Author's Note

Thanks everyone for the story follows and reviews. They're all beautiful. ;) This chapter took a little longer than I expected it to. I hope you like it.

Chapter 3

Emily Prentiss, a terrorist? It would be laughable if Watley and Grant weren't standing in the BAU making it sound somewhat plausible.

"You see Hotchner," Watley was parading his knowledge for the BAU as if he were a small child bragging about his candy score. I've got something you don't, don't'cha want it? Lame. Amateur. Transparent. Hotch hated transparency like this. Where was the imagination? The skill? He was a hack. Except. The problem was that they did want it. Badly. The BAU was used to knowing more about their cases than anyone else in the room. That went double for one of their own. Prentiss, no matter where she was or what she was doing, would always be one of theirs. And granted, this wasn't one of their cases yet. Yet. However. Official or otherwise, they were in it now. Watley continued to lay out his entirely unlikely (except that it wasn't sounding "entirely" unlikely) scenario. "Interpol fumbled their rescue attempt."

"You mentioned that already," Rossi remarked. He was frustrated with this elaborate song and dance. Watley and Grant clearly weren't just here gathering information or to inform the team. They had another agenda. Part of that agenda seemed to be getting under Hotch's skin. He wasn't entirely sure why; and he wasn't at all sure yet about the rest. Grant, whose attention (Like Watley's) had been solely on Hotch, turned to Rossi to stare him down. Rossi didn't blink. "You told us Interpol screwed it. You also told us she was back home. Get on with it." Rossi could sound menacing without the hint of a threat in his actual voice. Must have been the result of an adolescence spent with the Mob. Hotch knew that rumor to be not completely a rumor.

Grant, starting toward Rossi, but swinging around again to Hotch, continued the story, "After the failed attempt a video clip surfaced."

"Of what?" Garcia asked in a small voice.

Grant looked, for a second, like he didn't want to tell her. For that, Hotch decided, he wasn't completely an ass. Morgan put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. JJ and Reid couldn't look at her. Rossi snapped his pen in half. Only Kate looked unaffected.

"Oh," Garcia looked like she might cry.

So there was a video somewhere out there. A video of Emily's torture. Hotch clenched his fists and tried with everything he had to keep himself in check in that moment. Whoever it was that took her better pray that Hotch never saw that video. Or figured out who they were. Or so much as cross his field of vision. Ever.

"That video clip," Watley took over, "was shopped around."

"Shopped around?" Morgan interjected.

Watley looked at him. "Yes. Shopped around. We think they didn't know who was running her. I mean, Emily Prentiss is a girl that gets around, you know."

"You wanna say that again?" Morgan threatened.

"Morgan," Hotch warned. This was part of the reason these guys were here, Hotch knew. Shaking up the BAU was part of their larger agenda; but to what end wasn't clear yet.

"I just meant," Watley smirked, "Agent Prentiss was mobile. First the CIA and the JTF with Interpol. Then here at the FBI. Then Interpol again. But she must not have been finding satisfaction with Interpol because she dallied with the CIA and British Intelligence while in London." Watley was watching the BAU to see if they knew that little piece of information. They didn't. Interesting. "See. Your girl got around. To everyone but you."

"Oh please," Hotch snarled.

Watley smiled. He'd hit a nerve., "That just burns you up, doesn't it Hotchner? Earlier this year, you practically begged her to come back to you. I'm sorry, to the BAU. She turned you down. Again. But's she's…"loaning" herself out all over the world. But not to you. How does that make you feel?"

Hotch glared at Watley. "Don't do what you're doing."

"It's not surprising that everyone wants her." Rossi said carefully. "She's very good at what she does."

"And therein lies the problem." Grant stated. "She IS very good. Emily Prentiss is a top tier spy. We don't think she talked."

"Of course she didn't. Emily would rather die than let someone else be hurt because of her. We all know this." Reid fired off, remembering multiple experiences where this was true.

"Or." Watley was smug. Hotch hated smug.

"Or?" Hotch asked, through clenched teeth.

"Or. Seems to me, her allegiance is rather fluid." Watley positied, casually.

Hotch couldn't contain the huff, "does it?"

Max Grant watching this exchange and choosing to not let it escalate just then, "Right," he continued, "That's why the video was shopped around. They didn't know who she belonged to. Copies were sent to Interpol, the CIA, and MI-6. When the response wasn't immediate, a copy was sent to Ambassador Prentiss. That's how we got involved. The Ambassador has a lot of influential friends."

"The CIA knew about this and didn't tell us?" Morgan railed.

Watley sneered at him. "Because your handling of the Ian Doyle situation went so smoothly? Or course they didn't loop you in!"

Morgan exploded out of his chair, "Nobody brought us into that. Not until it was too late!"

"Temper, temper Agent Morgan," Watley taunted. "You really should put a leash on your guard dog Hotchner. If he bites, we'll have to put him down."

"Stop." Hotch commanded. Morgan took a step back and leaned against the wall, seemingly casual, but ready for action. Just in case anyone else was threatened. Watley looked at Hotch. After a short moment, he nodded his head in acquiescence. Hotch nodded too, "Which agency mounted the successful rescue?"

"None, officially," Grant offered, "It was a third party." Grant paused to look over the room, landing on Hotch. "Of sorts."

Rossi let out a genuine laugh. Everyone stared at him. What about this situation was actually funny? Ridiculous, yes, but truly funny? No. "You think we—" Rossi started to Watley and Grant, but instead redirected himself toward the team, "They think we did it. We launched the rescue." Rossi kept laughing, the laugh turning into strangled expression of emotion. "What kind of idiots work for State and Homeland these days. It's no wonder we're losing the war on terror. It's painfully obvious that no one in this room had any inkling of what was going on with Prentiss before you showed up."

"Yes, Agent Rossi, I believe that to be true," Watley began, "We don't think the BAU was involved in Prentiss's rescue."

"Not all of you anyway." Grant added.

Rossi stopped chuckling and making light. He exchanged a meaningful look with Morgan, who took an imperceptible step closer to Hotch.

Reid pushed his chair back and cocked his head at the two visitors, whom he was now calling "the interlopers" in his head, "You seriously think one of us disappeared to Europe to mastermind a rescue none of us knew was needed? You have all of our travel records, I'm sure, just like you've got our phone records and email traffic. We all travel a lot. Domestically. Doesn't leave much room for international intrigue." "Well?" Reid added when Watley had been staring for a moment too long.

"Some of you have governmental connections." Grant answered.

JJ smirked. "We ALL have governmental connections."

"Connections with an easy ability to go international, I mean" Grant corrected. "Agent Jareau, you were with the Department of Defense for how long? And Agent Hotchner, you have significant time logged liaising with Scotland Yard, correct?

"Scotland Yard, as in London's police force. London, where Agent Prentiss is supposedly stationed," Watley needled as Grant continued: "It was the two of you who orchestrated Agent Prentiss's 2011 faked death."

"Is that supposed to be a question?" Hotch demanded. He was done with this fishing expedition.

"Here's the question, Agent Hotchner," Grant replied, "Were you and/or Agent Jareau involved in the rescue of Agent Prentiss from Istanbul in any way, shape, or form? And furthermore, what, if anything, do either of you know about her current whereabouts and/or plans?"

"How is aiding in a rescue illegal?" Callahan wondered out loud.

Watley and Grant ignored her. "What do you know?" insisted Watley.

Hotch didn't bat an eye, or wait a moment, "I'm fairly certain we've both told you we haven't had any contact with Prentiss for a few months."

"Three months," Grant countered, pointing at JJ, "and five weeks" pointing at Hotch.

"But that's not entirely correct. Is it?" Watley sneered at Hotch.

"Are we going to do this again, because I'm sure we've both got better things to do with our time?" Hotch threw back.

"A little different this time, Agent Hotchner," Grant replied, opening the folder he carried. "This time, we're going to do it with proof of you, lying to the federal government." Grant dropped a few postcards on the table. "What do you have to say about this?"

Hotch glanced over the postcards on the table. He saw something he recognized and cleared his throat. "I'd say that tampering with someone's mail is a federal offense Agent Grant. Are you implying there is something untoward about my son's correspondence?"

"Your "son" writes to Agent Prentiss?" Watley chided.

"She sends him postcards. He likes postcards." Hotch responded in a clipped manner. He could see where this was going, but through his fury, couldn't see a way to stop it before it got uglier.

"I'll bet." Watley said sweetly, too sweetly. "Little Jackie needs a mommy, doesn't he?"

"I beg your pardon." Hotch said in a low tone, shifting in his chair, sitting up straighter and pushing back from the table a bit. Simultaneously, the rest of the team was getting restless too. No one appreciated someone using their families to get to them.

"Whoa there man," Morgan exclaimed.

"Hold on there Mr. Watley," Cruz broke in. "This is unacceptable. I agreed to a veiled interrogation, I did not agree to a personal assault on the man's family."

Grant turned on Cruz, "You are a guest in this room and you will not interfere."

"I am a Section Chief of the FBI and this is my house," Cruz fired back.

In the meantime, Hotch stood up and picked up the postcards. "Gentlemen," Hotch interrupted. "Can we get back to the matter at hand?"

"Sure thing Aaron. I apologize," Cruz stepped back.

"Mr. Watley," Hotch led in, "I'd like to see the search warrant. Right now."

"Hotch?" questioned Rossi.

Hotch looked at Rossi, then at Watley, and finally Agent Grant. "These three cards were taken off the mirror in Jack's bedroom." Hotch tossed them back on the table. "I've never seen this one. So you must have intercepted it. When?"

"Figure it out," spat Watley.

Grant rolled his eyes. "Three weeks ago. Here's a copy of the warrant." Grant pulled it out of his inside jacket pocket and handed it to Hotch, who scanned it quickly. He knew what to look for.

"3 weeks?" JJ wondered out loud.

"Jen?" Cruz questioned, stepping closer to JJ.

"They intercepted it, so Hotch hasn't been in touch after he said he was. They're just needling. For that matter, if they're intercepting mail three weeks back, then they've been looking into Emily longer than that," JJ reasoned. "Hotch, what's the date on that warrant?"

Hotch checked, "Two days ago. We were in Jacksonville."

"Two days. Hunh." JJ stood up, crossed her arms, and took a couple of pacing steps.

"What does that mean?" Cruz asked. No one answered as the realization set in. "What does that mean?" Cruz asked again.

Hotch tapped the postcard against the table. "It means that's something's happened in the past few days."

"You're gonna have to give your boy the bad news," Watley taunted Hotch, "The mommy-stand-in's not coming home. Unless, of course, you want him to visit her through prison bars. Nice symmetry actually. One mommy in the ground and one almost-mommy in jail."

"You. Do not speak about my son," Hotch threatened. "I am warning you. Nicely. Again." Hotch would not stand for anyone upsetting his son on purpose. Certainly not about Haley. And not about Emily. Wait— "Why would Emily be in prison?"

"Emily?" Watley queried, he'd hit his mark.

"Agent Prentiss," Hotch corrected.

"She's been a bad, bad girl Aaron," Watley gibed.

"Oh right," Morgan scoffed, "the terrorist angle. Please."

Agent Grant cleared his throat. "Remember the video clip I mentioned? Only a small clip was actually shopped around. After Agent Prentiss was recovered, a search of the premises turned up a longer video."

Penelope gasped, "Oh no."

Grant nodded, "Yes. The full video shows some of the…individuals…responsible for Agent Prentiss's…captivity." Grant seemed uncomfortable with this revelation.

He must have seen the video, Hotch surmised. It made him sick to think of what could be on that video. Unfortunately, Hotch didn't have to think too hard to imagine. He needed to compartmentalize this. If he got lost in what could have happened to Emily and how he felt about it, he'd go down the rabbit hole for sure. He had another thought, "How does Prentiss being hurt translate into terrorism?"

"Two of the men in the video turned up dead," Watley leveled at Hotch. "Murdered. With some of the same instruments used on your girl." Hotch could feel the fury rising up inside him. These accusations and insinuations needed to stop. He tried to tamp it down, was almost there; but Richard Watley kept speaking. "What do you people call that? The signature? Some girls just get a taste for certain things, can't let go. Prentiss, she's been rolling around in the sick and twisted for the better part of her adult life. As the saying goes, you lie down in the gutter…"

"What are you insinuating?" Hotch asked through gritted teeth.

"And she's used to lying down, isn't she? She did it for these guys. She did it for Ian Doyle. She's practically a damned whore for the government du jour. There's no loyalty with that one. She does it for the CIA. She does it for Interpol. She does it for MI-6. But she won't do it for you." Watley kept hammering Hotch. "Why not? Why is that Hotchner? What are you lacking that the vile and disgusting men who traffic in women, torture porn, drugs, and guns have? I've read up on you. You get down in the dirt too. You've got blood on your hands. But she still won't give it up to you. What is it you have to do? Next time you see her, Hotchner, take my advice: smack her around a bit. I hear she likes that."

Hotch could feel it coming before his brain caught up. One second he was standing there controlling his rage and his disgust as Watley was spewing his venom. And even still, Hotch knew it was just an interrogation technique; he could see Grant, distinctly watching to see how he would react. He could hear his team in the background urging it to stop. Hotch knew what was going on, but…Emily. Emily, alone and hurt. Emily, scared and battered. Emily. His Emily. Going rogue? For justice. For vengeance? No, this was one indignity too far. Hotch would not allow this, this lower life form of a human being to turn his Emily into an unsub. Before Hotch quite knew what he was doing, he was on Richard Watley; laid him out with one good right hook. Watley hit the ground and Hotch stood back, arms up.

Agent Grant moved forward, handcuffs out, "Aaron Hotchner, you're under arrest for assault on a Federal Agent."

Yep, Hotch thought, played right into their trap. It was worth it though.

TBC