And on with the show! Enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think.

Hotch was just finishing his breakfast in the hotel's dining room when a shadow fell over his table. He frowned at the intrusion and looked up, only to end up blinking in surprise.

"Ambassador," he said in greeting, rising to his feet, the napkin that had been in his lap was now in his hand. "It's a pleasure to see you."

"The same, Agent Hotchner," she responded with a polite smile.

He gestured to the empty chair at the table. "Please have a seat."

She shook her head. "Can we adjourn to somewhere more private?"

"Of course." She wanted to talk about Emily's case and the public dining room wasn't the place for it. "Would my room be more appropriate or would you prefer yours?"

"Is everything you need in yours?" she asked.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Then yours will be suitable."

Hotch nodded and signaled the server for the bill. When she brought it over, the Ambassador told the young woman to charge it to her room and gave her the room number. When he tried to protest, she shot him a look that said the subject wasn't open for discussion.

"Any expenses you incur while representing my daughter and that includes hotel and food will be paid by me. None of this needs to come out of your pocket."

"Understood, Ambassador."

She smiled as they headed for the elevator. "Please call me Elizabeth."

"Aaron," he said in return with a small smile.

They stepped on the first available lift and Hotch pushed the button for the twelfth floor. The doors closed and standing side by side they watched the floor indicator crawl upwards. It was an old hotel with a rather slow elevator system that had Hotch thinking more than a few times that the stairs would actually be quicker.

Somewhere around the sixth floor Elizabeth spoke up. "I had every intention of destroying your career for what you put me and Emily through by faking her death. But luckily for you, she persuaded me not to. Emily said you were doing your best to protect her. You kept her safe."

"I would have understood if you had," he said honestly.

"I expect that you will use the same level of dedication and determination in defending Emily," she stated bluntly.

Hotch turned and looked directly in her eyes. "Of course. You have my word."

Elizabeth nodded once and the rest of the ride continued in silence. Once they reached his room, she took the lone armchair by the large window while he pulled out the desk chair. She properly crossed her legs and rested her folded hands in her lap.

"Please tell me how this all works," she said.

He took a deep breath. "After a defendant is arraigned they have the right to a speedy trial. This means a preliminary hearing is held before the jury trial. A majority of defendants waive that right to use the time between the arraignment and the trial to prepare their cases."

"Did Emily waive her right?" Elizabeth asked, still pretty upset with the idea of her daughter being locked up in that hellhole for months on end.

"On my advice she did not. Her prelim is scheduled for two weeks from yesterday," Hotch confirmed.

"So what exactly is a prelim?"

"It's a hearing of probable cause. It decides if the prosecution has produced enough evidence to convince a reasonable jury that Emily committed the crime she has been charged with. I will be able to cross examine any witnesses and challenge any of the evidence presented against her."

"What evidence do they supposedly have on my daughter?"

Hotch quickly brought the Ambassador up to date and finished with, "On paper the case seems rock solid. Solid enough for them to issue the arrest warrant. But between Emily and I and the team, we've have uncovered several discrepancies."

Elizabeth felt her hopes lift. She had been scared that Emily's predicament was going to prove irreversible. That she would be rotting away in prison for a crime she hadn't committed regardless of how hard her team had worked to clear her name. But that same team was proving her wrong. Emily had said they were the best and she was grateful that they were on her daughter's side.

She leaned forward in her chair. "Take me through slowly what the police have and what you have found out," she ordered.

"Of course," Hotch said with a nod.

He reached behind himself and retrieved the file from the desktop. Then he spent the next hour carefully guiding the Ambassador through their investigation and patiently answered her astute questions. When he was done she sat back, now even more impressed with Emily's teammates.

"He's good," she grudgingly conceded.

"But we're better," Hotch said. He wasn't boasting but stating a given fact.

"That I have no doubts about." Her eyes flashed with anger. "I want this bastard found, Aaron," she said, sounding every inch the ambassador she was.

"He will be, Elizabeth, and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law," he reassured her.

"And I want that detective drummed out of the police force. He's an incompetent fool. The public will be safer without him."

Hotch wholeheartedly agreed with her assessment of Morrissey. "I will do my best."

Thanks to his impromptu and productive meeting with the Ambassador, he was now two hours late for his morning visit with Emily. As he drove to the jail and its unwilling occupant, he was glad he hadn't called ahead and had her moved to the private visitation room. The room's size probably wasn't much bigger than her cell, but it did have a window. She could gaze out even though it overlooked the exercise yard. But the view was still a view and it was a vast improvement over the one she had through the bars of her cell door. Plus after pacing the small space for the two hours chafing at the delay, Emily would have been thoroughly irritated with him by the time he had got there.

At the main desk Hotch placed the request that she be brought to him then he followed a cop to the room. He was still unpacking his briefcase when the other door opened and Emily was escorted in. Officer Cruz immediately unlocked her handcuffs and left with a friendly nod.

"Morning," he said in greeting as he pulled out the chair and sat down.

"Morning," she said in return with a small smile, moving over to the table.

Hotch frowned in concern. Emily seemed to be favoring her left side and that was making her limp slightly. It deepened when she couldn't quite hide a wince as she sat down.

"Are your ribs bothering you?" he asked worriedly.

"What?" She blinked at him in surprise.

"I asked if your ribs are bothering you. I saw your wince as you sat."

Under the table Emily cradled her bruised ribs with her hand. She should have known that Hotch would notice; the guards hadn't. He always seemed to know when she was hurting even if she was keeping a stiff upper lip. Now he had just given her the perfect opportunity to tell him about Morrissey's assault and let him handle it.

Yet Emily hesitated. Was it right for her to dump it on him when he had so much on his plate right now? He was working so hard to on clearing her name. Did he need the added distraction? Especially when she was partially to blame for it because she had inadvertently pushed Morrissey too far. No he didn't. She'll just have to deal with it in her own way.

"They're fine," she lied. "I'm just a little stiff. That bunk is not the most comfortable thing to sleep on. The mattress is too thin."

Hotch's eyes narrowed as he studied her face for any signs of deception. He didn't see any but Emily was too good at hiding what she was actually feeling and thinking. He sensed she hadn't told him the whole truth. There was something she was holding back. But if he tried to push her on it, she would retreat behind her walls. Instead he would let it go for now and hope she will tell him later.

Hotch nodded. "I'm sorry I'm later than normal," he apologized. "I had a meeting with your mother."

Emily shrugged off the apology and regretted the motion as pain rippled through her back and ribs. "I figured as much."

It was his turn to look surprised. "How did you know she was in town?"

"Mother paid me a visit last night," she explained with a resigned smile.

"She never told me. How did she get in to see you?"

"According to her, she and the Police Chief had a nice little chat." She closed her eyes briefly as she ever so slightly shook her head. "That means she didn't give him any choice in the matter."

"I'm sorry," Hotch said in sympathy.

She frowned in confusion. "You already apologized for running late."

"Not that. I'm sorry that your request for no visitors wasn't adhered to by Strauss and the Ambassador and that the visitations were stressful for you."

"Actually my mother's visit wasn't too bad," Emily admitted with a half smile. "It was uncomfortable but she was able to distract me for a little bit."

"Good," Hotch said. Personally he welcomed anything that could take her mind off her predicament for a while. "I noticed when I was meeting with her that she didn't seem to know any of the details about your case. Didn't the two of you discuss it?"

She shook her head and looked at the camera up in the corner of the room. Hotch followed her gaze. "No. I was pretty sure our conversation was being recorded since it didn't fall under privilege. And I didn't want to show our hand about what we had uncovered. I also knew you would fill her in."

Hotch nodded in approval. "Smart idea."

Emily had another opportunity to tell him about the attack, but chose again to let it slip away. "How did the conference call with the team go last night? Did they find anything new?" she asked instead.

"Indeed they did." He grabbed the pad he had made notes on. "The UnSub was able to hack into the drug store's records but he couldn't access the credit card company's systems. Garcia found the record of your purchase."

"So he's computer savvy up to a point."

"Yes. She was also able to determine that the time stamps on the video surveillance had been altered."

She sagged back in the chair in relief. "I knew it."

"But—" Hotch started to caution.

"It's all inadmissible in court because Garcia had to use her hacking skills to find it," Emily finished for him.

Unable to sit any longer, Emily rose and went over to the window to gaze moodily outside. Hotch immediately noticed the limp was more pronounced. While she had been sitting her body had stiffened up. Now he was surer than ever that a bad bunk hadn't caused this stiffness of hers. She had hurt herself somehow and her pride was stopping her from telling him. It was obvious that Emily didn't want to appear weak.

Hotch opened his mouth to ask again but he quickly shut it. He was at the same impasse he had run into earlier. If he pressed her harder for details, Emily would shut down and that could have a negative affect on their future interactions. He needed her to be engaged and forthcoming, not withdrawn and distrusting. So he would wait for her to come to him when she was ready.

"Yes. But Garcia gave me the name of a fellow hacker who specializes in procuring the information legitimately. I contacted him last night and he assured me that he'd have everything prepared in plenty of time for your prelim. Right now it is a waiting game for the companies and the hotel to comply to my subpoenas."

Emily turned away from the window. "Is he any good?"

"Garcia personally vouched for him. She said he was the best," he said.

She nodded. "If she trusts him then it is good enough for me." She crossed her arms and tried to lean casually against the wall without wincing. She only partially succeeded. To hide it, Emily asked, "So did Reid finally let you in on his glassware fetish?"

The corner of his mouth curled into a smile at her choice of words. "He did. He had thought the glass with your prints on it looked familiar and it was. The glass was from your hotel room."

He pulled two photos from the file and laid them out on the table. Discomfort forgotten, Emily came back over and sat down. She picked up the photos, held them side-by-side and carefully compared them.

"They're identical," she concluded.

"They are. Reid didn't want to get your hopes up before he knew for certain that Hill didn't own any glassware that was similar," he explained.

Emily set the pictures back down on the table. "Thank him for me."

"I will," Hotch promised. "I spoke to the maid assigned to your floor. She remembered a glass was missing from your room, but she didn't pay much attention to it. Glasses disappear all the time like the towels and robes do. But she—"

"Gideon took the robes," she said out of the blue.

Hotch paused. "Pardon?" he asked in confusion.

"Gideon use to help himself to the robes," Emily said with a small smile. "I saw one in his go bag once."

His eyebrows went up. "I didn't know that."

She cocked her head to one side. "Really?" she asked with a dubious look. "You worked with him a hell of a lot longer than I did."

He shrugged. "I'm not the TSA. I don't check my colleague's bags before they are stowed on the jet," he deadpanned.

Emily stared at him for a long second. "Was that another attempt at humor, Hotch?"

"It was. Did I do better this time?"

"Very much," she said with a hearty laugh.

Hotch smiled. It was good to see her laugh and it was one that reached her eyes making them twinkle. That type of laughter had been woefully missing since the day of her arrest. Yes there had been halfhearted stabs at humor from Emily, but he suspected they were nothing but covers for her growing frustration and insecurities. But he also knew that genuine laughter was good for the soul so he hoped she kept laughing for a while.

"As I was saying before we wandered off on to the subject of Gideon pinching the bed linens—"

"Robes," she corrected, still chuckling.

"Robes," he said with a straight face. "The maid is willing to sign an affidavit stating that she noticed the missing drinking glass."

"Good," Emily said, sobering. "Anything else?"

Hotch shook his head. "Not at this time. The team is still shifting through all the cases and consults you worked on. So far no stands out, but it is also a slow process since they have to work around Strauss' orders. If they don't find anything domestic, I'll have to focus on your international cases."

"Great," she grumbled and stared at a crack in the ceiling. "Just don't tell Easter I've been arrested for murder. I'll never hear the end of it. He likes to rub salt into old wounds."

"I won't," he promised. "Off the top of your head, is there anyone else in your past who might still have a grudge against you?"

He hated asking the question. It made him sound like he suspected that she was holding back vital information, that he didn't trust her. After all she had kept Doyle a secret when he was stalking her. Unfortunately it was a question that had to be asked.

Emily's dark brown eyes drifted down from the ceiling and locked on to his lighter ones. "No," she said equivocally.

He gazed intently into her eyes and saw nothing but open honesty. That was good enough for him. He nodded and said, "I'm sorry, Emily, but you know I had to ask at some point."

"I did," she said with a half smile. "Believe me, Hotch, I would have immediately told you if there was one. The old Emily would have kept it to herself. I'm not her anymore."

"No, you're not. You're the new and improved model."

"Heh," she said with a chuckle.

Hotch reluctantly began to gather up the paperwork. "I think we've covered everything we can for now."

Emily's shoulders slumped in disappointment. She didn't want to return to her cold and sterile cell. She much preferred to stay in this dingy small room talking with Hotch about whatever so she groped for anything to say to prolong the inevitable just to buy herself a few more minutes of friendly human contact.

"Where do you go from here?" she ended up asking.

"I'm going to try to interview the prosecution's star witness," he stated as he pressed the buzzer to summon the guard. "Then I thought I might canvas Hill's neighbors and see if anyone suddenly remembers something."

"Good luck with that," Emily said with a snort.

"We're making progress, Emily."

"I know," she sighed and leaned forward to trace a water stain circle left by a mug on the table. "But we have to catch this guy, Hotch. The reasonable doubt we're building might get the charges against me dropped, but it won't clear my name."

The door behind her opened and Officer Cruz stepped in. Emily slowly rose to her feet. "Outside everyone will still think I'm guilty and that I only got away with it because there wasn't enough evidence to hold me over for trial. My career with the FBI will over." She held out her hands to the young officer.

"I won't let that happen," Hotch vowed.

Emily gazed sadly at him as the handcuffs were ratcheted snugly around her wrists. "You can't guarantee that."

She was right. He couldn't guarantee that she would be able to keep her job, but he would do his best to prevent it from happening. She was too good of an agent to lose. As Cruz took her gently by the arm, Hotch decided to try one more time to find out how she hurt herself.

"Prentiss, is there anything else you want to tell me?" he probed.

She paused. Emily looked down at her now cuffed hands then back at him and shook her head. "I'm good," she lied with a small smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Okay," he said with nod, not believing her for a moment. "I'll let you know if I learn anything."

"I'm going to hold you to it," she countered, this time with a genuine smile.

Hotch sighed softly as he watched Cruz lead her out of the room and off to her lonely cell. There was one thing Emily had been wrong about. There were still pieces of the old Emily clinging to the new one. He had just caught a glimpse of the secretive one.

Sigh. Sometimes Emily can be so stubborn and want to work it out for herself. Do come back next week to see if she finally spills the beans. Until then.