her like a ton of bricks and hopped out of her chair. "I know what to do. I'll be right back," she announced and hurried back to her bedroom where she had left her cell phone.
Gideon thought about following her, but decided against it, figuring she didn't need him breathing down her neck. But he was very curious to what she had up her sleeve besides her arm. A few minutes later, Emily returned with a smile on her face.
"All done. Our car will be here within an hour."
"You rented us a car?" he asked in puzzlement. "How is that going to help us shake our tails? They'll simply follow us in theirs."
"Trust me, Gideon. This will work."
He studied her for a long minute with narrowed eyes. His original assessment was correct. She definitely has something up her sleeve and it wasn't just her arm. He tried reading it in her eyes, but she had a damn good poker face when she used it.
He exhaled slowly and crossed his arms. "Prentiss, you're being intentionally cryptic."
"Yes, I am."
"And you're not going to tell me?"
The corner of her mouth curved up into another smile. He hadn't let her in on his plan yesterday so it was her turn to be secretive and then they would be even. With her way, Gideon wouldn't be blindsided like she had been. He had just been warned in advance that something was about to happen so he would be prepared.
"Nope. What's the fun in that?"
Forty minutes later Emily's phone rang. Their ride had arrived and they headed for the lobby. They had the elevator car to themselves so they could freely converse if they wanted to as it slowly descended.
"Still not going to tell me what's going on?" Gideon asked, standing with his hands clasped loosely behind his back.
"Nope." Emily's eyes were glued to the crawling numbers. "I want your reaction to be natural," she explained, giving him the same reason he had given her yesterday to why he had kept her in the dark.
"Trying to say I can't act?"
"Your words, not mine."
A moment later the elevator doors opened and the two stepped into the lobby. Before Emily had taken ten steps, a thin older man with gray hair, bushy moustache and wearing a black beret, engulfed her in an enthusiastic bear hug. "Emily!"
She laughed, returning the hug with the same amount of enthusiasm. "Sebastien. It is good to see you."
"Same here." He held her at arms length, studying her from top to and bottom and liked what he saw. "How is mon le petit singe?"
"I'm good. And you?"
"Bien. And ta mere? Is she doing well?"
"Mother is doing great. She sends her love."
Sebastien blushed. "L'ambassadeur has always been bon pour moi. Elle est charmante."
There were many times while growing up, Emily wouldn't have called her mother lovely. She had a few more choice words to describe her. But Sebastien had only worked for the Ambassador; he didn't have to live with her day in and day out. Back then it had seemed like her mother treated her employees with more respect and kindness than she had given her own daughter. Those actions had fostered some resentment in Emily toward some of the staff, especially the ones she had already taken a dislike to. Sebastien wasn't one of them. He had always treated her like she was one of his many daughters and always had a box of licorice drops in his pocket that he always shared with her. He had also told wonderful stories that left her listening in fascination.
As if he was reading her mind, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the very familiar round yellow box. "Still your favorite, le petit singe?"
Emily's eyes lit up in delight. "Yes! Though I haven't had any in years."
Sebastien pressed the hard candy into her hand. "Take them. Amusez-vous bien."
"Merci beaucoup," she said, opening the box and popping one into her mouth. Her mind immediately flashing back to childhood when he playfully made her guess which pocket he had the candy hidden in.
"De rien," he said with a huge smile when he saw the look of joy on her face. He had very fond memories of the little dark haired girl with the inquisitive dark brown eyes and endearing smile.
Off to one side, Gideon watched the exchange between the two with a small smile. It was obvious from their warm greeting that they have known each other for a long time, probably stretching all the way back to when Emily was a child. It was nice to see this side of her, so free and relaxed. When he had worked with her, she was a woman on a mission to prove to everyone, especially Hotch, that she belonged. Well, not anymore. Now she knew where she fit and understood her value. At the same time, she was weighed down, compartmentalized and heavy with everything she had organized into those boxes. So it was good seeing her enjoying the reunion, but they couldn't stand around all the reminiscing. They needed to find Noah. Gideon cleared his throat to remind them that he was there.
Emily turned to him and quickly apologized. "I'm sorry, Gideon. Forgive my manners. This is Sebastien, an old friend of the family. Sebastien, this is Jason Gideon. He's a…" She trailed off unsure how to describe their relationship. He was more of an acquaintance than a friend, but it didn't sound right since they were here together in Paris. She had to say something for the benefit of their tails who were unobtrusively eavesdropping on their conversation.
Gideon saved her the trouble. "We used to work together," he said, holding out his hand to the Frenchman.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Gideon," he smiled, returning the handshake. "Tout ami de Emily un de mes amis." He reverted back to French in his excitement.
He didn't need an interpreter to tell him what Sebastien meant. The man considered him a friend. "Just call me Jason," he said as he discretely rubbed his hand. The older man had a grip like a vise.
"Jason," he repeated with a nod.
Emily draped an arm over her friend's shoulder. "Sebastien has kindly volunteered to give us a tour of the city. He knows Paris like the back of his hand."
"Oui. And not the tourist attractions, but the true city. Those little places that make Paris Paris."
So that was her plan. Sebastien would take them somewhere they could easily get lost in the crowds and then meet back up with him at a designated spot. From there it would be an easy drive to the hostel Noah last stayed at.
"I like the sound of that," he agreed, playing his part perfectly. "Let's proceed."
"Oui." Sebastien led them to the battered Citroen parked at the curb. He opened the groaning door and said, "Les dames d'abord."
"Merci," Emily said, climbing into the backseat and then sliding over to the other side so that Gideon could get in.
Using brute strength, Sebastien slammed the stubborn door shut. Then he trotted around the front of the car and hopped into the driver's seat.
"Buckle up," she advised softly, buckling her seatbelt as the Frenchman inserted the key into the ignition. The engine coughed several times before it turned over.
"Why?" he asked, slowing reaching for the shoulder strap.
"He's worse that a New York cabbie."
He had just gotten his seatbelt latched when Sebastien peeled away from the curb with the smell of burning rubber, squealing tires and the cacophony of angry honks from the motorists he had just cut off. The passengers were thrown back into their seats by the sudden acceleration. On the sidewalk the two tails were caught flat-footed by the abrupt departure and hurried to their car. By the time they got it started and merged with the traffic, the Citroen and its occupants had disappeared around the corner.
Gideon hung on to the handle above the door for dear life as Sebastien would ride up on the bumper of the car in front of him and then abruptly change lanes before flying by like a bat out of hell. He's going to get us killed, he wildly thought. I've survived numerous murderers only to die on the streets of Paris in a car driven by a maniac driver. Only after he had caught his breath after a near miss, did he risk a glance at his fellow passenger. Emily sat with her hands in her lap as she calmly watched the buildings scream past her window. It was obvious she was used to Sebastien's erratic driving, though he did notice she had one foot braced against the frame of the driver's seat to cut down on the jostling.
"I take it Sebastien was part of your mother's security detail? One of the chauffeurs with defensive driving skills?"
"No. He was the gardener."
Sebastien drove one handed as he weaved recklessly in and out of traffic, using the other to gesture at the sights he thought would be of interest to his passengers. Gideon had given up trying to look where he was pointing because by the time he did, they were already well past it. His heart seized when the Frenchman looked directly over his shoulder, instead of keeping his eyes on the road and glancing in the rearview mirror when he wanted to talk to them.
"So mon le petit singe, how long will you be staying here in our beautiful city?"
Look out! Gideon screamed in his head as he pounded the floor of the car with his foot, desperately seeking the brake pedal. Sensing, rather that seeing the impending collision, Sebastien yanked the wheel hard to the right, narrowly missing the stalled delivery van in their lane.
"I'm not sure, Sebastien. It depends on how long it takes for us to find Jason's nephew Noah. Hopefully it will only be a few days."
"Ah, yes. The poor lad. When you do, you must bring him and Jason to dinner. Marie will be thrilled to see you."
Emily glanced at Gideon to see what he thought, but his eyes were squeezed shut and she smiled. "I don't know," she hedged. She didn't want to commit him to something he didn't want to do.
"Marie would cook up such a feast. She doesn't get to do that much now that all our girls are gone. I won't take no for an answer, petit singe."
It was very tempting. Marie made a mean Gigot D'Aqneau Pleureur and her Profiteroles were to die for. That woman knew how to cook. "I can't promise anything, but I'll do my best."
Sebastien grinned and turned his attention back to his driving. Seeing the light was about to turn red, he gunned the engine and roared through the intersection.
Gideon, needing something, anything, to distract him from his fast approaching death, latched on to the phrase the Frenchman had said to Emily several times. Since she had called him Jason, he would return the favor.
"Emily," he said and waited for her to look at him. "I may not speak French, but I do know petit means little. But I'm unfamiliar with singe."
Emily didn't want to go there with him. Stop trying to know everything, Gideon, she wanted to say, but instead she chose to be snarky. "If you really want to know that badly, get a dictionary and look it up."
"Emily, such a tone," Sebastien scolded from the driver's seat. "It means monkey. She's my little monkey."
"Little monkey?" he questioned, amusement tugging at his lips.
"It's just a childhood nickname," she said lamely, a faint flush coming to her face as she turned away.
"Jason, would you like to know why I call her little monkey?"
Her eyes widened in fear. "Sebastien, I don't think—" she protested.
"Emily, shush," Gideon cut in. "It's not polite to interrupt your elders." Emily's mouth snapped shut and she glared daggers at him that he ignored. "Sebastien, I would love to hear it."
This so isn't happening. She crossed her arms and slunk down in her seat as the Frenchman basked in the attention of his new audience. "This one was an adventurous little child when her nose wasn't buried in a book. So fearless. Once she learned to climb, she couldn't be stopped."
Oh god! It really was happening, she thought sourly, wishing she could sink through the floor of the car and disappear. But since that was physically impossible, Emily had to settle on plotting Sebastien's death before he told Gideon about every one of her childhood escapades that he had witnessed.
"She loved to scamper up trees like a little monkey, but always got stuck at the top because coming down is much harder than going up. I was the one who had to go up and rescue her. And once I had her back on solid ground and turned my back for a second, she scurried up the tree again."
Emily scowled as Gideon chuckled. "It was a useful skill to have," she said in her defense. Climbing had served her well when she had been sneaking out of her bedroom at night to go party.
"Good to know she was always so determined and stubborn," Gideon said, earning a heavy glare from her.
Before either of them had a chance to say another word, Sebastien took a sharp turn, jostling their bodies. Gideon quickly lost count of the number of near collisions and he was pretty sure a couple of turns had been taken on two wheels. The Frenchman's driving was better suited for the Autobahn or the Indianapolis 500 than the streets of Paris. Suddenly he stomped on the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt.
Sebastien turned in his seat and grinned at them. "Here we are. Le Strasbourg hostel."
"Oh thank god," Gideon mumbled under his breath as he threw open the door and stumbled out of the car, feeling a little shaky on his feet. He staggered over to the nearest lamppost and leaned against it as Emily thanked and said goodbye to Sebastien.
After the Frenchman had departed in the squeal of tires, Emily walked over to him with a worried look. She was a little concern about him because Sebastien's driving wasn't for the faint hearted; it took a while to get used to. Well for an adult it was, but as a child, and totally unaware of the hazards, it had been thrilling, like riding a roller coaster. But at the same time, Emily felt a hint of satisfaction after what she had just suffered through.
"Are you okay, Gideon?" she asked. "You're looking a little green around the gills."
"I'll be fine in a minute."
"You sure? I can run to the pharmacie across the street and get you some Dramamine."
"Positive." He took several deep breaths before slowly straightening. "Can we just take a cab back to the hotel when we're done here?"
Emily shook her head. "I don't think so. I think it would seem suspicious if we don't return with Sebastien since he's supposed to be giving us a tour of the city."
"Good point. If I survived the drive here, I can survive the trip back. Maybe he'll drive slower since he doesn't have to shake an tails."
"You keep thinking that," she encouraged with a chuckle. "Sebastien has one speed: overdrive."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
