EPILOGUE
(Now that I am finished with this version, I will try to finish the NCIS one, as well as some of my other works, like Prentiss's Find, Ziva's Treasure, and 24 Hours. Enjoy!)
HOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILYHOTCHEMILY
The team spent the next week filling out reports, taking notes, and tying up loose ends. Both teams.
The ER doctor had actually had to put three stitches in her forehead. A large shard of glass had been imbedded pretty deep. To top it off, when removing her cast because of the glass embedded in the plaster, they'd found something else.
A bullet had also imbedded itself in the plaster. They'd ran ballistics tests and sure enough—it matched the ones they'd found the first time she'd been shot. The same fingerprint had been found on it, too. The doctor—the same one who'd been terrified of Ziva the first go around—just shook his head and muttered something about Super Agents and Wonder Woman complexes as he'd removed the damaged plaster.
"You'll probably ruin this one, too, won't you, Agent Prentiss?" He'd asked, carefully avoiding the eye of the other dark haired female agent currently being treated for minor cuts and bruises. The younger woman simply was terrifying.
"Most likely. It's the job." Emily admitted honestly.
"So an immobilization cast, instead of plaster. Just remember to be more careful." He'd admonished as he'd checked the stitching on the old injury. No big deal, she'd have had to had the plaster cast removed when it was time for her stitches to come out, anyway. It was just a few days early. No harm, no foul, she'd thought at the time.
She'd called Hotch like he'd ordered and he'd picked her up within twenty minutes of her call. He'd wanted to drive her home, but she'd refused. They'd ended up back at NCIS, tying up the remaining ends of the case. And watching Gibbs and Rossi in interrogation.
No doubt about it, David Marks was the shooter. His story was much like the profile had predicted. He'd been young when his mother had first met Franks. Todd had been older, spent less time with the strange man. Had preferred his mother's company to that of her boyfriend. Until she'd taken off and left them behind. Melissa Marks had hair as dark as Emily's and eyes of a sad brown. No stretch to understand why—or how—Franks had developed that particular victimology. His manifesto had been found, too. Emily hadn't read it. She really didn't want to know.
She would eventually. It was part of the job, knowing what made UNSUBs the way they were. Every bit of new information helps them find the next UNSUB that much faster.
So she'd do it. Even though Hotch had told her she didn't have to.
Between the two of them things hadn't changed that visibly. At least to the outside world—or the rest of the team. But Emily knew differently. She could feel his eyes on her, now, in a way she couldn't before. He didn't avoid her touch like he used to. He smiled at her more, called her Emily when they were alone. Which was happening much more frequently.
She'd never realized how much he'd went out of his way to avoid her, until he stopped. It was…odd, this awareness she had of him. Especially since she knew he felt the same. The only thing that remained was whether or not he'd eventually act on it.
Right now—it was just too soon.
She'd not really had time to think it all through. And Emily Prentiss was the kind to think everything through.
Hotch seemed to realize that; he'd not pressured her. But he'd not hid his feelings from her—not since they'd wrapped the case and returned to Headquarters. Somehow, she doubted he ever would again.
She knew his feelings. He knew hers.
And for now—that was enough.
For both of them.