Chapter Three
Emily was right. She knew men; they were all as predictable as each other so, of course, he did call. He called the very next morning, and Emily didn't know whether to be concerned or impressed. Like most women, she was aware of the three-day rule, or was it five? It was somewhere around that marker, anyway. And most guys she'd known adhered to it. And even when they didn't, they knew they weren't supposed to call the very next day. Especially when said guy was supposed to be nothing more than a one night stand. So she watched her phone ring out, knowing it would be him on the other end, even without the caller I.D. Once the ringing stopped, she turned back to the papers in her lap and returned to signing them. Some admin bits for the Bureau. That was at 10am.
Later, when she was in the shower, he called again. That one was around 4pm, although she didn't see it until an hour or so later when she picked her phone back up. Had she seen the phone ringing, though, she wouldn't have picked that call up either. The guy was starting to seem like a real creep, and Emily almost regretted bringing him. Almost. He was still a good lay, even if he was a bit overbearing.
She fell onto her sofa and looked at the number, her finger hovering over the Add to Contacts button. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Aaron, aside from the premature phone calls. As a matter of fact, Emily thought she might like another round of Aaron very much. But, she had surmised, from the short time they'd spent together, that Aaron wasn't that type. He had those big, soft puppy eyes that told her he was too soft for her. She knew his type, and she definitely wasn't it. He was going to make somebody happy, one day. He was going to get married and have babies and a dog and a yard and, well, Emily wasn't. One day, he would make someone happy. As long as she didn't break him right now. Because she would break him.
So, although Emily saved his number into her phone, 'Aaron from the bar', she didn't call him back.
And, later that evening, when he text her, she was already so deep in a sleep that was riddled with anxiety dreams, ahead of starting her new job tomorrow, that she didn't hear the buzz of her mobile phone on her side table.
I'd like to see you again, Emily. Just think about it. What's the worst that could happen?
When she woke up the next morning, Emily didn't even have a chance to glance at her phone. She threw back her bed covers, leaving them in disarray, and dove in and out of the shower in record time. Dressing in an outfit she had picked the day before, she looked at herself in the mirror. A grey skirt and modest blue jumper that weren't really her style but which she hoped would give the best impression on her first day. At least, she thought, her mother would probably approve of her outfit. After that thought, Emily hated it even more.
That was when she checked her phone, just to check the time and to see whether or not she had time for a quick cup of coffee before she left for work. She had plenty of time for a coffee, but got distracted by the text from Aaron. Sighing, she debated over ignoring it entirely, finger hovering over the home button on her phone.
What's the worst that could happen?
"You could kill me." Emily said, aloud, to herself, only half-joking. In her line of work, she could never be too careful. Nevertheless, there was something intriguing about him.
In the end, she decided to text him back.
You just don't give up, do you?
She sent it, a satisfied smile on her face. It would never be serious, and she would make sure he knew that. But there was nothing wrong in having a little bit of fun with him while she was around.
As she set about making her coffee, she was still smiling to herself. She managed to boil the water and steep the coffee before she heard her phone go off from the other side of the room. Wiping her hands, she walked across the room and tapped the screen.
No, I don't. Is that a yes?
Yes, to what? You've not actually asked me out, you know.
She watched his little bubble pop up, looked at those three little dots. Then she realised she was actually waiting for his reply and shook her head, heading back over to the coffee she'd left on the side and pouring it into a travel mug. She was heading down to the car park when his text came through.
I'd like to see you again. Would you like to go for a drink sometime?
She didn't reply, slipping her phone into her jacket and leaving it on the passenger seat as she drove and tried not to let her nerves get the better of her.
It was an unfamiliar feeling, the nerves that were steadily bubbling in her stomach. Having been raised by her self-important mother, although she hadn't been the most emotionally forthcoming, Emily had learned the value of her presence at a very early age, watching her mother during social engagements, watching her command a room. Hold your head up. Shoulders back. Exude confidence. Emily wasn't a woman who scared easily. That was who she was; it was difficult not to be that girl, with a mother like hers. Her confidence was one of the only lessons Elizabeth had ever taught her that had ever benefited her in life, so it was a rare occasion that Emily felt her nerves get to her. She knew, however, that this was one of her last chances. If she was going to make it in the FBI, if she was going to stick at, and excel at, the career she'd been planning for herself for twenty years, it meant keeping her head down for a while, following the rules and not rocking the boat. She could do that. She would do it. She had to.
The BAU was the dream. An elite and effective branch of the FBI, notorious in her circles. Even Elizabeth had seemed impressed when, during the monthly phone call that she insisted upon, in order to assuage her own guilt of being an absent mother (at least that was how Emily saw it), she had asked how work was going. Emily had thought it best to omit her demotion from SSA to SA in favour of the news about her new job, although she suspected from the tone with which Elizabeth asked, that she already knew.
"Oh?" There was something in Elizabeth's voice that, even from hundreds of miles away, Emily thought she could almost identify as her mother being mildly impressed. "Well, the BAU has a reputation, Emily. I hope you're ready for the pressure and expectation that comes with that job."
As usual, Elizabeth's positivity hadn't lasted very long. As usual, her priority was to ensure Emily knew just how inadequate her mother presumed her to be. Emily had rolled her eyes, and let her mother change the subject.
Now, as she pulled into the FBI car park, into the numbered space she had been assigned by the Admin department, she could hear Elizabeth's voice ringing around in her head, and cursed her mother for her endlessly pessimistic parenting. There was such a fine line between the confidence that Elizabeth had instilled in her daughter, and the crippling self doubt that only her mother could inspire; having been the one to give Emily all of her confidence, she could tear it down just as quickly.
Flipping down her mirror, Emily checked her make-up, brushing away the mascara that had flaked off beneath her eyes, meeting them in the mirror. As she steadied herself, Emily saw the change in her eyes, watched her walls go up behind them, readying herself for whatever she might be about to walk into.
"You're good at what you do," She muttered to herself, gathering her things and slipping her arms into her jacket. "You've got this. You're going to be fine."
Her heels hit the floor with a soft click as she stepped out of the car, tugging her hair out of the collar of her jacket. Tugging her jacket into place around her thin frame, Emily inhaled, deeply. Tossing her curls over her shoulder, she headed straight for the elevator with her head held high.
"Agent Emily Prentiss?" As soon as the elevator doors opened, she found herself met with a perky, smiling blonde. Happy blue eyes found her own, a perfectly manicured hand reached for hers. Emily grasped it, suddenly self conscious of her own bitten down nails.
"Uh, yes," She tried to return the smile, but felt as though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yes, that's me. And, you are?" She subtly glanced over the blonde, taking in her well put together appearance. She was wearing a similar skirt to Emily's own, higher heel and a pale blue sweater set. She was well put together, but Emily could tell that the clothes she wore were inexpensive, although she still wore them well.
"Jennifer Jareau. You can call me JJ, most people do! I'm the teams liaison. I'm basically the person who deals with all of the bureaucratic red tape. My door is always open," She gestured down the hall where, sure enough, Emily saw a door standing ajar. "But that's just because you'll rarely find me in there. But I'll give you my cell, for if you ever need to get hold of me, and we'll probably spend a lot of time together, anyway."
"So, I'm assuming you join the team on cases?" Emily asked, as she followed JJ through a set of tall glass doors, and glanced around. This, it appeared, was the main workspace. She wondered which of the desks would be hers.
"I do," JJ nodded, "Although I don't join them in the field. Or, I won't be joining you in the field, I suppose I should say." She explained, as they reached a desk where two men sat. "Morgan, Spence." The two men looked up, one of them turning in his swivel chair to face them, a book in his lap. "This is Agent Emily Prentiss."
The first man stood, offering her a large, dark hand, which she took. "Derek Morgan. Welcome to the team." He gave her a dazzling smile that she couldn't help but return. The second man nodded in her direction but, she noted, didn't offer her a handshake.
"I'm Dr Spencer Reid," He introduced himself, politely enough, "It's nice to meet you."
"You too. What's that you're reading?" She asked, nodding to the book in his lap.
"I'm actually teaching myself Russian." He explained, holding up the book. Emily smiled.
"Ya mog by pomoch' tebe s etim." She told him. I could help you with that. Spencer smiled, impressed. JJ and Morgan, too, were looking at her with mild shock.
"Did you live in Russia?" Spencer asked, "You don't have a specific American accent, there's nothing regional about the way you speak, so I assumed you moved around a lot when you were younger. More than likely around Europe, or your accent would be more notable since it would likely have been picked up in your early childhood. So I'm guessing you spent a significant amount of time in Russia?"
"I-uh-" Emily glanced from Spencer, to the other two agents, for help.
"The kid here is our resident genius," Morgan explained, clapping Spencer on his back with a hint of pride in his tone. "Don't worry. You get used to it."
"Actually," JJ corrected, with a playful tilt of her head that shook the blonde hair around her face, "You don't, really."
Emily joined in with the laughter that rippled around; even Spencer smiled. Their comfortable, easy way with one another was obvious, and Emily could tell they'd been working together for a while. The way they shifted easily from the professional introductions to the playful, friendly jokes was reassuring. Emily had been worried she was walking into another team full of old men who wouldn't listen to a word she had to say. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened to her, and that had been half of her problem last time. It didn't seem as though this was that kind of team, and she felt a spark of hope and excitement for her new job ignite inside of her.
"You need to meet Agent's Hotchner and Gideon," JJ told her, gesturing up towards the ramp. Emily looked up, seeing two offices clearly marked out up there. "Agent Hotchner is the team leader, Agent Gideon is the longest standing team member. He was on the original team when then first set up the BAU in the 70s."
"I was under the impression that Agent Gideon was the team leader?" Emily asked, as she and JJ began to make their way up towards the ramp.
JJ hesitated a moment, glancing sideways at the brunette. She halted at the bottom of the ramp, with a glance up towards the offices. "Agent Gideon was the team leader until a year or so ago. There was an...incident. There were significant casualties. He needed time off, so Agent Hotchner took over and when Agent Gideon returned, it was in a Senior Agent capacity, but Agent Hotchner kept the leadership."
Emily nodded, wondering what the incident had been that had triggered Gideon's sabbatical. She sensed, though, from JJ's tone, that asking now would be the wrong move, so she refrained from doing so. They continued up the ramp and JJ knocked on the first door they came to. Stepping inside, Emily followed, glancing back towards Spencer and Morgan in the bullpen, where Morgan was laughing raucously at something the younger agent had just said. She smiled a little, thinking she might actually like it here after all.
"Agent Hotchner, this is Agent Prentiss." She heard JJ say, as she turned back to the office.
"Agent Prentiss, welcome-" She heard, in a voice that was all too familiar that pulled her right back into the room, and she turned to him with a wide eyed stare.