Chapter 5

Morgan and Rossi exchanged a look. Perhaps they'd been wrong about this guy. The way he was speaking on the phone, it really didn't sound like he was looking for Hotch to cause him any grief. Everyone was curious, but silent, as they waited for Thorne to finish up his phone call. Hopefully then, he'd explain what the hell was going on. He certainly seemed to have more information than they did.

"What do you want me to do about Hotchner?" Thorne repeated into the phone. Thorne listened to his phone companion for about thirty seconds before he began to look agitated again. "Okay, breathe. Just breathe. Short, medium breaths. That's it. Just breathe. In and out. There you go. Where are you? Maybe you should go back to bed?" Thorne seemed to be all but pleading.

He changed tactics, "Where were you when I called? It took five rings for you to come to the phone. That's too long, Biscuit." The person on the other end of the phone said something to make him smile. He smiled broadly, and despite where he was, the audience he had, he seemed to relax a little in that moment. "I'll call you what I want. And then some too. … Damn right, okay."

He was joking, MI-6 was joking. Rossi was getting irritated all over again; he let out a breath to communicate that irritation. It worked; Thorne took himself out of the bubble of his phone call long enough to glance at Rossi and take his meaning.

"Okay, then that's what I'll do. But Biscuit," Thorne moved to close the door as he returned his attention back to his phone. "Remember what I said though. If it's State who's got Hotchner, then I can grab him. But if Homeland's got him," Thorne shook his head, "it will be trickier." Thorne looked around the room, trying to take in anything he could from the others in the room. "I don't yet know why he was arrested. … Okay, yes, we know why. I meant, I don't know what the charge is. You give me a little room to maneuver and I'll do my best okay? … Okay love, can you put either Marcus or Bragg on the phone? … Whichever one's closer. … Okay, I will. Will you please rest now? Thank you."

Thorne paced, a couple of steps, waiting for the phone to change hands. When he spoke again, his whole demeanor was different. He no longer sounded like the sweet, joking but concerned, protective friend he just was on the phone. He didn't sound like the 'look how charming I am' guy who first walked into the room either. Instead, Thorne was all business. He was calculating, a little cold, insisting, and straight to the point. Kind of like Hotch, Rossi thought. Interesting.

"What is it you have her doing?" Thorne demanded. "She was winded, practically hysterical, and too far away from the sat-phone. … I want her as close to fully operational as possible Bragg. What she went through, a lesser person would never be the same. She's special, understand. But if you push her too hard too fast, you'll break her. Then we'll be nowhere. … I know she needs to recover physically too, but Jesus! Do you have her running a damn obstacle course out there? … Whatever you're doing with her, stop. Stop it now; it's too much. She's not a damn soldier. … Yeah. Listen, have Marcus find out which one of these idiotic American agencies is holding Hotchner, will ya? Text me when you have it. The sooner the better. … And Bragg, pray for State. I don't want to have to tell her we couldn't do it. She won't take that well." Thorne hung up the phone with a sort of grunt and looked to his audience. Six faces, all with one question.

"Yes," Thorne confirmed, "I have Emily."

Reid was the quickest, "When you say you "have" Emily, what does that mean? Exactly?" He had been inching forward in his chair throughout Thorne's phone call. If the call went on any longer, Reid would have been crawling up on the table. He needed an answer to this question, as they all did.

Thorne looked at Reid, trying to determine if he was asking a serious question or just screwing with him. Ultimately Thorne decided the genius was serious. "I mean that I, and my team, rescued her from Istanbul in the first place. And after that, when things started to go from bad to worse, I took her off the grid and relocated her to an undisclosed location. So when I say I "have" her, I mean it completely. I have her; I have her back; I have her recovery; I have her physical person. That's it. Exactly."

"Okay, so answer the initial question then," demanded Morgan, "who the hell are you?"

"He means," Rossi cut in when Thorne raised his eyebrow at Morgan, "who are you to Emily, and how do we know we can trust you?"

"And since we're asking," JJ spoke up, "where is Emily? What happened to her? And what the hell's going on now?"

"What did you mean when you said 'my team' exactly?" asked Garcia.

"And hey, since we're asking for things," Kate added, "Why does WHERE Hotch is now matter more in the ability to get him released than WHAT he was arrested for in the first place?"

"Inquisitive bunch," Thorne remarked wryly.

"You don't know the half of it," Rossi quipped. "Start talking."

"Do these doors lock?" Thorne asked, casually walking back to the closed door he entered from. He checked, then locked the door. "Good. Hey sport, you wanna be a dear and lock that other one?"

"Are you talking to me?" Morgan asked, incredulous.

Great, thought Rossi, Mr. Too-Charming was back. The team was not going to like that. Rossi hoped this part of the program ended soon.

Thorne winked at Morgan, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes, "Yep."

"I'm not your sport," Morgan retorted as he locked the other door.

"Maybe not. But you did it." Thorne was having too much fun here and it was grating. On everyone.

"Should we get Cruz?" JJ asked, before Morgan could formulate a response.

"I'm gonna ask you to hold off on that Peaches," Thorne said quickly. "Just for now."

"Why?" JJ asked. "He's on our side."

"Of course he is," Thorne reassured her. And then, "Maybe." JJ looked like she was going to rebut that idea, but Thorne beat her to the punch. "How were Homeland and State able to get their hands on Hotchner? Now, maybe that was just protocol. Probably, that was just protocol. But until I know that for sure, I'm closing the loop."

"We trust him." JJ insisted.

"How nice for you." Thorne looked hard for a moment, then broke out into a smile. "Anyway, who says I even trust you lot?"

"But Emily does. And she's calling the shots," guessed Rossi.

"Yes," Thorne nodded. "Well, mostly."

"What does that mean?" Reid jumped in. He was working on the theory that Prentiss was running a rogue (possibly with some kind of shadowy consent) operation. If she wasn't calling the shots, his theory might be wrong.

"The trauma she suffered was significant." Thorne gave them a telling look. "She isn't yet back to full function and capability."

Rossi was concerned by Thorne's matter-of-factness just now. It sounded like too much of an official line. That kind of line, Rossi knew from experience, was just official enough to smooth over the truth. He frowned.

Thorne, off Rossi's look, backpedaled, "She's getting better. My team and I are working on that too." Then, in an effort to change the subject, continued. "Emily trusts you; that's a good start for me. Well, that and the background checks I did on each of you on the plane into the states."

"From where?" Morgan demanded. "You said you "had" Prentiss. Where do you have her?"

"I'm gonna leave that undisclosed location undisclosed for now sport," Thorne answered, immediately regretting his choice of nicknames, putting his hands up in apology. "It's safer for her if nobody knows where she is. This way you can't be compelled to reveal it." Thorne pulled a chair up to the table and sat down. "As to the rest of your queries, let me try to answer them."

The team exchanged looks. It seemed as if they might actually get some real information about what was going on and what happened to Emily. This was good. This was progress. Rossi knew he could keep this team together in Aaron's absence, at least as long as it took to hear the story. Depending on what they heard, all bets might be off after that.

"First," Thorne began, "I've known Emily Prentiss since she was eight years old. I'm an old family friend. She trusts me implicitly. You can too."

"All the same, mate," Morgan said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. He didn't like being given nicknames by people he didn't know. "I'd prefer to hear that from Emily."

Thorne looked at Morgan, a short battle of wills. Thorne gave up, it wasn't worth it. "This'll go faster if I'm not interrupted." He paused to consider Morgan. "She said you'd be difficult. Emily. She called it."

Morgan looked affronted. He wasn't being difficult, he was just looking out for his family. He was getting angrier and angrier that she had given that role to someone else.

"Besides," Thorne added, looking at Garcia, "My connection to the Prentiss's is in the public record. Miss Penelope can look it up herself." He smiled at Garcia, who smiled back. She liked this British James Bond Man, which was how she was thinking of him. Emily trusted him and that was good enough for her. "If you need outside corroboration," he tossed at Morgan. "May I continue?"

Morgan gave him the floor, silently. He tried to keep his re-mounting anger under control. The situation would not be helped by him going off right now.

"As I was saying," Thorne continued. "I'm an old friend of the family. I went to boarding school with Garrison Prentiss."

"The older brother who died?" Garcia clarified.

Thorne tried not to look annoyed at the interruption. "Yes. He and I were close, best mates through school and University until he died. I graduated Cambridge without him. But his family and I stayed close. Emily in particular." He chuckled to himself a moment. "She always needed looking after that one." Thorne paused for a moment. Whatever he was remembering there, he very obviously wasn't going to share with the team. "Anyway. Moving on. After Cambridge, I joined the military. I worked my way up and through the SAS by way of the parachute regiment. Until I retired from the military. Then I went on to do other things."

Rossi let out a whistle. He was impressed. Emily's friend Thorne was an elite paratrooper and a member of the Special Air Service. He was the cream of the British Special Forces crop. That was like a Navy Seal mixed with a Green Beret and an Army Ranger combined. They could do worse for an ally.

Thorne nodded at Rossi. "I don't give you my resume to make an impression. Rather to drive home the fact that I know what I'm doing here and you should trust me."

Garcia was looking at him with stars in her eyes, this James Bond Man. Emily sure had the coolest friends. "What other things?"

"What?" Reid asked her.

"He said he went on to do other things," she answered, still mooning over Alastair Thorne, just a little.

Thorne smiled. "Things. Things that put me in a position to run into Emily, from time to time, all over the globe. I helped her out in the early days of Ian Doyle. She saved my ass once in Russia. We ran across each other in Paris. And a few other things here and there, more recently." Shrewd, Thorne was shrewd. He was testing them.

The team had tightened up at the mention of Ian Doyle. That whole thing still caused friction. None of them wanted to admit that, but it did. Except for Callahan, who had only read about it. Looking directly at Thorne, she stated more than asked, "Other Things is code for MI-6?" Thorne continued to smile.

Son of a bitch, thought Rossi. He called it. What he didn't know, however, was whether that meant they could trust him with Emily.

TBC