CHAPTER 74
PUTTING THAT GLOVE ON THE WRONG HAND
"Not so fast." Clara said when Angie started taking her shoes off, as soon as they entered their hotel room the first night in Cuba.
"I don't like bringing germs from the street in, where I'm going to relax and get in my zone." Angie shrugged and continued to untie her shoes.
Clara sat next to her and held her hand, so that she would stop fiddling with the shoe laces. Weirdly, Angie didn't shriek away. She felt almost…comfortable, with Clara.
"I need a drink." She stated.
"Cheers. Have fun." Angie waved at her with her free hand.
There was this weird banter between them. Angie usually treated people elder than her with maximum respect. But somehow, with Clara, she was being a little bit snappy and Clara did not seem to mind that, at all. In fact, she replied with something witty instead.
"I will have fun. With you. Now get your ass up, young girl, and let's go explore Havana." Clara stood up, forcing Angie to do the same, as she pulled her up, still holding one of her hands.
"Taking someone some place they do not wish to be at, after they explicitly stated their opinion about it, is considered kidnapping, you know?" Angie folded her hands when she finally managed to get rid of Clara's grasp.
"And offering someone free drinks at a bar, after a job well done, is considered a gesture of good heart." Clara smiled.
"Free drinks?" Angie bit on her lip.
There were very few things in life that could get her to sell her soul to the Devil and the word 'free' usually appeared before each word on that list.
"Mhm." Clara nodded. "Plus, it has been proven by various studies that a woman, accompanied, even if it were by another woman, faces less than half the risk of being taken advantage of, at night. So, unless you want to send me off into the night and then spend the rest of your life wondering what happened to me, unable to find out where some wild fella has dumped my lifeless body, I suggest you put those shoes on and get going."
Damn. It was as if Clara knew Angie better than she knew herself. Free drinks plus playing with her guilty conscious? Throw in some reverse psychology and Angie was already tying the shoelaces again.
"Hello." Emily said weakly, testing the grounds she was now walking on, having just entered the office of a man who was way high in the FBI chain.
Coming back from the case, she was welcomed by an e-mail from him, expressing his wish to see her in his office. That made her feel like she was back in high-school and called into the principal's office. It could go one of two ways: she would either get praised, which was highly unlikely to happen, given the drama the BAU was still trying to swim out of; or she would be yelled at for whatever reason. Emily had prepared herself mentally for the latter.
"Agent Prentiss." The man greeted her with a smile, sounding cheerful, which she took as a good sign.
He motioned for her to take a seat and she did so in the most graceful way she could.
Emily Prentiss was a klutz. She would knock things over, she would randomly sit on objects, she would leave her bag in weird places, she would do just about anything that was out of the ordinary, to a normal person. Sometimes she'd sit on the edge of the chair, while trying to be cute, only to find herself in misbalance and fighting to not pop her tush to the floor, in public.
This time, however, she managed to look graceful. The back of her smart jacket got stuck to the chair, but she masked it up perfectly, bringing her hand up to fix her perfectly fixed hair, and then swiftly brushing it against the jacket, until it rolled back down, hugging her frame.
Well plaid, she gave herself a mental compliment.
"With everything that happened – and I'm talking about your hearing and the whole Section Chief scandal, we've had our eyes on you. And let me tell you, those eyes did not look at you with approval. And yet, it took you two days to crack a case that nobody else wanted. I ask myself – how? What motivated that?" The man sat back in his chair, oozing authority.
"Well, Sir…" Emily started off, speaking slowly, calmly and most importantly – confidently. "My team is no new to dealing with questioning eyes. The BAU started off, years ago, with three brilliant young profilers, who got laughed at and nobody believed that profiling was even a thing. They fought hard to prove everyone wrong, which they eventually did, earning themselves the respect they deserved. Now, I would never allow myself to perform anywhere beyond the standards they set, especially not while working side-to-side with one of those three founders. I have a tremendous amount of respect for SSA Rossi, he has taught me a lot. No, he still teaches me a lot. Every. Single. Day!"
The man across the table could not help but smile at her words.
"You asked me how? I don't know how, Sir." She replied honestly, making him a bit confused.
"I know why." She added, after giving him a second to be confused. She wanted to create exactly that effect with her words. "Because of Agents Rossi, Jareau, Garcia, Morgan, Reid, Alvez, Simmons, Lewis…"
There was no way Emily would forget mentioning Morgan's name, even if he wasn't with them anymore. He was a reason for her success, he had to be mentioned and there was no question about that.
The man in front of Emily was now beyond confused. She had just shot out a bunch of names. How was that an answer to what he had asked her?
"Because those people are what inspire me to give my best, on the field. And in the office, of course." Here it was, a tiny geeky moment.
"They make me smile when I wake up in the morning, even though I know I would probably be getting into a fight, or a shootout, my ass would get kicked in 90 percent of the time and I would be going back home, if I was lucky, with only just some major bruising and possibly a few open wounds, with fresh blood soaking through the surgical tape that some doctor most definitely told me to change, a few hours ago."
Emily kept her eyes on the man, at some point even making him feel a bit uncomfortable, so he diverted his gaze to check a few of his accomplishments, printed and framed, hanging on the wall. Mentally, he was reminding himself of the long road he had been on, before he got to sit behind that desk. He had been a young Agent once, full of hope and expectations. Life had given him lemons more times than he could count and each time he had tried to turn that around, he had received a loud slap across the face, whether it came from an UnSub or someone standing higher in the FBI chain.
He did not understand Emily Prentiss.
No.
He was Emily Prentiss. Years ago.
"Agent Prentiss, I called you here this morning, to let you know that if you have any troubles, or any requests, you should feel free to come straight to me, now that you don't have an active Section Chief to bring your questions and troubles to. I am not a man who gives compliments, everybody knows that…" He trailed off. It was her time to sweat in confusion now.
"However, I wanted to tell you in person, how incredibly proud I am to supervise a team, who sticks together like you guys do, and who gives their Unit Chief the respect she deserves. Because you, Emily Prentiss, have showed nothing but professional attitude and leadership since the day my Superior and I assigned you as Unit Chief." He gulped, feeling a bit weird to be giving a compliment. He wasn't a rude man, in fact, he was quite well liked. He just did not do compliments.
"That was you!?" Emily nearly flipped out. Scratch being professional.
He nodded.
"Ben…" Emily whispered, entering the zone of friendly conversation, which, she had already had lots of those, with this man…just maybe outside their offices.
"Emily, you deserve to be happy. And this job makes you happy. You are amazing at it. And after the recent turn of events, I just wanted you to be reminded of how great and capable you are." He said softly, this time leaning over the table, whispering, as he entered that friendship zone quite fast, as well.
"I always thought it was a voting thing…" Emily had so many questions.
"It was. Well, Agent Hotchner expressed his wish to have you, as his substitute after he left. That was merely just a wish. The final result depended on my office and my Superior, of course. We made your team put an anonymous vote for a new leader and every single piece of paper we received, had your name written on it."
"Which means nobody voted for themselves…" Emily sighed with relief. She knew how much Morgan wanted that spot, even JJ. Rossi was the one who deserved it the most, but he had been happy to step down and put the crown on Emily's head instead.
"Emily, they all wanted you. And when you hand in your files after closing a case, I understand why. I simply authorized their wish, plus, it was the thing I would have ultimately chosen for the BAU, even if they had voted for someone else. So, not all credit goes to me, after all. Also, the Director had his eyes on you for quite some time already. Emily, people believe in you!" He smirked.
"God, this is making me feel…weird…" She chuckled all of a sudden.
They were both now leaning over the huge table, whispering to each other, as if they were part of an international conspiracy theory.
"Yeah, but if I had delivered that news over our Thursday afternoon coffee run, it wouldn't have sounded as cool, huh?" He gave up and started laughing as well.
Emily and Ben went way back. They were close, without being friends. It made no sense, but it worked for them. She knew nothing about his life outside the job and he knew nothing about her lack of a personal life. And yet, they had a set coffee date once a week, chatting about cases and strategies, as if they had grown up together. Then there was also the light, fun, non-engaging conversation that helped both of them distress. Plus, being seen with the Big Boss was always something Emily welcomed with pride. She'd make sure she looked extra good on Thursdays, so people would be a little more jealous when they saw them hang out for those twenty minutes after lunch break.
They decided to get out of the office and go grab their coffee earlier that day. The formalities were over and done with. SSA Prentiss got her praise from the Boss, now it was Emily's time to chill with Ben.
"How's the Academy going?" She asked casually, walking down a path, covered by fallen autumn leaves.
She knew that Dan was the Academy Mentor, and his direct Superior was Ben, who then would sum it all up and report to his Boss – the FBI Director. That was the chain of command.
"She is doing exceptionally well." He smirked, replying to what he knew Emily actually wanted to ask.
She opened her mouth to argue, but decided against it. Ben was smart. He had read right through her.
"What's with this girl, anyway?" He asked "Everyone seems to be into her, asking about her."
"Guess she's just really nice and she makes people feel good. God knows we need more people like her, around here." Emily laughed it off, keeping most of her truthful answer to herself.
"That she does." Ben laughed. "She hasn't shown her face around the Executive Lounge since the time of your hearing."
"Miss her, much?" Emily smirked.
"Maybe…" Ben said truthfully.
He had grown to like Angie's funny remarks and her Diva-like attitude. No doubt the kid was smart and capable, but there was also something else about her and he could not figure it out. Nobody could.
"I hear she's into profiling." He said after taking another sip of his oversized coffee cup.
"Mm, yeah?" Emily replied, casually.
"Come on, now!" He challenged her.
Emily could not play him like that. There was no way she did not know the fact that he had just stated.
Emily blushed. Ben had this way of figuring her out quickly and he was not afraid to put her on the spot.
"I hear there's a great profilers' unit in the field offices in New York. She'd fit in like a glove." Emily brought her own mug to her lips, taking a big sip and enjoying the harsh taste of her coffee, unsweetened.
"No doubt she'd fit like a glove…" He looked at Emily, forcing her to look back at him. "You're just putting that glove on the wrong hand."
Emily shivered. Ben was not just her random work friend, he was also the Boss of all of her Superiors and Bosses. His suggestion, subtle as it was, was received loud and clear by Emily.
"Well, the right hand has half of its fingers chopped off, currently…" Emily's subtle hint was received loud and clear by Ben, as well.
The BAU would surely be the right fit for this girl. Too bad the BAU had its budget cut in half and a ban on welcoming an intern that year.
Emily and Ben spent the next five minutes of their coffee break, just walking in silence, before they went back to their offices.
"Chupitos! Chupitos! Chupitos! YEAAAAAHHH !" Angie yelled at the top of her lungs.
She had only been in that bar for fifteen minutes now, and she was already the life of the party, urging everyone to come take shots with her.
Clara gave herself a pat on the shoulder, for her decision to take Angie out for the night. She needed it, they both did. Plus, getting Angie drunk would surely make her be nicer to Clara. Would it?
The bartender cracked open a brand new bottle of Angie's favorite Santiago De Cuba Añejo, pouring it into what seemed like a million shot glasses.
"Ella pagará!" Angie pointed at Clara.
The arrangement had been that Clara offered Angie drinks. Nowhere was it written that Angie was at liberty to offer drinks to the whole bar and then put that on Clara's tab.
She did not mind, though. Her sweet government salary allowed her to do crazy stunts like that, every once in a while.
"C'mon, join the party!" Angie urged Clara when she noticed her being a bit reserved.
Clara was known to be the one to make people dance. A few years back she had randomly put some music and made Emily Prentiss dance in the middle of the day, in the middle of her office, just because Clara felt like doing so. Oh, the memories with that woman were her favorite ones.
"Quiero que subamos asta el cielo y que me quieras
desde luego como yo lo voy hacer
Sabes que te quiero
bien sabes que te quiero
Ven y no te sigas reprimiendo que el
termometro en tu cuerpo indica
que tienes la sangre hirviendo
solo amarte es todo lo que quiero
que quitandote los dedos rompetelo de una vez."
Angie sung along with the lyrics of a very old Cuban song: Suavecito, by Ignacio Pineiro.
"Do I even want to know how you know old Cuban music and contemporary Cuban slang?" Clara raised an eyebrow while swaying to the rhythm of the song, with a drink in her hand.
"Nope." Angie smirked. Some things she would never admit to.
Clara laughed, knowing that arguing with this girl would be nothing but a waste of time and energy.
An hour later, the music had picked up its pace and they were now playing Cubaton – the Cuban reggaeton music. Angie was in her element, dancing with pretty much every single guy at the bar. Clara followed in her footsteps, but she was a bit more picky about her choice of a dance partner.
"Hola." A beautiful Latino guy creeped up from behind Clara, as she was scanning the horizon for a potential someone to dance with.
"Okay." She laughed at her direct answer to something he had not even had the chance to ask her yet.
Seconds later, he was dragging her to the dancefloor and showing her some questionable moves. Clara did not mind.
Every now and then she'd shoot a glance over to Angie who was changing partners every two seconds, it seemed. Clara stuck to that tall, dark-haired, sweaty in the sexiest way, Cuban dude. His name was a mystery, but who cared anyway?
"You better not kick me out of the room tonight!" Angie said to her at some point, when she was close enough to where Clara was dancing.
Clara shrugged, making Angie nervous at the thought that she might actually get to spend the night in the hotel lobby if Clara brought this guy home.
It was not how Clara operated, though. Yes, she would go out and have some fun, a few too many drinks, find herself a cute guy and maybe lose herself a little bit. But she would never bring someone home for a one-night stand. Not anymore. That was more Emily Prentiss' modus operandi. Clara was the stable one, with the good head on her shoulders.
"Get it, gurl!" Angie yelled when she saw the, otherwise stable, SSA Clara Seger, locking lips with a guy she still had no idea what to call, other than hot.
Clara chuckled against his lips, but did not break the seal they had created. What the Hell? You only live once.
"This one is for you, Prentiss!" She murmured, bringing her drink up in the air, toasting to someone who would have been incredibly proud of her, had she been there to witness it all.
"Uhhh, last time I was this sweaty, she was on top of me." Richard thought to himself, with a smirk on his face as he brushed drops of sweat off his forehead.
He had just finished his morning run. The sun was about to rise above the beautiful city of Love, a city that he lived in, in love with someone who wouldn't even call him. How unfortunate.
Walking around, he reached one of the bars that open this early in the morning. It was a place where he usually got his coffee and croissant after his jog around the park.
"Bonjour Richard." A woman smiled at him from behind the counter, as soon as he walked in.
"Bonjour Esmée, ça va?" He greeted her back, asking how she was doing.
The woman told him some stuff about her family and he kept on smiling. He was a regular there, he knew the staff and he had always been curious to hear how their families were doing. A year ago, the owner of this little bar had invited Richard to a picnic with the staff, as some sort of a team building thing. He had enjoyed it a lot and he had gotten to know the husbands, wives and kids of the few people who would pour his coffee every morning.
Richard was an easy to love guy. He was relatable, funny, outgoing and very polite. He made friends easily, he spoke to everyone and he treated everyone with respect. He had been brought up well, his parents had installed this good behavior in him since his early childhood and thus he had turned out to be an amazing kind of a guy. Ever since he was old enough to think about girls, love, marriage and kids, he had known that one day he would give the same kind of education to his own children – they would turn out to be just like him.
"Still not dating anyone?" The bartender asked with a cheeky smile.
In the past, Richard had walked in with a few women by his side. He had tried getting the women he dated, to go jogging with him in the morning. All of them had hated it. And it had been a while now, since Richard had last brought someone in for his morning coffee.
"It's…complicated." He replied with a shrug.
He left a twenty Euro bill on the counter and retrieved his coffee. He never waited for the change, money was not a problem for him.
Five minutes later he found himself at the park again, this time sitting near a place that made him both happy and sad.
There it was – the same exact spot where Lauren had sat, when they had met, right next to that fountain.
When he closed his eyes, he could swear he was able to detect her perfume, feel her presence there, right next to him. But when he opened them, he was out there, all alone.
He thought long and hard about what that day had meant to him. Lauren had no idea, about any of it. And the truth was eating him alive. It was a huge burden to carry on his shoulders.
Did she hate him now?
Did she even think about him anymore?
Had she moved on?
Was she seeing someone else?
Had he been just a fling, during her week off from her normal life?
Was there this weird feeling in her stomach as well…that stupid feeling…that fluttering…?
Would it all have been different, had she known the truth?
Would he ever get the chance to explain?
"Yes?" He replied, the third time his phone rang. The first two times he was too busy, thinking about her.
"Dude, I just woke up and realized I must have accidentally grabbed your driving license last night. I'm so sorry, I just found it in my wallet. Do you want me to come give you a lift to work this morning?" Victor spoke frantically.
"It's okay, Vic. I'm out for a jog. I'll go home and take a shower before I get to the office. And what has gotten into you…are you afraid I might get in trouble with the authorities if they catch me driving without a license? Aww!" Richard spoke teasingly.
There was no chance in Hell anyone would ever dare give him a ticket and he knew it.
"Well, when you put it like that…" Victor laughed as well.
He couldn't imagine Richard in trouble, behind bars or even just with a ticket. For so many reasons.
"Are you there again?" Victor then asked.
He knew exactly where Richard would be.
"Yeah…" Richard admitted after a long pause, during which he sipped on his coffee.
"Don't do this to yourself, man."
"I'm fine. It's a public park. People come here to unwind." Richard argued.
"You know what I'm talking about."
"Ugh, I'll see you in the office later, okay?" With those words, Richard ended the call.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
"rmpcmfan" Reid is all anti-technology, ignoring it as much as he can. Plus, I needed him to ask around lol. Kevin knows Spanish very well, because of his babysitters, growing up. Angie? I dunno...That's still a secret :P (I'm a mean tease hehe sowwiii!) I'm jealous about all the "all expenses paid" stuff the FBI hands out. Angie would LOVE this part of the job, if she ever gets to be an Agent!
