Thank you for the reviews so far, very much appreciated.

I should have said in the previous chapter that Criminal Minds and it's characters do not belong to me.

An Honourable Man

Part Two

Seven Days Earlier

It was Saturday night, not even that late, and Emily was curled up on her sofa, reading a book. Earlier she had tried the television, channel hopping through news shows and comedies which had long seen their funny days before deciding to finally attempt to finish the book that had been sat on her bedside table for months. Most people, she supposed wouldn't want to spend their free time reading about serial killers and psychopaths, but she put it down to research and an author that captivated her. The only reason she hadn't finished it before was the abundance of the real thing of late.

Except for the last two days when the team had been in the office, studying case files and taking conference calls, all anxiously expecting the phone to ring and yet another case to land on the desk. Finally, Hotch had sent everyone home for some down time.

Of course Emily had reached her Brownstone and realised she had no idea what to do. Changing into sweat pants and a tank top, that was probably a little too tight for anywhere but her home, she had roamed the building, completing chores and debating whether to call a friend and hit a bar. Instead she had cobbled together dinner from the depths of her freezer because these days she didn't really shop. If it couldn't be frozen or didn't come in a tin she didn't buy it. Afterwards she had retired to the couch with a glass of wine and a hundred pages of the most sensationalist murder.

As she reached for her glass and lifted it to her lips her phone rang and she didn't need to pick it up to know that it was JJ. Emily wasn't psychic but these days if it wasn't one of the team, her phone barely rang. Not that it bothered her that much. It was a lot easier than being the ambassador's daughter and having to play nice with her parent's friends. Closing her book with a sigh, she picked up the phone from the ornate coffee table. "Hey J.J," she said with a smile.

"Hey." If she was surprised by the greeting she didn't show it, instead launching into her reason for calling. "Sorry to do this to you, especially on a Saturday night," J.J. started, "but three bodies have turned up in Washington State and the locals have asked for our help."

"No worries." Emily glanced at the glass of chardonnay and knew that it was heading down the sink.

"Do you need to apologise to your date?" J.J. asked. She was secretly intrigued by her colleagues lives, or lack of, she supposed. Occasionally they all went for a beer, or to the Boardroom for lunch but they weren't exactly friends who shared their private life. Garcia had been at home with Kevin when she called, the giggling a preclude to what she could only imagine, and Hotch had been heading back from seeing Jack. Emily, well she hoped her friend had a life, if only so she could live vicariously through her.

"I don't think Rossi will mind," Emily deadpanned, waiting for, and not being disappointed by the reaction.

"Oh, okay. . ." she stammered, her eyebrow twitching as an image came to mind. "I'm sorry . . . Look. . ."

"I'm kidding, J.J.. I'm reading his book, or at least I've been trying to for weeks. I can be at the office in twenty minutes," Emily explained, rising to her feet and glancing down at her outfit. "Actually better make that thirty. I need to change."

J.J. paused at the other end of the line, taking in her own attire. When she'd been recalled to the office she'd been at home with Will and Henry, watching TV and nursing her little boy. It hadn't occurred to her to change, instead she had thrown on a jacket and headed in. "I spoke to Hotch. We're heading straight to the air strip, so head there. I'll brief on the plane." Once she had phoned the others, she would have chance to raid her go bag and find something more appropriate rather than jeans and the T-shirt splattered in baby drool. "I need to round up the others."

"Good luck with that," Emily said, her voice laced with mirth, knowing full well that at least one of her team mates would be out enjoying themselves.

"Well it won't be the first time I have interrupted Morgan infraganti. I'll see you on the plane." J.J. hung up and dialled the next number as she waved the file in her hand at one of the junior agents and pointed to the photocopier.

Emily shook her head, trying to dispel an image, which would on any other night aid in her quest for a good night's sleep, but tonight was inappropriate. She headed up the stairs to the master bedroom, shedding her clothes as she went, finally tossing them onto the newly upholstered chair, a gift from her mother, in the corner of the room. Opening the closet door she selected a pair of black trousers and a dark blouse, her standard uniform for work. Pulling her go bag from under the bed she checked the contents before adding a handful of underwear and two fresh tops. Whenever a case came up they never knew how long they would be away and she was getting tired of having to wash her underwear by hand. It took her less than ten minutes before she was running down the stairs and out of the apartment, not sure when she was going to return, the glass and book abandoned on the table.

______________________

Emily liked the jet and it's confined space with the controlled air temperature, and chairs that you could curl up in and sleep, and still wake up in and feel mildly refreshed. It was a place of business yet somewhere where they never had to feel inferior, where everyone had a place to be heard. The mood was so often determined by where they sat, and by the two senior agents. This time as so many others, Morgan and Reid had taken seats opposite each other, briefing notes spread out over the table between them. J.J. preferred the couch, because when she could she liked to nap but she was in case mood, moving about the plane. Hotch had chosen one of the two chairs that isolated him, Rossi opposite him, neither looking annoyed by the call to work, their minds already looking for the three things that would connect the cases. There would be no fun and games or silly banter on this flight, that much was guaranteed. Tonight, Emily dropped onto one end of the couch as J.J. handed out copies of the files to everyone.

"There have been three bodies so far. The most recent turned up this afternoon, which is when they decided to call us," J.J. explained, handing out copies of the files that had been emailed over. "All men, all in their late forties early fifties, all professional."

"Wow, there's hardly a mark on them," Reid commented dryly, studying each photo in turn and searching for a cause of death.

"John Whitford was found on the 22nd of last month. He was 45, divorced and a prosecutor. The autopsy confirmed drowning," J.J. explained, as they all studied the photographs. "Peter Moretti. 53. Italian American. Divorced four times." She glanced at Rossi with a small smile, asking a silent question.

Rossi shrugged his shoulders. "We're a catch, and then they find out we're not so much of a catch."

J.J. glanced down at her notes, wondering why three women had turned their backs on a man's who's only fault was tenacity. "He was an accountant."

"When did they turn up the body?" Rossi asked, his notebook open and his pen poised.

"1st of the month."

"Any connections between them. Someone who had run ins with them?" Emily queried, knowing that she was expecting too much. "Attorney. Accountant?"

"Not so far but the locals are still looking into the backgrounds. I thought Garcia might have better luck."

Hotch nodded. "Call her when we land."

"Peter Moretti was suffocated," J.J. explained, dropping into the seat next to Reid. "The most recent is Robin Green, 48, divorced. Cause of death is pending as he won't be autopsied until the morning."

Hotch raised his head, his eyes fixing on hers intensely, asking an obvious question.

"They're having to find a coroner from another jurisdiction. He was the coroner."

The plane rocked slightly and the passengers gripped the seats as they waited for the jet to steady itself. Turbulence was something they had all gotten accustomed to flying in a small plane. It didn't make it any less frightening in the heat of the moment.

"Ok, I'll see if they want as to fly someone in," Hotch announced, his tone never changing.

Morgan laid the open file on the table as placed his hands on top of it. "All three have good jobs, divorced and were fully dressed when they were found. He obviously has a type."

"The dump sites are all remote. Do we think dump sites versus murder scenes?" Rossi asked, turning his attention to the other occupants of the plane.

"It was a few days between them going missing and being found," J.J. offered. "Could mean he's keeping them somewhere."

"How is he picking them?

"We need a full background."

"Anything in the bodies about sexual activity?"

The questions and comments continued as they tried to decipher a motive, the team working as they so often did as one brain.

"Well we definitely need more information," Hotch announced, rubbing his hand across his face. "So on that note, J.J. head straight to the precinct and find out what the media knows, whether they're putting together the pieces, and call Garcia. Morgan and I will head to the latest dump site. It's fresh. Might tell us something."

"Emily and I will take his apartment," Rossi offered, looking to the junior agent for acquiesce.

"In that case Reid, you take one of the locals and head to the previous scenes," Hotch continued, oblivious to his team's dismay.

"You realise it's going to be one am when we land," Rossi commented, adjusting his watch.

Aaron Hotcher was a smart man but the constant flying and time zones did little for his body clock, and he couldn't fathom exactly how many days he'd lost in the process. His plan was therefore to work, preferably with the odd stop for coffee, which meant he often forgot that other people needed sleep. "In that case, everyone head to the hotel and try and get your heads down for a few hours. We're going to have to get up to speed pretty fast on this one," Hotch announced, picking up the files and moving to the chair at the back of the plane, fully intent on ignoring his own advice.