AN: Thank you for your reviews :) This one still feels a little choppy to me, so apologies in advance if it actually is.
AN2: Much to my shock, I appear to have been remiss in my duties as elder sister. My little sister (no so little anymore), has never seen Fight Club! This grave error is being remedied as I edit.
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. Catherine Jareau is mine, along with all the other characters you do not recognize.
Chapter 25: Ian Doyle
Honore de Balzac once said,
"Most people of action are inclined to fatalism
and most of thought believe in providence."
Tell me, Emily Prentiss, which do you think you are gonna be?
- Ian Doyle, Coda
Emily Prentiss
September 9, 2011
11:30 pm
Hotch corners me near the bathrooms and pulls me into a supply closet. He's frowning, "Emily where were you? How did you get here so quickly? Unless I am very much mistaken, it takes more than 7 hours to fly here from Paris and you got here in just two hours. Did you find out before we did? Did Declan call you or someone else?"
I ignore all of the unimportant questions and ask hesitantly, "Hotch, what gave you the idea I was in Paris?"
He just looks at me, "That's where you were assigned. Also, Maura your daughter," he stumbles over his words, "She was speaking in French."
I frown, "Hotch the number you called was forwarded to a satellite phone. I was already on this side of the ocean when you called. As for Maura she always speaks French when she's nervous about meeting new people."
"Alright, but where were you Emily?" he asks again.
I sigh, "Aaron, you know I can't tell you that." I think it's the use of his first name that makes Hotch stop and think about what he is asking.
"All right Emily. I won't ask again." Hotch puts his hand on my shoulder, "I just want you to know that I'm glad you're okay and that it's good to have you back."
"Thanks Hotch," I whisper to his back as he exits the cupboard.
The instant I see Ian Doyle sitting in the interrogation room I have a flash back to the last time I saw him: Before Derek arrived but after Doyle had stabbed me in the stomach with that wooden table leg, he crouched down next to me while I lay dying on the cold cement floor. Ian wanted to know where Declan was. He was so sure that he should be the one raising Declan instead of Tom or Louise.
I would have kept Declan with me, and just disappeared off the face of the earth (gone into hiding) if I hadn't been pregnant with Maura. Maybe I should have kept him regardless. No, Ian would still have escaped prison because he loves Declan and then I wouldn't have had any warning that he was coming after us at all. I would be dead and Declan, my sweet little boy and Maura, my baby would be with him.
Damn, even in my own head it is exceedingly difficult to call him Doyle and not Ian. This man has something to do with the kidnapping of our- no, of the boy he sired. He's murdered more people than I could possibly ever know of. He is not my Ian.
The next reminder I need that this Ian is not my- Not Lauren's, Ian is the what he said when we met for coffee back in February:
Ian smirks, "Tell me, does the lovely Penelope know the truth about you? Or is she too busy watching movies with Derek to care? Here you are, all alone, while Aaron sits at home with his son. And why didn't Dave and Ashley invite you to their game night? Maybe they thought you'd be on the metro with Dr. Reid. Well, that one does have some quirks. What about that little blonde who is at your flat till the wee hours, Alice Catherine? Maybe I should pay her a visit when you're not home."
I glare at him, "Come near my team or her, and I will end you."
His lips twitch, I don't have a quarrel with them. How long that remains the case, depends entirely on you. They're innocent, you're not."
"I was doing my job," I remind him unnecessarily.
"I think you did a little more than that," He growls. "You took the only thing that mattered to me, so I'm going to take the only thing that matters to you: your life. Ian placed a gold matchbook with a four-leaf clover on it on the table between us. "Honore de Balzac once said, 'Most people of action are inclined to fatalism and most of thought believe in providence.' Tell me, Emily Prentiss, which do you think you are gonna be?"
The final reminder that he is not the same man came not when he stabbed me with a broken table leg, but when he threatened Catherine for the second time. I was loosing a lot of blood, so my memory is a little fuzzy but he said something along the lines of, "Maybe that pretty little blonde would like to be a mother." I couldn't let him get to her, not after what he'd just done. The last thing I remember says to Derek was, "Protect Creirwy (kree-ree)."
I steel myself to enter the interrogation room.
Spencer, my silent shadow's eyes sweep searchingly over my face.
I nod at him.
He raises an eyebrow before nodding back. Spencer opens the door to the interrogation room.
I take a deep breath, exhale and step inside.
Blue eyes go wide. The brief look of surprise is quickly covered up and he greets me with, "Of course." His lips twitch, "Lauren Reynolds died in a car accident. Why shouldn't Emily Prentiss, killed by my own hand, come back from the dead as well."
"Hello Ian," I reply while cursing internally.
"Hello Lauren," he drawls.
I flinch even though I know he's watching for it.
He hmms, "Or do you prefer Emily now? I can't seem to remember."
I frown. It's time to regain some control; "It's Agent Prentiss or Ma'am to you."
"Ouff. Trying for authority are we love? It isn't going to work." He smirks, "We both know I have your number. Besides," he continues, "You're not an Agent at the moment, you're dead. And while we're on the subject of titles, I seem to recall another time when you wanted me to call you ma'am."
"Ian!" Damn it, why can't I keep my mouth shut and my reactions to myself?
He smirks, "Emily what ever happened to the tiny little blonde girl that used to come and go from your flat at all hours? Alice Catherine was it? She was rather pretty for a blonde, maybe I should have someone look into where she is now."
"Don't you dare Ian," I boldly proclaim. I'm freaking out inside but my outside demeanor appears calm and collected.
His lips twitch, "Oh no, love; you don't get to use that tone with me anymore, we're not sleeping together. She is obviously important to you. Who is she?"
"She is just a student," I say dismissively.
He frowns, "Don't lie to me love."
I frown back, "She is a University student writing a master's thesis on languages. I speak quite a few of them Ian, don't you remember?"
Ian raises an eyebrow, "So you haven't decided that you like little girls instead of men?"
My mouth drops open in shock, "Seriously? That's what you're going to go with? I know that you were in my condo Ian, you must have noticed that she has her own room."
He gives me a superior look, "I noticed a lot of things Emily. When she was there, she slept in your room quite often, but not nearly as often as you slept in hers."
I laugh, "That's all you've got? We slept in the same room? How does that amount to anything?"
"Is she your little girl Emily?" He asks almost hesitantly, "Did you have a child and not tell me?"
I sight, "No Ian, she isn't mine."
He cocks his head, "And yet you still consider her family. Interesting."
I frown, "I never said anything like that."
Ian smiles, "Ah, but you didn't have to love. It's in your eyes. Besides, you would never share a flat with someone you didn't care about. It took you months to share a room with me and we were fucking like rabbits."
Ian turns to look at Reid, "You sure are red boy. Do you not know how to fuck like rabbits? Are you jealous? Is there someone you would like to be fucking? I noticed your flinch when I mentioned Alice Catherine, is that it? You want her? Or are you more interested in Emily here? I can tell you she's-"
"Ian!" I shout before he can get any farther.
Ian smirks, "We were great together."
I roll my eyes and take a quick peek at Spencer from the corner of my eye. He's still red.
Ian dismisses Reid as unimportant and turns back to me, "Did you know that I was planning to surprise you with dinner that night."
I frown, not liking where this conversation is headed "Which night?"
Ian looks solemn, "The one when you were taken away. The same night I thought you were in a car accident."
I sigh, "Why Ian?"
His hands tighten into fists momentarily, "Because I knew. Rather I suspected."
Oh crap, "What did you suspect Ian?"
His eyes soften, "I had this white rabbit, it was so small it fit into the palm of my hand."
"I don't know where you're going with this Ian," I lie.
His smile is almost sad, "Oh but you do love. I know you do."
I scowl at him.
He continues, "I prepared all of your favorites, but not the chicken nuggets. I noticed that they had been making you feel nauseated."
I breathe out sorrowfully, "Ian."
"Was it real?" he asks hope colouring his voice. "Or did I just imagine it?"
I keep my mouth closed. Where is he going with this?
He sighs, "I wanted it to be real."
I flinch slightly. Back then I wanted it to be real too.
"Was it real? Were you pregnant?" he implores.
"Yes," The words are out of my mouth before I can think of stopping them.
Relief is evident on his face, "Did you have my child?"
I squash it like a bug, "No."
"What do you mean no? Did you kill my child?" He shouts, getting angry now.
I've hit a nerve but I honestly don't know why he is reacting this way. So I answer him calmly, "No."
His jaw drops slightly, "Did you lose my child?"
"No," I say firmly.
He pounds his cuffed fists on the table, "God damn it Emily! Give me a real answer!"
I'm starting to get some sort of perverse pleasure out of baiting the man who tried to kill me and very nearly ruined my life, "No."
He growls low in this throat, "Tell me."
I frown at him, "She's not yours Ian. She's mine."
"Oh so I have a daughter then." He smiles, pleased, "What is her name?"
I cross my arms, "You'll never know because I'm never going to tell you."
"Does she look like me?" he asks.
I blink.
He smirks, "Does it hurt to look directly into my daughter's eyes and see me staring back at you?"
I shift slightly in my chair and repeat my mantra, "She's not yours Ian. She's mine."
He chuckles, "So my daughter looks like me then. I'm sure she'll make a fine little sister for Declan. They'll be true warriors, just like their father."
I roll my eyes. I mustn't let him get under my skin.
"How old is my daughter then? She must be about seven now. Do you see her often? I wonder if she will miss you when you're dead?" He muses.
I am resolute, "She's not yours Ian. She's mine. And I will make sure that you never see her."
Doyle struggles in his chair, trying to launch himself over the table.
I stand up, "Good-bye Ian."
"No! You can't leave! You have to give me answers!" Doyle shouts. "Where is my son? Where is Declan? Where is my daughter? You bitch, tell me where you hid my children!" He demands.
I walk out of the interrogation room and Reid follows behind me.
Hotch is standing in front of me, his arms crossed, "You can't go back in there Emily, that was a complete disaster."
"I need to check something with Garcia Hotch," mumbles Spencer before escaping the upcoming confrontation.
Oh crap, Hotch was standing on the other side of the glass. I have to try and fix this. He is not going to bench me. "No, that's just it Hotch. He'll expect someone else to go back in. Let me try again, He's already rattled."
Hotch frowns, "He's not the only one."
I sigh, "Hotch, no one else will be able to do this. You know it, I know it."
His sigh mirrors my own, "Are you comfortable using your daughter as a bargaining chip?"
"She's not something to be used Aaron," I snap.
"Good. I'm glad you think that but Doyle is going to try," he reminds me.
"I know and I'll be ready," I promise.
When Spencer and I storm into the interrogation room ten minutes later I place several sheets of paper filled with photographs on the table and bark at Doyle, "Which one is Declan's mother?"
Doyle points to a picture in the middle and answers me, "Chloe Donaghy." He continues with, "But she had nothing to do with this."
"How do you know," I ask harshly, "Did you kill her too?"
He replies with scorn, "Because she tried to kill Declan before he was ever born."
I push on, "Who were her contacts in the states?"
"Who ever they are, they're as good as dead. She works with people, sucks them dry and then moves on," Doyle replies. He frowns, "She never wanted Declan, why would she take him?"
I sneer, "This is about you Ian. You just told me that you kept her a prisoner for nine months-"
Doyle cuts me off, "Seven."
I scoff, "Seven." Then it hits me, "Did Louise help deliver Declan?"
"Yes," He replies simply.
I place a picture of Louise's battered body on the table in front of Doyle and say, "That's called revenge Ian. Chloe didn't just forget about what you put her through."
"She would rather have been dead than to have my baby," says Doyle. "What was I supposed to do?"
"Chaining her to a bed wasn't the answer!" I answer angrily.
"She was paid a lot of money for her troubles," Doyle replies.
I sit down facing Doyle and explain, "That was torture Ian." I ask incredulously, "And you don't think she spent years figuring out how to do the same to you? She took the only thing you love. What else would she and Geracy have to gain from taking Declan?"
"Money," He answers. "That's all she ever cared about."
"I need a list of everyone with the kind of money they're looking for." I demand, handing Doyle a pad of paper and a pen. "And anyone else who wants to hurt you."
I am not the only one concerned when Garcia discovers that Lachlan McDermott Chloe's other accomplice owns a warehouse in Baltimore's harbor, something doesn't fit. The rest of the team, minus Reid and myself, has gone to check it out. We are staying here with Doyle just incase we need more information from him.
1:00 am
Reid's phone rings. He throws a pained look in my direction before swiftly exiting the office.
I follow Reid out and catch up to him in the observation room glaring at Ian Doyle a few minutes later.
He turns to face me, "Geracy is dead and Declan's disappeared. They had him at the warehouse but now they're gone."
My jaw drops in shock.
Reid throws open the door to the interrogation room where Doyle is still chained to the table, "Your ex is working with Lachlan McDermott."
Doyle hangs his head.
"How would he leave the country?" Reid demands.
"I don't know," Doyle says, not looking at Reid. "He's got endless funds, you'll never stop him."
"And he hates you doesn't he?" Reid sneers.
Doyle raises his head and smirks, "More than you do."
"Then I think we should give him what he really wants," says Reid, "You."
I burst in, "No! We are not letting him out of here Reid!"
Reid turns to me, a wild look in his eyes, "Emily I will chain myself to him if I have to!"
"He'll find a way to escape!" I can't believe Reid thinks this is a good idea!
"No he won't and we're running out of time. If we find McDermott now we have a chance to save Declan!" Reid says desperately.
I give in, "All right. I'll call Hotch. But Spencer-"
He nods, "I know Emily."
I exit the interrogation room and whip out the old cellphone Garcia had pressed onto my hand earlier.
The first thing Hotch asks after I explain the situation and Reid's solution is, "Is Strauss still there?"
I answer in the affirmative, "She is."
"We need full support."
"Doyle said McDermott's family imported weapons to a private airfield in Maryland," I tell him, while walking quickly down the hall.
"Is it close?" he asks.
I nod before I remember he can't see me and answer aloud, "Yes, it's in Largo."
"All right send me the coordinates," Hotch says and hangs up.
Rodrigo: Save your thoughts. Say nothing.
Cesare: I haven't uttered a word.
Rodrigo: No, but we can hear you thinking.
- The Borgias, S2.6
AN3: So here I have a chapter being posted on Catherine's birthday, but she doesn't even make a cameo appearance... oops! There was a scheduling conflict, and by scheduling conflict I mean that my story decided to take an unexpected left turn, she'll be here next week.
Thanks for reading, please review :)
