Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word
"Now answer my question: what happened to you while you were gone?"
"Hell." Em sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "Hell is what happened to me while I was gone."
Dave sat down on the edge of the couch. "What do you mean?"
Em shook her head. "Just that. I was by myself…all alone in Paris trying to recover from a severe injury. I had no friends or family to rely on. It was just me. I couldn't contact my mother or father. I had a contact number for JJ or Hotch when I needed to talk to them, but it was for emergency use only."
"You had my number," he reminded her. "You could have contacted me."
Em's eyes flashed for a moment, then the flame went out. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "And said what to you? 'Hi, Dave, it's the ghost from your past calling to let you know that I'm alive.' I couldn't do that."
"You could have," he insisted firmly.
"I couldn't," she retuned just as firmly. "There was such intense scrutiny the weeks after I died, all of the team's moves were being watched. Every move. Every step. Every phone call was being tracked and traced."
"No one but Hotch, JJ, Strauss and a couple higher ups were in the know, so who….?"
"Doyle," Em finished.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded her head affirmatively. "Yes. One good thing about being underground was that I had more access to his movements. I knew that he was hiding out somewhere in the east coast. But he was also watching the team to see if they had pulled a fast one on him. Everyone had to believe that I was dead."
"Your plan worked."
"It wasn't my plan," she corrected. "I didn't have a say in anything. I was in a coma for six weeks while I lingered between life and death. I barely remember anything that was happening. There were papers and negotiations being made, but I was too out of it to wonder how it was going to affect me. By the time I knew what was happening, I was given three new identities and whisked off the continent."
"You are blaming Hotch and JJ for your deception?" Dave asked.
"Don't you? Derek does. And after that look Reid gave to JJ tonight, I know that he blames them."
"Honestly, we blame ourselves for not being able to see the signs earlier."
Em rolled her eyes and gave a slight snort. "Dave Rossi. The Teflon FBI agent. Nothing sticks to you. Grudges. Revenge. Affairs. You mean to tell me that you never once blamed anyone for what happened that night?"
"If you have to know, I blamed myself. I told Derek not to make it personal because you had crossed the line with Doyle, but I was trying to convince myself that what you did, you had to."
"You think I would purposely sleep with a terrorist other than to gather information?" Em sputtered.
"The Emily Prentiss I used to know probably wouldn't have done that now. But the Emily Prentiss before she arrived at the BAU….I don't know," Dave admitted.
"I see how you have such faith in me," she replied with a sardonic chuckle. "After what we shared."
"When we were sleeping together, I would have said no, that you were only following orders. But we stopped sleeping together after the LA case. Now I wonder."
"It's something I'm not proud of, Dave. I was under orders to do anything to get the information. And that meant sleeping with a man who made my stomach turn every time I looked in his eyes."
"Yet, you took his ring."
"I had to. I didn't love him. Every time I looked down at my hand, it was all I could do not to vomit. I would have booked ten minutes after he suggested that we go to bed the night we first met, but I was under orders from the CIA. I was supposed to be loose woman looking for a man of power and wealth to fulfill my needs. I kept reminding myself that it was just a job," Em whispered. "I was supposed to be a diversion, and they needed more information on his contacts in Russia."
"You don't speak Russian," he remarked dryly.
"I understand it…better than I gave myself credit. I had to remember it word for word and then pass it on. I was nervous that my cover would be blown and I would be shot in my sleep. But every day that passed without a bullet was one step closer to bringing Doyle down…"
"What happened?" Dave interrupted. "How did you go from being the love of his life to the most wanted woman in his life?"
"My cover was blown. There was a mole in the CIA." Em reached over and poured a finger of scotch into her empty glass. "Go figure that there a turncoat in the CIA." She sipped the liquid that was gently soothing her.
"Is that when Doyle knew about you?" Dave leaned forward just a bit. He was intrigued.
"No. I had been whisked away by Interpol for 'questioning'. At that same time, they had detained Doyle and demanded to know who his contacts were. They were pretty sure they had enough to hold him. I was allowed to go back and take Declyn and put him in protective custody."
"That is when you staged his 'death'?"
Em nodded grimly. "Yes. They hoped that when Doyle learned that Declyn had been abducted by his 'rivals' he would break and tell them what they needed to know."
"But it didn't turn out that way," Dave concluded.
"It was too good and too perfect." Em sipped again. "And too easy. That's when I should have known that something was amiss."
"Who was the mole?"
"Does it matter?" Em wrapped an arm across her chest to ward off the sudden chill in the room.
"He almost killed you twice," Dave returned angrily. "I think I have the right to know who betrayed your confidence. Was it that rat Doyle gunned down on the roof?"
Em considered lying, but thought better of it. "It wasn't him."
"Who was it?"
"No one you would know, Dave. He was a no one. In fact, you could put his name in the database and nothing would pop up on him. He was a low level thug who wanted to play 'double agent' and get paid for it. He was in it for the money. He didn't give a damn who got killed or lost as long as he won in the end." Em brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. "He won alright - a bullet between the eyes."
"Delivered by Ian Doyle, I presume?"
Em gave a small smile. "You presume correctly. When he told Doyle that Declyn had been murdered, Doyle didn't spill what he knew, he paid one of the guards to get him out of the jail house. He broke out and headed toward the villa. But we weren't there. We were already on our way to England. He went to China to meet with a contact."
"I thought Doyle spent seven years in a prison in Korea?" Dave wondered. His brows knitted together.
"He had heard that there was a sighting of someone looking like me in London, so he headed out that way, but they captured him at the Korean border. I already had Declyn settled here in the States under an assumed name. Once he was settled, I went to the field office in Chicago. And the rest is history." She placed her glass on the coffee table and leaned back in her chair.
"Not quite. Let me get this straight: you went to Chicago, Declyn was in Boston, and Doyle was in a prison somewhere in Korea. And it was during that time he found out that you were still alive?"
"I didn't know that my cover had been blown. I tried to keep tabs on everything, but life happened. The BAU happened. Events more important than Doyle were happening to my family. It was during Foyet that I got word that the turncoat had been executed, but Doyle was still in prison. I didn't put the pieces together, but I should have."
"What do you mean?" Dave asked with deep concern in his voice.
"He was the reason Doyle broke out of prison. He told Doyle that I was still alive."
Neither person spoke for a long while.
"I'm glad he's dead," Dave said evenly. Em didn't need to ask which man Dave was talking about.
The shadows in the room slowly expanded as the fire started to die down. The low flames leant an eerie glow to an already eerie moment.
"So," Em's voice broke the silence. "When are you going to ask me the big question that's really weighing on your mind?"
"Which is?" Dave returned smoothly.
"Did I love Doyle?"