A/N: As always, thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter!
Chapter 35
"It was my fault. Emily got hurt protecting me."
Rossi glanced down at the girl. "Hannah, I don't think-"
"Who are you?" Elizabeth cut Rossi off, turning her appraising gaze on the young lady who had spoken. Hannah was sitting in between JJ and the empty chair her dad had been sitting in before he stepped out of the waiting room to take a phone call. She was wearing an oversized white and black striped sweater, black skinny jeans and black ankle boots. To the Ambassador, Hannah looked like any other teenage girl. There was something oddly striking about her eyes, but Elizabeth wouldn't realize until later that they were an exact carbon copy of Emily's eyes.
The thought never ever crossed her mind that the girl could be Emily's. Elizabeth Prentiss would never in a million years have imagined that she had a grandchild who was already a teenager and Emily never bothered to tell her.
"I'm Hannah," Hannah said nervously, searching the older woman's face for any hint of recognition. When she was met with only a blank stare in return, Hannah realized Emily still hadn't told her family about her and felt a jolt of hurt and disappointment. What the fourteen year old didn't realize was that in telling the BAU about her, Emily had told her family. Emily's team was the family she had chosen, and they all knew about Hannah. The young teenager who came from a close-knit family couldn't quite grasp that concept. To her, Emily's parents were the woman's family. Faltering a little, Hannah looked down and repeated what she had said earlier in a shaky voice. "It's my fault Emily got hurt. She was protecting me. I'm sorry."
JJ shot Hannah a look. As soon as Emily could stay awake for more than ten minutes at a time, JJ was going to have to tell Emily to talk to Hannah about her misplaced guilt. Deciding that could wait for now, JJ took charge of the situation with the Ambassador. The blonde profiler had spent years talking ambitious reporters into holding stories that would have made their careers. If anyone could talk Elizabeth Prentiss into holding off on calling Cruz, it would be her. "Ambassador Prentiss, I really think you need to talk to Emily before you do anything else. She's the only one who can tell you what you want to know. Come on, I'll take you to her. That is why you came all this way, isn't it? To see Emily." With that said, JJ started off in the direction of Emily's room. She didn't have to look back to know the Ambassador would follow her, and she was right.
Elizabeth didn't know what she was supposed to say to the child who had just apologized to her. Whoever was responsible for her daughter's predicament, it wasn't a child. As far as Elizabeth was concerned, the only person who should be apologizing was Emily's supervisor. Elizabeth didn't know exactly what had happened, but she knew Emily was stabbed by someone the team had arrested previously. How did that happen?
If it really happened when Emily was protecting Hannah, then why was Emily, the Unit Chief of the BAU, assigned to some kind of protective detail? Wasn't that sort of thing a little below Emily's pay grade? What were all of the other agents in the BAU doing when this happened that none of them were available?
Since Emily's supervisor was nowhere to be seen, Elizabeth had no choice but to get the answers from Emily herself. And, if Emily's answers weren't satisfactory, Elizabeth Prentiss would have no problem calling Matt Cruz directly. She hadn't hesitated to call Erin Strauss the last time something like this happened.
"That was my grandmother," Hannah mused once Elizabeth disappeared behind the double doors.
Rossi looked down at Hannah in concern. Emily should be the one to talk to the girl about Elizabeth, but there was something else Hannah said that was bothering him. "Listen to me," Rossi began in an authoritative tone that instantly got the fourteen year old's attention. "You can't blame yourself for what happened to Emily."
"It's my fault," Hannah insisted.
"How do you figure? Were you the one holding the knife?" Rossi questioned bluntly.
"No, but-"
"Then you didn't stab her," Rossi told the girl, not wanting to hear any buts. "You're not responsible for what Jeremy Sayer did to her."
"Did his mom really abandon him in a hospital?" Hannah asked.
"She did," Rossi confirmed. "But that was only after he broke his little sister's arm and tried to poison his entire family."
Hannah looked at Rossi with wide eyes. "How old was he when he did that?"
"Thirteen," Rossi replied gravely.
Hearing about a kid who was younger than her when he tried to kill his own family made Hannah wonder if she could ever do something like that. She didn't think she could, but she did share DNA with a killer. "I'm fourteen. I'm older than Jeremy was when he did that stuff," the young teenager said as if there was a magic age at which homicidal tendencies became apparent. "Do you think – if I was going to be like my father…would Emily know by now?"
"Oh, I don't think there's any chance of that happening," Rossi told her, knowing Emily wouldn't let it happen. And, even if she didn't have Emily in her life, he couldn't picture the caring kid sitting in front of him suddenly turning into a cold-blooded killer. After seeing her in action over the last twenty-four hours, everything Hannah did from her insistence that she was fine to her bad habit of blaming herself for things that were out of her control reminded David Rossi of Emily. His affection for the mother translated automatically into affection for the daughter. He looked down at the girl with a fond expression. "You've got way too much of your mother in you to ever do anything to intentionally hurt someone, kiddo."
Pleased by the comparison, Hannah offered Rossi a small smile. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"You should," Rossi told her. "Because it is."
"Emily's nothing like her mom," Hannah observed.
"No, she isn't," Rossi agreed.
Hannah glanced at him worriedly. "Her mom will be nice to her, right? You can't be mean to someone when they're lying in a hospital bed."
"There's a reason Emily isn't close to her mother," was all Rossi said in response, but his sympathetic grimace told Hannah all she needed to know.
The next time Emily woke up was when her surgeon came into her room to answer Elizabeth's questions about her prognosis and recovery. Her mother's sharp voice cut into her peaceful sleep, making Emily groan and open her eyes to see what was going on.
"Oh, good, you're awake," Elizabeth said when Emily opened her eyes.
"Mother?" Emily questioned in a stunned tone.
Elizabeth tried not to be hurt by the astonished look that crossed over her daughter's face.
The last time Emily nearly died, no one from the BAU gave her the courtesy of a simple phone call until after Emily was already dead – or at least that was what Aaron Hotchner told her at the time. It wasn't until Elizabeth started making phone calls to find out what happened that she began to question whether Emily was really dead or not. The more she learned about the events leading up to Emily's 'death,' the more she questioned what was really going on.
Elizabeth Prentiss had enough high-level contacts in the Agency to know when her daughter was being recruited by the Agency. It was no surprise Emily was highly sought after. Knowing how to speak other languages fluently was an important skill for any spy, and Emily spoke six different languages. With the proper training, Emily would be able to pass as a native in several countries. She would make the perfect spy.
Elizabeth advised Emily against joining the Agency, but did Emily listen? No, of course not. Her daughter had always been headstrong. Sometimes Elizabeth thought Emily got some sort of perverse enjoyment out of defying her wishes.
As an ambassador, there were times when Elizabeth had worked with intelligence operatives from the Agency to avoid international incidents in the countries where she was posted. It took the right combination of diplomacy and covert operations in order to avoid tensions escalating to violence. Elizabeth saw how the Agency used its own people. Everyone was an asset to them. She didn't want to see her strong, self-assured daughter used as a pawn. Beautiful young female spies made the best pawns.
Elizabeth didn't imagine her daughter had even thought about how often she would have to move. Intelligence operatives could be pulled out of one country and sent to another at any moment, without any warning. As a child, Emily hated moving around so much and made sure Elizabeth knew it. Why, then, would Emily choose a career where she would never be able to put down the roots she had always wanted? Emily just wasn't thinking about it like that. She wasn't thinking about what kind of life she would have. She was in her twenties then, still so young and reckless.
And then there were the politics at the Agency. Elizabeth knew her daughter and knew Emily would absolutely hate that.
All of Elizabeth's attempts to talk Emily out of joining the Agency only made her daughter more determined. Nothing Elizabeth said could convince her otherwise.
After Emily's training at 'the Farm' was over, Elizabeth tried to keep tabs on her daughter, but the Agency didn't exactly advertise the location of its spies. The more people who knew where a spy was, the more dangerous it was for that spy. Because Elizabeth knew that, she eventually stopped trying to keep tabs on Emily. Having her contacts constantly asking questions about her daughter's whereabouts and activities would only endanger Emily.
The case the BAU was working when Emily was declared legally dead was not a typical BAU case by any means. The man they were looking for wasn't a run of the mill serial killer or kidnapper. He was a former IRA captain turned international arms dealer. He was arrested by a taskforce comprised of the best and brightest from several different intelligence agencies and later escaped from a political prison in North Korea. It wasn't hard for Elizabeth to connect the dots between her daughter's past employer and the man who supposedly killed her, but Aaron Hotchner never confirmed her suspicions. Hotch's behavior, however, only made Elizabeth Prentiss more suspicious.
Hotch refused to allow her to see her daughter's body and insisted on a closed casket. When Elizabeth figured out a way around him, it became obvious why - it wasn't her daughter's body that they were burying.
Elizabeth Prentiss refused to attend the farce of a funeral.
That whole experience was one of the many reasons Elizabeth had gotten on the first flight out of Rome last night. She would have come regardless, but she did not trust the agents in the BAU to make any decisions about her daughter's wellbeing. The last time any of them made a decision for her, they faked Emily's death and Emily disappeared without a trace for six months.
Elizabeth wanted to be there to talk to Emily's surgeon personally. If there were any complications or if Emily had yet to wake up, Elizabeth would be the one making any medical decisions for her. It turned out to be wholly unnecessary. By the time Elizabeth arrived in the States, Emily had already woken up once and was clearly capable of making decisions for herself.
Still, Elizabeth wanted to make sure this was the last time her daughter was stabbed and nearly killed in the line of duty. It had happened twice already, and that was two times too many.
"Emily," Elizabeth said. "Don't look so surprised. Agent Rossi called me to tell me you were in the hospital so of course I came."
Emily made a mental note to thank Rossi for that later. "From Italy?" Emily said a little incredulously.
Her mother rarely took her to the doctor when she was a child and got sick, always saying she couldn't cancel a meeting with a head of state because Emily had a sore throat or the sniffles. It was almost always a nanny or housekeeper who supervised any emergency house calls the pediatrician made when Emily was sick. Now, her mother was suddenly flying in from Rome just because Emily spent one night in the hospital?
If she were still a child, Emily would be delighted that her mother dropped everything and flew all this way for her. Even now, in her heart she wanted to be pleasantly surprised, but a reel of all the times her mother had disappointed her was playing on a loop in her head. Why would this time be any different?
Emily expected her mother to disappoint her, and inevitably she always did. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy. Emily didn't realize that she was part of the problem. She was always so defensive with her mother, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. She never took anything her mother said or did at face value. It made it seem to Elizabeth that nothing she did was ever good enough. It didn't seem to matter what Elizabeth did – Emily was always looking for a fight.
"Yes, from Italy," Elizabeth replied. "You were stabbed, Emily."
Emily threw her head back on the pillows and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Why hadn't anyone warned her that her mother was on her way? A head's up would have been nice. "Dave told you what happened?"
"Only that you were stabbed. I still don't understand how or why," Elizabeth told Emily. "A young girl said you got hurt protecting her?"
"You talked to Hannah?" Emily's head snapped up, her eyes bugging out. Her mother could say whatever she wanted to her, but Hannah was off limits.
"Hannah? Yes, that was her name," Elizabeth responded in an offhand manner as if she could hardly be bothered to remember.
"Were you nice?" Emily asked warily.
That was what Emily was worried about? Emily could have died, and she was worried about whether or not Elizabeth was nice to some child. "Oh, honestly, Emily. I barely said two words to the girl," Elizabeth told her daughter in an exasperated tone. "I wanted to talk to your supervisor, not a child."
Wondering how much damage control she was going to have to do, Emily stifled a groan. "Please tell me you didn't call Cruz."
"I haven't yet, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to," Elizabeth answered primly. "This is the second time you've nearly been stabbed to death while working for the BAU. What were you even doing on protective detail in the first place? You're Unit Chief, are you not? Isn't that supposed to be more of a supervisory role?"
"I'm the leader of the team, but I'm still a part of the team. I'm a field agent. It isn't unusual for agents to get hurt in the field," Emily explained carefully.
"Well, I don't like it," Elizabeth told her daughter.
"I know, Mother," Emily said wearily. Her mother had made it very clear that she didn't like or approve of Emily's career choices. It was an old argument, and one Emily didn't have the strength to have again. She was so tired and, although she would never admit it, everything hurt.
Seeing how exhausted her daughter was, Elizabeth decided to drop the subject until Emily was feeling better. The conversation was not over, but they could pick back up where they left off some other time. "You need to rest now. We can discuss it later. I won't call Matt Cruz," Elizabeth offered in a somewhat conciliatory tone. The yet went unsaid. She still didn't understand why the leader of the BAU would ever have been assigned to some sort of protective detail that essentially amounted to babysitting. It was ridiculous!
Once the mother and daughter stopped arguing, Emily's surgeon checked her over again. Her surgeon answered all of her mother's questions. Emily's condition would be downgraded from critical to serious that afternoon if there were no complications and everything still looked good. They wouldn't move her out of the ICU and into a regular room until the next day, just to be safe. At Elizabeth's request, the surgeon said he could have the Chief of Plastic Surgery come by for a consult but warned her that a wound like this was definitely going to leave a scar.
Emily knew she was going to have to tell her mother about Hannah, whether she wanted to or not. She thought she knew how that conversation was going to go. Not well. She intended to break the news to her mother after the surgeon left, but she just didn't have it in her. The shock of seeing her mother there and the not-so-shocking conversation about her job had taken a lot out of her. Without meaning to, Emily fell back asleep. She was so completely out of it that she didn't realize her mother stayed, fussing over her before taking a seat next to the hospital bed.
When it was lunchtime, a nurse brought a tray of food in and woke Emily up. The nurse used the remote control to adjust the bed so that Emily was upright enough to eat.
Elizabeth was still there. If she hadn't been, Emily might have thought her mother showing up had been a dream.
Emily picked at her food as she tried to figure out what to say. There was no easy way to tell her mother that Hannah was her granddaughter. Emily took a deep breath. "You said you wanted to know why I was on protective detail," she began. "I wasn't. I was protecting Hannah, but it was personal for me."
"You know her?" Elizabeth inquired, giving her daughter her full attention.
Emily felt laughter bubbling up in her throat at the absurdity of her mother asking her if she knew her own daughter. If only her mother knew… The way the question was posed Emily knew her mother was thinking Hannah might be the child of a friend or a neighbor. Instead of laughing out loud, Emily exhaled sharply. "She's my daughter," she blurted out, deciding to just rip the Band-Aid off.
That girl couldn't be Emily's daughter. It had to be one of Emily's little jokes. Emily had always had an irreverent sense of humor. Making jokes at a time like this was completely inappropriate, but Elizabeth wouldn't put it past Emily. "Oh, very funny. Everything's a big joke to you. Teasing me at a time like this." Elizabeth shook her head and gave her daughter an exasperated look. "You're in the hospital. I'm sorry if I don't find that funny."
Taken aback a little, Emily glanced at her mother. "It's not a joke. I'm her mother. I gave her up for adoption."
When she realized Emily was being serious, Elizabeth just stared at her daughter for several long seconds. Elizabeth didn't understand how she could have a granddaughter who was a teenager and know nothing about it. "How old is she?" She asked eventually.
Her mother didn't sound angry exactly, but there was something in her voice that made Emily nervous. "Fourteen," Emily mumbled, lowering her gaze.
"Were you ever going to tell me?" Elizabeth asked quietly with no trace of the hurt she was feeling in her voice.
"I didn't tell anyone," Emily said defensively. She was trying to justify her actions. "If anyone knew that I had a child, she would have been in danger."
Now that she knew the truth, Elizabeth Prentiss looked back on the way Agent Rossi and Agent Jareau acted toward Hannah in the waiting room and realized they knew exactly who Hannah was to Emily. It must have been obvious that Elizabeth didn't know her own granddaughter when she saw her. What an idiot they must have thought she was.
"The other agents in the BAU all seemed to know," Elizabeth said bitterly, her cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment and indignation.
"They haven't known for very long," Emily told her mother as if that made it any better.
"They've known longer than me," Elizabeth pointed out. "Emily, I'm your mother. That child is my grandchild. You should have told me!" Elizabeth realized she was yelling and stopped to take a deep, calming breath. "Why does it feel like I'm always the last person to know when anything important happens in your life?" Elizabeth asked her daughter much more calmly. She wasn't just referring to the baby her daughter had given up for adoption but also to the times her daughter had been stabbed. She knew of at least two times Emily was stabbed, but that didn't mean there weren't other times when Elizabeth wasn't even called.
"Maybe because I knew you would act like this," Emily muttered under her breath.
Elizabeth was only acting like this because of the secrecy and lies of omission. Could Emily really blame her for that? Elizabeth stared at her daughter in frustration and disbelief. "I'm not upset that I have a grandchild, Emily," Elizabeth clarified. "I'm upset that you kept her a secret for fourteen years."
Emily sighed. "I couldn't tell you because I didn't want you to be disappointed in me."
None of this was ideal, but a single woman winding up pregnant was becoming more and more common. It was hardly the scandal now that it would have been in Elizabeth's day. Things were different now. Elizabeth couldn't say she approved, but it wasn't as if her daughter's indiscretion would destroy Elizabeth Prentiss' political career the way it would have even just a decade ago.
"For what?" Elizabeth demanded. "Having a baby out of wedlock?"
There it was. Emily wasn't surprised her ultra-conservative mother went there. Her mother was just proving her right. This was exactly why she didn't tell her. Even though she expected her mother to react like this, it still hurt. Emily knew her mother would ask about the father any minute now and decided to go on the offensive.
"Or for letting an international arms dealer impregnate me when I was undercover. Take your pick," Emily said flippantly.
Until Emily said that, Elizabeth hadn't actually made the connection between the man who nearly killed her daughter and the baby her daughter gave up for adoption. It still wasn't as shocking or scandalous for her as Emily might have imagined – Elizabeth knew full well what her daughter's job in the Agency entailed.
"He's the father?" Elizabeth said, suddenly feeling like she needed to sit down. Despite knowing that female spies used their feminine wiles on unsuspecting males to get what they wanted, usually information, Elizabeth Prentiss preferred not to think of her own daughter doing that. Now, she had to.
"Her father is the man who adopted her," Emily told her mother.
"I see," Elizabeth said stiffly. "Is there an adoptive mother?"
"There was," Emily answered. "She died from breast cancer just before Hannah turned twelve."
Elizabeth shot Emily a questioning look. "Earlier you said you were protecting her."
"Someone my team arrested eight years ago has been stalking several of us. He threatened all of our children," Emily began to explain. "But he only went after Hannah."
"She wasn't hurt, was she?" Elizabeth questioned in a concerned tone as she tried to recall whether she'd seen any obvious injuries on the girl. There were no bruises or bandages that she recalled.
"No," Emily said.
"I'm glad," Elizabeth told her daughter sincerely. "I'm not exactly thrilled about the circumstances of her birth," Elizabeth said honestly. "But that child is my grandchild."
Elizabeth didn't know what to think, but once she calmed down, she would actually be pleased. She had all but given up on the idea of grandchildren. Her only child was in her forties and had never married. There wasn't a boyfriend to speak of. Emily didn't seem to have any intention of ever settling down. At this rate, Elizabeth thought it was highly unlikely that Emily would have a child, which meant Hannah may very well be Elizabeth's only grandchild.
The Ambassador may not have been able to give her own daughter the time and attention she was so desperate for as a child, but she felt that a grandchild would be different. Being a mother was a full-time job – one Ambassador Prentiss never had enough time for. She was guilty of prioritizing peace talks and treaty negotiations over family dinners and bedtime stories. To this day, she didn't think that was so wrong. Her work was important. And it wasn't as though she left Emily alone to fend for herself. Emily had everything she could ever want or need, but it was never enough for her. Nothing Elizabeth did was ever enough for her.
With a grandchild, Elizabeth wouldn't be expected to be there day after day. Elizabeth could see the girl whenever she was in D.C., and, any time she saw her, Elizabeth could spoil her. That was what grandmothers did, and Elizabeth could do that.
"She's a good kid," Emily told her mother.
"I want to meet her properly," Elizabeth decided.
"Only if you can be nice," Emily said seriously, extremely wary of how her mother might behave toward an illegitimate grandchild. Her mother was taking it a lot better than Emily thought she would, but Emily could still feel her mother silently judging her. Emily knew her mother's current restraint may come from the fact that she was currently in the hospital recovering from a stab wound. "I know you don't approve of what I did or how I did it, but that is between you and me. Leave her out of it," Emily warned her mother.
"I'll be very nice," Elizabeth promised. "I'm a diplomat, dear," she reminded her daughter, who still looked unconvinced. "If I can be nice to oppressive dictators, I think I can be nice to a fourteen year old girl."
With Emily's grudging permission, Elizabeth went out to the waiting room to find Hannah. The Ambassador was surprised to find the chair Hannah was sitting in before empty.
"Where is my granddaughter?" Elizabeth asked Rossi.
"Her dad took her to get some lunch," Rossi replied. "She'll be back soon."
"Well, tell her that I would like to speak with her when she gets back," Elizabeth said. "I'll be in Emily's room."
Almost half an hour later a very hesitant Hannah made her way to Emily's hospital room, where Emily had fallen back asleep. "Um, Ambassador Prentiss?" Hannah questioned shyly, uncertain how she was supposed to address the older woman.
The form of address caught Elizabeth off guard. She didn't know what she expected the girl to call her. She had always been Mrs. Prentiss or Ambassador Prentiss to children who belonged to her staff. Even the children of her closest friends addressed her respectfully. Elizabeth Prentiss was never the type of adult who told children they could call her by her first name, but this wasn't just any child – it was her grandchild. She wasn't sure if her granddaughter would be comfortable calling her 'Grandma' at this point. Fretting over it, Elizabeth invited Hannah in. "Come in, dear."
"How's Emily?" Hannah asked with a glance at the sleeping woman in question.
"She's doing as well as can be expected. They're hoping to move her out of the ICU by tomorrow," Elizabeth told the girl.
Hannah's expression brightened instantly.
While Emily slept, the Ambassador got to know her granddaughter a little. Their conversation started out stilted, with Elizabeth asking all of the normal questions adults always asked children when trying to make polite conversation with the younger generation and Hannah answering politely.
Elizabeth Prentiss recognized the name of the private preparatory high school her granddaughter attended and approved – it was an excellent school. She listened attentively as Hannah talked about her favorite subjects and playing on the volleyball team at her school. All in all, she found Hannah to be a bright, engaging young lady.
"Where did Emily go to high school? Italy?" Hannah asked her grandmother.
"She was in Rome for her sophomore year but finished her schooling right here in D.C.," Elizabeth explained. "She graduated from Garfield High School."
"I know where Garfield is," Hannah said.
"I wanted her to go to the same school you're going to, but I made the mistake of meeting her there for the interview with the principal," Elizabeth told the girl. "Imagine my surprise when she showed up dressed up like it was Halloween. She looked like she was trying to be some sort of dark witch or something. She was even wearing black lipstick, not to mention she had way too much eye makeup on for a girl her age." Much to Elizabeth's dismay, that had been the start of her rebellious daughter's gothic phase. "I could have died when I saw her," Elizabeth went on. "I was furious. Needless to say, she didn't get in."
It wasn't a question of grades or intelligence. On paper, Emily Prentiss would have been a fine addition to any private school. It was what Emily wore to the interview with the principal and how she behaved during the actual interview. It was almost as if Emily didn't want to get in.
Elizabeth could have made a phone call to smooth the incident over, but after that stunt, she was afraid Emily would do something else to completely embarrass her. The children of some of the big movers and shakers in Washington attended that school. It just wouldn't do for any of them to see Ambassador Prentiss' daughter acting like an out of control wild child. With that in mind, Elizabeth decided to forego private high schools and instead enrolled Emily in the best public high school in their district.
"Wait, seriously?" Hannah said, looking at her grandmother in disbelief. "Emily actually did that?"
"What'd I do?" Emily asked groggily as she woke up.
"Showed up to your interview at Westborough Prep dressed up like some sort of a dark witch," Elizabeth reminded her daughter gleefully, taking a little bit of pleasure in sharing the story with her granddaughter. It was a grandmother's prerogative to share embarrassing stories, after all.
Emily gave her mother a baleful glare. "Mother!"
"Don't 'Mother' me, Emily. I was just being honest," Elizabeth said mock-innocently.
Emily shifted her gaze to her daughter, who looked half-scandalized, half-amused. "Well, that's one way to get out of wearing a uniform," Hannah remarked cheekily.
Emily groaned and shot her mother an accusatory look that said look what you did.
"Do you have any other good stories about Emily from when she was my age?" Hannah asked her new grandmother eagerly.
"Too many to count."
