Chapter 19

Life at the BAU without Gideon was…strange.

They all, to some capacity, expected he would return. Even Hotch, who had reassured Reid, expected the sullen face of his mentor to grace the round table in the days that followed. Instead, word of his resignation finally reached Hotch's desk and, that same afternoon, after taking some time to mull it over, Hotch gave word to the rest of them.

For weeks, Spencer poured over the letter. He read it at his desk, at the roundtable, on the jet. When he wasn't reading it, it was clasped tightly in his hand, his eyes vacant, his mind elsewhere. From across the bullpen, sitting at her desk, when the light hit the paper just right, Emily could see the way it was scarred with a hundred little branches of white, creased where Reid had folded and unfolded it over and over again.

Those first few weeks, she kept a close eye on him; they all did, though they tried to be subtle about it. Reid was still adjusting to sobriety, balanced precariously at the edge of the dark pit of addiction. Stability was crucial, at this point of recovery; Emily knew from personal experience. If anything was going to make him fall right back into the depths, it would be this. The loss of a mentor, of someone he looked up to and most importantly, the father figure he craved was exactly the sort of last drop that could make the cup run over. Emily was expecting it, and she wouldn't even have blamed him for it, but, surprisingly, Spencer stayed strong. He did not falter, not for one moment and if he considered it, he never admitted it to any of them. He was sullen and sad and stuck, but he was not high. And for that mercy, they were all grateful. And proud.

As well as Reid, she watched Aaron closely, or as closely as she could, from the respectable and inconspicuous distance they now subtly maintained between the two of them. Gideon had been his mentor, too, and although Aaron was the official team leader, Gideon had been there as a sort of safety net; whenever Aaron was unsure, and it didn't happen often, Gideon had been there to reassure, to prompt, to redirect. Often just to nod and confirm that he was on the right track. No more. They all knew he was capable, of course. Not once did any of them falter in their confidence in their unit chief; even Derek, who was quick to question him when necessary, and Emily, who challenged him to the point of exhaustion, stayed sound in their conviction. No, they all knew that they would be just fine, eventually. Once the sting of Gideon's departure had settled, and the wound began to heal, as the cut on Emily's forehead had, they would be just fine. Spencer and Aaron, too. The ship would keep sailing, even after the first mate had abandoned ship. The storm would pass.

A few weeks passed, then a month, and they began to settle into this new way of being. One case, then two, and, slowly, she saw Aaron's confidence grow, as he realised what the rest of them already knew; that he didn't need a safety net, after all. He hadn't needed one for years, but had simply grown used to Gideon's presence and had developed the habit of turning to him for advice. Now, instead, he turned to the team. This change was a positive one for them all, for they had always worked in collaboration, but now they felt as though they were all on truly even footing. JJ, in particular, who had been used to being largely dismissed by Gideon whenever she spoke on cases, was being consulted more, her thoughts, experience and knowledge taken more into account. Afterall, Hotch pointed out, it was her desk that all of their cases came across; she chose which cases to show to him, it fell largely on her shoulders to decide which cases were the most time-dependent. She profiled, alongside the rest of her work.

A month or so after Gideon's resignation, such a case came across JJ's desk.

"A series of home invasions in Denver have turned deadly," She briefed them on the jet, recapping what they'd already discussed in the conference room, "resulting in the murder of entire families."

"My god," Emily muttered, under her breath, as she looked through the photographs JJ had included in their packs; they told a bloody, violent story. At the back of the pile, there was one that lacked the violence of the rest; a young girl, asleep in a hospital bed. Even in sleep, her brow was furrowed, her fists clenched. The trauma of her ordeal, of the loss of her family, lived in her, even in sleep she couldn't escape it.

"That's Carrie," JJ, sitting opposite her, said, noticing the picture that had caught Emily's attention, "She was the only one left alive when the Ortiz family was murdered."

"I'm glad she's alive…but why is she?" Emily said, frowning at the picture, "Leaving her alive, it's messy. It's risky. It's a change in M.O. Why let Carrie live?"

"Maybe she's the real target and the intention is maximum pain infliction." Morgan suggested, "Being the only one left alive hurts more than dying with the family."

"Depends on the family," Emily muttered, forgetting where she was.

Eyes on the picture in her hand, on the sad little orphan girl in the hospital bed, she didn't notice the way JJ's eyes flitted across to her, or the glance Morgan and Reid shared. The only one who didn't look at her with confusion and a little pity was Hotch, who understood exactly where she was coming from.

Three days later and not only had they captured the killers, but they'd taken a group of children out of an abusive foster home. All in all, it was as successful as a case got for them. But there was still the loose end of Carrie, and Emily couldn't stop thinking about what would happen to her, and how many foster homes there were out there like the one they'd just shut down.

It was the first time she and Aaron had been alone for a while. The others had gone to check out of the hotel and grab everyone's bags, so they could head to the airstrip and be in the air as soon as possible. Emily had been in the bathroom when the discussion happened and had emerged to find the other three having left, and Aaron in the conference room alone, clearing up all of their evidence.

They were working on it. The decision had been made, if silently, for them both to move forward at the BAU, and that meant getting along and not sleeping together, and one of those things was definitely easier than the other. So, heaving a sigh and smoothing her hair, Emily put on a show of striding confidently into the office, a smile on her face, and made the effort of comfortably sharing a space with him, without it being awkward or charged. Aaron-Hotch (she had to get into the habit of addressing him more formally) glanced up at her, but said nothing as he gathered the papers.

"I could take her." The words came out as a response to the awkward silence that had immediately settled between them. The thought had been eating away at her, posing itself at first as ludicrous, and had morphed into just an absurdity, then foolishness, then an anxious little ball in her stomach, because she couldn't be seriously considering this, could she? Gradually, what had at first seemed utterly farcical had mutated into a tiny, glistening hope. There had been a child, once. A sweet little boy that had almost been hers, who, in some ways, had been. She had loved Declan, had grown used to his presence, and had been forced to let him go. And before that, there had almost been a baby. A baby she couldn't possibly keep. A baby that, at fifteen, had seemed like the scariest thing in the world but which, at thirty-two, felt like a thousand and one ifs, buts and if only's that would never be realised. For a brief moment in time, inside of her had existed all the possibilities in the universe, and, agonisingly and to the detriment of several important relationships, including her relationship with God, Emily had chosen herself and her future, and she had never looked back. Emily had never regretted her decision, not once, but sometimes, she let her mind wander to what might have been. Carrie needed a home, and she could offer her one. And, if she could then why shouldn't she? The thought of it filled her with fear, but somehow, at the same time, excitement, and she thought this might be what people meant when they said they began to hear their biological clock counting down.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth though, and she saw the way Hotch's brow furrowed, Emily wanted to take them back. She wished she had never opened her mouth because the way he was looking at her made her feel as though she were two inches tall. Clearly, he did not think it was a good idea. Did he think she was entirely incapable of taking care of somebody? Did he think her too cold? Too indifferent?

"Take her?" He frowned at her.

"Carrie." She clarified, trying not to be disheartened by his response, even though she could already tell that he was far from onboard with the idea. "To D.C."

"You mean to live with you?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah."

"Why would you want to do that?" He meant the question genuinely. She was a young, single woman in D.C. It made no sense to him why she would want to bring home a teenager with as much trauma as Carrie now had.

Emily shrugged, nonchalantly, as though she hadn't given this as much thought as she had. "I have the room, money and, you know, she's smart." She said, making it sound as though she was taking Carrie on casually, and not attempting to build her own family. "Two, three years, she goes to college." The unsaid implications there being that she, Emily, would pay for the girls college.

"Prentiss," He said, using her surname. She lifted her eyes to his, glanced around, expecting to see the rest of the team. They weren't there. When she looked back at him, his eyes were hard, his expression unreadable. She straightened, her lips twitching out of their slight smile. "This is the job…and I need to know that you can be objective."

Objective. Right. She raised her eyebrows, hoping to put into her expression those thoughts; that it was rich, coming from him, that he was now asking her to be objective.

"And I need to know that I can be human." She shot back at him, viciously. For a moment, the frown on his face softened with surprise at her anger, and she didn't give him the chance to reply. "Do you trust me or not, Aaron?" The habit of calling him by his first name, of the casual intimacy they had shared, still hadn't left her. "Because you can't seem to make up your mind and I can't keep walking on eggshells. It's not fair. It's especially not fair when you were the one lying to me for months."

That was a low blow, and not entirely true.

"Really? I wasn't the only one lying, Emily." He snapped back at her, and Emily actually took a step back from the table, raising her eyebrows.

"You knew that and you still begged me to come back-"

"I didn't beg-:

"So if you think that even compares-"

"You could have destroyed my career," Hotch yelled, oblivious as people began to glance at them, noting the raised voices.

"But I didn't!" She yelled back at him, slamming her hands onto the desk, "Instead, I risked mine on a married man!"

He fell silent, then, looking pointedly at the police officer who had stood up from her desk and looked as though she were about to enter the office to diffuse the situation. He forced himself to take a deep breath, dropping his chin to his chest where he stood. Across from him, Emily's chest rose and fell rapidly as she breathed hard through her nose, reigning in her sudden anger.

"JJ heard from the family and they're on their way from L.A." He said, his voice returning to an appropriate volume. Emily stared at him, at the top of his head; giving her the moment she needed to school her expression, to compose herself, as all of her anger fell away as quickly as it had appeared. She couldn't keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"Oh." Her shoulders relaxed, as all of the fight went out of her. Tilting his head up, Hotch caught the frown on her face before she put on a performative smile for him, and for the officers still watching them. "That's great."

It was great, for Carrie. She would be with family; with people who knew who and what she had lost, and could share stories of those people with her. People who shared in that loss and grief with her. Family who knew her culture and could keep her connected to that important part of herself. This was a good thing. Still, and she knew it was a little bit insane, but Emily felt as though she had just lost a third child. This, she supposed, was what she got for planning a future with a kid she barely knew.

Later, on the jet, her face must have reflected this misplaced grief, because she caught JJ watching her, a concerned expression on her face. She frowned at the blonde, an unspoken question. She hadn't mentioned her plans for Carrie to anybody but Hotch, so was surprised when JJ spoke.

"Are you okay?" She asked, genuinely concerned.

"Yeah," Emily replied, her voice lilting at the end in a question of why JJ was asking.

They always managed to forget, JJ thought, that she could profile, too.

"They're good people." She reassured her, Carrie's family."

Emily sighed, dropping JJ's gave momentarily. "Good," she nodded, and she really meant it when she said, "I'm glad."

She could have left it there, but JJ heard it in the slight pause of Emily's words. The pain, the longing. "I think it's a good idea, though."

The brunette furrowed her brow in a question, "What?"

"You. Kids." Emily huffed a slight laugh, and JJ shrugged off her nonchalance, pushing the issue, needing her friend to know that she meant what she said: that she wasn't crazy for wanting what she wanted. "I can see it."

Emily paused, her eyes elsewhere, briefly flitting over Hotch, who sat at the other end of the plane, before she turned them back onto JJ. Gone was the amusement, replaced by something earnest, something softer and in her eyes, JJ could see the ache she felt. "Yeah?" Vulnerable, Emily asked for reassurance, and JJ gave it willingly, nodding. A smile, small and genuine and warm, broke across Emily's face and she turned to watch as the tarmac fell away from them, images of dark haired little children flitting through her mind. Maybe, one day.

Still, years down the line, whenever her thoughts drifted to the girl who had left such an impression on her, Emily would have to search her up, checking social media to make sure she was doing okay. Carrie ended up going to California State University on a full scholarship, graduating with honours in Psychology. A few years later, she got engaged to a boy from her class. The final time Emily checked up on her, over a decade and a half later, Carrie was married and had just given birth to a son, who she named after her brother, Daniel.

Katie Jacobs was the second little girl to go missing from a shopping mall in as many weeks. As soon as Hotch got the call, he knew the likelihood of this ending badly.

"We'll blue light it to you, be there as soon as we can." He hung up the phone, grabbing his blazer off the back of his chair as he took large steps across the office, time being of the essence.

"We need to move," He announced to the bullpen, as he flung open the door to his office. Though the office was full of people, only three of them looked up. They were on their feet instantly, moving like a well oiled machine, as one, each of them mirroring his movements, pulling jackets from the back of their chairs and falling into step beside, or behind, him as he passed each of their desks. They picked up JJ on the way, who was already on the phone and calling ahead to the airstrip, Hotch having one-belled her; their signal for immediate action.

"The jet'll be ready when we get there," She said, the phone pressed between her ear and shoulder as she struggled into her jacket. Emily grabbed for it, holding it so she could slide her arm in, and JJ cast her a grateful smile.

SWAT had already secured the mall when they arrived.

"Nobody's been allowed in or out?" Hotch asked, and the replies confirmed this fact. "Good." He said, surveying the crowd with that same, serious look he got when he was thinking hard. "Somebody in here knows what happened to that little girl."

"We'd like to speak with the family," JJ told the officer, who nodded, leading her and Emily away, to five people huddled together. "Hi," JJ began, holding out her hand, "My name is Jennifer Jareau, this is SSA Emily Prentiss. We're from the FBI."

The night passed slowly. On the one hand, Emily felt as though that were a good thing; every second counted, after all. On the other, it was painful to wait around for bad news about a little girl. The family were in agony, yes, but the agents knew the statistics, and every moment that passed felt like a drop of Katie's lifesblood spilling onto the floor. The darkness drew on, seemingly endless.

Each member of the family was interviewed separately, each one more distraught than the last. The only ones Emily was positive they could rule out were the mother, who grasped her daughter's cardigan so tightly when JJ asked for it, that Emily's heart ached from across the room, and the boy, because none of them could figure out how he could possibly have disposed of Katie in a way that made it so that nobody could find her. The statistics said it was the parents, or a close family member, but she was fairly certain it wasn't the boy; even if he was incredibly twitchy and uncomfortable.

"What do you think?" Emily asked Hotch, when he came out of interviewing the father. He shook his head, imperceptibly.

"He doesn't know anything." Hands on his hips, Hotch surveyed the crowd, and Emily, arms folded across her chest, followed his gaze. At her side, JJ was doing the same. "If someone was abusing this child, I don't believe it's him."

A few seconds passed, as he surveyed the crowd, then turned to the girls, both of whom were staring at him. "What?"

It was JJ who answered, quietly, "You said was. Past tense."

He had, he realised. He had been continuously going over the numbers in his head, as he knew they all had. From 48 hours, all the way down to one, and all because they were involved and the unsub was trapped within these four walls with them. Still, the concern on their faces made Hotch backtrack, "That's because when I find out who is abusing her, they'll never get the chance to do it again."

He muttered an excuse me and stepped past them, walking away. Beside her, JJ's eyes had returned to the shoppers, and she missed the way Emily's eyes lingered on him as he walked away. She could see the tension in his shoulders. They all felt a little heavier whenever it was a case involving children, but Emily knew he felt it a little worse than the rest of them did.

"Psychologically, it makes no sense. I shouldn't trust men more, if my past is anything to go off of."

His words from their car ride to Hankel's had haunted her since. There was darkness in his past, she knew. Darkness he had never exposed her to, darkness she wouldn't pry about, but it was there, nonetheless. They all had parts of themselves they would rather keep hidden. Derek's past had been exposed, laid bare for the team to see, and all his pain along with it. JJ fiddled constantly with the necklace she wore, occasionally, subconsciously, pressed it to her lips as though in prayer; it was obviously more than just a necklace. Garcia made them all text her whenever they arrived home after driving. Spencer panicked whenever he couldn't remember something, which wasn't often, which only made the meltdowns worse.

There were some things they just didn't share. She knew that as well as any of them.

"Where is she?" Her eyes flashed with anger and panic, images of a dark haired little girl, terrified, alone, scared and choking flying through her mind. Her breath quickened, as Emily curled her hands into fists, trying to keep herself in check, desperate to wring Susan's neck.

Susan's sobs only grew more hysterical, her face red and blotchy, her hands shaking as she raised them to cover her face, and Emily was disgusted. She couldn't hide her disdain, her lips pursed together and nose upturned, as she stared down at the woman in front of her. Thoughts of Katie's parents, the screams of her mother, only fuelled Emily's revulsion.

Heart pounding in her chest, blood rushing in her ears, Emily lunged, grabbing at Susan's wrists, dragging them away from her face, unable to allow Susan to sit there and feel sorry for herself a moment longer.

"Emily." From the doorway came Aaron's warning, but she couldn't hear him. This, he realised, was the Emily who had her SS status taken away. This was the Emily whose file labelled her as a rogue - he had managed to dig out her original file, before Strauss had it edited to check all of the BAU boxes. The look in her eyes, the open hatred for Susan, the desperation to help Katie, it was almost dangerous. He halted, though, because Susan was looking at her with such fear that he thought she just might break.

"Where is she, Susan?" Emily demanded, spittle flying from her mouth as she lost it, "Where is your niece? The little girl who trusted you, who loved you, who called you Auntie Susan? Who drew you pictures and wrote 'love from, Katie' on your birthday cards?" With every word, she grew louder. Somewhere, Aaron was saying her name. She held fast to Susan's wrists, wet, blue eyes looking into her own, full of fear. "The niece you ignored when your monster of a husband put his hands on her? Remember holding her, when she first came home from the hospital? Remember that? Did you ever imagine you'd be the one to kill that tiny, little baby, Susan?"

"Emily," A hand on her shoulder dragged her away, and Aaron placed himself firmly between the two of them. She would have protested, but she didn't need to because, through uncontrollable sobs, Susan was confessing.

"She's in the locker room, in the basement," She cried, through shallow, desperate breaths and an outpouring of tears. Whether it was guilt or fear didn't matter. Aaron met Emily's eyes for just a moment, the briefest second of relief, before he turned and raced from the room. Emily closed her eyes, sending a prayer to the god she didn't believe in. Please let her be okay.

"Shut up," She spat at Susan, as she rounded the table, dragging her arms behind her back, "Stand up." Emily kicked the chair out from beneath her as Susan climbed, clumsily, to her feet. "You're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, anything you do say can and will be used against you in a court of law." She clicked the cuffs into place, a little too tightly, perhaps, "Not that they'll need it."

She led Susan outside, still unaware of Katie's fate. Ahead of them, though, she saw the stretcher, with a conscious Katie laying down, her mother at her side. Sighing with relief, she smirked at Susan, on whose face there was a blank expression, as though she had mentally checked out. Emily didn't spare her a word as she put a hand onto her head and shoved her down into the cop car.

"Feels like a job well done, hm?" She said, as she strode to where Morgan stood.

"Yeah," Morgan agreed, "A case where nobody died. Won't see another one of these for a few years."

"Where's the kid?" She asked, folding her arms against the early morning chill.

"Over there," Morgan nodded towards a police car, where Spencer was sitting with Jeremy in the back seat, the door still wide open. Beside him, the boy was dejected, repeatedly swiping his eyes with his sleeve. They stood in silence, watching Reid, and the child who was so different, and yet so like him, also sitting in silence. Sometimes there were just no words.

"Are you okay?" Emily asked, finally, breaking the silence. She had to ask. Morgan didn't reply, he just knocked his shoulder into hers, a gentle acknowledgement and reassurance that said no, but I will be.

"Hey," Penelope's voice was tired and quiet as she and JJ sidled up beside them. Automatically, Morgan wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Emily gave JJ a tired smile that she answered by slowly closing her eyes, her head dropping forward, heavy with exhaustion.

"Come on," Morgan said, starting to walk towards the cars. "I'll drive you guys home."

"I'll be right there," Emily said. JJ made to wait for her, but she waved her on, "Go warm the car up."

She found Hotch finishing up a conversation with SWAT, and smiled at him as the officer passed her. Tucking her hair behind her eat, she stepped up the stairs, pausing on the step just down from him.

"Hey." She gestured back towards the car park, "Morgan just offered to drop us all home. Are you going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine." He said, shortly. Emily nodded, turning to leave, then pausing, unable to leave things unsaid any longer.

"I know," She said, softly, "That these cases hit you a bit harder-"

"I'm fine, Prentiss." He cut her off, formally, and Emily clamped her mouth shut, neck recoiling as he used her surname, feeling as though she had lifted her hand to comfort him and he had flinched away from her. "Get some sleep."

"Yeah, you too." But even as she spoke, he was walking away. Watching his back, the urge to go after him fought with their newly established relationship, or lack thereof it, and the boundaries they were trying to build. Finally, after he disappeared out of view, she turned and walked to the carpark.

David Rossi was a stubborn, old man who thought he knew better than anybody else on the team. Emily was used to his sort; he was the kind of man she'd had trouble dealing with in the past. Men like David Rossi did not like Emily Prentiss. They liked to look at her, sure, but they tended to not like much else about her. They didn't like how she carried herself, with an air of confidence and importance, instilled into her since childhood by Elizabeth. Stand tall, Emily, don't let them look down on you. It was one of the only good lessons Elizabeth had taught her. They didn't like that she was outspoken, they didn't like that she could shoot rings around them and they didn't like how well she did her job, when she did it better than they did. So, from the outset, Emily was wary of David Rossi. She knew of him, of course; knowing the history of the BAU and knowing David Rossi were one and the same. She also knew of his reputation with women, and, when Hotch announced to the room that he would be joining the team, the glance JJ gave her said she knew, too. Still, Spencer told them, regardless of the reputation that followed him, his books were the stuff of genius.

The way Spencer spoke about him, Emily knew he thought he had found another Gideon but when Rossi barely glanced their way during his first few days on the job, Emily saw Spencer's excitement rapidly wane. He treated them, initially, with such disdain that she wondered why he had even taken the job in the first place.

"Did I tell you what he said to Hotch about me?" JJ asked her, as they sat around a small, round table at O'Keefe's.

It was Saturday night; their first one off in weeks. Rossi's first week had passed in a sort of stoic silence that told them he had no plans to get to know any of them. His air of importance would have been laughable if it wasn't so rude. They'd come here to decompress; the atmosphere in the office had been tense, which was unusual, as they all tried to navigate their new senior agent.

"No, what?" Emily said, raising her voice over the beat of the music as she lifted her glass to her lips.

"He said to Hotch, "we didn't have that last time I was here'," JJ waved her hand, dismissively, "Something awful and sexist along those lines, anyway. And then he covered his tracks by pretending he was talking about the jet, but I could feel his eyes practically burning into my ass."

"Do you know how many sexual harassment seminars he inspired during his first tenure at the FBI?" Penelope leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. Emily and JJ followed her lead, leaning in, mostly so they could hear her a bit better over the music. "The man is a dog."

"An old dog," Emily raised her eyebrows, leaning back in her chair and crossing one leg over the other. Her skirt rode up, exposing an expanse of thigh, as she cast her dark gaze across the bar, stretching her arms behind her head. The movement pulled her dress tight across her chest, and JJ choked on her drink as she watched a man who happened to be passing their table almost walk into a wall.

"Yeah, he's a dog," JJ smirked, across the table, and as she whipped her head around, Emily had to restrain the smile that upturned her lips, eyes widening, in feigned innocence.

"I don't know what you mean?" She said, dropping her gaze, though her tone said she was playing with them.

"Come on, lady, could you be more on the prowl, tonight?" Penelope asked, "Look at that dress. You practically poked my eye out when you walked in the door."

"Fine," Emily joked, making to slide her arms into the leather jacket that rested on the back of her chair, to loud protests from both of her friends. She laughed, and picked back up her glass, with a shrug, "So, maybe I'm looking to get a bit flirty, tonight."

She had decided, definitively, to get over Hotch. And, if her college days had taught her anything, that usually required getting under someone else. So maybe the black, silky dress was quite low cut, but the sleeves were long, and maybe she had foregone a bra, and perhaps the slit on her thigh did rise a little high, especially when she crossed her legs like that, and maybe the heels that laced up her legs with straps lined with tiny diamonds were a bit higher than usual. But, so what? Emily didn't even need all of the bait she was fishing with, it just added to her fun. And if part of her was hoping the boys would show up, and Aaron might see her all dressed up for someone else, well, that was his business, not hers. She was moving on, definitively. Definitively.

"Are you looking to get flirty with the whole bar?" JJ asked, casting her eyes around the dark room, "because that little demonstration," At this, her eyes flicked, pointedly, towards Emily's cleavage, "just earned you the attention of almost every man in this bar."

Emily flicked her head, as though tossing her hair, but her eyes flitted across the room. JJ was right, her performative little stretch had attracted several gazes. She smiled at one man whose eye she accidentally caught, but the dopey grin he gave her, dumbstruck, told immediately that she was too much for him.

"What's brought this on?" Penelope asked, swaying in her chair in time to the music, a wordless song that pounded with a deep and catchy beat.

"Yeah, we've been trying to get you out there for months," JJ quipped, swirling her straw around her glass, "Why the sudden change of heart?"

Emily shrugged, buying herself time to think of an explanation, since she couldn't tell her friends the truth, that she had been in a situationship she'd thought was exclusive that had turned out to be…very much not, with their boss. It was tempting, though, when she imagined the look on their faces if she told them.

"I was just settling back into life in DC, settling into a new job," She offered up, lamely, "not to mention, as soon as my mother gets word that I'm seeing anybody, she'll come sniffing back around." She tipped back her glass, draining it, "It's the only time she takes an interest in my life, thankfully."

"So you stay single to avoid your mother?" JJ tilted her head, narrowing her eyes, sceptically.

"No," Emily said quickly, raising her eyebrows and bringing out the big guns, anything to get the attention off of her, "I stay single to avoid having to fly across the country, every weekend."

"Excuse me, Agent Jareau?" Glasses dropped down onto the middle of her nose, Penelope surveyed JJ over the top of them, her mouth open in shock and amusement, "Will you be attending mardi-gras, this year, then?"

Even in the dim light of the bar, they could see that JJ had turned a deep shade of magenta. "That is…" She stuttered over her words. The girls mimicked her, dissolving into tipsy giggles as JJ buried her head in her hands. "God, I hate profilers." She said, flicking her empty glass in Emily's direction, the very last drops of her drink splattering across her arm.

"Hey, it's not my fault you're not subtle," Emily held her hand to her ear, miming being on the phone, and dropped her voice to a stage-whisper, "I'll be there by one. No, no, I'll take a cab from the airport. Can't wait to see you, too."

"You snoop!" JJ accused, hotly, though she wasn't really angry. There had grown a softness between them, and it was as though Emily had always been there, as though they had always been a trio.

"We're happy for you," Penelope said, sincerely, reaching across and grasping JJ's arm, as though she could emote through her touch exactly how happy they were for her. JJ, still blushing, couldn't help but smile, although it was obvious that she was still a little embarrassed at having been called out.

"It's just a…" She was going to say fling, but the word died on her tongue, because it felt wrong to degrade whatever she and Will had to just that, when they'd been flying back and forth across the country almost every weekend for two months. Instead, she shrugged, "We'll see."

Emily and Penelope exchanged a glance, a tiny, knowing smile on each of their faces. Penelope, in particular, who had been around longer, and had more experiences of JJ's romances, could tell that something about this was different. Something about Will was different. Maybe it was the passage of time, a maturation of spirit and self, but this relationship, even though Penelope and Emily were on the very outskirts, was something real.

"Hello," JJ perked up, sitting up straight, suddenly. She nodded into the corner. Her friends turned, as one, not at all subtly. "Isn't that the guy who hit on you, a while ago?"

It was. It was Scott, sitting at the same table he always seemed to occupy everytime Emily saw him in here. She shook her head, though, as though she didn't remember, more out of habit than anything else

"Yes, it is!" JJ insisted, "Emily, go talk to him."

"No, no," Emily shook her head, "I can't leave you guys; it's girls night out."

"It's your girl's night out," Penelope clarified, pointingly indicating Emily's chest, "And honestly, if you stay I'm going to start drooling."

Emily laughed, heartily. Her instinct was to say no, but she hesitated. This was why she was here, wasn't it? Why she had put .some real effort into her appearance. So, instead of immediately casting the idea aside, she studied it, for a moment. Studied how the notion of it made her feel, and felt what she interpreted as a fizzle of excitement, deep in her stomach. Something like butterflies; the potential of something new.

"Should I?" She said, to squeals of affirmation from the girls that made her throw her head back in laughter. She hoped he heard, hoped he had looked over. "Okay, okay," She said, as Penelope made to push her towards him. Standing up, she adjusted her dress, tugging the plunging neckline straight, twisting the skirt back around so that it fell straight, the slit exposing the creamy length of her thigh. The diamonds on her shoes, laced up her legs, glittered as she moved. "How do I look?"

"Edible," Penelope said, without hesitation.

"You're gorgeous," JJ said, reaching out to slap her arse, and Emily yelped, throwing her a glance over her shoulder as she began her walk across the bar. At their table, JJ and Penelope had a perfect view of the way heads swivelled as she passed. She seemed to float, her skirt tight around her legs, hair swaying as she walked.