AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hello everyone! This chapter is somewhat rated M for what Emily gets up to...ehm :P However, NOTHING explicit and raunchy! In fact, you have to squint and use your imagination to figure out exactly what is going on at some point. I've left some clues as to where hands and lips are heading towards, so your dirty minds can construct the actual scene. You are welcome :)!


CHAPTER 134

WRONG SIZE

"Well, I gotta say, you're doing the whole Parisian experience right." Richard said with a small smile on his lips, watching Emily walk down the street with six bags of new purchases.

She had managed to drag him to her favorite boutique, but not before finding two more, in the vicinity. Clearly, she had expressed her desire to enter all three and clearly, Richard had granted her those wishes.

In the process of destroying whatever money she had left on her personal card, she had managed to score herself some pretty nice new clothes, ones that Angela might even approve of. And she had changed, on her way out of the last boutique, now sporting a cute new dress and a pair of heeled boots. In the changing room, she had managed to re-apply her lipstick and to try and tame her hair with that tiny little comb that she always carried in her bag, for emergencies, which, after a day of work, tacking a huge and armed guy, being almost shot, then spending time at a hospital and then going straight to the airport for a ten hour flight before ending up in another country, on another continent; was exactly that – an emergency.

"Can you stop fixing things that are already perfect?" He finally came out and said what was on his mind.

For the past thirty minutes he had noticed her attempts of trying to up her appearances.

"I'm a woman, what did you expect? Can't be seen around Paris with some…super celebrity, looking like trash! Would be bad publicity for you."

Her words made him laugh out loud.

"Celebrity? Wow, days ago you were convinced I was some sort of a terrorist. What changed?" He asked curiously.

"I don't know. Everyone seems to fear you. I figured I should at least try to look somewhat presentable around you."

He shook his head and kept on smiling. Oh, she got him all wrong.

"Hey…" He held out his hand and she put hers on top of it, before he closed his fingers, engulfing most of her small palm in them. "I'm no celebrity and I'm most definitely not well known. In fact, I must not be."

"Hurts the terrorist façade if people know your face?" She teased.

"My God, please drop the terrorist accusation. Or open the damn envelope and see for yourself who I am."

This woman made him laugh more than he normally did. The things she came up with were weird and sometimes inexplicable. And most of the times, he had no clue where her deductions even came from.

"Ok, so how about this – I ask you if you are something and you just say yes or no. Okay? Like…are you an actor?"

"I like this game already." Scratch that – he would like any game she might suggest. "But, sadly, I am not. In a way, I do get to act, though, so I guess it should give me some 'cool points', no?"

"Hmm, I don't know. I'll be the judge. Can you, maybe, pretend to be a…" She thought for a brief second before she continued a bit timidly, as if she already had a suggestion in mind. "A sailor?"

"Wow…" He laughed yet again. "A sailor? Really? Wow, so that's Emily's secret fantasy, huh?"

"Hey, don't laugh! I didn't make fun of your disgruntled nurse fantasy!" Emily faked offense. She had seen Angie do so with such poise and ease, so now she wanted to test out just how good of an actress she was, by doing Angie's little drama performance on Richard.

"No, you just psycho-analyzed it and you kind of ruined it for me!" He played the offended one too. Clearly, he wasn't giving up so easily. No way he would let her win.

"Technically, I profiled the crime scene of your hypothetical murder, using all the information you had given me and then I completely trashed your timeline, motive and made fun of the nurse's missed opportunity and lack of motive, whatsoever. So…" Emily smirked at him.

She knew just how nerdy that would have sounded to a civilian. From her own experience she knew that men kind of found her more attractive when she spoke about her job.

"Are you a beachwear model?" She asked again, masking up that little 'profiling' slip up. It just felt so natural to talk to Richard and she kind of sometimes forgot that she didn't want him to know she was FBI.

"Woman, where do you get those ideas from?" His jaw dropped.

Out of all things on Earth she could have pegged him for…she chose that? Really!?

Emily just shot a glance to the area, just below his belt, before she looked back up to meet his eyes. Oh, he definitely had the right attributes to sell a tiny piece of a male bathing suit. Emily could picture women worldwide, running to the stores to buy their men a swimsuit like the one they had seen on TV, on that hot French supermodel with the big…

"Aww, you're blushing." He pointed out, placing one hand on her cheek and interrupting her little imaginary scene, just as it got interesting.

"Dream on! I never blush." She shrieked away and kept on walking.

"Wait, where are we going?" He questioned.

Emily had previously wanted to see that one specific boutique, but after that they had no destination. They just…walked.

"I don't know, but I feel like if I stop walking, I'll fall asleep."

"I'm sorry. I'm a boring person." He faked a pout after her words.

"Richard, I've been traveling for more than ten hours, right after I-…" She trailed off. It would have been wonderfully easy for her to tell him the truth, then and there, but something was stopping her. "You know, after I finished work. I'm not tired because of you, or God forbid – of you. I just need a power nap. Half an hour, that's all I need. And a shower. Maybe in reverse order."

"Fine then, I guess it's time to head back home." The words slipped off his mouth a bit too easily. Did his mind just fast-forward to a time in the future where he would have a home, with her?

"My home, I mean." He corrected himself in the lamest of ways. It would have been much less awkward if he hadn't added to his statement.

On their way back to the car, Emily regretted her decision to wear her new heels. They weren't stilettos, but they hurt her spine either way.

Finally allowing herself to relax against the comfortable seat in his car, she let out a tiny sigh of relief. Soon she would be able to get some sleep.

"You know, you tend to doze off from reality each time you're in this car. Maybe I should only take the other one out, when I'm with you. Last time you didn't even remember being in this car." He teased her as he drove, noticing her head lean against the back of the seat.

"Last time I was buzzed and I had a whole bunch of reasons to be all…crazy." She replied, with her eyes still closed.

Poor thing, she must have been exhausted.

Her eyes opened when she felt the change of route, the slowing down of his vehicle. They were now entering a private road that lead to something like a private residential building.

She scanned her surroundings and she was positive she had never seen this street, this building, she also had no idea where she was now, as she hadn't really been looking.

Before she could freak out by the unknown, she saw him swipe a card and get buzzed in through a gate, going straight down to the parking lot.

"You're a big time grifter! You count cards! You rob the biggest Casinos in the world and that's how you afford to live…here. Wow…" She supposed, otherwise feeling speechless. This place looked like a fortress. And also, it looked like something she would never be able to afford, not if she combined all the money she had tucked away in those Swiss bank accounts. Those were her 'Lauren money', as she called them, and she didn't want to ever touch them.

"In your mind, is there any version of me in which I don't do a job that is illegal? Or where I'm not naked?" Richard shook his head all the way to the parking elevator.

"No. But luckily for you, I am strangely attracted to bad guys…who take their clothes off." She bit her bottom lip.

The first part of her statement had been about Ian Doyle, while the second, well, could be applied to a bunch of other guys she'd been with.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'm not a bad guy." The elevator doors opened and he let her walk in first, like a true gentleman.

"I do, however, have a reputation of taking my clothes off, on occasion…" He added.

"Oh yeah? What occasion?"

"Birthdays. Anniversaries. Parties. Afterparties. Weddings…" He kept on enlisting, counting each one on his fingers until she slapped his shoulder.

"Liar!" She called him out on his bluff. There was no way he was being serious.

"Cool, your apartment is on the last floor…" She pointed out when she saw which button he pushed before swiping his card again and then entering a six-digit code before the elevator doors even closed. Clearly that place was more than well protected.

"Screw that…" Emily disregarded her last statement, just seconds later, when the elevator doors opened and they were inside his apartment already.

"You live on the entire last floor!" She corrected herself, looking around.

She was not new to a lavish lifestyle, but his place beat everything she had ever seen or experienced. First of all, it was manically clean and organized. Secondly, was that a private elevator, just for his apartment?

"Theoretically, it's a mansard. So, there's also the downstairs floor. But I got us up here because it's where the bedrooms and bathrooms are. Didn't want to put you through a flight of stairs, in those shoes." He smiled sweetly, his pointy finger flying towards the stairs, right near one of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"How…gallant…of…you…" Emily said in between tiny gasps for air, as her eyes kept on dancing around, taking it all in. She could not get over how cool and modern his place looked.

"You're the freaking President of France!" She stated, as if she had just had a huge revelation.

If it were true, it sure would explain Richard's lavish lifestyle choices.

"Nah…" He played all shy and modest for a second before he threw another geeky joke at her. "That dude can't afford half of it!"

Emily gave him a look, laughing at the boldness of his words. She knew he was joking, but somehow, she found truth in his words.

"Truth is, I've been thinking of moving out. This place is too big for just me anyway. And, besides old memories, I don't even have anything else to keep me here, so…"

Emily smiled and let her hand brush against his arm for a second.

"Then let's make some new memories, together…" She suggested playfully. "Hope they'll keep you here because, wow, I love this place!"

"I want to make all the memories possible, with you." He smiled back at her. God, she had no idea just how much he was into her.

"And uh, I didn't mean that in a cheap, sleazy kind of way." His geeky side decided to explain.

"I know exactly what you meant." At the moment she said those words, she was glad she was wearing heels, as she was now a few inches closer to what she really wanted to do.

He saw the way she leaned in and he acted on cue, bending just a tiny little bit to meet her lips halfway.

In her own way, because Emily Prentiss was not someone who spoke about her emotions and desires, this kiss was her way of telling him that she wanted to make all kinds of memories with him, as well.

"I won't suggest a house tour because I find those tacky as Hell. I'll just say that my house is your house." He said, as the good host that he was.

"I mean…you know what I mean, right?" He then added geekily again.

He continued on saying things and then feeling this weird urge to explain, hoping that she wouldn't have understood him wrong.

What he had no idea about was how perfectly well she understood him already. And she liked all that she saw in him. At least, so far she did. There was still the mystery of his job.

"Feel free to do whatever you want, whenever you want, go wherever you wish and check out anything you're curious about." He elaborated some more.

"Cool. What's in that room?" She pointed to the only room that had its door closed.

"Alright, everything except that room. Okay?"

"Ooh, the secrets!" Emily teased him, using her best spooky voice.

"Yeah, it's where I've been stashing all the dead bodies for years." He said jokingly.

"Actually, this cannot be correct. The smell would have been detectable and hard to avoid or mask up. Especially if a body is in putrefaction already, and that's only after 12 to 14 hours from the death."

Her words more than shocked him, but she misunderstood his facial expression as a cry for further explanation. Maybe it was that big word she had thrown in there.

"Putrefaction is the fifth stage of death, following pallor mortis, algor mortis, rigor mortis, and livor mortis. The first external sign of putrefaction in a body lying in air is usually a greenish discoloration of the skin over the region of the caecum, which appears in 12 to 24 hours, while the first internal sign is usually a greenish discoloration on the undersurface of the liver." She explained, but he still didn't look any less stressed.

That was when it hit her – to a normal person this part of her job and personal knowledge, would be deeply disturbing.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I just…I'm used to saying things…like…that…to…uh, everyone." Her shoulders rose a bit, coming to the realization that Richard was not the only one from a completely different world. So was she, indeed.

"It's okay. Uh, so, shower?" He suggested, in need of a valid reason to make her shut up. From where he stood, Emily was one step away from starting to bite her nails, in desperate attempts to calm her anxiety down after being such a nerd and with that topic, nonetheless.

"Yeah, that would be nice." She smiled apologetically, feeling like she was sweating twice as much now, in comparison to when she was underneath the UnSub, fighting to stay alive.

What if he thought she was weird? Those things she randomly said, they made no sense to a normal person. What if he would hate everything that Emily Prentiss really was? The mere thought of that gave her one more huge reason why she'd want to hold out with the truth, for as long as she possibly could.


"I can't believe they had cherry flavored ice-cream!" Angie stated while taking one of the last few bites off her cone, now that her ice-cream was practically gone.

"I can't believe you had a mix of cherry, coconut and caramel!" Clara made a disgusted face. "Like, what kind of a mix is that?"

"A sick and twisted mix, one that makes no sense, but is actually pretty damn awesome when you give it a chance." Angie grinned while replying. "You know, one of a kind - just like moi!" She added proudly, throwing in an easy word in French, since Clara was one of her favorite people in the world – cultured enough to be able to hold a conversation in more than one language.

Clara was relieved to hear that somewhere deep inside, Angie subconsciously knew her worth. Beyond all the pretending and dumbing herself down for everyone else, that girl sure had a positive opinion of herself.

"What do you want to do?" Clara asked when both of them were done with the sweet treat.

It had been a welcomed distraction for Clara when Angie just showed up and insisted on spending the day with her. Otherwise, Clara would have sat around on the couch all day, with nothing to do and nobody to talk to.

"Can we go to the shooting range?" Angie asked.

"Come on! You deal with guns every single day, at the Academy! It's our day off, let's have some fun!" Clara pouted. That was the last place she'd like to visit.

"Not true! We don't have enough firearms training! I wanted to do a more in-depth sniper training, but there are only a few spots and the trainer said that he already had an eye out for just as many guys. Guys, he said! The nerve! Who is to say that girls cannot be snipers? This is outrageous!" Angie stepped into the zone of a one-way conversation and Clara allowed her a few minutes to get it all out of her system.

"So, no sniper training for me, because I'm a girl. And no guns for me on a daily basis, because we have a heavy course load and we barely ever get the same training more than twice a week, apart from PFT and SWAT, of course. Do they not realize that in a few months from now I'm going out in the real world where I'm going to need my gun on a daily basis? Come on! I need all the training I could get. And more! This is just…unbelievable! I just, I can't…girl, I just can't!" Angie ended off with some major attitude, making Clara burst out in laughter.

She had always loved the way Angie could dramatize any situation and come out with a huge rant, with that Diva attitude of hers. There was no doubt this was a coping mechanism for Angie – breaking out in some hysterical rant, snapping her fingers, raising her voice and, occasionally, sounding like a smart little thug.

"Ok, fine. Shooting range it is!" Clara rolled her eyes and opened the door of her car, in need of a confined space where she could escape from Angie even for just a second, before she'd get in as well.

"Not that you need it." Clara added, muttering to herself, but Angie heard.

"Yes, I do need it! I'm not a genius! I don't learn things as soon as I see or hear them. It actually takes time and practice." Angie said defensively while climbing onto the passenger's seat.

"I'd say, you've had your practice already…"

"Don't say that out loud!" Angie cut Clara off, knowing what her words were pointing at.

"Jesus, not only do you refuse to talk about it, but you don't even let someone else hint on it?" Clara turned her head sideways, seeing pain on Angie's face.

"Can you blame me?" Angie sighed.

"No, I can't. After what you've been through, you are allowed all the time you need." Clara smiled and put her hand on Angie's knee for a second.

"Time for what?" Angie shot her a confused glance.

"Time to be in denial and to try to figure out the right way for you to cope with…you know, certain truths."

Angie let out a deep sigh. She knew what the best thing to do was, but she also knew it would hurt more than one person. What if they saw her differently after she told the truth? What if the people who now liked her and wanted her around, turned against her? What if the weight of her truth was too much for some of them to handle? And for one or two of them, she certainly knew it would be.

"Can I shoot both gun and rifle?" Angie changed the topic.

"You can play around with both. But in life, you can't have both." Clara replied in the smartest of ways and Angie was intelligent enough to read between the lines and understand that this was about her, having to choose between Monkey and Emily Prentiss.


"I'm scared to even check what's in here…" Emily was kneeling down, next to the suitcase, on one side of Richard's bed.

"You can stay with the towel…" He smirked, watching her hold the towel secure with one hand, while her other hand lingered on the zipper of the suitcase.

It almost looked like she was afraid to open it. And, knowing JJ, Emily sure was terrified of what that woman might have packed for a get-away trip with her... Emily chuckled. Was she just about to refer to him as her 'boyfriend'?

"Or you could have anything you want from here…" He walked to his wardrobe and slid the door sideways.

"Wow, fifty shades of Richard…" Emily gasped.

The whole thing was full of white-collar shirts on the left side and suit jackets and pants on the right side. It looked like it belonged to a maniac.

"This is just for convenience. It's my work wardrobe. You should see my walk-in closet, with my fun clothes." He said teasingly, pointing at a door, inside of his bedroom.

Emily stood up and grabbed a shirt that she figured would be long enough on her, to act as a night gown. Before he knew it, she had put it on and let the towel slide down. If that wasn't the sexiest thing he'd ever seen…

"Let me help you with these." He said when she turned around, facing him, with his shirt unbuttoned at the front.

She held it closed with both hands, somewhat timidly, as she walked over to him. This was all new to her and while with any other guy she wouldn't have had hesitations to discard that damn shirt altogether, with him she was threading lightly. She could not remember the last time she had been so vulnerable, so into a guy, so interested to see where this thing between them could go.

Or rather – she was trying to force herself to stop remembering just that.

It had been Ian Doyle. Whatever hint of doubt and guilty conscious Emily had when it came to men, it always boiled down to him. What she had with him was hard to explain and even harder for her to admit to herself. It scared her and yet, it tickled her on the inside, too. As dangerous as this man had been and as aware of it as Emily had been about it, she had found a way to let Lauren give into the temptation that he was. A forbidden fruit. A prohibited love. A sensation that only their little game could ever give her.

Before she knew it, while she was lost in her Doyle-related thoughts, Richard had managed to button up the shirt on her body. How could she have missed that? She would have surely enjoyed that, had she not been so consumed with the thoughts of him…the monster, the man who broke her more than once. The man who killed her, repeatedly. The man who still held this much power over her, even from his grave.

"You look absolutely tired. Come on, let's get you comfortable." He pointed to the bed.

She really did look like she needed some rest. What he didn't know was that the source of her worries at that moment were all those thoughts she was having, about a man named Ian Doyle.

"I still need underwear. Don't you think you'll get so lucky." Emily smirked and quickly opened the suitcase. It still frightened her, but she really needed whatever JJ might have packed.

"Wow, JJ…" She gasped, shaking her head in denial when she saw what was inside.

She had expected the most outrageously weird things and, basically, just underwear. JJ would have done that.

Instead, she found perfectly folded pieces of her finest clothing – dresses, shirts, skirts, pants. She had an extra pair of nice shoes, neatly put in a travel shoe bag, while next to it there was a small pouch with her travel essentials – bathroom stuff, make-up basics and…

"How very thoughtful of Jennifer." Richard smirked, holding a box of condoms up.

"Uh…" Emily looked at him, blushing profoundly.

What did she expect? JJ knew about them and it was obvious that they would need some…protection, along the way.

"Won't be using those." Richard tossed them aside carelessly.

"Wait, what?" Emily was not up for what she thought he was suggesting.

"Wrong size." He winked at her and it made her blush even more.

How could she have forgotten? Emily had told her best friend that Richard was quite…talented, in ways. So, JJ had been generous when picking up the size she thought would be okay, but not generous enough.

"Please don't give me any more reasons to want to skip on that nap." She smiled innocently.

Her hands searched through the suitcase some more until she found the pouch with the underwear. It was weird to think of JJ, going through her underwear drawer and packing some up for her, but she was more than glad she had done it.

"Awh, she even packed my lucky bra." Emily said dreamily, remembering how much she loved wearing it when it still fit her. Unfortunately, it didn't fit her anymore.

"This one?" Richard's fingers trailed over a borderline provocative red bra, with black lace.

"Oh, no. That's my 'get lucky' bra." Emily smirked. She wasn't afraid to admit that.

"Exactly how many times has it…ehm, gotten you lucky?" He cringed.

Suddenly, the thought of other guys being anywhere close to Emily's perfection, was a bit too much to handle.

"You know what? This has to go!" Emily cringed as well, grabbing the red bra and sticking it in the side section of the suitcase, zipping it up so it wouldn't be anywhere in sight. She wouldn't want to wear it, not when the answer to Richard's last question disgusted her.

She then found a pair of active wear and sports shoes, in another small travel bag. JJ sure knew how to pack to save up space. Everything was so neat and organized, unlike JJ's desk at work. It was surely the 'mother' side in JJ that had come out when packing.

Emily finally gave up on her curious little search mission and she grabbed the first piece of underwear she saw. Seconds later she climbed onto the bed and nearly disappeared under the soft covers.

"Alright, this is, hands down, no competition, the most comfortable bed I've ever been in." Emily smiled.

"Not that I've been in way too many beds." She added, now sounding like the dorky Richard who had kept on digging himself bigger holes with each statement, just earlier.

She didn't want him to see her as a maneater - a woman who wanted nothing more from a man, than just some fun, before she'd move on to the next one. Yes, she had been that woman, but also – no, she didn't want to be that woman anymore, not with Richard.

"Get some sleep, ma chérie." He kissed her cheek and stood up.

"What, you're not going to rest a bit, too?" She pouted. In reality, she wasn't worried whether he was tired or not. All she wanted was to be held, by him, while she slept, like all those times during their perfect week together.

"I am, but I'll go take a shower first, so I wouldn't have to waste another second before we left the house once you wake up. There is still so much we have to do, and not enough time."

His words warmed her heart. He sounded excited to experience things in the city with her, but it was also obvious he would have liked to have more time with her.

What she didn't know was how he wanted to have all the time in the world with her. If he wasn't so freaked out by her possible reaction, he would have told her exactly how he felt about her, already. But it was too soon for her to hear those words. And he couldn't say them before his truth would come out.

Before she could hear him even turn the water in the shower on, she was asleep. Her entire body was relaxed and when Richard joined her in bed just ten minutes later, she looked so peaceful, so happy.

He moved closer to her, placing his hand over her stomach, holding her like he knew she liked to be held. The small muffled moan that escaped her lips showed him just how right he was, about that.

A little over an hour later, her eyes fluttered open and she saw him, lying next to her, with his hand drawing lazy circles against her stomach. It was something she had never let a man do. Touching her stomach was never an option. She distinctively remembered the day that she had elbowed a guy in the gut when he had dared to do that. Clearly, things with that guy hadn't gone any further. Emily was protective over that area of her body. It was off limits, to anyone, at any given time.

And yet, feeling the warmth of Richard's fingers, through his smart shirt on her body, against her stomach, gave her a fluttery feeling deep inside. For the first time ever, Emily found this little intimate gesture to be…nice. More than nice. It was…loving.

"Please don't tell me I slept all afternoon." She asked sleepily.

"No, it's been a little over an hour. We're still in time for a very late lunch. Or we're super early for dinner, whichever you prefer." He informed her, looking at his phone and seeing 3:45 on the digital clock.

Emily contemplated for a long minute. She felt hungry, but no food she could think of could satisfy her hunger. And then it hit her – she wasn't hungry for food.

After a small chuckle, she decided – The Hell with it. She was going to act on it.

She turned sideways, so she could capture his lips. Instinctively, both of his hands pulled her closer to him.

Lost in the kiss, Emily realized soon enough that she had somehow ended up on top of him. Great, this was better than any lunch and any dinner dish she could possibly think of.

"God, Emily…you're amazing." He whispered against her lips.

Hearing him say her name, her real name, felt so incredibly good. She couldn't help but roll her eyes quickly, thinking she must have been so stupid to ever introduce herself to such a great guy with the most flawed version of herself – Lauren Reynolds. And then there was the curious fact that the softness in his voice when he said her name only ever came out when he called her 'Emily', never when he had called her 'Lauren', before her confession.

"Oh yeah? How about…this?" She said in the most innocently flirtatious voice he had ever heard.

For a second, he wondered what she meant, but then he felt her exploring hand and he closed his eyes for a moment, so that he wouldn't pass out.

She was most definitely perfect. There hadn't been a single thing she ever did or said to him, that had annoyed him. She wasn't like any other woman he had ever been with, with the exception of his wife. Both were incredibly smart, had a naughty side to them and were borderline perfect, in his eyes. Richard had been madly in love with his wife, so to now have such strong feelings towards Emily, it only reassured him that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, by his side…maybe doing those things that she was currently doing to him.

"God, Emily…" He groaned, his eyes finally opening, just for a brief second, as to figure out where her lips were before he attacked them hungrily. He knew exactly where her hands were, those naughty hands of hers.

"I love the way you say my name." She whispered her little confession in between kisses.

"And I love…" He stopped in mid-sentence. It was too early, for her to hear it, definitely not for him to say what he really wanted to say. "That. God, Emily, uhh…" He sucked in a breath and felt a little lightheaded.

Why did she have all this power over him? Control over him?

He saw her smirk before he felt a wave of small kisses trailing South from his lips, making their way down his chin and ending up on the side of his neck.

His fingers found their way to the buttons of the shirt she was wearing and, seconds later, that same shirt was being mercilessly tossed to the floor. Luckily for Emily, he had opted for napping shirtless, so she felt the warmth of his naked body instantly, as he pressed against her.

It wasn't fair to the lady if he was getting all the fun action, so he quickly changed things up, allowing his own hand to explore a little bit. The few muffled moans escaping her lips were more than enough for him to know just how much she liked it.

Two maneuvers later and he felt her teeth scratching his right shoulder, in desperate attempts to silence herself. And then he remembered her questions from earlier – whether he had a flat mate or thin walls or nosy neighbors.

"It's probably a good time for me to tell you that…" He whispered, bringing one hand up, to push her hair behind her ears.

"This entire apartment is soundproof." He added cheekily.

He hadn't forgotten how passionate she had been, during that one night they had previously spent together. Then again, they had been in a hotel, so she must have been much more comfortable being…well, herself. And she wasn't a well-behaved, silent one, that was for sure.

After his words, those bites on his shoulder became softer, until they fully disappeared when Emily gave into the pleasure.

God, he loved those little moans, those lips, that body…that woman.

"You're welcome." He said a whole minute later, when he felt her be much more relaxed and much more herself, in bed.

"Mhh." She intended on saying something smart, but all that came out from her lips was another moan.

In any other occasion, Emily Prentiss would have had a witty comeback. But not when he was doing all that, to her.

"God, ugh, I want you all to myself, Emily…" He muttered, unsure if he was telling that to her, or to himself.

Emily smiled. They haven't had 'the talk' yet, so it wasn't clear if they were exclusive or just…having some fun. But, on her end, she knew that she wasn't willing to let any other man do those things to her, the things that he was doing at that very moment.

"I'm all yours." She whispered back, her hot breath tickling his ear.

That was it. It was enough playing around, as short as it had lasted. They both were yearning for something else, something more.

When he reached a hand to grab a certain type of a box from his nightstand, Emily chuckled. It was the same brand that JJ had gotten for them, but the size was definitely something else.

"Need a hand with that?" She asked cheekily.

No, he didn't need a hand. He got it. He had done this way too many times before.

But then again – yes, he wanted a hand, if that hand was hers. Plus, it had already been down there for the past couple of minutes anyway.

"Come here, you cheeky woman, ma petite chérie." He said in French, holding her against him when she was done with her little teasing game.

He could not believe it – the woman he had wanted for so long, was finally in his arms. His one and only true wish, the only thing that he could think of, that could make him happy, was now naked, on top of him, looking down at his face, as if she was urging him to proceed with the next step.

"It's hard enough, no pun intended…" She grinned wide before she continued her sentence. "…that you are doing, God, uhh, this, to me right now…" She interrupted herself for a moment, giving into the pleasure.

"…But when you do this…while talking to me in French…God, it's too much. It's too good…it's so good…mmhh, so good…" She kept on mumbling and it took him longer than the usual, to realize what she meant.

His mind was not in the conversation. It was elsewhere. In his perfect fantasy, this was the woman whose finger he'd put a ring on. This was the woman he'd do all those wonderful naughty things to-and-with, every single day. This was the woman he would start a family with and that family would most definitely not include just the two of them.

He noticed how her eyes squinted, the moment they became one, as if she had felt even the tiniest bit of pain. He smirked, thinking of what JJ had figured would be a reasonably large size. And then he numbed Emily's pain out with kisses until she was relaxed and fully cooperative.

"Richard…" She whispered, just because she actually wanted to remind herself that she was with him – the man she had fallen so hard for.

At that moment, he realized Emily was nothing like what she had been their first time together. She was now more tamed, whispering; her hands caressed the sides of his arms once he flipped them over and she was now underneath him, with her hands free from having to steady herself on top of him. Last time he remembered them in this position, Emily's nails had dug into his back, needily pleading for more of him. She had been much more, well, vocal, back then. And she was being quiet and sweet, at this very moment now.

Their first time had been ruled by passion, one that had been burning inside of them for a whole week until they had both given into their mutual desire.

This time now, it was slow, intimate…loving even.

Emily, as much as she was able to think clearly at that moment, thought about something – it was so incredibly smart of her to wait all this time before contacting him. Had she done that – contacted him on a whim and right away after their first week of knowing each other; their romance would have burned out by now. It would have been loud and passionate, like their first time together, but ultimately it would have ended up with one of them leaving, exactly like it had happened numerous times before, in both of their past relationships with other people.

And now, she was taking her time, she was doing things slowly - metaphorically and also quite literally, at that moment. She was giving herself time to enjoy him and to enjoy the possibility of spending more time, more days, with him, sharing moments like these, sure, but also all sorts of other moments together. She wanted to know what made him laugh, what made him feel upset, what foods he liked, what was his 'go to' drink at a bar. She wanted to know so much more about him, than she had ever wanted to know about any other man in her life. That included Ian Doyle, despite the fact that she had literally been paid to be in his life and to find out everything there was about him.

That last realization of hers made her smile. Maybe she was healing from Doyle after all. Maybe all these years of painful emotional torture, of nightmares, and the scars he had left on her, were finally going away. Maybe it was Richard, who was making her pain feel much more subtle, when he was around her.

As if Richard could possibly have even the slimmest clue what Emily was just thinking about at that moment, he let a hand slide between their bodies, caressing Emily's stomach, on the side and at the exact height of where Ian Doyle had once stabbed her. Realizing that, Emily sucked in a breath and shut her eyes firmly.

"You are amazing." Richard whispered.

"God, you're such a strong woman!" He then added, making Emily believe that even if this was some directed scene from a movie about someone, reading her mind, his words could not have possibly come at a better time, as the victorious realization that she had ultimately beat Ian Doyle had just invaded her mind a second ago. And his delivery, coupled with what he was physically doing to her at the moment, could not have been any more perfect.

"I admire you…" He whispered, right before capturing her lips and quickening a certain pace.

Her only response was to smile, with her eyes still closed. It felt incredibly nice to hear his voice, with his faint French accent, saying those things to her. As much as she had lost touch with reality, because of what he was doing while speaking, she could still register and appreciate the meaning of his words.

"I adore you…" He smiled, too, thinking to himself that he had never been much of a talker in bed.

Then again, he hadn't done or felt a lot of things, before Emily had walked into his life in the most unconventional of ways. And however long time had passed since then, he had spent every second of it, trying to find a reason to convince himself that Emily was not the most suitable person for him to spend his entire life with. So far, he had not come up with a single thing. He had a borderline unhealthy obsession with the way sarcasm oozed out of this woman, even when she'd laugh. He adored the way her eyes squinted when they were making love. He could always tell when she was biting on her inner lip and he knew that she was trying to mask it up, but it inevitably led to her cheeks becoming a little more pink than the usual. He had also figured out that Emily was being super cautious about her nails, as if she had had the habit of biting them up until recently, when she would have promised someone to stop doing so, which was exactly what had happened between Angela and her.

"Please, tell me you're not fantasizing about another woman." Emily joked, in her usual sarcastic way.

"Definitely not fantasizing about Lauren." He smirked in her face.

Not many other men would dare be so direct and so sarcastic, too, right in her face, especially not at a moment like this, as it might ruin the entire mood. But he did and he did so, fully confident and transparent.

Emily had not told him much about Lauren, other than that this was her 'fake name for when she wanted to escape reality'. But Richard seemed to have grasped the idea that Lauren was much more unstable than Emily, thus, he only ever felt connected to Emily, not Lauren. In a weird way, it made sense to both of them.

"Good…" Emily tried to save up some energy, to end off that statement. "That bitch was crazy!"

Instantly, Richard regretted laughing out loud upon hearing her words. How could she remain so calm while delivering something that made him lose it?

"She ain't got nothing on you." He reassured her and it was cute how clueless he would actually be to the truth behind those words.

"Je t'adore, Emily." He then whispered in her ear.

So far, he knew that when he spoke French, he was doing things to her, and at that very moment he wanted a shift of mood and maybe even of positions, so he tried to trick her and it worked. Seconds later, he had her on top of him again, with her right hand against his chest, helping her steady up, while her left hand caressed his cheek just before she leaned forward to capture his lips.

"Good God!" He exclaimed in what sounded like English, with an accent that Emily could not even put a name to. It was a mixture of French, Spanish and maybe something like utter and complete passion.

With what she did next, he lost all sort of control and the entire will to even utter one more word. She sure was tiny and well-built, but he did not expect her to be able to do this type of thing or anything even remotely as physically demanding, as that.

When at some point he opened his mouth, intending to say something, because the silence was a bit weird after the full-on conversation just earlier, all that escaped his lips was a muffled curse in French. Emily chuckled, knowing he was far gone by that point and that his brain was no longer connected to any part of his body, let alone the part that she was currently focusing all of her energy on.

The moments that followed were spent in silence, other than the occasional little moan. Emily could not be any more surprised with her own quiet self, this time around. She had always thought of herself like one who liked to be on the wilder side, in bed. At some point in her life, she had even been concerned if she could enjoy a night with someone, without being loud about it, like hearing the constant sounds of confirmation would actually make it be a more pleasant experience. At another point, she had desperately tried everything, just to make it be a pleasurable experience for herself and playing with the loudness of her voice had been one of the first things she had tried. Unfortunately, it had not proven to give any results and she had continued on being just as miserable with a whole bunch of guys she had changed during that period in her life. And then there had been her Ian Doyle period, where she had tried to forget that she was being paid to sleep with him, for the profile. Unfortunately, she had forgotten it a bit too quickly, which resulted in a whole other new bouquet of problems she had developed with her inner self, when it had come to this man.

As if Richard knew that she was being bothered by the thought of someone, as she just made that parallel in her head, he pulled her closer and let her lay on top of him for as long as she needed, after they were done.

It was a tiny gesture, but it gave her the warmth and courage to realize now that being loud did not equal being happy or satisfied. It just meant raising your voice and it could easily be done in the fakest of manners.

However, with Richard, she found ten times more pleasure now, being all quiet and 'reserved' with her noises, than any other time before, with any other man and under any other circumstances. Maybe it wasn't about the noise, or the action itself or even about the duration of this whole thing. Maybe it was all about the feeling – the way the other person made you feel…not about them, but about your own self, instead.

This realization gave Emily some peace. It only took her 45 years to come to it, but she was finally there, with someone she finally cared about, someone who made her feel good about herself and even though she had never told him the truth about Lauren Reynolds and too many other aliases she has had through the years in Secret Services – Hell, she never even told him about her current job, let alone about past jobs she'd had; he somehow seemed to have a pretty good feeling about who she was and how she acted, in different situations. He almost anticipated things, sometimes he even made her feel good, right before she'd put some weird, random thought in her mind to make herself freak out about being 'in a relationship' now, or whatever this thing might be classified as. She sure as Hell wanted to know. As much as Emily Prentiss despised labels and had always made fun of people who spoke about their 'boyfriend' or 'significant other', she found herself quite eager to hear such a word, with her own name, in one sentence.

The sound of a small kiss that Richard placed on her cheek, brought her back to the reality where she was lying naked, on top of him, completely satisfied, like never before, allowing him to hold her like nobody ever had, and smiling to herself as she mentally enlisted all of the above.

"You're such a daydreamer." He teased her, drawing little circles at the small of her back, teasingly making each next one go lower.

She just looked at him for a long moment, taking in everything that he represented – a certain sense of peace and calm; a feeling of being protected, even though she had never needed a man's protection; a fluttering feeling in her stomach, the kind of a feeling she'd get when drinking that Heavenly red wine that Rossi sometimes whipped out of the cupboard and shared with his friends.

About a million things ran through her mind as she searched for something to say, in reply to his previous statement. She was not one to profess her feelings, nor to let someone know that she liked them. Hell, she barely even liked the human race, in general, so the prospect of her, telling one person that she felt connected to them, was foolish, in her eyes.

It was also useless to deny the fact that she was most definitely a daydreamer, just not in the traditional sense of the word. And then again, Richard had just found out exactly how nontraditional Emily liked things to be.

The more she kept staring at him, unable to formulate a response, the more clueless she was as to how much her eyes glistened under the faint light in the room and just how soft and innocent she seemed, each time she blinked.

She also had absolutely no clue how hard it was for Richard to hold back those three little words that he'd wanted to tell her for a while now. Their relationship – if this was even considered as such; was moving so quickly through all the stages, but both of them felt like years had passed, between them. Emily could never understand how it was possible that she felt like Richard had been in her life for years, if they had only just met two months prior and then they had spent one month and a half without any sort of communication. In a way, it felt normal. In the weirdest of ways, actually, it was not bothering either one of them.

In the end, she decided to reply with a kiss. This hadn't been the first time that Emily Prentiss had zoned out, trying to find something to say to Richard, or something to say about Richard. She'd always failed. No words could ever do him justice and no statement could ever be true enough, without being overly cheesy and nauseatingly sweet, short of any kind of sarcasm, to satisfy Emily's need for a label. And why would she even need to label this, if labels were the mere thing she hated the most, when it came to being with someone!?

Her entire life, Emily Prentiss had suffocated under the weight of labels. At school, she had always been 'that new girl' kid whose name did not matter to anyone, including her teachers. Then, going through the different stages of her academic upbringing, in pre-school she had been the 'kid who made all the boys cry'. If only the kindergarten teachers knew what came out of that kid, years later. She was still making men cry and, occasionally, shooting at them, too.

In middle school, she had been the 'skinny, quiet weirdo', never really wanting to make friends. At that time in her life, her parents were being posted all around the world, for short periods of time, so she'd find herself changing four schools in just one year and that had been her normal. Why try connecting to someone, if she knew she was going to leave soon? Why forcefully put herself in a situation where she'd end up missing someone? She'd been young, but not stupid. Emily had always been interested in how the human mind worked and she had ran multiple experiments on her own self and the people she'd met, coming to the conclusion that the more reserved she'd be in life, the better.

In high school she'd be known as 'that rich Diplo-brat who went to boarding school for a semester and then came back all goth'. If only any of them knew exactly how much pain and suffering Emily had gone through, during that period of time. Thankfully, she'd had Matthew by her side, even John Cooley…up to a certain moment. Then, Fiona Duncan had entered the picture and Emily had started being labeled as 'the one who won't put out for no one and won't put up with no one's bullshit, either'. Fiona and Emily had been kind of a hit, as friends. To this current day, Emily was thankful to God for sending her Fiona, when he did.

Then, during college, she'd be known for kind of the opposite - Emily, 'the hot bitch who'd be down for it'. Through the years between her fifteenth and twentieth birthday, Emily had refused to even look at a guy. She had accumulated so much hate for men, that she was sure she'd never even want to be kissed again. And then, College had changed her. A sudden lapse of judgment and a several trips to the bar, had unleashed the Devil in her, giving her the twisted idea that instead of protecting herself from men, she could go on and seduce them, as an alternative, and then dump them like trash, so she won't be hurt in the end. At some point, she even thought she might enjoy certain activities with the male species, but that had proven to be very hard to accomplish, with guys her age – around twenty, with limited experience and an urge too big to allow them to focus on the female even half as much as they really should.

So, for College-aged Emily Prentiss, the fun had been in the seduction phase of the chase and then once she had caught a guy on her fishing rod, she'd toss him back in shallow waters and move on to the next one. She'd done so, with the help of her loyal wing-woman Clara Seger – another College girl who had a similar idea in her head. Now, so many years later, they'd still hang out and drink together, laughing about the good old days when they'd only step foot out of the apartment if they were going to meet a guy. For two incredibly smart women, they'd both been pretty basic and dumb in the past, when it came to relationships.

In the world of Secret Services – including, but not limited to: the CIA, the Interpol and a bunch of other three-letter Agencies around the Globe; Emily Prentiss had been known to be the 'fierce one, the one that would get the job done'. She'd always jump headfirst into a challenge and she'd often be called 'the chameleon', for her ability to compartmentalize and to switch between her different assigned personalities so swiftly. Then, she'd be 'the one who got Ian Doyle', or for the more judgy colleagues of hers, she'd be 'the one who slept with a terrorist, for a profile'.

Down the Bureau hallways, Emily was kind of known as the 'borderline reckless, but otherwise very capable Agent who became Unit Chief', while to the numerous police departments she'd worked with through the years, she was simply 'the boss lady who knows everything about the mind of psycho killers'.

But never in her entire life, had Emily ever been labeled as 'someone's girlfriend'. Not officially, not with that word. She'd dated people and, on very rare occasions, she'd even liked the person she was dating, but she had never been someone's anything – girlfriend, fiancé, significant other, or God forbid - wife! Those words made her feel like they had the power to wipe out all of the power, all of the fierceness, the smartness, the bravery that she had worked so hard to obtain through the years. In her mind, being someone's anything, literally any word would do it, meant that she would be seen as and feel like less of her true self and more of a trophy wife or arm candy for someone else.

Then why did she feel so eager to have that conversation with Richard, to figure out what they were to each other? And why did the idea of maybe him saying that he'd like to be her boyfriend not freak her out!?

She had been pretty adamant to calling Mark from London her boyfriend and that man had practically spent the majority of the weeknights in her apartment, living and acting as one, for her. She remembered how self-conscious she had felt, when the BAU had learned about him. She was never ashamed of him or of the fact that he was her employee, but it was rather the idea of being defined as someone's 'something' that bothered her. She'd always hated telling people about any relationship she'd been in, as she felt like nobody would see her as 'Emily, whose dating that dude', but rather as 'the chick that dude is dating'. And while phonetically those two statements might be almost identical, to a profiler they could not be any more different, with one of them borderline traumatizing Emily to the point where she'd never speak about relationships and she'd always keep them private and somewhat of a secret, resulting in most of them flopping, as the men felt like she was ashamed of them or otherwise uninterested. It was a twisted web that she had created for herself and she no longer had an idea how to get out of.

"My happy place…" Richard's murmuring while his hand caressed the valley between her breasts gave all the answers to Emily.

She was not afraid to be labeled, when it came to him. So far, each time he had spoken about her, it had only served to point out how she completed him, how she made him feel happy, how she was an addition to him. He had never made her feel like she was being defined by him, but rather the opposite – like she completed voids that he had. And, in comparison, this way of looking at things made Emily feel extremely good about herself and about this 'relationship'.

"Merci." She whispered, not wanting to go into full detail about all the reasons why she was thanking him. If he was this much of a mind reader, he'd know.

And he did know. He just chose not to say anything that may make it feel awkward. Having her lay on top of him was a blessing and he'd do his best to keep her there for as long as he possibly could before the truth would come out. After that it would all depend solely on Emily and that frightened Richard.

Emily's head rested against his chest, as if it was a pillow, while the rest of her body fit perfectly on top of him. She could feel how much longer his feet were, to make up for their height difference, but the rest of them felt like it had been shaped to fit to the last detail. While his hands caressed her back, she laid in silence, feeling his quickened heartbeat and wondering to herself if he had the same thing on his mind – what were they to one another and how was this 'thing' between them going to progress from this point forward?


"CRAP!" Angie groaned in annoyance. She was most definitely not having the good time she thought she would.

"It's still a pretty damn good shot." Clara consoled her.

Truth was, Angie was a really good shooter. She knew how to aim, how to be steady, how to shoot and undoubtedly – how to go for the kill shot.

"No, it's not what I was aiming for!" Angie pointed at her real target – a dot just inches above from where her latest bullet had struck.

She pushed a button and made the carton outline of a human body move away until it hit 25 meters of distance. And then she tried again.

"Come on! Something is seriously wrong with me! Damn it!" She kept on mumbling when she realized this time she had hit a few inches above her targeted area.

"Alright, Prentiss, relax." Clara laughed.

"What did you just call me?" Angie asked, still holding the gun in her hand, slowly turning towards Clara.

For everyone's safety, Clara's first reaction was to take the gun from Angie's hands before she replied.

"You are just like her – a goal setter, an overachiever. You get extremely upset when you let yourself down and when you do things even slightly less perfectly than what you wanted them to be."

Angie didn't need a gun to poke a hole into Clara – her emerald eyes were doing quite the job themselves.

"I am nothing like her, okay?" She finally said. Clearly, it wasn't all love that she felt for Emily.

"Yes, you are. You are just too stubborn to see it, which is precisely why you two are so alike. God, I don't even know how to deal with this anymore…" Clara sighed, sitting on the bench behind Angie for a moment.

Angie got a hold of her gun and the third attempt at her target was a perfect, clean shot, just where she had aimed. And then the fourth shot, fifth shot, sixth shot…all poked the same hole on the cardboard mannequin.

Clara smirked proudly. Angie had no idea just how much Clara had been playing her, when it came to making her come to her own conclusions, making her do the things she wanted to do, without being scared or upset about them. This – hitting her perfect aim; was one of those things. Maybe some of Clara's other numerous speeches had hit the spot, for Angie, too. Maybe it helped her come to peace with what was going on inside of her, even if Angie did not fully realize it.

"Can we go now?" Clara asked when Angie turned around, showing off her perfect final five shots.

"Are you joking? Don't train until you get it right…" Angie said, pushing a strand of hair off her face and securing her noise cancelling headphones once again before she turned around and took another shot, hitting the same spot on the target.

"Train until you can't get it wrong!" She ended off her previous statement. Somehow, it sounded like a mantra that Clara was sure Angie would have continuously been repeating to herself over the years.

At that moment, Angie seemed so at peace. She almost seemed happy and she definitely looked content with her achievement, as this last bullet had hit the same spot - her aim.

"Wow, did you learn that from a book of inspirational quotes?" Clara teased her, stripping herself off from her own shooting gear. She was done training, but she wouldn't fuss about it if Angie wanted to stay a little longer.

"Cheer camp, actually." Angie smirked.

"Oh, the camp you went to, right before the Academy?"

"Yeah. It was a sports camp, there were tons of activities and different teams to join. My main ones were Musical Theater Training and lots of urban dance classes, but I also did some cheer when the squad was in need of more girls to join. Originally, I wasn't going to do it. I figured I might be too old. But it was fun. Girls were total bitches, though. I liked my dance classes the most, because there was no competition." Angie spoke with a big smile.

It was evident how much fun she'd had at that camp.

"Sounds expensive." Clara poked around for some info. She was trying to figure out how Angie ended up broke, after spending so much money at a sports camp.

"Yeah, but they covered it." Angie said a bit too openly.

"They?" Clara gasped. "Wait, Angela…were you there, because of…oh my God!"

"Yup." There was no point in denying it. Clara was smart enough to figure it out. "It was just a gig, okay? Nobody got hurt. Plus, I had tons of fun and I stayed in great shape, for when I joined the Academy immediately after. It was a win-win situation."

"What was your…" Clara trailed off, choosing her words wisely. "What did you have to do?"

"Absolutely nothing. I had to make friends, hang around, chill, dance, pretend like I was eighteen."

"Oh, I'm sure it wasn't hard for you to act younger." Clara laughed until Angie smacked her shoulder. "Ouch! I meant because you look young!"

"You know, you should really stop commenting on people's age, which reminds me - I still have to let Emily know you think of her as 'aged'."

"Did I not just find you the most rare flavor of ice-cream, for you to enjoy!? You can't do me dirty like that!" Clara dramatized, hoping it would be bribe enough so that Angie wouldn't actually tell Emily about that one little slip up that had been taken way out of context.

"Oh, honey, you're gonna have to do way better than that." Angie let her know devilishly.

"Name your price?" In a way, Clara was afraid to ask. But she was more afraid of what Hell Emily would unleash on her, if she heard what Clara had called her.

"Will let you know, as soon as I need a favor." Angie bat her eyelashes innocently before adding the rest of her statement. "You're my bitch now!"

"Good God…have mercy upon my soul…" Clara felt the need to blow out some air. "Feels like I just made a deal with the Devil."

"Well, given my origins, did you really think I'd let you off too easy!?"

Clara could not help but smile at Angie's last words. Slowly, Angie was starting to open up a bit more with Clara, speaking of her past, previous jobs she's had and now even her origins, even if all of the above came in the form of smartly masked up words and metaphors.

Maybe Clara's constant nagging and those little speeches she gave Angie were actually working.


REVIEW REPLIES:

"Ducksdragonfly" Awwh thank you! Hmmm, a collaboration? But you don't (yet!) know what Richard's job really is! And LOL Clara and Angela in a mix can fix the world, ah those two are insane separately, but INVINCIBLE together! I love writing scenes with the two of them, so I can have Angela tease the crap out of Clara hahaha.

"rmpcmfan" Yey, I'm glad you enjoyed the sassiness :) ! Emily is actually revealing everything important about her, while her mind is playing tricks on her, making her believe she is hiding the biggest things from Richard. In fact, she feels super confident being herself around him and she speaks her mind about all sorts of topics - profiling, politics, relationships, food; without holding back and pretending. The only thing she actually never says out loud is 'FBI' and it doesn't even matter, as Richard has never pushed her to share more than she feels ready for. Subconsciously, she has already shared everything, in a way, just without the tiny details, such as when she says she was away for work, but does not say that she was chasing a killer or being attacked by a psycho with a machete. I mean...this woman literally knew him for days before she shared her most traumatizing life event with him and it didn't matter how subtly she put it and how little words she used - Richard knew then and there what had happened to innocent little 15 year old Emily and...think about it - nobody from the BAU knows, except for Rossi, whom Emily did not have the courage to tell the whole truth to. Hmm, are you a profiler yourself!? You're picking up things I'm trying to mask up as just random little thrown in details (Richard and Angie's love for sweets and that fiiilthy mind of theirs and their big mouths when it comes to innuendos hahaha!). And yes, they both have this crazy ability to RELATE to anyone! It's a gift...and a curse maybe lol. Compassion, too. They both respect the crap out of everyone...unless they deserve to be treated differently. Put Angela in a room (with no surveillance!) with a bully/killer/abuser and bring the pop corn, please ! And yes, there may be some of that later on...for your reading pleasure :P!

"sweetkid45" Hey :)! Well, there will be more and more Richard from this point on...so give him a chance. Just imagine him in a suit, with his sexy French accent an those piercing, naughty eyes... :P hehehe! There are TONS of Angela + Emily scenes coming up, don't worry, everything kind of revolves around the two of them. Don't wait for a specific scene to come up, just enjoy the rest :) When I wait for a reveal or a certain scene, it is because I plan on revealing it later, making a huge BOOOM out of it at the right time, so it would be interesting and it would make sense, timeline-wise. Trust me - Emily is faaaaaaaar from done fighting for this girl and she is going to do the impossible, just to get her in the BAU. She might also do something illegal...who knows *wink wink*.