Title:
Power
Play
Rating:
R
Fandom:
Criminal
Minds
Universe:
Creatures
of the Night (Part 1)
Pairing:
Morgan/Prentiss;
JJ/Hotch
Genre:
Supernatural/Drama
Summary:
Tensions
are running high when a vampire joins the BAU, but all differences
must be put aside as the team investigate a series of suspicious
werewolf murders. AU.
Author's
Notes: Betaed
by Windy City Dreamer.
Chapter Eleven
Emily raises an eyebrow when Rossi tosses her the blood bag from the glove compartment.
'You look like you need it,' is all he says.
There's a strangled silence. Rossi's waiting for a reaction, and Reid hasn't said anything yet. She flips the bag over, staring at the label. The label reads RE-279, which tells her almost immediately that he must have requisitioned it from Human Resources. It's emergency stock, usually reserved for situations in which an agent has lost so much energy that not drinking would be highly detrimental. She's not sure what this threshold is, but she knows she hasn't quite reached it.
'I'm not going to drink this,' she tells him bluntly. She's being cautious, but she knows that it usually comes off as blatant stubbornness. That's not to say that there isn't stubbornness involved. She's not so naïve as to think that she's entirely compliant when it comes to most situations. Especially when it concerns something like this.
'You'll feel like crap for the rest of the day if you don't,' he reasons, adding, as if in afterthought, 'It'll affect your capacity to do the job.'
Damn him.
She grits her teeth. Of course he has to bring up the job. It's all very well that she doesn't want to drink it, but Rossi is entirely in the right when he says it will affect her ability to function. He's been doing this for a long, long time. Long enough that he can pinpoint her motivations in a heartbeat. That's what the job is all about.
She hesitates, feeling the weight of the thing in her hand. She wants – needs – to stay in control. And that too, apparently, is something that Rossi can sense.
'We'd stop you before anything could happen,' he says, and this time he's the one speaking bluntly, as if there's no room for argument. She knows the drill. Any agent that loses control is taken out as quickly as possible. It happens far more frequently than the Bureau would like to admit. High-stress occupations and oft insatiable bloodlust do not mix well. It's not just the vampires either; there are dozens of stories of sorcerers with too much power, werewolves tearing their friends to pieces. There are contingency plans in place. It doesn't comfort her. She knows her limits. They don't.
'We've all got our issues,' he continues, bringing up the conversation topic from before. 'We try to work around them. Morgan takes three days off around the full moon, we all try not to think too much while we're around JJ and no-one brings up deep-sea fishing when Hotch is in a bad mood.' She's fairly certain that the last one is mostly his attempt at lightening the mood. It's not working. They might have their issues, but she's the only one that can snap and kill them at any moment.
'You'd have to kill me,' she whispers, and, as suspected, he doesn't flinch.
'If it comes to that.'
As if that is the permission she's been waiting for, she rolls her eyes at him, and rips off the tab. The smell permeates the enclosed vehicle. It's rat's blood, which she could have told them without even smelling it. Not as smooth as goat, and it's nowhere near as good as human, but that's not a path she wants to start walking down. It doesn't matter that all the blood comes from donors. The natural association is inevitable. It's something that she'll go to great lengths to avoid.
She admits, it tastes good, but that's probably due to the fact that she's as weak as a kitten. At this point, even bird's blood would have tasted like a freshly slain virgin. She'd had her daily dose already today, mixed in with her morning coffee. A decent barista can make a heavenly café vita even out of rat's blood.
It's a formulaic, if unceremonious process. The heartbeat speeds up, the pupils dilate, and the fangs lengthen just a touch. Some vamps can make it look like the scariest thing in the world. And sometimes, it can be. And not just for the person on the wrong side of the fangs. For someone who takes pride in their self-control, a loss of it can be more terrifying than any crucifix.
Those are just the physiological responses. The psychological responses can be much more varied between vamps. Usually, it involves hyper-alertness for a couple of hours after consumption; alertness that can often be mistaken for giddiness. It's a very disconcerting thing to be chased by a vampire who is laughing maniacally, whilst at the same time intent on cold-blooded murder. As if the murder isn't bad enough.
It's a few seconds before she realizes that Rossi is saying something. She shakes herself back to reality and turns towards him, aware that she's definitely not the picture of composure right now.
'Are you alright?' he asks, and she can almost sense that he's ready to pull out a spell and knock her out if she starts freaking. She respects him for that.
'I'm fine,' she says, wiping away a few droplets of blood that still stain her lips. 'It can be a little …' She makes a hand gesture, trying, and miserably failing to illustrate what she's trying to say. 'It feels like you're letting go of everything,' she amends.
And it would be so easy, wouldn't it? she asks herself. To let it all go. To lose control.
A/N: A short note with regards to the chapter lengths and plot progression. Some of you may notice that this is moving a lot slower than most of my other stories. The thing is, if I move it along too quickly, then I don't have the chance to flesh out the AU back-story. So this story will be more novel-esque when compared to other things I've written, but probably not as elaborate. I don't know. YMMV.