CHAPTER 29
OF ALL THE GIN JOINTS...
"Bonjour." Richard said quietly, when Emily opened her eyes, early on Friday morning.
"Okay." She replied lamely.
Emily was not a morning person. She was used to waking up early and getting things done. Sure. But she would never admit how much she hated the actual process of sticking her feet out from under the warm covers, putting them on the cold floor and forcing her ass up.
So, to say that Emily was unresponsive in the morning, would be an understatement.
"Do we have to leave the hotel quickly?" She asked, since the last time she had slept in, they got a very cordial reminder that they were late for check out.
"No, no. It's only nine." He laughed, straightening the blanket on top of him.
"Oh, you're pedantic, aren't you?" Being able to profile someone was the best reason for Emily Prentiss to want to get up from bed.
She sat up, with her back against the headboard, and she saw the crinkled part of the blanket on top of her body and the perfectly straightened one, on top of Richard.
"Control-powered. You hate when things don't go your way and it drives you insane seeing other people pull the strings. You have to always be in control, the one to call the shots. And when something goes wrong, a way to fix it must be found immediately, otherwise you get anxious and you start to lose yourself. You also don't do well working under people. I peg you as more of a freelance kind of guy. If someone had to give you orders, you wouldn't be able to cope with it. I mean, you're a tough guy, you'd figure out a way to get things done, but you would lose a vital part of yourself in the process and that would send you on a downward spiral until you are left with just an image of the old you when you look in the mirror, but a completely different soul inhabiting your body when you look inside. And you would hate that so much, that it would push you to do stupid things and that would get you into some very crappy situations that you will find yourself unable to get out of, later on. And worst of all – it wouldn't even be your fault. Because if you were the one in control, you would never let yourself sink so deeply." She smirked, knowing for a fact that every word hit the spot.
Richard could not recall a moment of his life when he had felt more uncomfortable. He looked down at the straightened white covers and his eyes started to play. While Emily spoke, he found himself watching a movie, projected on these covers. A movie that starred a guy, identical to him, but doing things he hated to do, being subordinate to someone more powerful than him and then, ultimately, ending up in that downward spiral, as Emily had predicted.
He gulped, shaking his head very lightly, wanting this annoying little film projection to stop.
"Well, I'm glad you said it wouldn't be my fault." That was all he could say to her in reply to everything.
Did he just admit she was right about everything?
Emily smiled triumphantly.
"Oh, come on. I'm not judging you. As a matter of fact, everything I said about you applies perfectly about me, too." She said openly.
"Then why do you keep blaming yourself for everything?" Without much thought, Richard just shot those words at her and, with that, he re-gained dominance over the situation.
It was now her turn to see her life, projected on those crumbled, imperfect sheets – an accurate representation of Emily Prentiss.
Mentally, she went through images of a lot of superiors – people who had called the shots for her. And then she saw herself obeying their every rule and request, until she found herself forced to call herself Lauren, Melissa, Olivia, Sandra, Emma, Natalia, Catherine…
And yet, none of those women were her. They were great versions of Emily, strong and powerful, but they were not her. Lauren never had Emily's heart. Lauren would never blame herself for anything and that was why Emily loved her so much - because Emily could never stop blaming herself for it all. Melissa had never cared about anyone. She would have never formed a single friendship, other than work, and her job had been strictly connected to a drug-dealing gang, all part of an undercover mission. And Catherine, well she had been the most flawed version of Emily. And yet, after all the horrible things Catherine had done, after all of her mistakes, she had never managed to overshadow Emily in that fight for the most vulnerable and screwed up version of Prentiss. Catherine had been Emily's worst nightmare, an alter-ego that she never wanted to hear of again.
"Well, I am awake now." She commented grumpily, hating the realization that she had to stop blaming herself for things that were not her fault. But that was easier said than done.
"I suppose today started on a sour note." Richard added.
"It most definitely did." She would be damned if she screwed up her last few days with him.
"How about we change that?" She leaned over and invited him in for a kiss.
It was an invite he accepted willingly.
He looked at his phone and frowned when his eyes read Friday on the screen. He knew that Lauren would turn back into a pumpkin on Sunday.
This was their own, sick and reversed version of Cinderella, where Lauren was the Cinderella and the clock was ticking before she would turn back into the sad version of herself, named Emily Prentiss, when the time came.
"Wait!" Richard pulled her back in for more, when she was pulling away, wanting to get up and get ready for the day.
She smiled against his lips.
Lauren would have found that annoying. Lauren would do what she wanted to do and would hate a man, pulling on her hand and telling her what he wanted, instead.
Emily, well, Emily did not mind that, at least not at that very same moment in time.
"I really wish this could continue." She whispered after a long moment, pulling away for the second time and this time managing to get out of bed.
He knew that she wasn't referring to the kiss. It was more of a general observation.
After a shower, she was ready to go. While he showered, she jumped into her new dress from the day before and she put on some make-up. Felling cute and refreshed, she was determined to have the best weekend of her life.
Richard got out of the shower and she blushed, seeing him in nothing but the towel. Granted, it did cover more of him, than the underwear he had worn to the hot tub, but this was broad daylight and he was all wet, his hair disheveled and just, ugh, Emily was triggered.
"Plans for the day?" He asked.
"None!" She replied with a smirk.
No plans were the best plans for Emily Prentiss, while Lauren Reynolds had every second of her life, including the breaths that she took, counted, measured and timed out perfectly. She would have hated hanging out in Lyon with this man, if it weren't for his looks.
That morning, they decided to go down for breakfast, sitting by the outdoors pool. Everything was so peaceful and quiet. Emily realized that she needed to buy some beach bikini for her St. Tropez weekend and it got her a little more excited, as she loved going to the shops and Lyon had some good ones.
After breakfast, they took their luggage from the room and checked out. A guy drove Richard's car to the entrance and they hopped in.
"Can we go to the city center one more time?" She asked, sensing that Richard was about to hit the highway.
"Yes, Ma'am!" He said jokingly.
"Oh God, don't call me that." She winced, thinking of each time she had been forced to call her Section Chief Madam.
He made her a very happy girl by taking her straight to a shop that he knew for a fact she would appreciate. And, apparently, shopping for bathing suits was much more enjoyable for him.
Once again, he had his own little chair near the dressing room. Emily picked out 3 options that Emily would like and one that Lauren would love.
She put Lauren's favorite first and pulled the curtain just enough to be able to poke her head out.
"Okay, is it inappropriate to ask you to check out how this looks on me?" She blushed a bit.
Showing him dresses and clothes was one thing, but being half-naked, again, in a shop, was a whole different story.
"Yes…" He said teasingly. "Let me see." He then added, eagerly.
She pulled the curtain a bit more and he stood by her dressing room cabin.
"Hmm. That's just…" Richard was unsure what to say. The bathing suit was really good looking and it fit her perfectly. It was just that…
"It makes you seem a little desperate." He said, best describing his thoughts about it.
"Yeah, doesn't it? I mean, straps, more straps, this hole here, like why the Hell…and then more straps. It's cute, but no." She agreed with him, without taking any offense in his opinion. Emily didn't, for the record. Lauren would have slapped him across the face if he dared call her desperate, even if that piece of clothing made her look exactly like that.
Now that Lauren's one option was out of the way, Emily was glad to be trying out things that she would, personally, like.
Emily's first personal option hung a little too loose on her. She asked the sales assistant to get her one size smaller, but that just squeezed her butt and it did not look cute.
The second option was nice, but they only had a boring grey color in her size and she knew that, from a far, she would look butt-naked on the beach, if she wore that, considering her skin complexion. Not that anyone at the French Riviera would be scandalized – they were, in fact, famous for their nudist beaches and monokini culture.
The last option was what she was really hoping to like.
And she did.
Apparently, she was not the only one.
When she let Richard see her, she was holding the top piece against her chest and she casually asked him to tie it at the back.
Richard casually almost just died, doing so.
In the mirror, Emily could see a reflection of him, getting all sweaty and excited. She then decided to be bald and to pull him in the dressing room and to pull the curtains.
It took him less than a second to understand her advances. He was all over her like she was his favorite candy on a Christmas morning.
It wasn't until the sales assistant came over, three minutes later, asking if Emily liked anything, that they finally took their hands off of each other.
"Yes, it's fine. I chose the red one, I'm just getting some help with the ties." Emily called out, in perfect French, chuckling like a schoolgirl at prom.
The girl from the store smirked. She had seen couples shop for bathing suits and she wasn't oblivious as to what was really going on behind those curtains.
When they walked out of the store, Emily was holding her shopping bag proudly and they decided to go get another coffee and some snacks for the road.
"Oh, Jessica would love this!" Emily commented as she noted something on the window of a shop they were walking by.
"Your friend who set you up with the guy who got his face smashed by her husband after hitting on her all night long, and right before you went home with the bouncer? That Jessica?" Richard laughed, wondering why did she even consider that girl to be her friend.
"Yeah, that one." Emily smirked. Nobody would ever understand the complex love she had for JJ.
She entered the shop and bought the object, mentally preparing for JJ's squealing and screaming with joy when she would unwrap this gift.
On their way to the supermarket, Emily saw a book shop. Being the geek that she was, she just had to walk in. Emily Prentiss could never deny two things: pastry and books. And, occasionally, hot men, as well.
"This place is amazing. Quite pricy, but so worth it. They sell limited edition books." Richard pointed at the book shop, after noticing Emily almost drooling as she checked out the window.
"Well, then this is my own version of Heaven." She stated, already walking over towards the entrance.
"Hey, how about I go grab the snacks and I'll meet you over there, at that small café just across the street? Take your time, don't rush it. I have to make a few phone calls anyway." He said with a soft smile.
Emily realized one thing – he always spoke in private. Yes, it was rude to talk on the phone when you were in company, but he always made it a point to be on his own when his phone rang, even if that meant dropping everything he was doing with her, so he could walk away and answer.
On one hand, this fact bothered her. It almost felt like he was trying to hide her from whoever else was in his life. But then again – it was work. He always said it was work-related calls, so what was the big deal if she overheard something? Was his job boring? Was that why he didn't want to ruin a special moment between them, by making her sit and listen through a boring conversation with his boss? And why did he seem so incredibly pissed off, each time she had seen him on the phone? Was his boss an ass? Did Richard hate his job? What the Hell was Richard's job anyway? Why was he so secretive about it?
Then again, putting herself in his shoes, Emily realized she would have probably acted the same way – secretive, pissed off, distant, if anyone from the BAU called her in regards to a case, while she was with him.
And then again, she actually had something to hide. Something huge – a whole different identity.
What was Richard's excuse?
"Hey?" He nudged her lightly after she failed to reply.
She had gone through all of these questions, in her mind, spacing out on reality once again.
"Uh? Yeah. Yeah, sure, okay." She said awkwardly, opening the book shop door and quickly disappearing inside, before this situation would become even more weird.
Richard sighed, on his way to the supermarket across the street. He turned around and looked back, seeing a very happy Emily, through the windows of the book shop. She had gone straight to the shelves that interested her and she was now roaming through the books, trying to find the best one of them all. He allowed himself a whole minute, to just watch her, admiring the determination with which she grabbed each book and the precision with which she analyzed every word of the resume, on the back of it.
He then entered the supermarket and started choosing a few things from the shelves, making sure all were authentic French treats.
Half an hour later Emily was done choosing. She paid for two books – one for herself and one for Reid; before she walked out and let the sunshine hit her face one more time. There was something so calming about the French sunshine.
"Emily?" A deep, male voice made her jump in place.
Emily was her name, a name that Richard was not supposed to know, a person that Richard should never knew the existence of.
But it wasn't Richard's voice that had called out that name…
Instinctively, Emily's right hand reached for her hips, where she usually had a belt hanging; realizing that she no longer had the gun holstered there. It was in her safety deposit box, at home, along with her FBI badge, her immunity and her real identity.
"Bonjour, c'est moi – Raphael!" The same voice introduced himself, now much closer to Emily.
She realized she had never turned around to check who that was. In a way, she did not want to know. If she was helpless and unable to fight back, what was the point in knowing who had just busted her?
"Et moi, Timothée." Another male's voice added.
That's when it hit her – she knew these men.
She finally turned around and let out a sigh of relief.
"Bonjour, je suis ravi de vous revoir." Emily smiled weakly, looking across the street, making sure Richard was not nearby.
"Que fais-tu de retour à Lyon? Personne ne nous a dit que tous étiez de retour…êtes-tous à nouveau en mission?" Raphael asked, curious what Emily was doing back in Lyon, why had nobody told them she was back and if she was on an assignment, once again.
"Je suis ici pour affaires personnelles. personne ne sait que je suis en France." Emily smiled, now feeling a lot less tense to be herself, around those two. She told them she was in France for personal business and that nobody knew that she was there.
The guys finally took a step forward, now that she was a lot more calm and seemed a lot less eager to shoot them, and they gave her the usual French salute – kisses on the cheeks.
Emily now acted different. She was more serious, and yet, very calm and comfortable around the two men.
"That's too bad. We would have loved for you to bring Roxanne back for some fun." Timothée said in French, with a smirk.
Emily chuckled, remembering another alias of hers – Roxanne, or just Roxy. That had been her first alias at the Interpol, right after she joined them…and left the BAU. Roxy had been the closest way of allowing herself to keep a part of Rossi close to her heart. She had missed him the most, in the beginning. She no longer had his head, to figuratively sit on her shoulders, when her own head failed to do so. Roxy had kept her sane - each time she had heard someone call her by that name, she had closed her eyes and she had seen Rossi, smiling back at her. At times, she swore she had also been able to hear his voice, giving her advice, telling her how to proceed. Emily was quite fond of Roxy, she had played that character well, built her to be a strong, independent woman, for the short time she had been undercover as her.
"Oh, no. Roxy was okay, but my personal favorite was Jennifer. Now that one was just…wow!" Raphael said, also in French, laughing about all the memories he had with Jennifer.
Emily smiled, now remembering being a certain Jennifer for one of her assignments. Jennifer had been quiet, calm and collected, very smart, she had spoken in a very eloquent way and she had always been the voice of reason, within her team. It had been a team of four – Jennifer, Raphael's alias Ron, and two more Interpol guys. The assignment had taken place in Marseilles – one of the most crime-related French cities. Being a huge harbor city, it was also the focal point of most of France's import-export of illegal drugs.
Jennifer had been the innocent one, who had gotten sucked in this illegal scheme. She had been Ron's prisoner - a kidnapped woman who had been forced to assist with the import of huge amounts of cocaine. Ron's team, the other two guys, were keeping Jennifer's family – her husband and two young boys, as hostage, thus making her comply with all of their requests. Jennifer had to bow down to their demands and do illegal things, forge official documents and make sure everything with the delivery went smoothly…until one day the team had enough evidence to bust the rest of the gang – the real criminals, and to put them all in jail.
The day that everything blew up, was the day that innocent little Jennifer, the hostage, came out of her shell and kicked some criminal ass. She had kept her undercover brilliantly, for a whole month, acting like she was scared of Ron and his posse, until the moment that big import was happening. She remembered the cold breeze at the harbor, one late October evening. Jennifer had been freezing, with only a jumper on top of her shirt, but Emily Prentiss had felt the fire inside. Emily Prentiss had felt ready and warmed up for what was about to hit them. Emily Prentiss had let Jennifer explode, when the criminals had least expected her to. Jennifer had fought, initially with her bare hands, until Ron had tossed her a gun, allowing her to dominate just a little more. Jennifer had taken down two of the criminals, on her own, making sure they had been ready to be driven away as soon as those police cars had hit the scene. Jennifer had thought of her own two imaginary kids, with her imaginary husband back home, while Emily Prentiss had thought of her whole entire family back home – her BAU family…and a certain other woman, named Jennifer, who had inspired her and had given her the strength and courage to play that role brilliantly, for a month.
"I liked Penny, too. It sucks that our case got busted. Would have loved to see more of that crazy weirdo." Timothée pointed out, remembering yet another assignment with yet another alias of Emily's.
Penny, short from Penelope, but officially just Penny for the books, had been Emily's creative outlet. The case she had gotten assigned to had been so dark and twisted and Emily had not felt too sure she would be able to go through with what she had to do. So, she had named herself Penny, mentally giving herself a colorful meaning of her new identity, one that would make her smile, on the inside, while holding a gun and shooting three criminals dead, when she had gotten busted.
Six days. That was how long bubbly Penny had lasted before the Interpol had pulled her out of the equation and let another person take her place. Emily had been too emotionally unstable to continue, after killing three people in the span of five minutes. All perfectly regulated and later on excused kills, but kills nonetheless. Those three were going to reveal her identity to the rest of their gang-friends and then Emily would be toast. She had to fight for her life and when her fists had failed to help her, she had no other choice but to seek help from her best friend – her gun.
Two more days into the assignment, two days after Penny had been pulled out and replaced by a man, things had gone wrong. The new man's undercover had gotten blown immediately and he had found himself surrounded by the lawful friends and members of the same gang, as the three men Penny had just killed. That man had gotten shredded to pieces, in a brutal manner, having no back up and no way out.
Penny had tried really hard to forget that, to forget the moment when she had gotten that phone call, informing her of the discovery of her colleague's lifeless body.
Emily Prentiss, however, never tried to forget. She did not want to forget. That specific memory went straight to her long list of things she'd blame herself for, even through the years to come. In her own twisted mind, Emily blamed herself for being weak enough to get herself pulled out. Had she been better, this man would have never taken her place. He would have never suffered a faith as brutal and unfair as the one that had hit him.
Penny had been created to allow Emily to stay sane during the assignment, but she had failed to do so. At times, during her six days undercover, Emily would close her eyes and remember a joke that Penelope, her unicorn BAU colleague, had once said. She would smile to herself, but that had made her weak…weak enough to show emotion and to get herself rescued by the Interpol before she'd blow her cover with the rest of the gang, as well.
"Guys, I no longer do that stuff…" Emily replied, speaking quickly, in fluent French, as if she had lived there her whole life.
The conversation then took a personal turn, each one of the three shared what they had been up to, with Emily only mentioning she now had a new job and she loved her friends. Raphael had gotten married since they had last seen each other and he showed Emily pictures of his wife and his adorable two year old son.
During the whole interaction with those two men, none of them had ever mentioned the Interpol or undercover agents or the FBI. They had been trained not to speak about that in public and they knew how to talk in code. The guys had mentioned Emily having different names, but no other information had come out of their mouths. If anyone was listening to their conversation, it could have been interpreted in many ways. Emily could have been an actress, back in the days. That surely would fit well with what they were saying about her names and characters.
For the next five minutes, there was a mess of three voices, talking loudly and laughing, speaking fast and only ever in French. None of them uttered a word in English. Emily was surprisingly good at and fluent in French. With Richard, she had let slip that she knew French, but each time she had spoken to him in his own native language, she had spoken slowly, as if she wasn't sure, or fluent enough. But with those two, she was shooting words, sentences, jokes and typical French phrases, showing an impressive familiarity with the country and its language.
Emily also seemed like Emily. Not like the Emily that was trying so hard to be Lauren again.
"Want to go grab some coffee?" Raphael suggested, being the one who had more confidence with her, as they had spent more time working together.
"Thank you, but I can't. I'm here with, uhm, someone. And uh, I kind of have to go now…" Emily realized that she was taking a bit too long to join Richard at the café across the street, but then, shooting a glance over to the café, she did not see him anywhere. He wasn't inside, on the counter, and he wasn't sitting outside. There were two elderly women on one of the tables, and a family of three, on the other table. Everything else was empty.
So, where was Richard?
He would have hardly spent forty minutes at a supermarket…
After ten minutes of choosing and twelve more minutes of waiting in line, to pay, Richard walked out of the supermarket with a bag, full of snacks. He had thrown in a few pieces of fruit, just because Emily seemed to be the type of person, judging by her body, to be eating healthy.
Wrong.
If only he knew how the real Emily Prentiss would eagerly accompany her wine with seven donuts and feel absolutely no remorse about it, he'd be surprised.
He glanced over to the café and did not find her there. A family of three was sitting outside, the mother helping the child eat his piece of cake while the father was taking photos of them. A minute later, two elderly women walked over and sat on one of the many free tables outside, as well. And then there was nobody else around, surely Emily was not there.
So, Richard decided to go get her from the book shop. However, seeing her still choosing books from the shelves, with that smile on her face and oblivious to the fact that he was watching her through the window, he could not bring himself to put a stop to her happiness. She seemed in her element. He would have never pegged her for such a book geek, but apparently, there was more to that Lauren woman than she was telling him.
He walked over to one of the souvenir shops, right next to the book shop where Emily was still in awe at. He found so many colorful dangling things, from key chains to umbrellas, to pencil cases – all with images of Lyon plastered on them. It was almost giving him a headache to look at all these colors and objects, but this was the perfect place where he could wait for Emily to leave the book shop at. He had a lot of distractions, to keep him busy, plus he had a view of the bookshop door, so he'd know when Emily would walk out and he'd go join her for the coffee.
However, now checking out the hundreds of postcards, hanging on the stand outside, right next to the bookshop door, he missed the moment when Emily walked out. He only looked her way when he heard some guy call out the name Emily. Richard's eyes darted towards that door in less than half a second. He saw Lauren, touching her hips, as if she was searching for something, and then frowning when she did not find it. She did not turn around, but he saw her shiver, almost jump in place as she heard that name and then she was immobile for a long moment, before the two men behind her introduced themselves.
They were both French and they started speaking about other people, or names, really. Lauren had given them both kisses on the cheeks and she had relaxed in their presence, now that she was facing them. Did she know them?
As the conversation unraveled, Richard heard her speak rapid, fluent French, and he saw a different side of her – one that she hadn't dared to show him. Or one that she simply didn't want him to know about.
Everything happened so fast that, by the time he realized he should not be eavesdropping at all, he also realized he was standing five feet away from them, hidden behind a huge stand of colorful postcards. That surely looked like he had been stalking her, when in reality, those were not his intentions at all. That would freak Lauren out, so he made the decision of exiting the souvenir shop from the rear door, as it was situated at the corner of the building, and walking down the street, very casually, until he'd randomly bump into Lauren, giving her enough time to see him, approaching, and to change topic, if she wanted to.
As for Richard, he would ignore the fact that he overheard a personal conversation and he would never speak of it, with Lauren.
Emily was in her middle of a joke when she saw a familiar figure, turning the corner. A male figure was now walking towards where she and her two ex-colleagues were standing.
"Uhm…" Emily shrugged, making a small gesture to the two men, as if to urge them to stop talking.
Both of them understood her and they looked in direction to where Emily was looking, now with a smile on her face, back to her Lauren ways of lies and deceit.
"Wait…you're here with him?" Raphael gasped, placing the pieces of the puzzle together.
Richard was slowly walking towards them, while Emily had requested silence from her Interpol friends. She smiled at the man, as if she was the most innocent woman in the world.
Something about the way Raphael said him bothered Emily. Unluckily for her, Richard was now too close to them, so she was unable to ask Raphael to elaborate on that. And that gasp?
Timothée gave Raphael a look and they both seemed ill-at-ease.
"Je suis désolé, je ne sais pas où vous pouvez trouver un magasin de guitare. Au revoir." Emily said to the two men, when Richard was close enough to be able to overhear.
If asked about them, she now had the perfect excuse, as she just told them she was sorry, but she did not know where they could find a guitar shop, as if that was what they had been talking about. As if they were strangers to her. As if she was Lauren again.
Both of them nodded at Richard, in a weird way saluting him, before they literally disappeared, without even greeting Emily or saying another word to her.
"Hello, Lauren." Richard said softly, reaching out for her hand.
Those exact words made her blood freeze. It was exactly what Ian Doyle had once said to her, before he branded her, as if she was an object, as if she belonged to him. As if she had no worth at all.
As soon as Richard held her hand, she made it a point to slip away. Hearing those words, that name, coming from his mouth, sounded so wrong. It did not go unnoticed by him, but he did not question it. He already knew that Lauren was into playing games, so he'd let her win this round.
But, was she, ultimately, going to win the game?
"I got two books…" She masked up by now starting to rant about her books and the fact that one of them was a present for a very smart young man she knew back home.
She went on and on about books, as they walked over to the café and Richard let her speak. He let her have it, if that was what she wanted.
He was awfully quiet, which did not go unnoticed by Emily, as well. That was the mere reason she went on this long rant, wanting to seem normal and bubbly again. She also needed to busy her mind with something, so she wouldn't overthink the way her two friends had acted around Richard. She did not want to think about that at all. She'd be happy to forget that ever happened, because somehow it did not fit into her fairy tale. And Emily Prentiss was not about to let anything ruin her fairy tale even if she wasn't even herself, in it.
"You are mesmerizing…" He uttered, after being zoned out for a total of two minutes, while she had ranted about books and donuts.
"Huh?" She was caught off guard.
How did the topic change so fast?
Richard pulled his chair closer to hers and he reached out to hold her.
Instinctively, she leaned in and felt no fear at all. His hands felt familiar, she had already gotten used to his touch, so much that when they were apart, she missed him. He was right there, in front of her, and she missed him already. She wanted him to hold her, if possible, forever. But neither Lauren nor Emily were good at promises that involved 'forever'. Neither of them was sure how long their 'forever' would last for, so, how were they supposed to genuinely promise it to anyone?
And yet, she wanted a forever. With him. In those hands. Kissing those lips. Seeing that smile, his face… Hearing his voice, that thick French accent that made her knees go weak, as if she was a teenager again.
"You make me feel safe…" She whispered quietly.
"Awwwh!" They overheard the elderly women near their table, sighing in appreciation of the beautiful scene they were now witnessing.
Emily chuckled. When had she ever been such a snugly lovebird? So intimate, in public? So…happy? So normal?
"Good. That's what I'm supposed to do…" Richard said, a little less cheerfully.
He then sighed, kissing the top of her head in the most genuine and sweet kind of way. She smelled fresh, like that tiny shampoo she had bought a few days ago. Her hair was so silky and shiny, so healthy looking, quite like Emily herself. He just wished she would let herself shine, too. She deserved it.
Emily's eyes were closed. She let herself soak it in. All of it. The scent of his eau de cologne tickled her nose, now that it was resting on his shoulder. The warmth of his hands, resting on her back, gave her a beautiful sensation, one she had not felt before. Everything seemed so easy with him, so real, so beautiful. This was most definitely a fairy tale. Emily Prentiss was just dreaming. This was not real life and she was not her real self, she was sure of it. None of it could be true. None of it was what she had ever imagined might happen to her.
And yet, none of it felt forced. None of it felt rushed, even if it most definitely was rushed. None of those feelings she was suddenly overwhelmed with, were supposed to surface, just days after she had met him. None of it was something she could deny herself. She could not bring herself to put an end to this…to it…to them.
"Woah, hello heartbeat…" Richard chuckled, feeling Emily's chest, pressed against his own. It felt like it was about to explode, the way her heart was rebelling.
"Well, hello you…" She pulled back a little, just to be able to let her lips linger against his.
She did not kiss him.
He did not kiss her.
It was just a moment, a brief one, where they allowed themselves to be young again, to feel the warmth of their lips, against each other, but without giving into the temptation.
If this woman was able to resist this temptation, then God knows how incredible she'd be in bed. Oh, all the games Richard could play with her, tease her, deny her, then comply with her wishes before teasing her mercilessly again. She'd love it. She would surely love it all. She'd be insatiable, he was sure of that.
He gulped, shaking those thoughts away. He was already feeling some type of way, he did not need those thoughts to make it even harder for him. No pun intended…
Emily was now overwhelmed with different thoughts. In her mind, she started making some Reid-like complicated calculations, until she was able to fit a few puzzle pieces of her life perfectly together.
Well, almost perfectly.
She felt an undeniable urge to sort her life out, right then, right there. She – Emily Prentiss, was now obsessively trying to fit her newly acquired feelings, as Lauren, into the world and into the future of Emily Prentiss.
"A quoi penses-tu?" He asked her, curious to know what she was thinking about.
"Nous…" She whispered, bringing her own hands to hug him, admitting that she was thinking about them.
It was a bit uncomfortable, as they were both sitting on bamboo chairs, next to each other, while Emily sat sideways, allowing him to embrace her for so long. Her muscles were starting to hurt, but she would rather stick through the physical pain, than the pain of losing him, his touch, his warmth…their closure. Them.
And now, trying to hug him, she was facing another obstacle – sitting sideways it only meant that she was bound to find her ass on the ground, if she moved another inch.
With one swift motion, Richard picked her up and let her sit on his lap before embracing her again. This time it was easier for her to do the same, and yet, her hands were not long enough to hold him, all of him. He was quite well-built and she found it impossible to close her hands, behind his back. But it was okay, she gladly let her palms rest on his back, with her fingers gently pressing against it.
Richard could not help but frown. He had once had a woman he had been crazy about – the love of his life. They had gotten married, they had made plans for the future and they had been happy…until life had separated them. But still, he had felt this kind of love, the one that consumed someone, the one that made people hold each other, just like they were, at that moment.
But what about Emily? Or rather – Lauren? She was holding onto him like she had never had this in her life. Love. Intimacy. Future…
Had she ever let herself cry, break down, show emotions, in front of any other man?
Was he the first one?
She had spoken about straddling many men in her life, which Richard had interpreted way different than what Emily had meant, but did it mean she had never found the one? Had it only been exploring? Searching? Failing and then starting the search all over again?
What was so special about him? He kept asking himself that question, over and over again, while still feeling her fastened heartbeat against his own chest. It felt good. Their hearts almost beat in rhythm, in sync, just like their lips always functioned, when they kissed…and their hands, when they touched each other.
Emily, on the other hand, kept calculating. Her eyes were tightly squeezed as she tried desperately to morph Lauren into Emily and then introduce Richard into Emily's world.
Little that she knew, she had already been doing just that, for a while now…
She then came to the conclusion that – yes, Richard was most definitely and without a hint of doubt, the first man she felt so strongly about. Why? The answer to that question only took her seconds – he was real. He was being honest with her and he had shown her all of his colors, his flaws, he had spoken about his past relationships openly and he had never acted like he was a good guy. On the contrary – he had already stated that he was a horrible person. And that was what made him human, in her eyes. The flaws, the ease with which he had accepted the fact that nobody was perfect. He seemed sure of himself, happy with who he was and, most importantly – happy to be with her, whoever the Hell she might be.
"I have to tell you something…" Emily said weakly, once again letting her lips linger against his.
This time, he kissed her. Slowly, passionately, softly…
"Je m'en fiche." He murmured against his lips, letting her know, in street French, that he did not care, before kissing her again and again.
"But I…Oh, mmhhh, okay…yeah, mhh…" She tried to speak up again, but he knew exactly how to make her shut up.
"Nothing you say to me could ever change the way I feel about you…" He said, at the end of the kiss, holding her face in his hands and allowing her to have a good look at his face, as he spoke.
And he was genuine. Emily was incredibly good at sensing bluff, at pointing out a lie. She would have known. She would have surely known if he was playing her. He might have been able to fool Lauren, but Emily Prentiss was a warrior. She was a survivor, she had to be. After years of pretending, she had mastered the art of deceit, both in the sense of being the deceiving one and also being the one to sense deceit that was intended to fool her.
And Richard was not lying. There was no chance in Hell someone would be able to fake the feelings that he was communicating to her, non-verbally. Emily was sure of that. She would bet all those years of studying human behavior, on the fact that he was being real.
They later drank their coffee, already cold, before it was time for them to hit the road again. They didn't make any more stops and so they managed to arrive at St. Tropez before dinner time.
It was still sunny and hot outside and Emily was enjoying every second of it. She had been there just once before, as Lauren, and it had to do with work, so she considered this to be her first official visit of this beautiful place, unlike Lyon, where she had lived for a few months. Finally, some place new to experience with Richard.
They spent their first two hours just wandering around, discovering cool places and Emily could not stop picking out little things to buy for her friends back home. It made Richard both happy and sad.
Happy, because it confirmed that Emily was a great person who had great friends whom she would do anything for.
Sad, because he only had two more days left with her before she would go back to her life, her friends and her job. Without him.
"FBI, DON'T MOVE!" Angie called out, right before she opened her eyes in the morning.
"Jesus, calm down and wait a few more months before you get to actually yell that at people. Let alone at 5:34 on a Sunday morning." Bryan sounded pissed. He hated waking up abruptly.
"Oh, I guess my dream got me a little too excited." She shifted uncomfortably, removing a pen from under her butt cheek. Sleeping on the couch after a long study session was hardly a good idea. She felt rough, tired and surrounded by way too many random objects.
"We're finally getting our new weekly schedule today. Are you excited?" He asked while rubbing his eyes lazily and trying to overcome the sore feeling of literally every single bone of his body. He had spent the night on the floor, surrounded by cushions, but none of them was actually underneath him, so his muscles were aching as if he were an old man.
"Yes and no. I mean, new schedule - cool. But don't you remember how we were promised a big cut on the first week of the Academy? Well, that never happened then and it's now the end of the second week, so I can only imagine they are going to kick even more people out today." She rolled her eyes.
She knew she was fit to be there and she deserved her spot, but she wasn't sure everyone else knew that. Teachers seemed to suddenly dislike her, she was being given harsh criticism by literally everyone and, to top it all, she had spent the majority of her week in between throwing up and pushing herself to work hard, the point of throwing up again. So, her spot there was feeling a little secure at that moment.
"Come on, we did a great job studying last night. We'll smash this test!" He said, raising his hands in the air, like a winner.
"Damn, are you sure I'm the cheerleader here?" She teased him before she walked to the bathroom and shut the door behind her.
He could tell that she was going to be sick, but there wasn't much he could do once he heard her lock herself inside.
Angie tried to mask it up by running the water in the shower, but he knew.
She then took a quick shower and after brushing her teeth three times, she felt a little more ready go to.
"Grab a towel from over there and go." Angie pointed to where the fresh towels were. "Come on. You practically live with me and you've never taken a shower here. Just go. After the cuts, if we both make it, you're moving in. Like, officially. We're dragging your stuff over here and you're sleeping in Amanda's bed. Hope that's a little less weird, now that she is almost alive again. Or un-dead? Whatever you want to call it."
Bryan gave her a look and grabbed a towel. She was right - he was there all the time and it felt more like home than his own dorm with Jack, whom he hadn't even talked to in days.
"I like almost alive better." He smirked while taking his shirt off. "Plus, I'm curious to continue our little investigation. If we both make the cuts, we are so digging into this mystery."
Angie praised the Lords. Bryan was finally starting to be fun and adventurous. She knew that day would come. She had been waiting for it way too patiently.
"It's a promise!" She nodded in his direction and then noticed him tugging on his jeans.
"Oh, no. You do that in the comfort of my bathroom, you know, the one with four walls and a door that closes and divides the space between a fully clothed me and an almost naked you. Now go do that there. Thank you!" She cringed and it was the second time Bryan noticed her being a little awkward when he was getting undressed.
Truthfully, he was only tugging on his jeans, to unblock the damned zipper that would always block and would refuse to come down. He wasn't actually going to take them off in front of her.
And even if he did, why would she be so scandalized about it? They had made it obvious they were only friends. Plus, she never had any problem undressing in front of others, including him. So, now that tables were turned, why was she acting like a prude?
He walked to the bathroom and took a long, hot shower, allowing his muscles to feel alive again, before he changed into his trainee uniform and they were ready to go.
He noticed Angie had put on some light make-up, as she always did in the morning, and he found her fiddling with a few colorful bows that she had neatly organized in a small box.
"May I?" He asked and she moved aside.
"I like this one." He picked out one of the bows and it had two small ribbons that fell down from it.
"Oh, that is one of my favorites!" She squealed, although those were words she would say about literally every single one of her bows. She loved them all equally.
She turned around and combed her hair, making a small fish-tail in the back. Bryan then put the bow in and locked it in place with a few bobby pins, making sure it wouldn't fly off during PFT.
To their dismay, once they arrived at the outdoors training area half an hour later, PFT turned out to be cancelled. Instead, there were a bunch of their instructors, just standing in a row and looking at them.
"Crap! It's the cuts!" Angie bit her bottom lip and felt scared, like she had never felt before.
Bryan's response was to just stick his hand out and grab hers, enwrapping her small fingers in the palm of his hand and squeezing them tightly. As far as he was concerned, one would be crazy to cut Angela from the Academy.
The Trainees lined up, mimicking the line that their teachers had previously formed. At 6:30 in the morning, that was what they found suitable, since nobody said a single word.
Each teacher was eyeing different trainees, some with approval, some with disapproval. Dan was taking notes and then comparing a them with a previously printed out paper file, ticking stuff and crossing out other stuff. That stuff, presumably, being a list of Trainee names.
Angie inhaled sharply, realizing that each teacher had spent time, eyeing her up and down. She had always felt confident in herself and her abilities, but screw that - at that very moment, all she felt was goosebumps. And it sucked.
Bryan, on the other hand, held himself to the standards. His head was held high, chin up, perfect posture, a content half-smile on his face. How the heck was he so good at this?
"Breathe." He reminded her quietly when he realized it had been a while since he heard her breathe in. And it was audible, she almost sounded like a newborn child, taking a soundly breath. It was cute.
She smiled, realizing that through all of this stress, which had only lasted for a couple of minutes so far, but had felt like an eternity for the trainees; he had never let go of her hand.
"Together." She muttered.
"Until the end!" He reassured her in a whisper and it was enough to make her stand up straight and put her poker face on as well.
Dan walked up and down the line up of Trainees, whispering something to a few of them.
He said nothing to Angie and Bryan and he just kept on walking further away from them.
The teachers then proceeded in either ticking or crossing out stuff on papers that looked quite similar to Dan's list from earlier.
And then they just left.
Without a word, all the teachers just walked away and left their papers, facing down, on a small table that was on the side of the running track.
"What the fu-..." Angie muttered, but Bryan nudged her before she could finish that sentence.
Dan picked up all the papers and then waved at the Trainees and left, as well.
"What the fuck!?" Bryan said out loud and it made Angie frown.
"Hey, that was my line!" She argued, with her hands folded against her chest.
Trainees then started walking around the training field, wondering if they were supposed to train on their own, since there was no one else to follow their progress this morning.
"Push-ups?" Bryan suggested, already knowing that there was no way Angie would want to go relax, now that their training was half-suspended. What if it were a test to see which ones would follow their weekly schedule on their own and which ones would go do just about anything other than train?
"Pull ups!" She smirked, wanting to get better at those, instead.
When they started their little session, Bryan commented on her improved grip and on the invidious upper body strength she had acquired after having trained so hard lately.
It gave Angie the confidence boost she needed. She pushed hard, with each pull up she felt her nausea increasing, but that was not going to stop her. She did as many as she could, before Bryan suggested to go for a run.
They ran slowly, going round the main FBI building, as Angie wanted to know every corner of that place. Then they found themselves nearing the food court, as it was time for their lunch break.
"Don't you have your Ballistics job today?" Bryan asked.
"No, the guy told me that nobody is in on Sundays, so he asked me to go on any other day, but a Sunday. That's why I had to pick up the extra shift yesterday." She said while walking in circles around a table, outside one of the little food bars. It looked like she was such a weirdo.
"What? You know you can't just stop and stay immobile after running, right? You have to slow your heartbeat down first." She commented and he knew that, of course, but it was nice to hear that she knew how to take care of her health after physical training. Sometimes he thought she was just going on auto pilot and he wasn't sure if she knew how to stop.
"Are you going to continue working, now that you have all these coupons from the library?" This question had been bothering him since she had received them yesterday.
"Yes. I like the jobs and I get to go places that are above my Trainee clearance. Plus, those were a pre-payment, meaning that I have to still keep working, so I'd deserve them." She explained and it did not surprise him to hear that.
"Do you think that this morning was the final evaluations before the cut?" He asked, just to change the topic.
"No, I think they were just trying to spook us out. And damn, it worked." She rolled her eyes, hating that she was almost admitting defeat against the very people who had been nothing but rude and intimidating to her lately. Her very own version of high-school bullies.
"The day is not over yet. You never know what they have in store for us. It seemed like each teacher was choosing their least favorites. My bet is that now Dan is somewhere, hidden in a dimly lit office, smoking an electronic cigarette and enjoying having to cross us out, one by one." Bryan's words instantly put Angie back in a bad mood.
"Shut up or I'm going to slap you so soundly that they would ring the siren they use for national crisis situations!" She said, but it only made him laugh.
He was a tall guy. A big guy. With muscles.
She was a slim girl. With a bow in her hair.
Each time she had threatened him, he had found it so hard to take her seriously, but he never had the heart, or the courage, to let her know.
Angie simply walked into the restaurant and started choosing her food, consoling herself with the thought that she was doing her absolute best and that, if they still cut her, it would be their freaking loss. And she would definitely be going after them, making their lives miserable.
Bryan finally got some steak and fries, with a salad as a side. Angie treated herself with a lasagna, because if this was her last day on the Holy FBI grounds, she would go out with a bang, eating her favorite dish. She also got a salad and she was sure that she would later get away with stealing a few fries from Bryan's plate.
For dessert she got a Tiramisu and a huge piece of triple chocolate cake. Because, why not?
Bryan got fruit, because even if he was absolutely calm on the outside, on the inside he was dying a little bit, from all the anxiety.
"How are you so damn calm?" She asked, accusingly, while licking the last bits of cake off her fork.
"SWAT, baby!" He said proudly.
Bryan was proud of being an ex-SWAT member. It had changed his life forever. He used to hate who he was in high-school, but SWAT taught him everything he now knew, it turned him into a version of himself that he was proud of and that people were proud to be around. It also taught him how to put a poker face on while shitting his pants very discretely.
"Ah, yeah, I keep forgetting you were David." Angie rolled her eyes, saying it as if it were not important at all. Also, as if David was his old name.
Bryan sighed. One day he would steal all of her colorful pens and draw her a very intricate diagram, explaining how the different positions in SWAT work. However, that would confuse her even more.
Angie gasped when the door of the restaurant opened and she saw the people who walked in. She could care less about the others, but the one who walked ahead of them, was the one she had to keep an eye on.
"Of all the gin joints..." She muttered.
"Oh, I just fell in love with you a little more. If that is even possible." Bryan commented.
"Why? Because you like my random bitching?" She said with a smile.
"No. Because any girl who quotes Casablanca is a girl who has a place in my heart." He replied while finishing up his own dessert, the fruit.
The waitress came by and grabbed a few empty plates from their table, bringing them back to the kitchen, but not before eyeing Bryan up and down.
In turn, he did the same. The girl was attractive and her waitress uniform fit her so damn well. Especially from the back.
"I'm surprised you even know about Casablanca. I'd peg you for more of a Casanova guy." She rolled her eyes at his lame attempt to look casual while checking this girl out.
"What? I'm a dude." His words earned him an icy glare from Angela, who hated it when men objectified women and then blamed it on being just guys.
"I hate you so much right now that I almost want to wish you to fail the damned exam later." She stuck her tongue at him.
"What did they say it would be on?" He asked, unable to recall the exact words of their training teacher.
"Everything. Basically. All of it." Angie didn't seem worried about that, at all.
"How come they only told us yesterday? I mean, we could have had more time to prepare." Bryan whined a little bit, because it seemed unfair to him.
"Hello? It's the FBI! You won't get a heads up, ever." Angie put the fork down. She had been subconsciously swaying it in the air, as if it were a sword, ever since she saw Dan and a group of their teachers walk in.
Dan kept on giving her looks and she hated it. It bothered her so much. He had chosen a table near them, just so he could keep on looking at her.
"Why is he being a dick to you?" Bryan finally commented. He had noticed Dan's looks towards Angie since he saw him walking in.
"Did you just notice that today?" Angie rolled her eyes one more time.
"Not really. Everyone is being rude to us, but especially to you. Even the people who were nice to us those first few days of the Academy. Like Jack, for example. And all the teachers we had in the beginning. Suddenly, everyone started being weird. Maybe you're right and this is a part of a huge conspiracy theory." He laughed, since he was only joking. But Angie had a theory of her own and she wouldn't rest until she proved or disproved it successfully.
The waitress came by to grab the rest of the empty dishes and glasses from their table...and to flirt with Bryan one more time. She asked them if they wanted to order something else.
"No, thank you." It hurt Bryan to pronounce those words, as he would have enjoyed a few more minutes of this girl's company, but he just wanted to get away from Dan.
"Actually. We'll have another piece of cake, to share. And then also two coffees - one black and one with chocolate and mini marshmallows on top. Thank you. Oh and I guess he'll also have your phone number, I guess." She added with a smirk.
Bryan wanted to kill her at that very moment. Yes, he'd like those digits, but not before he saw Angie suffer for having just said that.
The waitress became red like a tomato and she disappeared. When she came by their table again, she placed their desert and coffees in front of them and, very shyly, put a piece of paper in front of Bryan, before she disappeared again and they never saw her walk around the restaurant anymore.
"Damn girl, you are one mean wing-woman." Bryan gave her a high-five, suddenly appreciating Angie's ways.
"Are you going to call her?" She asked curiously, taking a sip of her coffee.
"I don't know..." Bryan shrugged.
"Dude, you kind of have to!" She said casually while taking a piece of the cake with her fork.
"I mean, she's really cute. I bet the old Bryan would have loved the idea of taking her out on a date, or on a ride..." He trailed off.
"But the new Bryan has some reservations?" She assumed.
"Yeah. I'm not sure who the new Bryan is anymore. Or what he wants. Or what he stands for..." He trailed off again. Twice in two consecutive sentences. That was a sign that he was not the secure guy she had gotten to know.
"Well, if one day you feel like sharing your daemons, I'm here to listen, while I get you drunk." She offered him a small smile.
Bryan really liked the way that Angela always put people at ease. She knew when to speak and what to say, and she was damn good at giving an emotional speech, like she had done the previous day at the library, with Barbara. She was also really good at saying the best thing, with the least amount of words, which was what she just did with him at that very moment. Overall, Angie knew how to read people and to assess situations extremely well.
"But for now, how about we give this dude a show?" Angie raised her eyebrow.
If Dan thought it was okay to just walk in and intimidate Angela while she was eating, he was sadly mistaken. Nobody stood between Angela Hunter and food. As slim as she was, food was a very important part of her life. Especially sweets. So, to have someone mess with her while she enjoyed her cake, was just out of question.
She turned her seat sideways, so she could now be facing Dan perfectly. He couldn't hear her words, being a few tables away, but that piercing gaze of hers was saying enough.
Her eyes narrowed and she studied him. At first, Dan did not care. He simply thought this girl was acting out and trying not to show him how freaked out she was by him.
But after two whole minutes that Angela, and now Bryan too, were staring at him without moving a muscle, Dan gulped. Suddenly, his tie felt a little too tight and the air around him felt a little stuffy.
In her eyes he could see something intimidating. He knew her as a smiling young one, but those eyes, that stare, was showing him a whole new side of Angela. A side he never thought she possessed. A side that felt possessed, in a way.
As Dan swept some sweat off his forehead, Angie finally moved, just enough to smirk triumphantly. Her eyes never left their aim and she was now slowly feeding herself bits of cake, while sipping on her coffee and staring at him, with a certain determination in her eyes.
It didn't take Dan more than five minutes to finally excuse himself from the company of his colleagues and to walk out. He hated being observed, but something about Angela's stare was different. It was fierce. She almost looked…scary. He knew how stupid it was to be feeling this way, but he simply could not help it.
He had seen killers with a piercing gaze. He had seen prisoners with a gaze that simply said they do not care what happens to them, making him sure of the fact that they'd snap his neck in a second, without giving it much thought. He had seen sorrow and pain in the victim's eyes. He had seen hope in the victims' friends and family eyes.
But what he saw in Angela's eyes now was new. It was different, and yet, it was a mixture of all of the above.
That girl was something else.
