Author's Note: Still sick, still annoyed by the sickness, but I am getting better, only had to take ONE nap today. Wa Hooh! Yes folks, it's the little victories that mean the most :) Regardless of the viral invaders, I have been plugging away on a few things this week, they just aren't all cleaned up yet. So this is going up tonight, and maybe one more thing before Thursday. More at the end.
FYI: If you aren't aware yet, Kavi and I put prompts up in both forums, both regular and the Christmas ones. And don't forget if you're in a festive mood this week, there are a bunch of Thanksgiving ones out there as well.
This scene picks up about an hour after their arrival at the diner.
Bonus Challenge #21 – Fan's Choice
Show: Canada's Worst Driver
Title Challenge: A Turn For The Worst
Into the Gloaming
Hotch raised his eyebrow expectantly as Lorelai suddenly pushed back her chair.
"You know what? I think I'll just go grab a flyer for you."
Before Hotch or Emily could respond in any way, Lorelai had stood up and was hurrying off towards the side staircase in the corner of the diner. Hotch watched her go with a faint bit of amusement. Given the topic of conversation before she'd run away, the flyer Lorelai was going to retrieve was apparently a summary of the Stars Hollow festival schedule. He wasn't quite sure what use they'd have for such an item, but he certainly wouldn't be so rude as to ever say such a thing. Especially after Lorelai had been so helpful today with her almost non-stop chatter since they'd sat down at the small table.
The distraction had done wonders for Emily's mood.
Speaking of Emily, Hotch turned back to see his agent was sipping the last of her Diet Coke as she continued to stare at the staircase that their new friend had just run up.
She appeared lost in thought.
And as he took a last sip of his own cold beverage, Hotch made a mental note that this Diet Coke Emily was drinking now, was her second since they'd arrived. And that was on top of the large coffee that she'd consumed prior to the appearance of their sandwiches. She hadn't finished the whole grilled cheese . . . there was one quarter left on her plate . . . but she got damn close. And that was good enough for Hotch. Because the return of Emily's appetite signified to him that she was starting to shake off that depression that had been sucking her down all morning. She definitely wasn't all the way back . . . there was still a faint sadness clinging to her . . . but he was very pleased to see that terrible pall had at least departed. Now, if they could just get through the rest of the afternoon without it returning . . . he put his glass back down on the table . . . all would be well.
And now they really did need to get going before they lost any more daylight, so he started tapping his fingers on the Formica to get Emily's attention. When she looked over at him his digital activity ceased as his eyebrow rose. "I'm going to pay the check and get a coffee to go. Would you like one as well?"
He was assuming yes. Though she probably didn't need anything else to drink . . . or anything else to make her heart race . . . he was quite sure they were going to need the extra burst of energy to keep them going through the rest of their shit day.
"Yes, please," Emily mumbled around her straw, "but just a small, thanks. I'd rather not have to ask anybody to use their bathroom."
Hotch nodded across the table, "okay," but he made no move to stand up. Instead for a moment the two of them just looked at one another. It was a silent conversation but Emily knew what he was asking. And seeing the faint twinge of worry still twitching in his brow, for his sake she tried to brighten her mood.
"And maybe those donuts you mentioned," she asked with a little smile. "I think I held up my end of the bargain. I've earned my bag."
Though she wasn't sure if her newly found smile . . . or her appetite . . . would hold up through another three to four hours of discussion regarding mutilation, castration and dismemberment, she knew this donut agreement meant something to him, so she was going to choke one down if it killed her.
Hotch stared at Emily for a second longer before his brow quirked up slightly and he started to stand.
"I'm not sure if that smile's good enough to warrant me purchasing a whole bag of donuts," he replied seriously. And then as he hoped, he watched as the smile in question spread a little further across Emily's face.
"How's this one?" She asked with a smirk and he tipped his head.
"Better. That'll get you three quarters of your own bag, and between that and the full bag I'm getting for the two of us, you should be rolling in sugar until we get home."
Seeing Emily chuckle quietly at the joke, Hotch rewarded her with a half a dimple. Honestly he was thrilled to death to see that her smile had indeed returned. It was still small, but she was doing light years better than she had been a mere sixty minutes ago. And because of that he couldn't stop himself from reaching across the table to give her a little pat of support. Then he realized that he was starting to feel a bit schmaltzy . . . he could really use a nap . . . so he turned and hurried up to the counter before he ended up doing something incredibly out of character like pulling her into a full bear hug or something.
Bleh . . . he shuddered to himself . . . now that would be embarrassing.
Emily's amused gaze followed Hotch across the small room, but then her smile began to fade as she saw that he was no longer paying her any direct attention. His focus had moved on to getting Luke away from the customers in the corner and back up behind the counter.
He was going to be a few minutes. And though the smile she'd given him had been genuine, Emily couldn't deny that she still wasn't feeling very cheery. Still though . . . she rolled her neck . . . she didn't want Hotch worrying about her when there were so many other things to worry about. Yes, the case sucked, yes, it was depressing as hell, and yes, she really would rather rip out her fingernails one by one than spend the rest of her day cramming her brain with additional fodder for her regular nightmares. But all of that crap was part of her job, and she'd find a way to deal with it.
She always did.
Today had just unexpectedly thrown her for a loop. But she really was feeling better now. Not all better, but the break had certainly helped . . . she reached over to pick up Hotch's nearly empty (very cold) cup of leftover coffee. But it wasn't just the break itself that had made the difference . . . she took a sip . . . it was simply getting out of those houses and coming back to Stars Hollow that had really been the best thing for her. Because she'd come to see that this quaint little town was so far removed from the realities of Emily's own world that it was impossible to believe that she was still visiting the same planet. But that in and of itself was what had helped to reset her day. It was the reminder the darkness they were wading through today wasn't all consuming.
The sun still shone brightly in other parts of the world.
Of course the specific company they'd had at lunch had helped as well. And spotting Lorelai coming back down from the staircase, Emily's lip quirked up slightly. As she had suspected he would, Hotch had convinced Lorelai to sit with them while she had her coffee. And as soon as they were seated he'd asked the innkeeper to tell them a little about the town and it's history. And that of course had been enough for their loquacious new friend to keep Emily distracted for the entire meal.
So after nearly an hour of hearing about jack o'lantern festivals and snowman building contests and a somewhat antiquated . . . though still very sweet . . . tradition of having a man bid on a woman's picnic basket to get a date, that was enough to remove Emily's remaining thoughts from the darker elements of the human condition. Though she'd be thrilled to wrap this case, she couldn't deny that she was also going to be a bit sad when they left this town. It was really nice here. And someday . . . her eyes crinkled slightly as Lorelai dropped back down into the chair across from her . . . she might like to come visit again.
"Got it!" Lorelai yelled as she triumphantly slapped the piece of goldenrod down on the table. "The full listing of all officially sanctioned Stars Hollow festivals," she flipped over the sheet and pointed to the bottom, "you can see that we're now up to fifty-seven."
Emily's eyes popped. "A YEAR?" she asked incredulously as she took the sheet from the other woman's hand. "But that's more than one a week!"
Lorelai tipped her head, "well, they aren't all annual, some are centennial anniversaries or you know celestial happenings like known comets or meteor showers or whatnot that at one time or another the town decided to celebrate whenever they roll around, but yeah," she huffed a little sheepishly, "the count's still up there."
As much as Lorelai herself loved all of the festivals, they did seem on the whole a little bit ridiculous when trying to explain the workings of Stars Hollow to an outsider. Especially explaining them to people like Emily and Agent Hotchner, people who clearly had Very, (capital V), serious jobs.
Lorelai bit her lip as she looked at Emily reading over the list between them . . . this really must all seem rather silly to them. Still though, they'd been very polite as she'd run down the high points on the Dummy's Guide to Stars Hollow Living.
Actually . . . her brow wrinkled slightly . . . they were more than just polite, they'd genuinely seemed interested in what she was saying. Both of them of them had been asking questions throughout the meal. Though surprisingly . . . well, surprising given Lorelai's observations of his otherwise taciturn behavior . . . Agent Hotchner had initially been the most vocally intrigued of the two.
But as she thought about it now . . . Lorelai's jaw twisted slightly as she stared at the woman in front of her . . . there might have been a good reason for that unexpected role reversal. Emily had seemed a bit down, like there was something bothering her.
And that in turn seemed to be bothering him.
In fact as she looked across the room, Lorelai saw Agent Hotchner sneaking a glance back to the table. And that's when Lorelai realized that he was still keeping an eye on Emily even from the counter.
Huh.
That probably meant that whatever was bothering her was serious. So even though Lorelai knew it was really none of her damn business, she decided to inquire anyway.
"Can I ask you a question?" She asked softly.
Emily eyes snapped up from the festival list.
"What? Oh, uh, sure." She tucked her hair back behind her ear, "what is it?"
"Are you all right?" Lorelai leaned forward slightly as she tried to ask her question as quietly as possible, "I mean I know that we don't know each other very well and I don't want to pry but, you seem kind of uh, down today."
'And Agent Hotchner can't keep his eyes off of you,' was the thing that she kept to herself.
For a moment Emily stared back across the table, debating as to how to answer the question. She didn't want to lie and say that Lorelai was mistaken, that she was just fine. It was clear that she wasn't just fine. But obviously she wasn't going to discuss today's interviews with this nice lady either. So she settled for just the basics.
"I am a little down today. I'm not going to explain exactly what we do, but I'll say that our work is not fun," she rubbed her hands together, "ever. But some days are better than others, and well," she took a breath as she shook her head slowly, "today is just not a good day at all."
Lorelai stared at her new friend for a moment before reaching over to pat her arm. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said sympathetically, "but I guess based on those photos I saw last night, not good days would be an occupational hazard."
Her eyes crinkling slightly, Emily gave Lorelai a sad smile, "they are. And I am so sorry that you saw those photos. If you can believe it, that's just a small piece of what we deal . . . with."
Realizing she was starting to share too much, Emily suddenly shook her head, "anyway," she gave Lorelai a tight smile, "we deal with it."
Though it would be nice to have a sympathetic ear right now, it wasn't appropriate to reach out to Lorelai that way. Her behavior reflected on Hotch, so she needed to project a professional image of the Bureau for his sake. And God knows that bitching and moaning about her crappy job to a member of the public that she was sworn to protect wasn't very professional.
Seeing that Emily was starting to look a bit uncomfortable talking about her work, Lorelai took the hint and wrapped up any further direct inquiries there. Instead she just gave Emily a supportive smile before her gaze shifted up to the counter where Agent Hotchner was talking to Luke. Still staring at the two men she asked quietly.
"And how's your boss doing on this not good day?" Her eyes snapped back to Emily's, "I was little surprised at how much more sociable he was at lunch than he was when I saw him yesterday."
Though she had observed that the two of them seemed to be quite private people, Lorelai still thought that her comment was innocuous enough . . . just a simple social inquiry . . . so she was very surprised to see Emily's eyes start to glisten for just a second before she blinked the tears away.
If Lorelai hadn't been looking right at her she would have missed them.
"He's being a sweetie," Emily said softly as her eyes drifted over to the counter, "he takes good care of me. Us. Our team I mean," her lip quirked up slightly as her gaze snapped back to Lorelai's, "he's a great boss."
Great boss, great person, great big cranky bastard. With Hotch you got a hard shell with a soft, sweet center.
He was kind of like an M&M.
Lorelai's jaw started to twitch as she saw Emily's expression soften. And that's when she saw her opening to get a straight answer once and for all as to whether or not the two of them were involved.
But then she debated with herself for an additional two seconds trying to decide just how nosy she should be given that these people were complete strangers barely thirty-six hours ago. Then she figured what the hell, the worst thing that could happen was Emily would tell her to mind her own damn business. So she leaned forward again, this time making doubly sure to keep her voice down . . . Agent Hotchner seemed the type to have eagle ears . . . and whispered.
"I know this is totally out of line, and feel free to tell me to mind my own beeswax, but are you two a couple or what?"
"Us?" Emily asked in surprise as she looked across the table, "me and Hotch, together? Oh no," she shook her head, "we're just uh . . . friends."
That wasn't the exact truth . . . hence the hesitation . . . but it was close enough. After everything they'd gone through together their bond was greater than simple friendship. But on the other hand, they didn't share details of their personal lives like regular friends, so in that way the term was even less apt. But by either interpretation, the word seemed the most appropriate term for the situation.
"Really?" Lorelai had picked up on the slight hesitation and her eyes began to sparkle. Then she decided to dig another shovel of dirt out of the hole.
"Just friends, huh. That's too bad. He's pretty cute, and I noticed yesterday that he's got those dimples," her eyebrow went up, "it seems a shame to let dimples like that go to waste."
At first Emily chuckled at Lorelai's inner yenta coming out, but then suddenly she flashed on the few kisses . . . chaste and otherwise . . . that she and Hotch had shared over the last six months. And then she felt a faint blush hit her cheeks as she huffed in amusement.
"Yes, that is true," her mouth quivered, "Hotch does indeed possess a fine set of rarely seen dimples, and yes it is also true that dimples or no dimples, he is very attractive."
Seeing the look Lorelai gave her, Emily added on a smirk. "But those are simply empirical statements of fact," she tipped her head as she added firmly, "nothing more."
With twitching lips, the two women stared at each other for a moment before Lorelai sat back in her seat with a snort.
"Sorry, for trying to play matchmaker," she said with a sheepish grin, "but my best friend and I are both married with kids and, well," she rolled her eyes, "my best friend is about my only friend, besides Luke of course, so I don't really have much in the way of normal attractive people to play k-i-s-s-i-n-g with anymore," her nose wrinkled up, "actually, since Kirk got married I don't even have not normal unattractive people to play k-i-s-s-i-n-g with anymore. With the exception of Taylor, whom Luke is convinced is an asexual pod person cast off by a race of evil alien overlords who decided to dump their trash here."
Seeing the raised eyebrow she received from Emily, Lorelai clarified with a flap of her hand, "by Luke's explanation it's kind of like the cosmic version of the British shipping all of their undesirables off to eighteenth century Australia. And lest you think my husband is a complete nut job, please note he's only discussed this asexual castoff, alien overlord theory with me when he's had a few too many Miller High Lifes and he's waxing poetic. And now I've just shared WAY too much information. So anyway," she cleared her throat, "where was I before I started violating the marital covenant?"
"Taylor, asexual pod person, evil alien overlords, Australia," Emily replied with succinct amusement. She was really starting to wish that Lorelai lived closer. And she was also trying to think of just how best to thank Hotch for getting Lorelai to sit and eat with them even though she only came in for coffee.
This kind of conversation was exactly what she needed.
"Oh yeah, right, right," Lorelai nodded, "so yeah, with the exception of THAT, pretty much everyone else I know in Stars Hollow is paired off right now. Even Miss Patty's onto live-in house boy number six. Which leads me back to you and Grumpy Two," her lip curled slightly as she finished up, "I'm just bored and nosy."
Emily laughed softly. "It's really okay. At least you picked out a decent catch for me. Because trust me, I certainly could, and have, done much worse than Hotch."
The words had barely passed her lips before she heard, "much worse than Hotch, what?" as the man himself walked up to the table.
As Hotch looked quizzically between the two women, they exchanged a quick pink cheeked glance before Lorelai piped up a bit too loudly.
"Luke. I was just making a comment about the similarities in your disposition. Emily was defending you."
Hotch's eyebrow inched up slightly when he saw their matching flushed cheeks . . . he knew a complete bullshit answer when he heard it. But as he looked back down at Emily he saw her looking up at him with a familiar grin. It was a grin that had driven him crazy more than once over the years.
But seeing that grin today made him very happy.
So whatever it was on the conversational agenda . . . even if it was him . . . that was okay. Lorelai had clearly found something that brought Emily's smile back again full force. So he chose to play along, tipping his head to her as he responded drolly.
"Thank you so much for appointing yourself as my defense counsel Prentiss. When we get home I'll have esquire added to your business cards. Now, I have one point seven five bags of donuts in my hand, so are you ready to go?" He waved the bags in front of her, "or are you and Lorelai planning to continue this round of Perry Mason?"
Emily's lips twitched at Hotch's dramatics as she pushed her chair back. "We're done," her gaze shifted over to Lorelai as she pushed her chair back, "I guess we might see you later tonight."
"Yeah, absolutely," Lorelai smiled as she too stood up, "we have a class reunion due to start arriving tomorrow afternoon so I'll be at the inn late. When you guys are done playing cops and robbers you can help me calligraphy name tags."
"Yes, well," Hotch cleared his throat as he handed Emily the coffees so he could dig out his keys, "we'll certainly keep that in mind as a Plan B if the investigation doesn't go well. Now," he tipped his head, "have a good day Lorelai." And he saw Lorelai wave cheerfully as she called out, "bye guys." Then he saw Emily raise her free hand as she said quietly, "it was really nice talking to you."
Seeing the soft smile on Emily's face as she said her goodbyes to Lorelai, Hotch started to think that letting her help the other woman with the decorations tonight might actually be just the destressor that she needed after they were done with the rest of the interviews they needed to do that afternoon. So after his own departing gesture . . . he settled for a simple head tip . . . Hotch started guiding Emily towards the door with a whisper in her ear.
"When we get back to the inn tonight I think you really should sit with Lorelai for a bit while she does her decorations."
Though he knew that Lorelai was joking about the name tags, therapeutically, it would be good for Emily to spend a little more time with her doing something mindless. It would help clear her head before bed.
A bit surprised at his suggestion, Emily tipped her head back to look up at Hotch. And seeing that little worry twitch was back in his eyebrow again, she dug down beneath her remaining melancholy and tried to pretend like it was a normal day.
"Oh," she said with feigned ignorance, "did you want me to make you a calligraphy name tag, sir?"
As Hotch stared down at Emily she looked back up at him straight faced. It was clear what she was doing, and if she was up for her usual ball busting then that meant that she was indeed feeling even better than she had been before. So he played his part as expected, rolling his eyes as he pushed her out the door.
"Yes, Prentiss," he muttered with mock irritation as they stepped onto the landing, "I want you to make me a calligraphy name tag."
"Thought so," Emily said with wink before she started down the sidewalk.
Hotch looked after her for a moment before a faint smile touched his lips. It was gone as quickly as it came, then he shook his head and jogged to catch up to her.
'Time to go back to work.'
/*/*/*/*/*/
Hotch stopped short, his brow wrinkling slightly as he tipped his head to look out the windshield.
"Are you sure it's this one?"
They'd just reached the very end of a very long . . . very isolated . . . dirt road. There was just the one house off to the side left and then woods.
Lots and lots of woods.
Emily looked down to the case file in her hand and then back to the post just in front of the house. The light was fading . . . as was the paint the numbers were written in . . . but she could still easily read the address.
"Yep," her eyes began to rake over the dilapidated structure, "107 Pearberry Lane, this is it."
She knew why Hotch had that tone of disbelief. From the outside, this house just didn't seem to fit with what they'd come to expect to find today. The other homes were all well maintained and gave off an aura . . . though not of prosperity . . . but at least of a comfortable standard of living.
The working class middle class.
But these people . . . Emily started chewing her lip as her brain began to whir . . . these people were poor. And that old Sesame Street standard, 'one of these things is not like the others' was currently racing through her mind. It was starting to cause a little tickle of excitement.
This could be a breakthrough.
She looked across the front seat.
"You think it means something?" She asked Hotch hopefully. But for a second he didn't answer, he just continued to look out the windshield at the peeling paint and overgrown lawn. Finally his gaze shifted over to hers and he nodded slowly.
"Probably," he tipped his head towards the file, "what number were they on the list?"
This was the third home they'd visited since they'd left the diner. But with the exception of the first family they'd gone to see that morning which had suffered the first mutilation . . . history indicated that there was often a personal connection to the first victim of any serial offender . . . their visits that day had not been in chronological order based on victimology time frame. Really, given their workload and the limited number of hours in the day, they'd just been moving from house to house based on geographical proximity.
"Um," Emily started flipping through the pages in her lap, "they were number three. Family name St. Clair, back in November, on the tenth, they lost a grey tabby named Shadow. It was found by the fifteen year old daughter, Danielle."
"Right," Hotch cut in as he nodded, "I spoke to the mother this morning and she said Danielle, she called her 'Dani' was home sick this week. That she had the flu and that we could come by anytime." He looked back at the house, "anything else pertinent in there?"
"Prentiss?"
When Hotch got no response after his second request, he turned to look at Emily . . . she was staring at her phone. His brow went up.
"What is it?"
"What?" Emily's head snapped up, "oh, sorry." She moved her cell over so he could see what she was looking at, "look here," she tapped the magnifier, "this is the picture I took of the geographical overlay. Now," she pointed, "look at the tip on the mutilation pentagram. That's this . . . this . . ." she paused for a second, "house. You know what?" She looked over excitedly, "I think that might mean something. The points I mean, we know they all relate to the elements but I don't remember what the bottom one is on an inverted pentagram."
Earlier it seemed enough to simply know that the points were elements, it hadn't occurred to her until they saw this home that was a total mismatch to the others, that the elements themselves . . . who was assigned what point . . . might have some significance as well. And she knew from his slight grimace of disgust that thought hadn't occurred to Hotch either. But she saw that he was all over it now, as he had already pulled out his own phone before she'd even finished speaking.
"Hold on," Hotch hurriedly opened a browser and started typing. A second later his jaw twitched right before he turned to share what he'd learned with Emily.
"An upright pentagram signifies the dominance of the divine spirit on the lower nature of Man. Conversely, an upside down pentagram represents the submission of the spirit to matter and the submission of man to his lowest impulses."
Hearing Hotch read those words aloud, Emily felt her excitement morph to the first tickle of fear on the back of her neck. And there was a moment of silence before she cleared her throat a bit too loudly.
"Okay, so to our UNSUB, then this house that we're sitting in front of right now," her voice dropped as she looked nervously out the side windows to the falling darkness, "represents the worst of the worst of mankind."
And that would be saying something given the atrocities that the UNSUB himself had committed. Moments like this . . . moments where she could feel all the little hairs on her arm begin to rise . . . were where the intestinal fortitude portion of her job description really came into play.
This was a career choice that definitely did keep the blood pumping.
"Yes," Hotch nodded slowly as his gaze shifted back out the front window, "I think given how deliberately the pentagrams were formed, that would be a sound inference." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Emily stare at him for a moment. And then she asked with a touch of apprehension. "Okay then, what now?"
Though the question was expected, for a moment Hotch didn't know what to say. This was the breakthrough that they'd been looking for, but as he watched the shadows creeping across the landscape he was unsure of what to do next.
Even though these people's names were technically still listed under the victim column, now that they'd made this unexpected . . . disturbing . . . connection, those same names also had a question mark to them. What had these people done to their UNSUB? It had to have been something pretty God damn notable to warrant this special place of honor on his work of art.
'Or maybe they'd done nothing,' he reminded himself. Maybe their transgressions were nothing more than illusions of cruelty born solely from the depths of an extremely disturbed mind. That was quite plausible, because there was no doubt that the mind in question was indeed extremely disturbed.
Somehow though, as they sat there in the gloaming in front of this rundown structure out in the middle of nowhere, Hotch had a feeling that these people did indeed have some secrets to hide. And regardless of whether or not those secrets rose to the level of sin, he was starting to feel extremely uncomfortable at the amount of exposure they had sitting out in the front yard like this. Though he knew that their investigative window was beginning to close . . . thirty-six hours and counting . . . the idea of simply waltzing up to this family's front door and knocking was starting to sound like an extremely unwise course of action.
They were out in the country with no back up and the sun was going down. If something happened, if for instance it turned out that somebody in this house . . . or somebody in these woods . . . was the somebody that they'd been looking for the last twenty-four hours, he and Emily were not at all in an ideal situation for clean capture.
He could see things going downhill very quickly.
And at that thought Hotch suddenly flashed back on the night that JJ and Reid had knocked on the wrong country door and his course of action was made without another moment's hesitation. His hand immediately moved back to the gear shift.
"We're leaving," he said firmly as he shifted to reverse, "we're going back out to the main road, we're calling the sheriff and we're asking him to meet us here with at least one other deputy." He turned to look over his shoulder as he took his foot off the brake, "I don't know that these people have done anything wrong," the car began to slowly roll backwards, "but given these new developments I do think that it would be wise to have backup before they're questioned. Also, call Garcia. Have her run their names again ASAP, this time I want a full background check, every skeleton in the closet."
Earlier they'd just had the names run for any occult connections or obvious criminal or psychological issues. Now he needed her to break into every system that she wasn't supposed to have access to and find out why this house had been chosen the tip of the pentagram.
Hearing Hotch's plan of action, Emily let out a sigh of relief . . . given the mutilation images floating in her brain, she really had not wanted to knock on that door without backup. Fortunately as usual lately she and Hotch were on exactly the same wavelength. And as she started fumbling for her phone again she nodded her firm assent to his decision.
"That all sounds good to me. Now," she glanced at the dashboard clock before her eyes snapped back to the windshield, "I just hope that Garcia's not sitting in traffic on her way home or else we'll have to wait unt . . ."
Then her voice trailed off as a surge of adrenaline shot through her body . . . the downstairs curtains had just moved.
"Hotch," she whispered as the fingers on her free hand clamped down on his thigh, "somebody's watching us."
Though it was perfectly understandable that the occupants of the house would be curious about who was in their private access road, at present this perfectly understandable behavior was creeping the hell (aka scaring the shit) out of her.
"That's okay Prentiss," Hotch pressed his foot down a little further on the accelerator, "in a second there won't be anything left to . . . oh shit."
As he slammed on the brakes, Emily whipped her head around to look behind them, "what's the matter?"
As soon as she saw what Hotch just had, her eyes widened in alarm . . . oh shit indeed. Somebody had just turned onto this dead end . . . one lane . . . private road.
They were boxed in.
And with the cloud of dust rising up Emily could see that the vehicle was coming at them at a good clip. So fast in fact that the half mile distance between them was rapidly disappearing. Just as she made out the shape of a pickup truck Emily suddenly realized that if she could see him then he could them. And that's when her terror spiked out of nowhere.
OH JESUS!
She started frantically smacking Hotch's arm as she screamed.
"HOTCH! HE'S GOING TO RAM US!"
A/N 2: Writing this now, moving in the case fic elements of the story again, I'm starting to feel a little sad I don't have more wiggle room to write Hotch and Emily out in the field back when they were at this stage in their relationship. But this section of Girl proper was mostly working on the chapter per episode principle so I didn't have much in the way of time to work in any cases of my own design. But maybe after this one's wrapped (and we're getting close) I'll see if there's any other point in the spring pre 'Hotch Goes Boom' that I could send them off (perhaps with the team) on a regular case fic. That's just not my bread and butter but I'd probably feel more comfortable writing one if I was in a 'safe' world.
I kind of wish I could move Lorelai and Luke down to Virginia because I do think she'd make a nice friend for Emily here in this world, but alas, they're small town folk.
So yeah, little twist there at the end! I had to do a bit of research on the inverted pentagrams and let me say, there are a lot of disturbing satanic images out there when you take the filter off the google results! But actually I need to give full props and credit to a particular website for the little definition that Hotch reads off the browser right above because I got that definition right from them and it was so well phrased as it was, I didn't even make any effort to rewrite it. So that was actually the '' a bunch of conspiracy theory folks who unwittingly helped a sister out :)
Juggling so many things right now but I will get another chapter up here by Christmas. I'm not sure if that will be the last one, but we're getting close. And I've got a nice super long weekend coming up with the Thanksgiving holiday so hopefully I'll get a few things polished and up for your viewing pleasure :) I promise that Fracture is on the short list.