"This is it?" Amie sniffed with obvious distain as she gazed around the log cabin made from the local trees.
Emily gritted her teeth as she fed firewood into the wood burner that would heat the cabin and cook their food. She didn't like the girl insulting the cabin her grandfather lovingly built by hand. He put his heart and soul into it. She loved the rough logs of the exterior, the smooth pine floor and walls, the cathedral ceiling with its pine beams, the stone fireplace and the small loft above the bedrooms where she slept as a child.
"What were you expecting? The Le Meurice or a chateau?" As hard as she tried, she couldn't keep the annoyance out of her voice. Maybe she should have dumped her off on the way up.
"Well, oui."
"I like it," Noah added his two cents, coming through the door with his arms full of supplies. "It kind of reminds me of your place, Uncle Jase."
"It does," Gideon agreed with an approving nod as he set his load on the countertop. He ran a hand over it, admiring the workmanship. "Did your grandfather build it?"
Once Emily got the fire going, she straightened, knees creaking in protest, and held her hands over the woodstove to warm them. "Yes. He liked working with his hands."
"I can see that. His eye for detail was exquisite."
Emily smiled at the compliment. It felt good to hear it from someone who recognized good work when he saw it. Grandpa may have been all thumbs when it came to growing grapes and making wine, but give him a couple pieces of wood and some tools, he would create wonders. "He did."
"Ou sont les toilettes?" Amie asked.
"Out back."
The girl's eyes widened with shock. "Out back?" she squeaked. The only thing she saw out back was two small buildings and a lot of trees and snow.
Emily turned to her, crossing her arms over her chest. "This is a cabin in the Alps. There isn't any electricity or running water so there's no way to flush a toilet. We just do it the old fashioned way."
"I'll show her," Noah volunteered. "I went to camp during the summers so I'm used to roughing it."
"You're going to need this," Emily added. She dug through the supplies, found what she was looking for and tossed the roll of toilet paper in their direction.
"Outhouse?" Gideon chuckled after Noah led the French girl off to her first experience with outdoor plumbing…in the winter.
"Actually it's a shed. One side holds the toilet and the other has a bathtub and a small woodstove for heating water if you wanted to bathe in private. When Grandpa was alone, he just had his bath here." Emily went over to what looked like an ordinary cabinet to Gideon, opened it to reveal a folding bathtub.
"Ingenious." He let out a low of appreciation.
"He modeled it after the old Mosely folding tubs," she explained as she showed him how it worked. "It's a real space saver."
"It is," he agreed.
He went to help her with the supplies. Since he didn't know where everything went, Gideon just stuck to unloading the bags. As he handed them to her, he wondered if he could bet get Emily to talk a bit more about her family. He was enjoying learning more about this normally very private person. With each tidbit she revealed, another dimension was added to the Emily Prentiss he knew. Plus it might get her to relax a little. The events of the past two days have her on edge. Hell, he was on edge and could stand some distraction.
"I take it both your grandparents are French?"
The fond smile returned. "Only my grand-mere, Eleonore Brousseau. My grandfather, Bruce Cabot, was a red blooded American." Emily stopped what she was doing to gaze off into the distance. "They met during the war and it was love at first sight. He would have married her right then and there."
"But he didn't because he didn't want to make her a widow if he was killed in action?"
"Yeah. He waited until he was discharged from the army before rushing back here to propose. She accepted, they got married and moved to Baltimore where they had Mom and Uncle Ned."
Ah! She has an uncle. "Uncle Ned?"
A sad look flirted across her face. "I never knew him. I've only seen photos of him. He died in Vietnam."
"I'm sorry."
Emily shrugged, accepting his condolences graciously. "It was a long time ago though I heard he was quite the character." She chuckled. "Anyways they would spend their summers here in France and only moved back permanently when Grand-mere inherited the vineyard from her brother Jean Luc. By then Mom was away at college. Grand-mere focused on making wine and Grandpa focused on clearing the land and building this cabin."
"And your mother continued the tradition? I remember you saying once you spent a lot of time here as a child."
"She did. We came almost every summer and when she couldn't make it, she sent me. Sometimes I think she did it just to get me out of her hair. Some of my best childhood memories are of the winery and this cabin." She let out a soft sigh and returned to her shelving.
Gideon wondered about the memories. What were they and what about them made them so special? Being a profiler…well…ex-profiler, he gathered that she didn't have it the easiest growing up. Sure, she had the money, but her mother had a high profile job that required a lot of travel. That had to be hard on her, even if it did shape the Emily she was then. So, did France become a refuge, the solitary cabin and family run business her sanctuary? He wanted to probe deeper, but he was afraid she would shut down if he did.
"If you don't mind me asking, how old were you when your grandparents died?" he gently asked, wondering if she would answer a rather personal question.
Surprisingly she did. "Grand-mere died suddenly when I was eight. It took everyone by surprise, especially Grandpa. He loved her so much. He turned over the day to day running of the winery to Sebastien's father and retired up here."
"Ah, that's the ten year stretch you mentioned?"
Emily was surprised Gideon had remembered any of that conversation. It happened so long ago and was smack in the middle of the case they were discussing. "Yes. I had just started college when he passed."
"Did you get to spend any time with him before it happened?"
"I spent the whole summer with him. It was great. Then a couple months later Mom called me at Yale to let me know he had quietly passed away in his sleep."
She remembered how she had counted down the days to graduation, not to celebrate leaving high school behind, but when she could officially escape the confines of the house she shared with her mother and their toxic relationship. She had it all planned out. She would spend the summer in France with her grandfather and then in the fall go directly to her dorm at Yale without ever stopping at home. Before leaving for France, she took a few days to pack everything she needed for college and placed them in a storage unit so when she came to pick it up, she wouldn't run into her mother. If Elizabeth was upset that she didn't get to see her only child off to college, she sure didn't let it show.
Gideon didn't repeat his condolences, instead choosing to ask, "Do you still come here regularly?"
Emily looked around the cabin with sad eyes. "Not in a long time. I tried for a couple of summers after her died, but it wasn't the same without him."
"You loved him and this place hold a special meaning to you. That's why you're uncomfortable with us being here. We're invading your privacy."
Everything he said was true. Her grandfather and Matthew were the only two people who made her feel worthy of love and friendship. It remained that way for a long time until she joined the BAU and found a family.
"Yes," Emily didn't bother to deny it. "But it was my decision to bring you guys up here. It's not like you dropped in on me unannounced. I thought, and still do, this was the safest place to hide until the weather clears and the helicopter my Mom chartered comes and picks us up."
He didn't know what else to say to that except for, "Thank you for everything, Emily. You've gone far beyond the call of duty to help us."
"It's what families do," she said with a genuine smile as she thought that it took her a long time to realize that. "You may drive me to the point of distraction and have been gone for a long time, but you're still a part of the BAU family."
Gideon was touched by her words and being someone who rarely expressed those sentiments aloud, he changed the subject and went over to examine the stove. "I should make us something to eat. I'm starved and I bet you are too. Though I will admit this is going to be a unique experience for me. I've never cooked with a wood burning stove before."
Emily gave him the evil eye. "If you burn this cabin down, I'll be so pissed with you."
It didn't take a room full of geniuses to figure out that Emily had called her mother for help. If this event had happened a few years ago, the thought would have been quickly rejected. At that time mother and daughter were barely on speaking terms. Dave distinctly remembered Emily didn't want to take a vacation in Italy simply based on the fact that Elizabeth had extended her trip there. But after her 'death', the team knew they were taking careful steps in repairing their relationship. They were now talking on the phone and occasionally going out for lunch or dinner.
After hanging up on the arrogant Brit, Hotch tried to contact the Ambassador via the two numbers he had, but to no avail, forcing him to call her assistant. The man was polite and efficient as he informed Hotch that the Ambassador was currently unavailable. He will pass the message along and she'll return his call shortly. Hotch had no choice since he wasn't privy to her personal number.
"Why didn't Emily simply call Easter in the first place?" Penelope asked while they waited for the return call. "He's Interpol. He could charge in with guns blazing."
"She probably associates Easter with a lot of bad memories of Doyle and that whole situation leading her to have doubts about him and their friendship," JJ supplied.
"Also Interpol may be the international police, but it doesn't mean they can run roughshod over a nation's laws. Like us, they need to be invited in by the host country," Dave added. "It's complicated and Emily knows that."
"It doesn't seem right," she bemoaned.
"Believe me, Baby Girl, if any of us had any jurisdiction we would be over there in no time flat."
Even though he was having issues with Emily, Reid believed she made the right decision and said so, "I think Emily made the right choice in calling her mother. The Ambassador would have connections in France that she call on to get Emily all the help she needs."
"If," JJ stressed. "We don't know for certain if Em called her mom. If she's making any calls it's on a burner and those we can't trace."
The phone on Hotch's desk rang, startling everyone out of their speculating. He put it on speakerphone. "Agent Hotchner."
"Agent Hotchner, it's Ambassador Prentiss. My assistant said you called, but didn't say what it was about."
"I was wondering when the last time you talked with Emily was."
The rest of the team pressed closer to the desk to better hear her answer. "This morning. She called from our winery."
"A winery?" Penelope whispered, eyes wide as saucers. "Em owns a winery? Why didn't she tell us? Think of all the free wine we could have been getting over the years from Chateau Prentiss." Everyone shushed her.
"Do you mind me asking what she discussed with you?"
"Agent Hotchner, what's going on?"
"I promise to answer your question, Ambassador, but please answer mine first."
Not knowing the whole story and not wanting to break Emily's confidence, Elizabeth offered only a little information. "Emily said she needed a way out of France. She and a couple of others were stuck and in a jam. Snow prevented much travel."
Everyone caught the couple of others reference. That meant she and Gideon must have found his missing nephew.
"And did you find a way out for her?" Please tell me that you did, he thought.
"I arranged a flight out for them, but we're waiting on the weather to clear. What's going on?" Elizabeth repeated. "Is Emily in some kind of danger?"
Ignoring the questions, he asked, "Did she get on the plane?"
She answered no, and then asked again what was going on. This time Hotch didn't deflect her questions and filled her in on everything they learned from Penelope and Clyde Easter. When he was done, silence hung heavily over the line, Elizabeth was duly panicked, worried about her daughter's safety. Hotch tried to quell her fears, but he had his worries too.
"She'll be okay. Gideon is with her and we don't know what their current situation is. They're probably just hiding out."
Though, he had to wonder why the winery. That would never be Emily's final destination. It was too public. Anyone could connect he to a family business especially a group with as much power as the one chasing them. So what were they missing?
Alain Renaud paced his office like a caged lion. His patience was wearing thin and it was souring his mood. His family and employees knew to give him a wide berth when he was like this. Too many had been the target of his ire, had been on the receiving end of his sharp tongue. Just thinking of his employees made his temperature spike. When he gave an order, he expected it to be followed and completed promptly. One of the things he loathed was being kept waiting and that was exactly what the man he charged with finding that idiot mistress of his and getting rid of all the loose ends, was making him do. Alain Renaud didn't wait for people; they waited for him.
He was seriously thinking about firing him and hiring someone more efficient who would take care of the two problems he now had when the phone in his hand rang. "What?" he snapped.
"They're not here," his hired hand said.
"What?!" He repeated louder, more forcefully. "Not here?"
"The woman…the Americans. We have determined they're not in the city."
"Then where the hell are they? How did they get away?!"
"I don't know as of yet. They're probably at the woman's winery."
"Probably? That doesn't sound very sure. Are you sure?"
"It's the most likely scenario..."
"That's not what I asked!" Renaud interrupted.
"They're there," he said, unfazed by his employer ranting.
"Then why aren't you?"
"Renaud..."
"I don't want to hear it. You go…you take however many men you can, one, two, a whole army... I don't care. Just go! Go and get this done. Kill them. Do the job I hired you for or..."
"Or what? It's a snowstorm out there. What do you suppose I do, fly there?" he couldn't help being sarcastic.
"If necessary."
"We'll get there."
"You do it now. Do it now and take care of this mess or I will call in another favor to have your family killed. And if that doesn't motivate you, then I'll find some other way. Get this done," he yelled and quickly hung up, still fuming. Incompetent assholes. It was so hard to find good help.
Meanwhile, the man on the other end of the call wasn't raddled, but he knew Renaud was serious. He'd do just about anything to get what he wanted. Having people killed, clearly, wasn't out of his purview. He knew his family was safe, but he didn't want to start a war right now, not one that would end up so publicly, so he grabbed a couple of men, calling them over and told them to get the car ready and grab the gear. They were heading to the winery with one mission: to end this.