Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, Criminal Minds.

Angel

Part 3

By
N. J. Borba

"What were you thinking?" Hotch asked as he stood in the middle of a huge cattle barn in rural Virginia.

Emily's heart was still racing from the ordeal. Adrenaline hadn't stopped pumping since she'd made the decision to go after their UnSub without waiting for backup. "I was thinking that Darren Nelson had just knocked Reid out and was holding JJ against him like a shield. I was also thinking that you, Morgan and Rossi were at least ten minutes away and that JJ and Reid could both be dead in less than five," she informed him. "And we both know neither of them has particularly fond memories about barns."

"So you decided to climb into a hay loft and jump two stories to land on Nelson," Hotch's head shook in disbelief, even though she'd already explained what happened. "You could have been killed pulling a stunt like that, not to mention his gun could have gone off resulting in JJ or Reid being seriously injured or killed."

"And if Morgan had pulled the same stunt you'd be patting him on the back right now for a job well done," she shot back. It had been almost exactly two weeks since she'd met and dismissed her birth child. She'd been slowly spiraling out of control ever since.

Hotch's jaw twitched. "I would be doing no such thing," his tone was a warning.

"Right," Emily mumbled under her breath.

The team leader's eyes narrowed as he regarded her, a little less angry and more concerned by her obstinate behavior. "I'm not sure what's going on with you right now, but if something personal is clouding your judgment and keeping you from performing your job, I suggest you deal with it. Quickly. Your head needs to be absolutely on the case when we're in the field. I think you've been with this team long enough to know that," he said dismissively before turning and walking away from her.

She took a shaky breath, watching him retreat. Picking a fight with Hotch had not been anywhere in her plans for the day, but after risking her life for two friends and being scolded for it, Emily wasn't really thinking straight. She massaged her sore right shoulder as she made her way over to the ambulance and the medics that were tending to Reid and JJ. Rossi approached her, concern reflected in his gaze. "How are they?" Emily asked.

"They'll live," the man replied in a calm manner. "Reid's head is gonna hurt for a while, but I'm pretty sure none of his genius leaked out," Rossi joked. "JJ has a few minor cuts and bruises, but I'd say she's more shaken than anything." He silently regarded her for a moment longer. "How are you? Hotch doesn't seem very happy."

"Is he ever?" Emily asked with a sigh. "I know it was stupid, but I also know Nelson wasn't going down easy, and he wasn't going to wait. I couldn't get a shot without risking JJ, so I did the best I could," she defended her actions again.

Rossi nodded. "I think Hotch knows that, but he's got this protective thing when it comes to his team."

"You mean with the female members of his team," she corrected.

The man nodded and flashed a small grin. "He'll get past it, eventually. But you," Rossi continued to eye her with worry barely masked. "You never did tell me how you are."

"Fine," she rebuffed his concern with a shrug and walked away.

xxx

Morgan entered Dugan's, a small jazz and blues club on the outskirts of DC. He had one mission in mind as he weaved past the glass-top tables toward the row of booths at the back of the establishment. He'd already searched out the other places he thought to find Emily. She wasn't home, at least not answering her door or phone. And she hadn't been at work either, which he thought might be the case. So his mind had turned to the club, the one they'd come to on several occasions together.

It wasn't like the noisy sport's bar the team tended to hang out at for Super Bowl games or other weekends when they tried to forget about the job. Dugan's was a mellow, intimate club run by a man named Al Dugan. He was a former teacher at Juilliard who sometimes had live music at the place, but mostly he played all the old hits on his vintage jukebox turntable. At the moment Ella Fitzgerald was belting out a tune with gusto, and Derek was fairly certain he could make out Louis Armstrong backing her up on trumpet.

He spotted her in the right-hand corner booth; their booth. Emily was hunched over a little, but he could see that her bleary red eyes were focused on a glass in front of her. She looked small sitting there against the high back of the velvet covered seat. Seeing her like that reminded him of earlier when they'd found her squatting in front of their unconscious UnSub, looking fragile and harried. Morgan had walked away earlier, too many eyes on them to show his concern, but now he needed to know for himself that she was okay.

"Hey," he greeted her, standing beside the booth.

"Derek?" she looked up, surprised to see him.

"We're on a first name basis again?" Morgan questioned. Even though he was worried about her at the moment, Derek couldn't help still feeling the sting of her actions and words from two weeks ago. And their difficulties had clearly come across to the team, because Hotch hadn't partnered them on a case in all that time.

She smiled regretfully. "I guess."

There was no mistaking the slight slur of her words. Derek figured she'd had plenty to drink, something he hadn't witnessed since their trip to Vegas. He hadn't given it much thought back then, but now her drinking caused him great concern. Especially coupled with her behavior the last few weeks. Morgan slipped into the booth. It was curved like the letter C and they usually sat huddled together in the middle, but now he seated himself across from her. "I was worried about you," he admitted. "After what happened earlier."

"You'd have done the same thing," Emily challenged.

"Probably," he nodded, easily agreeing. "But I'm not level headed like you. What happened today… it wasn't like you at all. In fact, you haven't been yourself for weeks."

Her lips formed a thin line. "What makes you think you know anything about how I normally act?" She couldn't help remembering Reid once lashing out at her in a similar manner.

Derek did his level best not to react badly to her behavior. She was on the defensive for some reason and he really wanted to get to the bottom of it. "I've worked with you for four years now," he began. "And we've been on much more intimate terms the last several months. I'm pretty sure I know you."

"You don't know anything, Derek," she slurred again. "And it's better if you don't."

His worry doubled as he felt she wasn't making much sense. "Look, Emily… if you don't want to be with me anymore, which you obviously don't, I can deal with that." He didn't say that it still hurt like hell, but Derek figured that was implied. "I want you to be happy, with whom ever. But you just don't seem happy lately, and if that's because this John guy has mistreated you in any way… I swear I'll make him regret it," Morgan vowed.

Emily actually smiled. She never would have figured herself the type to fall for someone so alpha-male protective. "No… Derek, it's not like that at all…" The glass that sat between her hands was half full of amber liquor. Condensation from the ice formed a puddle on the table. She stared at the glass and puddle, mesmerized for some reason. "John and I aren't dating. We're just old friends; old friends who made a very poor choice one night."

He remembered what she'd told him about it, though it had been very briefly summarized. "You got pregnant, right? And had an abortion?" Without the distraction of sex on his mind, Derek finally had a moment to consider how that must have affected her teenage life. "You have regrets about what happened?"

"No," she whispered. "That's not what really happened," Emily finally revealed. "That's just the lie I told myself over, and over, so that I didn't have to deal with the truth."

"What is the truth?" he asked, hoping she'd continue to open up to him. Derek knew the alcohol was certainly helping to loosen her tongue, but he didn't really care as long as he finally got some answers out of her. He figured if he knew the root cause of her issues he might be able to help.

"The truth is, she's alive," Emily informed him. "The baby I gave birth to," she continued. "She came to visit me a few weeks ago."

That was about the last thing Morgan had been expecting. "Had you ever seen her before?" He wasn't sure what to say, but he figured keeping her talking was best.

"Just when she was born," the words were so soft, Emily wasn't sure she was speaking at all. But she continued. "We spent the first twenty-four hours of her life together and then I didn't see her again until two weeks ago," she revealed. "Now she's twenty-three years old, Derek. I have a twenty-three year old daughter," Emily shook her head. "Actually, she's not my daughter. She's the daughter of a man named Scott Hayden, a complete stranger."

"I can't even imagine," he tried to sympathize.

"I told her to get lost," Emily chuckled dryly, morosely.

Derek frowned. "I'm sure that's not true."

"It is true," she spoke a little louder. "Maybe not those exact words, but… I told you to get lost and then I told her the same damn thing."

His chest pounded, aching for her. "Why, Emily?"

"I had to. Attachments make you vulnerable. They can be used against you," she explained things the way she understood them. "That's what I was taught all my life. We moved from city to city, so I schooled myself on how to remain distant, aloof. I learned not to make friends because they'd just be gone soon enough."

It all started to make sense to him, though it tore him up inside to imagine her going through life without ever making many friends. He imagined it had held true for other serious relationships throughout her life. Morgan recalled the day she'd confessed to him about her bad date, about how she'd tried to relate to the person via a book character. He realized now, even for all her intelligence and social graces, she lacked the ability to build and maintain lasting relationships. That made him sadder than he ever could have imagined.

"But not having a connection to anything or anyone in life makes you pretty damn lonely. Doesn't it?" Derek asked.

Her left index finger ran along the rim of the glass in front of her. "When I was seven years old my dad died."

"I thought he and your mother were still together," Morgan was confused.

Emily's head shook. "My step-father, Victor Prentiss, married my mom when I was ten. He's a good man, always treated me like his own child. I even took his name."

"But your real father died when you were seven," Derek repeated, surprised by that information. She seemed to be full of surprises at the moment. And he was finally realizing just how little he knew about her life.

"For several years I didn't even know how he had died," she forged ahead, knowing the alcohol in her system had unleashed the flood gates. "But one night when I was twelve I overheard my parents talking about it. It was the only time I ever heard my mother speak of him. She said he'd been really drunk the night he died. She said he was drunk a lot," Emily sighed. "I don't remember that about him."

He listened, fearing something more was on the horizon. But he gave her an out. "You don't have to tell me all of this now," Derek offered.

"That night I heard my mother say that he'd been depressed a lot and complained about feeling alone," Emily continued, grateful for Derek's presence. She felt it was a gift she didn't deserve. "She used the word suicide." Emily revealed. "I never asked her about it because I was too afraid she'd get mad that I knew. But I think my real father killed himself because he felt lonely. And I'm afraid the same thing could happen to me," she confessed.

Morgan reached for her hand and squeezed it so tight he feared her fingers might break. "You are not alone, Emily. I'm here, no matter how much you push me away."

She looked up into his eyes for the first time since he'd found her at the club. "For how long?"

"As long as you want."

xxx

After Derek forced a whole pot of black coffee down her throat and sent her home in a cab, Emily was feeling somewhat sober. She was with it enough to grab the stack of mail in her box before making her way up to the top floor of her apartment building. Inside the confines of her home she wandered upstairs, still gripping the mail. The stack was tossed onto her bed while she went to take a quick shower. After drying off she slipped into Derek's t-shirt and got in to bed. That's when she noticed an odd piece of mail.

The phone beside her bed rang and she answered it. "Hi."

"You actually picked up," Derek was pleased.

"I knew you'd be checking up on me," she reclined a little against the pillows stacked behind her. Emily closed her eyes and recalled the last time he'd been in bed with her. She actually remembered the morning after a lot better. The way he'd stayed with her all night and then cooked her breakfast. As much as she tried to deny getting close to him, Derek was already very much entrenched in her life.

"Did you take some aspirin or something?" concern continued to lace his tone. "Think you'll be able to sleep?"

She re-opened her eyes. "There's a letter starring at me."

"What?" Morgan was instantly worried that she was imagining things.

"A letter," Emily repeated. "Addressed to me from Scott Hayden."

That name rang a bell and it took just a few seconds for Derek to remember it as the name of the man who had raised her daughter. "So, why is it starring at you?" he inquired. "Why don't you open it?"

"Because I already know what it says," she was slightly abrupt with him. "He's upset for the way I treated Angie."

The female name was foreign to him, but even though Emily hadn't mentioned the girl's name Derek imagined Angie was her daughter. It was still rather strange to think of her being the mother of a twenty-three year old, but he imagined it was even more difficult from Emily's point of view. "I think you should open it," he encouraged.

"I don't know if I can," she revealed a bit more of her insecurity. He made her feel safe enough to do so.

"Open it, Emily," he whispered. "I'll stay on the line if you want."

She nodded, though she knew he couldn't see. "Okay," her fingers slipped beneath the envelope's flap and she carefully opened it. A sheet of paper was pulled free and she read it aloud as the phone remained cradled against her shoulder. "Ms. Emily Prentiss… I'm writing to tell you how disappointed I am about your meeting with Angie a few weeks ago. She told me things didn't go very well between you two," Emily felt her throat tighten upon confirmation of the man's feelings.

"Keep reading," Morgan prompted.

Emily swallowed. "Maybe seeing her all grown up like that was too much for you to handle at once. I think I can understand how that might feel. That's why I've enclosed some items that I hope will help," she finished, the only other writing being his name at the bottom of the page.

Derek remained supportive. "What did he send?"

Placing the paper down on her bed, Emily bravely peered inside the envelope. Her left hand reached in and pulled out the items. "Pictures," she whispered. "There's…" Emily actually smiled at the cherub face of a dark-eyed child with porcelain skin and tiny white teeth. She flipped the photo over. "Angie, age two."

"Bet she was a real sweetheart," Morgan said, hoping to keep Emily engaged.

"She's adorable," Emily squeezed the words past her lips as she took another picture in hand. "There's another one," she told him. "Angie's missing a tooth." On the back it said much the same. "Angie, age five… lost her first tooth yesterday and the tooth fairy left her fifty cents. She was thrilled."

He heard the crack in her voice as she read those last few words. "You okay?"

"No," Emily hoarsely replied.

"Want me to come over?" Derek asked.

"No," she said again.

Morgan resisted his first gut reaction to think there was rejection in her tone. He knew it was going to take a lot more than one evening to build a better foundation to their relationship, and he even respected the fact she'd said no. "Okay, then I'll say good night now."

"Good night, Derek," she replied before ending the call.

Emily eventually fell asleep while gazing at the grinning, missing toothed little girl.

To be continued…