Leaving on a Jet Plane…Maybe

The following morning, Morgan raced around, trying to pack everything he could think of. He knew he should have done it when he got home the night before but he'd crashed. He checked the time and realized he was running later than he thought. He was about to close his suitcase when his cell began to ring.

"Morgan," he said, slightly out of breath.

"Hey, it's Prentiss. Everything ok?" Emily asked.

"Hey…yeah. I'm just running a little late. I'll be there in a few minutes," he said, trying to balance his phone on his shoulder and zip his suitcase at the same time.

"I'll see you soon," she said and ended the call. Morgan flipped his phone shut and tossed it on the table nearby so he could finish the last minute carry-on packing. Twenty minutes later he pulled up in front of Emily's apartment. He waved to her as she walked out to meet him, a suitcase trailing behind her.

"Morning sunshine," Morgan greeted. Emily cracked a small smile.

"Does Hotch know you're coming with me?" she asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"I didn't get a chance to call him yet," Morgan admitted as they stopped at a stop sign. Emily pulled her phone from her purse and hit the number '2' key. It rang a couple of times before the other end picked up.

"Hotchner,' Hotch answered.

"Hotch…it's Prentiss," Emily replied.

"Shouldn't you be on your way to the airport?" he asked. At the BAU he was herding the rest of the team into the conference room.

"I am, Sir. I just wanted to let you know that Morgan is with me. My mother cancelled on me last minute and…" she began to explain.

"Alright. Have a safe flight. Enjoy yourselves," Hotch said and hung up. He looked over at the rest of the team.

"We're going to be shorthanded the next few days. Morgan and Prentiss are in California for the weekend," he explained.

"Lucky them. Nice warm, sunny beaches while we're stuck here staring at mutilated bodies," Garcia sighed.

Back on the road, Morgan slowed at the on ramp. Neither he nor Emily said anything for a while. He didn't even dare to touch the radio dial. He didn't want to disturb the quiet. They cruised along the highway until they reached the parking for Ronald Reagan National Airport.

"Ready?" he asked as he cut the ignition.

"Let's go," she said with a smile. The pair climbed out of the car and grabbed their bags.

"My mother called and transferred her ticket to you," Emily murmured as they walked in and got in line.

"Good because that's the only way they're letting me on that plane," he teased. Em just swatted his shoulder as they inched towards the ticket counter. Some twenty minutes later they'd reached the counter and received their tickets.

"Security is down that hall and to your right," the woman said, pointing to a long hallway to her left.

"Thank you," Derek said and grabbed Emily's carryon before she could.

"I can take it," she said as they situated themselves in yet another line.

"A guy tries to be polite and you complain. I can't figure you out, Emily," he said with a chuckle.

"This coming from the man who felt it necessary to spin me around in the middle of a bridge," she replied. She couldn't help but smile.

"You liked it," he teased, reaching out to take her hand in his.

"Next," the guard called. Morgan and Emily pulled out their licenses and tickets for him to check.

"Bags through the machine. Shoes off," he instructed.

"I can't remember the last time I flew anywhere on a commercial flight," Morgan muttered as they pushed their bags through.

"Yeah…the jet is definitely more convenient," Emily agreed as the guard on the other side of the magnetometer waved her through. She passed through without setting it off. She was about to reach for her shoes and bag when one of the techs stopped her.

"Ma'am, is this your bag?" he asked and she nodded.

"Could you please step to the side," he asked. She did so. Not two minutes later, both she and Morgan were being led down a long hallway.

"What the hell is going on?" Emily hissed in Morgan's ear. He just shrugged. Before either of them could say another word they were separated and taken to interrogation rooms.

"What the hell is going on here?" Emily demanded once the guard had shut the door.

"You recognize this?" he asked, sliding her gun across the table to her.

"Yes," she replied.

"You think you could have gotten on to a plane with that?" he spat. She looked to the gun and then back to the guard.

"You've got to be kidding," she grumbled, reaching for her pocket. His hand reached for his own service weapon.

"I'm just reaching for my wallet," she assured him. She pulled it out and opened it.

"I'm FBI," she said, pushing the badge to him. He picked it up and examined it.

"Why not just carry it on your person then, Ma'am?" he asked, seeming more relaxed now.

"Because I'm going on vacation and I didn't think I needed to scare people," she shot.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Agent Prentiss. Next time…just show us your badge before you go through," he said and stood up. She took her badge back and shoved it in her pocket and picked up the gun.

"The guy that was with me, he's FBI as well. Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan," she said as the guard began to lead her back to the terminal.

"I'll let them know,' the guard muttered and turned back around. Back down the hallway, Morgan was receiving the same treatment Emily had.

"So, Sir. You travel often?" the guard asked.

"Yeah. So what," Morgan answered, arms crossed over his chest.

"Fly out of DC a lot?" he probed.

"Not usually," Derek muttered.

"How'd you think you were going to get past us with this?" he shot, slamming the gun down on the table.

"Hey man. Whatever tactics you're trying to use, it's not going to work," Derek shot back and stood.

"Sit down," the guard ordered.

"You want to know if that's my gun…yes. It's my gun. I'm with the Bureau, man," Derek spat, tossing his badge on the table. The guard picked it up and opened it. He seemed to take forever examining it. Just as he was about to speak there was a knock on the door and the guard who had interviewed Emily stuck his head in.

"He's FBI. They're going on vacation," the first guard explained.

"Sorry for the misunderstanding Agent," he apologized. Morgan just grabbed his gun and badge and stormed out.

"Hey, you ok?" Emily asked when she spotted him.

"This is why I don't fly commercial," he grumbled as they picked up their bags.

"We should have used our badges. Would have avoided the whole thing," Emily sighed as they headed down the long stretch of gates.

"Sometimes, we just want to blend in," Derek grumbled.

"I know, Derek. Believe me. But I'm sure we'll be laughing about it next week," he sid, spotting 2 seats in their gate. Morgan nodded and slumped into the chair.

"What do you say we go dancing tonight," he suggested.

"Dancing? I don't know…I've seen you dance," Emily laughed.

"All the girls love me," he said with a smirk.

"How will I keep them away," she chuckled.

"I only got moves for you tonight," he promised, leaning over and kissing her cheek.

"You better," she whispered. They fell into silence for a while. Morgan pulled out his headphones while Emily pulled out a stack of papers. It wasn't until she reached for her phone that Morgan noticed what she was looking at.

"Emily…what are you doing?" he asked.

"I had JJ fax me the new case file this morning," she answered. Derek reached over and took her phone.

"Vacation. It means no work. The team will be fine without us for a few days," he promised.

"I feel bad. We've left them seriously undermanned," Emily complained.

"They probably wish they were all going to California with us," he breathed. She reached for her phone but he wouldn't give it up.

"Ok, you win. No work," Emily sighed, shoving the papers back in her bag. As she zipped it back up, the announcement was made that the flight was ready to board.

"California, here we come," Derek said as they got in line to board. Ten minutes later they were buckling into their seats. Morgan looked around.

'Well it's definitely not the jet. But we'll manage," he joked.

"I forgot how little the seats are on these things," she stated, pulling down the tray table.

"Makes you appreciate what the government can give its employees," Derek mused.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Captain speaking. We're about ready for take off. We're first in the queue so we should be on the runway momentarily," the captain's voice came over the speaker system.