A/N: Three words- LONGEST. CHAPTER. EVER! Seriously.
Now, this is more like a continuation of chapter three than another chapter all together (probably because I wrote it that way), so it doesn't get its own little "intro thing".
So, I wanted to thank every reviewer, subscriber, favorite-r, and reader for sticking with this story. It really means more than I can say :)
And another thing: as this is the VERY LAST chapter of this story, I ask that you all take the time out of your day to review and tell me absolutely everything you thought of it. Pretty please?
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Criminal Minds. If I did, well, I don't think I would ever stop bragging ;P
As always, ENJOY!
OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO
The ambulances had arrived at the hospital at least thirty minutes ago, and Rossi was still in the waiting room. He'd sat there, and waited patiently for answers for what felt like hours. He hadn't been able to follow where they'd taken Reid and JJ, but was told to wait outside instead. So he took a seat in the corner and waited.
He was separated from the rest of the people waiting in the room, but could see them out of his peripheral vision. He didn't really care to pay much attention to them. All he really cared about was making sure his friends would be okay.
Then, just as the eleventh minute of waiting was about to pass, Rossi's phone began to ring. He quickly dug it out of his pocket. "Rossi," he answered gruffly.
"Dave? It's me," Hotch's voice came through the speaker of his phone. "I just got to the scene. Have you heard anything?"
"Nothing," Rossi replied. "They've been gone for about ten minutes, but no one's come out to tell me anything. What have you found at the crime scene?" Since they seemed to be four agents short, Rossi thought the best he could do to help was go over the details of the case with Hotch. After all, there was nothing else to say about Reid and JJ.
"Absolutely nothing," Hotch answered, frustration clear in his voice. "The only evidence left was a bullet embedded in a wall. I don't even know who the victim was! They couldn't identify her."
Rossi ran a hand over his face, closing his tired eyes briefly. "Well, have you heard anything from Morgan and Prentiss?"
There was a pause before Hotch said, "No. But we can't do our job properly if we're four agents down. I'm going to call Morgan, you call Prentiss."
Rossi nodded, saying, "Sure. I'll let you know if I get ahold of her."
They hung up, and right away Rossi started dialing Prentiss. It rang six times before going to voice mail. He shook his head slightly, wondering where she could be, before he noticed that he was still hearing the ringing in his ear. He shook his head again, trying to stop the ringing, but then he realized the ringing wasn't a leftover side-effect from his cell phone. It was somebody else's.
Rossi glanced to his right, but didn't see anyone reach for a phone. He looked the other way, attempting to peer around the wall to see into the other section of the waiting room. That's when he saw something he definitely wasn't expecting.
He saw Derek Morgan, who he'd previously thought to be MIA, get up from his seat in the waiting room and turn his phone off.
Rossi was in such a state of shock that he didn't even notice when he stood from his seated position in the worn hospital chair. He hardly paid the movement any mind. The only thing he was thinking was how the hell did Morgan know about Reid and JJ? Nobody had heard from him, so no one had bothered to call him yet... Except Hotch.
Why had Morgan just hung up on Hotch? Rossi wondered as he began walking toward the other agent. Had it really been Hotch calling him at all? Was Prentiss the one that had been calling him? Was that why she hadn't picked up when Rossi called?
There were so many questions, and Rossi knew that only Morgan could answer them.
"Morgan," Rossi called. He was standing just behind the other man now.
When Morgan heard his name being called, he whirled around to face whoever it was, his hand hovering near his hip. Then he saw that it was Rossi. His eyes widened a bit, and he wondered how the older man knew about what happened.
"What are you doing here?" Rossi didn't wait for an answer, but instead continued questioning him. "Who told you? Was it Strauss?"
"I was there, Rossi," Morgan told him, his voice low and serious. "Who told you?"
"You were there?" Rossi was more confused than ever, and he couldn't help but notice Morgan's rigid stance and the tension in his shoulders. Something definitely wasn't right, but what? It had to be more than JJ and Reid's situation, but what else was there?
Morgan nodded, "She called me, and I-" Morgan was cut off by Rossi asking "She called you? When?"
Before Morgan could respond or Rossi could ask more questions, a doctor, a man with short blonde hair, appeared from their left, having just exited some room or another. He happened to only make things more confusing for Rossi when he called, "Family of Emily Prentiss?"
Morgan started walking, very solemnly, toward the doctor, leaving Rossi standing there, dumbstruck. He was beyond confused, and yet, somehow, the whole situation was beginning to make sense. He then hurried to catch up with Morgan, who appeared to be waiting for him, thinking he already knew what happened.
"What happened?" Rossi asked him, his eyes narrowed in concentration, already trying to piece together the different events that had brought the two of them to be where they were now.
Before Morgan could say anything, another doctor, this one with shaggy brown hair plus a goatee, walked out of a room and called, "Family of Spencer Reid and Jennifer Jareau?"
"What the hell?" Morgan exclaimed, his eyes wide in confusion and shock. "Rossi, what is going on?" But Rossi didn't answer, he simply waved the doctor over to where he, Morgan, and the first doctor were currently congregating.
The second doctor wasted no time, he quickly walked over and proceeded to greet his colleague, "Hello, Dr. Matthews." He eyed the group curiously, his day certainly was taking a turn for the more interesting, if not exciting.
"Dr. Jameson," Matthews inclined his head in the other doctor's direction. The two locked eyes for a minute or so before the seemed to resolve what issues they may have had. The seemed to have figured out who was going to speak first as well.
"I'll make this quick," Jameson began, "seeing as how my announcement will take much less time and is significantly less serious." Rossi saw Morgan tense up again at this statement, and was just itching to figure out what the hell had apparently happened to Prentiss.
"Agent Reid and Agent Jareau have regained consciousness," Jameson stated, and Rossi nodded, relieved, but Morgan however, remained just as confused as ever. "There were no major complications to their conditions, only some minor internal bleeding, and a few cuts and bruises, but upon waking up, Agent Jareau was very insistent that her team come see her. It appears she has something very important to say." Neither Rossi nor Morgan decided to correct the doctor by saying that they were not JJ's team anymore; because, frankly, they'd always be a family, even if they weren't working together anymore.
"Are they well enough to be discharged?" Rossi asked. He figured it would be best to save Morgan the trouble of explaining what he'd been up to four different times. If JJ and Reid were fine, then he'd only have to spill twice; because someone still had to tell Hotch, and Rossi would prefer to be standing on the sidelines for that particular conversation.
Jameson nodded, "Yes. In fact, I've already discharged them. They're on mild painkillers, but they shouldn't be so strong as to impair their judgment. Though I wouldn't advise putting them in the field just yet."
"Thank you, Doctor," Rossi said, offering his hand. The doctor took it and they said their goodbyes.
Not long after Dr. Jameson had departed, Morgan asked, "What happened to them, Rossi?"
Rossi shook his head, "We don't know. We found them unconscious in the elevator when we were leaving for the Holiday Inn on 7th Street."
Morgan instantly froze up again, but this time he made eye contact with the older agent. Though he didn't say anything, Rossi could tell that something he'd said had held immense meaning for Morgan. If only he'd just explain already!
The remaining doctor took this silence as his cue to speak; he, too, had recognized the location. "And that brings us to Agent Prentiss," he stated. Morgan immediately focused his complete attention on Dr. Matthews, and Rossi proceeded to alternate between glancing at his co-worker curiously and staring at the doctor worriedly.
"My colleague was correct when he implied that I had much more pressing news to deliver," Matthews began, making Morgan cringe, dreading the 'pressing news'.
"Wait," Rossi cut in, unknowingly prolonging the tension, "what happened to Prentiss?" He turned to look at the younger agent next to him, narrowing his eyes, "Morgan?"
There was a beat of silence before Morgan said, "She was shot. At the Holiday in on Seventh."
That's when a new voice yelped, "What?"
The two profilers turned around to see a shocked Reid, who was holding an ice pack to his temple with the hand that wasn't restricted by a cast, and a somewhat more composed JJ beside him.
Morgan ignored him, instead asking, "What happened to them?"
JJ rubbed at the bandage covering her injury. "Some guy jumped us before we could get out of the elevator," she told them, and because no one had heard this story yet, not even Rossi, all four FBI agents were shocked for their own respective reasons, or rather, three of the agents were shocked. JJ was grimacing, even though the pain had been dulled to just discomfort, and glanced away to hide the guilt in her eyes. No one noticed.
"Well, at least we know you're not suffering from amnesia," Rossi remarked dryly.
Dr. Matthews, having seemingly been forgotten, cleared his throat. Instantly, the four agents were watching him like a hawk. He didn't seem nervous though, and his voice was calm when he said, "So, going back to Agent Prentiss' injury; the bullet entered her chest a little to the left." Reid, JJ, and Rossi sucked in a collective breath; they knew what that meant. The bullet could have very well hit her heart.
"But," Matthews continued, "it entered just above her heart." This time, all four agents let out a collective breath, this one of relief. "The bad news? It tore up just about everything in it's path." And now the group was back to being rigid in anxiety and worry.
"The good news," Matthews started again, his voice bright (giving the impression to the agents that he was toying with them, gauging their reactions for fun), "It did exit, as opposed to ricocheting through her body like a game of Pin-ball. And, in the process of exiting, it, surprisingly, did not hit any other major organs."
"And how is she now?" Morgan broke in, anxious to know the condition of his partner. The others leaned in intently, just as anxious.
"Ah, well," Matthews went on, "thankfully, we were able to repair the damage the bullet did." Now, the group of people didn't dare let themselves feel relief; they wanted to wait for Matthews to finish toying with them first.
"She's a lucky one," Matthews continued. "And due to the heavy painkillers we put her on, she's out cold, though she should regain consciousness in a few hours."
"Can we see her?" Reid asked nervously.
"Of course," Matthews answered. He handed a small piece of paper to the younger man. "We moved her into a private room; the number is written on that." With that, he bid them good luck and walked away. He'd be back, but he thought he should let these people recover for a bit.
The four people remaining just looked at each other for a bit. Then, Rossi spoke up.
"Morgan, tell us what happened," he ordered, and instead of protesting like Rossi thought he would, Morgan actually complied. He supposed the worry for Emily had worn him down quite a bit.
Morgan then proceeded to tell his co-workers and friends about how he'd gotten fed up with Emily's weird behavior, gone to her apartment only to find out that she'd been living in a hotel for the past few weeks, and called her to get some answers. He explained how Emily made him go through all the cloak and dagger-type motions, and how she'd given him a signal.
"When I asked her if she was in danger," Morgan continued, "she said no, but she nodded her head. I pretended to be angry with her for keeping secrets, and she played along. I started to leave when she called my name..."
"And then?" Reid encouraged, "What happened next?" It was almost like it was a story for him, but Reid knew that it was all too real. He wasn't making light of the events; he just wanted to know exactly what had transpired.
"Then she was shot," Morgan ground out through gritted teeth, angered that his friend had gotten shot and he hadn't been able to do anything. "The guy that did it... He said his name was.. something; I can't remember what... came up to me pretending to be some innocent bystander," Morgan spat, outrage shining in his dark eyes. "Then, he pulled a gun on me."
"But he didn't shoot," Rossi stated, it wasn't a question. After all, Morgan was standing there before them, and he didn't appear to have any bullet wounds.
Morgan shook his head, "No, but he did pull the trigger, just not on me. The bullet hit the guy that called 911."
"The dead victim at the scene," Rossi thought aloud, the missing pieces of the puzzle finally starting to come together.
"Yeah," Morgan confirmed. "He just knocked me out with..." Morgan paused, unsure, "With something. I didn't see it, but I just assumed it was his gun."
"It could've been a crowbar," Reid suggested, thinking of his own experience with being knocked unconscious.
"What're you getting at, kid?" Rossi queried, thinking along the same lines as Reid, though he didn't know exactly what had happened to the young agent.
Before Reid could speak, JJ interrupted, "I think we need to call Hotch now."
OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO
So they had called Hotch about ten minutes ago, and when pressed for details, his team hadn't told him much. The most they'd said, over the phone, was that Prentiss had been shot and he needed to get to the hospital nearest the crime scene as soon as possible. Hotch had agreed to come without further details, albeit a bit grudgingly.
He'd said there wasn't much to find at the crime scene. It was a simple, efficient shooting. Two blood pools, but only one bullet. The identified victim, George Chan, had died before the ambulance had gotten there. He'd died of a shot to the head. The unidentified victim, who everyone but Hotch knew to be Prentiss, had been driven to the nearest hospital for further medical attention.
It wasn't long after they'd called that the team, plus JJ, saw Hotch walk through the doors of Prentiss' hospital room. They'd relocated there soon after JJ suggested they call Hotch. After which they proceeded to call Garcia. That particular conversation hadn't been too pleasant, but she had insisted on coming down to the hospital. She followed Hotch in, the two of them having miraculously met up in the parking lot.
Their team leader took one look at Prentiss, who lay unconscious in a hospital bed, hooked up to multiple machines with a tube stuck down her throat, and demanded answers with a simple glance.
The team didn't hesitate to give them.
Soon, Hotch was caught up on everything that had happened in his absence. To his credit, he didn't show any emotion. Not even once. Though he did look in Prentiss' direction one time, and the others could have sworn they saw a bit of concern flicker in his eyes.
Then, they were back to where they'd left off, and JJ seemed to have something to say.
And she sure didn't hesitate, because she just came right out and told them, "I know who shot Emily."
Silence.
"How?" Hotch asked, finally breaking the silence. There was an eerie calm that had overtaken the room, but the tension in it was almost palpable.
JJ didn't answer right away, instead she said, "When Strauss called me to consult with the BAU on a case, I was going to say no."
"Why, Jayje?" Garcia piped up. She was standing by the left side Emily's bed, opposite Morgan, who had claimed the chair to Emily's right.
"Because," JJ paused. "Because it would've been too painful."
"Then what made you come back?" Reid asked quietly from his spot beside Garcia. He was looking down, occasionally casting worried glances at Prentiss and slightly hurt looks at JJ.
"The case," JJ continued, "involved Emily. Her past..." Here JJ trailed off. Prentiss' past was complicated, and she didn't feel right telling the team about it while she was unconscious. But she knew she had to do it, so she pushed on.
"She didn't spend the last ten years on a desk job with the FBI, like we all thought," JJ continued. "She was working with Interpol, with a unit called JTF-12."
More silence.
"It's made up of agents from different governments. They're profilers, like the BAU, but they use the one tactic we don't." No one corrected JJ when she said 'we'.
"Infiltration," Hotch supplied. His tone was empty of any emotion, but inside, he felt betrayed. How could Prentiss, someone he would trust his life with, not trust him enough to tell him the truth? Hotch got the feeling that the others felt the same way.
JJ nodded, "So, eight years ago, JTF-12 was assigned to profile Ian Doyle," here Rossi and Hotch perked up. "Emily was given a cover, Lauren Reynolds, and she was supposed to pretend to be a weapons dealer. Doyle was the buyer, but in order to bring him down, she had to get closer to him." With that, JJ dove into the rest of the story. How Prentiss played the part of Doyle's 'girlfriend', then faked her own death, and how Doyle was connected to the serial murders in D.C. He'd been stalking her, and now, at the Holiday Inn, he'd finally tried to end it. And failed.
Then, JJ looked at Reid, and said, "Ian Doyle was the one who attacked us in the elevator. He went after me first because he somehow knew that I knew who he was. I'm sorry, Spence, I tried to tell you," she finished with an apologetic look in Reid's direction. He didn't respond, but he wasn't outraged. That was a good sign in JJ's book.
"He's going to try and finish the job," Rossi stated with a quick glance at his sleeping colleague. He couldn't believe how much she'd hidden from them! But even then, when he looked at her, he still saw the same Prentiss he's always known.
"Nonononono!" Garcia exclaimed. "I don't care what she did, that scumbag is not going to get anywhere near her!" She moved to stand protectively in front of Emily's prone form on the bed.
"As much as you strike fear into the hearts of hard-core criminals, baby girl, I don't think this guy is gonna care," Morgan said.
"I'll have an agent on guard at all times," Hotch proclaimed, pulling out his cell in order to call Strauss with his request.
JJ shook her head, "The Bureau is trying to keep this whole thing under wraps, they're not going to let you post an agent outside Emily's room until we catch Doyle."
"Then one of us will stay with her," Reid decided. "We're her family, we can protect her." There was a moment of contemplation following his statement.
Rossi shrugged, "I'm in."
Then the others began speaking up, and Hotch couldn't say he wasn't one of them. He didn't like the idea of making his entire team a target, but if the Bureau wasn't going to help, then they would have to take matters into their own hands. Though some of his chauvinistic tendencies showed when he flat-out refused to let Garcia guard Prentiss alone. He insisted that it was because she didn't know how to use a gun, which was technically true.
They split up the guard duties by the hour. When it wasn't their turn to watch over Emily, they would walk through the hospital, looking for any signs of Doyle. First watch went to Hotch, and the hour passed by with no incident. Then, Rossi and Garcia, since she refused to not be a part of the whole thing, came to relieve him. And it was around five in the morning when Morgan came to relieve them. It would be Reid and JJ's turn next.
Morgan was well over halfway through his shift when he felt a tingling sensation on the back of his neck. He sat up, ramrod straight, in his chair beside Emily's bed. The hand of hers he'd been holding was dropped. Something was off, he could tell.
He glanced around, but didn't see anything. He brushed off the feeling as paranoia due to what had happened in the last couple of hours. Relaxing back in his chair, he took Emily's right hand in both of his.
He willed her to wake up soon, he wanted so badly to speak to her. He wanted her to tell him everything. It wasn't the same hearing it from JJ. He needed to see the look in her eyes; he wanted to know what she was feeling.
No matter how much she'd hidden, lied, and pushed him away, she couldn't outrun him. Derek Morgan didn't give up on someone he cared about. Sure, he felt betrayed by the woman next to him, and angry too, but she was still 'family'. He wanted to forgive her, but he couldn't do that unless he knew who she really was. That's why he needed to talk with her.
He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn't hear the door open. Then again, exhaustion and his injury to the head might have had something to do with it. He didn't hear it when the door was closed either.
Then, a voice rang out in the darkened room, "Who are you?"
Morgan froze, he knew that voice. He may not remember what the man looked like, but he knew his voice. Deep, masculine, but with an Irish lilt to it. He looked up to see his worst fears confirmed.
Ian Doyle.
The aforementioned proceeded to flick on the light switch, which Morgan had turned off so as to hide Emily's face from anyone that may have been peeking through the windows.
Doyle's face showed that he recognized Morgan as the man he'd pistol-whipped earlier. And judging by the anger that suddenly appeared in his eyes, he also saw him as the man who tried to get between him and what he wanted: Emily, dead.
"Aha," Doyle said, playing it cool while his eyes blazed like the inner circles of hell. "So, you're the lad Lauren has been protecting? Or rather, one of them. She's really got you wrapped around her finger, hasn't she?"
"Her name's not Lauren," Morgan spoke quietly as he rose, trying to keep his own temper under control. He couldn't believe the man that shot Emily had the nerve to come back and try to kill her while she was still defenseless. "The woman you knew is dead." Truer words had never been spoken, though he didn't know it at the time. He was simply telling Doyle that to get him to back down; because he really didn't know whether or not Emily had been pretending with this man, or had she been herself with him, like she was with the team?
"But you're wrong boy," Doyle told him, taking a few steps closer, a malicious smile on his unshaven face. "The woman you knew is dead. In fact, she never really existed at all."
"Look, man," Morgan fought the bitter taste of revulsion as he attempted to calm this guy down. He really didn't want to. Really, all he wanted to do was throw a punch right in this guy's smug face. "You're right. I don't know who she is anymore, but you don't either. How about we wait for her to wake up and we'll talk to her?" Yeah, right, Morgan thought, you'll talk to her through prison bars.
Doyle chuckled, "Don't play games with me, Agent." Then, almost simultaneously, the two of them drew their weapons.
Morgan had known it was coming. There was no way to talk a guy down when he's that far gone. He'd had to try, and in doing so, buy himself some time. Reid and JJ would be there soon, he just needed to hang in there.
Morgan leveled his gun with Doyle's head. "Don't make me do it," he warned, hoping against hope that the bastard had some sense of self-preservation.
"You won't," Doyle said. "I won't let you; not before Lauren and I have a chance to... catch up." The look in his eyes told Morgan that the last thing he was planning to do was talk. Morgan's grip on his Glock tightened.
"Goodbye, Agent Morgan," Doyle said, and then the shot was fired.
The shot was heard down the hall, where Reid and JJ were headed toward their friend's room. The began running when the heard it. Panic flooding their veins, their heartbeat erratic. Soon they had reached the door, and proceeded to yank the door open.
Inside the room, a man had fallen. Dead. The aim of the gun had been true.
It was too bad that Morgan had been half a second faster.
Reid and JJ stumbled into the room to find Morgan standing, gun in hand, and the body of Ian Doyle on the floor. There was a neat hole in his forehead where the bullet from Morgan's gun had entered.
Reid looked up at Morgan openmouthed, and Morgan quietly said, "It was self-defense."
"We know," JJ assured. She didn't look shocked or anything. Instead, she just looked tired; it had been a rough couple of hours. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Hotch. Though she knew he was probably already on his way, the others in tow.
It was all over. The secrets, the lies, the fear. Emily would set the record straight when she recovered. The team would somehow get over the betrayal of being lied to, and they would forgive her. Some of them had already been set on the path to forgiveness. It was a long road back, sure, but they would be together; because when it all falls apart, there's always a way to pick up the pieces again.
And the BAU would put those pieces back together as more than a team. They would do it like the family they were.
OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO
I sincerely hope you all enjoyed the conclusion of "When It All Falls Apart". I would love to know your thoughts on it, and especially what you thought about the end. (I thought it was a little rushed, but it felt kind of... right, I guess)
Frankly, I'd love to hear from you guys about anything. Mostly about CM related stuff, though ;P
Have a great weekend!