Chapter Five
It didn't take long for Emily to settle into life at the BAU. On that first day, she was thrown into the deep end, travelling with Gideon and Reid to Guantanamo Bay. She felt as though she were running on a treadmill that was set far too high, her legs weak beneath her, but unwilling to give up as the belt turned and turned beneath her feet. Gideon, she quickly learned, was distrustful. He was like many of the older men she had worked with before him, but at least he didn't spend as much time staring at her ass as they had. And, although he was impossible to please and even harder to impress, Emily kept trying, not just on that case, but on all of the ones that continued to come in after, like a never ending stream of blood and horror. It was nice having JJ around to roll her eyes at, and to share the joke with, whenever GIdeon decided he was going to be difficult, which proved to be more often than not.
Emily felt as though the blonde was happy to have her there, too, to share in the joke. Emily didn't have friends, but it was nice to think of JJ in that way, and share a secret smile, or a knowing eye roll, every now and then, behind someone else's back.
Derek Morgan was easy to like, with the charming smile he would flash at her, and the boyish jokes he made so casually. Emily found it was difficult not to laugh along with him, whenever he tried to lighten the mood. Hotch had taken to pairing them up on cases, she noticed, and Emily was impressed by his people skills. He was good at making people feel comfortable, and not just their victims and witnesses, but he could calm her down, too. His presence was soothing, and she enjoyed his company. He made her feel at ease, fell easily into step beside her, and treated her like she belonged on the team, right from the start. She especially liked sitting near him on the jet, once a case was over. She would watch him, as he listened to his headphones and stared out of the window, or read a new book, or even if they were laughing over a game of cards, and found calm in his easy smile.
Dr Spencer Reid was another story altogether. JJ had been right to tell her there was no getting used to his ways; she found herself constantly amazed at the boy wonder, whether by his incredible analytical skills or the speed at which he could read, it seemed as though his intellect was boundless. Annoyingly, though, he seemed to have little to no regard for his own wellbeing and, like everyone else, Emily found herself falling into the habit of checking on him before anyone else. Her eyes would seek him out at a crime scene, searching for confirmation that he was alright. She noticed the others doing the same, particularly Morgan and Hotch.
The first time Emily met Penelope Garcia, Emily was taken aback. The blonde embraced her tightly, as though they had been friends for years, and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. Emily shot JJ a wide-eyed look of shock, but the blonde just shrugged, as if to say, "Yep. That's Penelope." and ever since then, Emily had grown quite fond of Penelope's ways; her nicknames and her outrageous fashions. She was as entertained as the rest of them at the flirting that went on between Penelope and Morgan, and she found that the blonde was easy to joke with, although Penelope was usually the one to instigate conversation. When she did, though, Emily didn't shy away from talking to her, instead finding herself readily engaging in conversation with her. Something that had rarely happened at her old job.
Then there was Hotch.
Hotch surprised her. She'd had him pegged as soft, perhaps even somewhat fragile. The first few weeks on the job, though, he barely even glanced in her direction. That, she supposed, was why she ended up working with Morgan so closely; that way, Hotch didn't have to see quite as much of her, he could send her off to the crime scene or the victims homes, and avoid her for most of the day. That suited her just fine, because she didn't want to see him, either. Every time she looked at him, she remembered that night, and even Emily knew that was no way to look at your boss. She wasn't supposed to see him holding a file and remembering his hand grasping at her thigh, and she wasn't supposed to watch him speak and remember what his lips tasted like. So she wasn't offended at all that he didn't want to work with her, because she suspected that when he looked at her, his mind was summoning up similar images for him.
That night, after her first day of work, she'd gone home, poured herself a large glass of wine and immediately changed his name in her phone from 'Aaron from the bar' to Aaron Hotchner (Unit Chief), and tried to ignore those messages they had sent to each other before their official meeting. She knew perfectly well who he was, of course, and titling him as her Unit Chief in her phone was entirely unnecessary, but she felt as though there would come a time when she needed the reminder.
So, between JJ, Morgan and Penelope, who she liked, Reid, over whom she felt strangely protective, and Hotch and Gideon, both of whom she was trying to spend as little time with as possible, but for entirely different reasons, Emily found she didn't hate her new job at the BAU. She almost liked it.
All in all, Emily felt as though she had landed on her feet. Even Elizabeth agreed.
"You seem to be doing quite well for yourself, for once, darling," She had commented, during their most recent phone call. "Although you've not taken my last couple of phone calls, and I can't help but assume you've been avoiding me, for whatever reason."
Emily rolled her eyes; there were a thousand reasons why she might be avoiding Elizabeth, but she wasn't.
"I'm not avoiding you, mother. I've been busy." She sighed, impatiently, balancing the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she unpacked her go-bag, shoving clothes into the washing machine. "The past few weeks we've had four back-to-back cases. I've not been home. I've barely had time to sleep, let alone time to take a call. But I'm not avoiding you."
"You should make time for your mother, Emily," Elizabeth chastised, and Emily bit her tongue, thinking that was a rich statement coming from the mother who had barely been around at all when she was younger, but she said nothing, because she didn't have the energy for an argument and because she desperately wanted to be finished on the phone and curled up in bed, having not slept properly for nearly two whole weeks.
"You're right, mother," She deadpanned, "I'm sorry. Listen, I've got to-"
"Before you go-" Elizabeth interrupted, and Emily closed her eyes, leaning against the counter, heaving another sigh, "I'm hosting a benefit next week in Washington."
Emily's eyes snapped open, her heart beginning to pound in her chest, because she knew exactly where this was going. Elizabeth always did this. With baited breath, she watited for her mother's next comment, already anticipating exactly what it would be.
"I've already sent the invitations to your office. It'll be nice to see you, and to meet your team." It wasn't a request, although she was courteous enough to phrase it as one. Emily, however, had known the difference between an order and a command from her mother since she was three years old; there was very little difference in the wording (Elizabeth was always polite) but the tone told her everything she needed to know. When Elizabeth asked for something in that tone, she got it, regardless of what it was.
Regardless of the tiredness she could feel in her bones, for the first time since starting her new job, Emily was praying for a new case.
"This for real, princess?" Morgan asked, when she stepped into the bullpen the following morning. He had taken to the nickname a few weeks after she'd started, and Emily had never corrected him, finding she quite liked it. She frowned at him, though, confused...until she saw what he was holding. At the next desk, Spencer was holding an identical envelope in one hand, and in the other, a heavy sheet of white card. Even across the office, Emily could see the sheen of the golden, embossed text.
"You've got one, too." Spencer told her, glancing towards her desk.
"Yes," Emily sighed, picking up the envelope on her desk and turning it over in her hands, not even bothering to open it. Elizabeth had even sent her own daughter's invitation to the office rather than to the address Emily had given her weeks ago. How very Ambassador Prentiss of her. "Yes, it's for real. It's all part of my mother keeping tabs on me." She dropped the envelope on her desk, spinning on her chair to face them. "You guys don't have to go."
"Are you kidding?" Garcia's voice came from behind her and Emily spun back around to see her and JJ stepping into the bullpen. "A party at Mount Vernon? If you think I'm passing that opportunity up, you clearly don't know me yet at all, kitten."
"Sorry, princess, but I'm there, too." Morgan shrugged, "A chance to get dressed up and meet me some lovely ladies? Hells yes." He flashed her that boyish grin, and all Emily could do was roll her eyes in response.
"You wish," Garcia spoke up before Emily had the chance to, "You're my date."
Morgan laughed, winking at her. "Sounds good to me, baby girl. I'll have the prettiest date at the party. You putting out at the end of the night?"
"Oh, baby, you couldn't handle it if I did." Garcia smirked at him, raising an eyebrow, before turning and walking back towards her office.
They watched her go, Morgan with a grin still set on his face, JJ looking amused. When they both turned back to look at Emily, she was staring at them both with dead eyes.
"What about you, JJ?" Morgan turned to the blonde, "You up for a party?"
JJ looked from Emily, to Morgan, then back, shrugging apologetically.
"Sorry, Emily, it just sounds too good to miss. We do all this work and we never get to go and have a good time. This party sounds like a great way to just kick back and enjoy some free booze. I'm there, and you've done this all before, so you need to come shopping with me, which means you're there, too."
"Guys, please don't do this to me." Emily whined, sinking down in her chair and looking from one face to another, desperately. "Spence," She shot, over her shoulder, "You're at least with me on this, aren't you? Solidarity?"
But, even the boy wonder looked sheepish. "Actually, Emily, I expect there'll be a lot of important people there. I'm not one for parties, as I'm sure you've assumed, but it seems foolish to miss an opportunity like this. Sorry, Emily."
Dropping her head forwards into her hands, Emily sighed, heavily. "You guys are the worst," She said, into her palms. Looking back up at them, she pointed to each of them, individually, "My mother will find her moment. Her moment to interrogate each and every one of you, and don't think that I can protect you from her. Once Elizabeth Prentiss gets her hands on you, there's no stopping her. You're on your own. Don't come crying to me to help you. I couldn't help you if I wanted to when it comes to my mother. And nobody tells her anything about my life, or I'll-"
"Emily," Spencer interrupted, frowning, confusedly "We don't know anything about your life that we could tell her." JJ rolled her eyes at him, then turned back to Emily with raised eyebrows.
"So, when are we going shopping?"
Emily stared at her a moment, before rolling her eyes back into her head, and she stood up, heading for the coffee station. She was going to need a strong one this morning, and it wasn't even 8am yet.
The large white envelope sat, unopened, on her desk all morning, staring at her. Eventually, irritated by it's presence and by her mother's insistent interference into her life, she threw it into the drawer at the bottom of her desk and slammed the draw shut. She saw, from the corner of her eye, both Morgan and Spencer glance at her, but neither of them said anything.
Emily was almost grateful when JJ walked into the bullpen, calling them into the conference room as she passed them.
"Sex workers are being killed in downtown Chicago. Local PD doesn't know what to make of it, and frankly I got the feeling they want to palm the case off onto us-"
"Because these women are prostitutes, they're not a priority." Gideon pointed out, though he needn't have; the rest of them had already made that connection, and it was hardly a stretch. At his use of the outdated phrase, JJ glanced towards Emily, catching her brown eyes with blue, a pointed look there that Emily shot right back at her. Across the table, she saw Hotch look at her, although he didn't say a word, and he glanced away as soon as she turned her head in his direction.
"It certainly seems that way, sir," JJ said, biring her tongue and clicking the remote at the screen, "What's confusing the local PD, though, is the way he leaves them, afterwards."
"She's clean." Emily noted, glancing from the screen to the notes in her lap. "It looks as though he's brushed her hair out, her make up is delicate, subtle, not the way you might typically expect a sex worker to wear it." She raised an eyebrow at the notes written before her, "He's showing them the respect you wouldn't expect a serial killer to show a sex worker, that's why the local PD are surprised; they wouldn't show them this respect." The disdain in her tone was evident.
"Yes, well, be that as it may, these women, sex workers or not, are still victims." Hotch said, closing his own file. Emily watched, as did the rest of the team, as Hotch stood up, rebuttoning his blazer as he did so. "It's our job to catch whoever's doing this before someone else gets hurt. Wheels up in thirty."