AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hello everyone :)

On this day, four years ago, I posted the first chapter of this story. It's been an absolute pleasure sharing my little imaginary creation with you all and I appreciate each reader and each time you've given me a review. Don't be shy to drop a review, let me know your theories, your questions - I'm super interested in what you guys suppose might be going on, underneath the thick coat of mystery around Angela and also around Richard.

I can't wait for you all to read the future chapters and see what happens next :)!

(Also, this website has been so annoying. We all have notification problems and I have not been able to see my Stats for mooonths now (they're broken and stuck). It is a bit discouraging to always see 0 - 0 - 0 views, even on the old chapters, when I know for a fact some people read. This is why Reviews are even more precious to me now, as they are my only way of knowing you guys are still interested. Thank you so very much!)

Happy Holidays :)!


CHAPTER 145

I HAVE A GUN TOO

It was Emily's last full day in Paris and they had something nice planned, so she wanted to look presentable.

She stood in front of the mirror, quietly obsessing over every detail of her face – did the mascara look good? Was it enough? Maybe put a second coat? Or would that be too much? How about the lipstick – nude or red? She was in Paris, so what the Hell. And yet again, the Parisian red…would it make her look desperate? Old? Out of place for the occasion? Then again, she wasn't going to hang out with Parisians, but still…nude or red?

"Ugh!" Emily groaned after hearing Richard's sigh, standing behind her as she was getting ready in front of the mirror.

"I literally said and did nothing at all!" He mumbled with his hands up in the air, already surrendering to her wrath.

"You're judging me!" She assumed.

"Honestly…" He paused for the dramatic effect. "Yes."

She had not expected that response.

"Come on, I'm French – I judge everybody." He smirked.

Oh, the audacity!

She chose the nude, applying a generous layer. If it was nude, she could plaster as much as she wanted.

"What now, did I put my lipstick wrong!?" She asked with irony that remained either misunderstood or blatantly ignored.

"No." He offered her a smile. "You put lipstick."

"Alright, I know you're foreign and all, but that statement made no sense."

"Oh, dear Emily, it didn't make sense for the foreigner here…that is true. However, the foreigner…" He teased, slowly rising his index finger and pointing it at her.

"You are one arrogant piece of-…"

"Ass?" He interrupted her, adding what they both meant to say before he took it further. "Say you don't like it, I dare you!"

"I don't! You don't like my lipstick, which by the way I paid 45 bucks for, so I don't like your ass!" She answered childishly, in a clearly joking manner. "Your…perfectly shaped, tight ass…" She then mumbled to herself, because there was no chance in Hell that Emily Prentiss would not say something like that, if she meant it.

"Mon Dieu! Let me explain the joke – I meant that you're trying way too hard. It's just a casual lunch with a woman I've met through work one time. I'm not taking you to the Oscars afterparty later tonight. Don't waste time - you're perfect just the way you are. Come on, let's get moving, I want to go fetch Consuelo's gifts first."

"Wait! Blush. I need some blush." Emily murmured, applying it quickly and walking off towards the front door of his home.

Richard smirked to himself, withholding the perfect statement that he'd give her something to blush naturally about, once they'd get in the car downstairs.

On their way out the apartment, he couldn't help but notice that small look Emily gave over her shoulder, taking a glimpse of his place once more before exiting.

They got to the underground garage in silence before Emily made a comment.

"Damn, I know I joke around about the President being your friend, but…is he your neighbor?"

"Nope." Richard laughed it off, figuring out Emily meant there were a bunch of very expensive cars at this building's garage.

"Errrm, actually…Oui. Well…sort of." He nodded.

Emily didn't care about money and lavishness, in the sense that she wasn't attracted to it, but curiosity got the best of her – exactly how rich was this guy!?

"Oh!?" She nearly jumped in place when the fancy car she'd eyed suddenly unlocked right in front of her, making a pleasant beeping sound.

"Calm down the fangirl inside of you – it ain't the President." He said through chuckles after Emily shot glances left and right, awaiting to see who the car owner is, who had unlocked it while approaching them.

Richard smirked as he held his hand out, car key dangling from his finger.

"Putain!" She cursed in French, realizing he was well better off than she'd ever imagined.

At first, Richard's idea had been to cool off the flashy stuff. He didn't want to come off as a bigheaded, rich jerk and he certainly didn't want to vibe with the label of 'the rich guy who gets all the women because of his money'.

However, with all the huge things he was already hiding from her, he'd figured he was better off being honest at least when it came to his wealth.

Emily had warned him from the start – she wasn't one to enjoy lavishness. She'd grown up extremely rich and this was all she'd ever known…

You're sick, Emily? Here's some money, go shopping.

You're sad, Emily? Here's my credit card, take the private jet to some exotic location and you'll be happy.

You're behind on schoolwork, Emily? Let's bribe all of your teachers, make a large donation to the school and get you the best private tutors in the world.

Emily sighed, remembering her parents' coping ways, all those years ago.

And yet, even now, knowing that Richard probably had more money than her family ever did, she was annoyingly okay with it. He wasn't cocky about it and she could tell he was putting it to good use, like whenever he would tip waiters generously and talk to them with respect. He was a good guy, all his actions pointed to it.

Was Emily Prentiss starting to hate money a bit less!?

"Wanna drive?" He asked after allowing her to dive into her thoughts for a minute or so, still standing in front of the car.

"Not a chance! I'll never be able to pay damages if I even scratch this beauty!"

"It's got insurance."

"That's if you legally own this one…" Emily laughed, hinting at the other car they'd recently used and Richard had mentioned not yet owning the proper documentation for it.

"I do." He said nonchalantly, but something about the way he said those two words made her smile like an idiot.

Emily Prentiss had despised marriage ever since she'd been old enough to learn what marriage was – a legal junction between two human beings. Or in her own words – the end of the world for two people and an absolute catastrophe for any eventual human beings they'd produce together.

She'd seen what life and wealth could do to a marriage.

She'd then seen what a shattered marriage could do to a child…an adolescent…a teenager…

Emily Prentiss had never wanted that for herself. She'd ran away from any and every sign of a possible long-lasting relationship, not that there had been many.

She'd fled the scene like a criminal, whenever a guy had expressed even the slightest interest in her, in having something more with her, more than just a fling.

There had only ever been one guy she'd committed to…

Ian Doyle.

…and that was only because of the case…

…or so she'd kept telling herself.

He'd given her a ring. He'd even been smart enough to offer it on a necklace, as Emily…or rather Lauren, had previously mentioned she wasn't 'the marrying type'.

He'd offered her a token of love, a promise of a future together and she'd accepted it willingly.

Lauren had.

Or at least that's what Emily had kept telling herself.

She'd gone to bed that night, with Ian Doyle next to her – the world's most wanted criminal at the time; smiling and dozing off to sleep, only to then enjoy a short, but pleasant little dream of her wearing white pants and a white top, accessorized with a white lace veil on her head, covering her face and going down to meet the deep V-neck cut of her top and then also - a white leather belt with a gun strapped to it.

It surely wouldn't have been Lauren if she didn't have at least one source of protection on her at all times, even when the Mendelssohn was playing as she walked down a small path of red rose petals, towards the man she'd been paid to capture and arrest.

Emily sighed, now thinking back of all this. She'd been foolish, yes, but she'd been happy. It had been exciting, prohibited, laughable even…but it had been what had made her happy.

Plus, she'd had two huge reasons to even allow her true self to imagine being with a guy like Ian Doyle. One of those reasons had been his son Declan. And it hadn't even been the bigger reason.

Emily now stood awkwardly in front of Richard's car, as images of her past as Lauren flooded her mind and she couldn't explain why.

And then she connected the dots – marriage, family, Ian…

And then it dawned on her why this all came back.

Richard stood quiet, aimlessly tapping on his phone as to give her a moment of privacy. He was, by now, very used to Emily's little 'spacing out' moments.

He'd said it!

He'd said the two words, three letters any woman in the world would want to hear from the man she was with – 'I do'.

Any woman…except for Emily Prentiss.

Although, she found herself in yet another dilemma now. Why wasn't she compelled to run? Why was this so sweetly casual? Why was she not freaked out? Sure, the context he'd said it was completely different, but it was the same two words that she'd despised for years, words she'd vowed to never say unless at gunpoint, in which case she'd accompany them with a few colorful swear words in at least five different languages and a really detailed mortal threat in a language the person with the gun would comprehend best.

She smiled, coming to the startling realization that those words were not as horrible as she'd imagined.

"I do…" She mumbled embarrassingly.

Richard smirked, deciding not to let her know she'd spoken her thoughts out loud.

She quickly came to that realization herself.

"Do..do…I do, I mean I do wanna drive the car…" She stuttered like an idiot.

He then let her pretend like he'd believed her spontaneous words had been in reply to a question they'd both forgotten he'd even asked before her spacing out.

Emily grabbed the key and walked over to the driver's side, cursing herself in Arabic. Richard was undoubtedly smart, but there was a very slim chance he'd speak that language.

As soon as she sat in the driver's seat, she exhaled. And then she inhaled the sweet scent of a new car – leather seats, plastic particles and that other smell that was familiar to her.

Her eyes squinted, inhaling sharply one more time. Her left eyebrow rose quizzically and it lasted for a few seconds until Richard leaned towards her.

"Ready?" He whispered and she shivered for two reasons.

One – the proximity. In any other occasion she'd be pissed that a guy was so quick to shorten the distance between them. But not now. Not with him. Not with the man she was kind of crazy about.

Two – it was when he leaned in that all doubts escaped her mind.

His perfume.

That other scent in the car that she felt oddly attracted to – his eau de cologne!

How could she not register it sooner?

"Mhm, yah." She nodded without even looking at him.

Oh, yes she was ready to drive this bad boy. The car, that was.

The first step on the gas pedal was the best. The engine roared like a lion and Emily had all the fluttering feelings about it.

"Jesus, Emily! We ain't that late!" He commented once they hit the road and Emily failed to register a whole bunch of speed restriction signs.

Her grin only widened. This was an exhilarating feeling and she was now hungry for more.

"Please tell me we need to hit the highway!" She requested, keeping her eyes on the road.

Richard rolled his eyes, safe, now that Emily was not giving him the time of day, not even glancing over to him.

"What does this do?" She asked a split second before pushing a button.

"No, Emi-…" Before he could react, the car made a loud and obnoxious sound, as if they were at the speed track.

"Whoaaah!" She disregarded the few bad looks that local pedestrians gave her and she pushed it again.

Noise reduction within the city can go kiss her ass. She was loving this.

"Lord, please have mercy on me!" Richard mumbled underneath his breath when he signaled for her to take one of the exits towards the highway.

Emily sped up as soon as the speed limits disappeared.

Well, they disappeared only in her mind. This was not a highway in Germany, where speed limits do not exist. In France there were still limits – generous, but still…limits.

"This is the best I've felt in a while!" She commented.

"Better than last night?" Richard asked cheekily, but Emily did not even grace him with an ironic answer.

A few minutes later, Richard signaled for her to take an exit from the highway and he instantly saw her frown.

Then, weirdly, he signaled for her to get back on the highway, just driving back towards to the city this time.

"What-…" Emily's profiler brain came up with the answer before she could continue the question.

"You did not just let me enjoy myself on the highway, just for the sake of it, before we need to go back…did you?" She said quietly.

"It was like taking candy from a child – impossible for me to do." Richard smirked at her.

All she could do was exhale. She wasn't used to guys pampering her and tending to her every silly little wish.

Surprisingly, she soon realized they had to stop just two minutes away from Richard's home, to pick up the presents he'd ordered in advance, which made her blush. She knew Richard wanted to hurry up, so this whole roadshow had been an extra, for her own pleasure.

Yet, it felt kind of nice to know he'd allowed it. For once, Emily felt that her selfish needs have been met.

Or…was it normal, within relationships?

Emily Prentiss had no certain answer to that question. Regardless, it still felt very nice.

"Bonjour. I'm here to pick up the things I've ordered." Richard told a salesgirl who asked if they needed assistance before they could fully step into the shop.

"Name and surname?" The girl asked.

To this, Richard had no reply. He gave Emily an apologetic look, instead.

"Oh? Yeah…I'll uh, I'll wait…outside…" She said lamely, realizing his hesitance to giving his full name to someone, in front of her.

Once she took two steps back and hugged her jacket, waiting in front of the shop, she started to overanalyze it all.

His name? Well, Richard. She already knew this.

His surname? He'd never told her that, but then again Emily had not told him hers, either.

On the other hand, "Prentiss' would mean absolutely nothing to him, unless he was aware that her mother Elizabeth Prentiss had been the US Ambassador in Paris a while back and was still very much involved in Parisian political gatherings.

But his surname? Why was it so critical that Emily would not hear it? He wasn't a celebrity, flying under the radar, just in case a fan would try to get close to them for all the wrong reasons. He'd also told her he wasn't involved with politics, although that would only explain his hesitance if he knew about her mother, which he certainly did not.

Her profiler mind stopped at the worst-case scenario and she couldn't shake it.

Criminal!

He could be a wanted criminal, with his name plastered at the bottom of each news broadcast. Then again, she didn't watch French TV at all, so this only meant he was an international criminal, which would mean he was Ian Doyle, all over again.

Also, was his name even Richard?

But then…it didn't make sense. Everyone they'd met had called him Richard – in the shop, in the supermarket, at the café near the park…

And still, criminals often used an alias, to avoid detection.

But then, if he was wanted and this was a well-known fact, why did the policeman treat him like royalty that one time he'd parked at a prohibited zone?

Was he royal!? No, he couldn't be. Emily knew that in France the monarchy was abolished in 1848, on 24 February to be more precise. She remembered this much from school. This and the valuable life lesson of never mixing alcohol.

So, if he was a wanted criminal, not even a fake name could stop the police from recognizing him. And what about the way the policeman had backed off and almost bowed to this guy, giving him so much respect? Why?

So, he couldn't be a criminal. There was more proof that he wasn't.

But she also remembered seeing her two ex-colleagues from Interpol who'd warned her to be very careful with him, back when they'd first met. She'd tried to erase this memory, because she never figured what they guys meant. Granted, she had their contacts and the truth was just one e-mail away…but Emily Prentiss did not want to know.

But if she didn't want to know who he was, why was she so stressed about it?

"Hurry up before the cops arrive. I'm pretty sure that bitch from the shop tipped them off!" His deep, dark voice urged her as he walked out, holding bags of things in both hands, nudging her to move quickly towards the car.

Her first instinct was to freeze.

Yes, Ian Doyle all over again.

Her second natural instinct was to make a run for the car.

For sure – Ian Doyle all over again. Despite the literal confirmation she'd just received, she still found herself on his side, wanting to save him, to be with him…with someone just as Ian Doyle, if not possibly even worse.

As soon as they got in the car and Emily closed the door with a loud thud before starting the engine instantly, Richard burst out in hysterical laughter.

"You fell for that!?" He said, almost choking from laughter.

"Oh my God, you actually fell for that!" He added, his index finger pointing at her accusingly, yet clearly in a joking manner.

With each next second, his laughter became more and more ironic. JJ sometimes did that and Emily absolutely hated it, because it meant that JJ had got her good, for whatever reason.

"I hate you!" Emily said in low, very serious tone, combined with her free hand giving him a real quick slap across the chest.

She also realized that she was five blocks away from the shop already, eager to avoid police detention. What the Hell was she thinking!? She was the police! She was obliged to detain him, especially after what he'd confessed to, regardless of the fact he was now saying it was a joke.

"And, for the record, the salesgirl was a sweetheart. I'm surprised it even came out of my mouth that I called her a bitch with a straight face on." He continued annoying her.

"Shut up!" Emily pulled over. It was all fun and games before the trauma would hit her.

Ian Doyle 2.0.

She had barely survived the first one. And she hadn't even felt this strongly about Ian, now that she was making the comparison.

She continued driving in silence and he let her be pissed for as long as she liked. He enjoyed her poutiness, it usually brought the tiger in her, later…under the sheets, usually.

The GPS soon startled Emily, letting her know they've arrived at their destination. Her eyes wandered around and somehow Richard knew she was not looking for a parking space.

"I don't only have rich friends." He said silently before his index finger rose and pointed at a building entrance.

Emily sunk in her seat from the embarrassment. Had she been too obvious when checking out the place?

He lived in what she considered utmost luxury and yet they were in a sketchy part of Paris now, in front of a random building.

"Sorry." She muttered sincerely and she got out of the car, having stopped it in the middle of the small one-way street.

"Woah! You can't just abandon the car here!" He groaned.

"I also can't pay for the damages, so you park it." She commanded, tossing him the keys as soon as he cracked his door open.

Emily Prentiss was known to be kind of horribly impatient while reverse parking, often resulting in scratches and dents on her own vehicle, which cost about fifty times less than Richard's car.

He rolled his eyes and did as commanded. She then helped him get the presents from the car and carry them to the building.

"Third floor." He told her apologetically when she realized there was no elevator.

They hadn't yet arrived at the third floor when a bunch of kids gave them a loud welcome, singing songs in Spanish, clapping their hands and two of them twirling with interlocked hands, as if this was a weird, energetic rendition of a waltz.

Emily chuckled, as the whole thing reminded her of how the kids from the orphanage always welcomed her when she visited.

"Riccardoooooo!" The kids sung joyfully. "Oh Riccardoooo, Riccardooooo."

One of the kids was now clinging from Richard's right leg, holding on to him tightly.

"Hola, chicos y chicas." He greeted the five of them in Spanish.

"Hola, Pedro." He then leaned down to give that one little boy some extra attention.

"Hola, Riccardo! Como estas?" Pedro chirped before finally noticing Emily and adding.

"Ayyy, quien es ella!? La noviaaa?" The little boy dragged it out un a playful tone, gently elbowing Richard and giving him a knowing wink as he awaited the answer: Who was she? Was this his girlfriend?

"Hola a todos. Yo soy Emily. Soy americana. Y soy muyyy vieja!" Emily briefly presented herself breathlessly, exaggerating the effect that those three flights of stairs had had on her as she chose to tell the kids how extremely old she was, after saying her name and nationality.

The kids burst into laughter, but at this point they lost interest in the people, as they had noticed the colorful presents in their hands.

"Oh, hello Madame." Pedro said with courtesy, in really good English. "It is very nice to meet you. Welcome to our home." He added, his hand opening the door and inviting her in.

"Thank you, Pedro. It is nice to meet you, too." Emily chuckled. She'd talk like this to a grown up, in a work situation. And yet, it was flattering to receive such polite attention from a child.

"Now, please, call me Emily." She continued with a soft smile.

"Okay, Madame Emily. Please, come in." Pedro corrected himself and Emily could hear Richard laugh almost with a snort.

God knows how much he'd tease 'Madame Emily' after this.

"You, dirty-minded little-…"

She began to whisper, but Richard shut her up with a small peck on her lips.

"Ooooooh!" The kids said in unison, now fully convinced this woman was his girlfriend.

The kids slid in, but Pedro remained outside, holding the door for Emily like a true gentleman.

She walked in, saying 'Gracias', followed by Richard. With the corner of her eye she saw him giving a high five to the young boy, in appreciation of his good manners.

Pedro smiled wide, entering last and giving both guests a brand-new pair of house slippers – soft and fuzzy.

"Peeeeeedrooo!?" An elder female voice protruded from somewhere and judging by the amazing smell of food Emily could tell the woman was in the kitchen.

"Estan aqui!" Pedro shouted back.

"Ya!?" In disbelief that the guests have already arrived, the woman walked to the hallway. This was the third time the kids had tried her nerves, announcing the guests had arrived.

She turned the corner of the hallway, silently protesting in Spanish until she saw they were really there this time.

"Ay, Riccardo! Que Dios te bendiga!" She gave him the highest form of acceptance – a heartfelt blessing in Spanish, before she grabbed him and pulled him towards her.

Emily tried really hard not to burst into tears of laughter when Consuelo kept squeezing Richard in her arms and she wasn't sure if the lack of air was the culprit for his rosy cheeks or the fact that the elderly woman kept on kissing each cheek continuously – left cheek, right cheek, left cheek twice, right cheek…

Richard was beaming. He was enjoying every second of what to a normal grown-up man would seem like a nuisance.

"Ayyy, que bonita!" Guadalupe turned her attention to Emily after one very long minute of fussing about Richard.

"La novia que te vas a casar!? Ay, que bonita! Guarda esos ojos de tigre. Ay, el cabello, la sonrisa. Que boniiita! Vais a tener hijos muy bonitos juntos!" She mumbled while eyeing Emily up and down a few times.

Richard had specifically told her not to mention too much in front of Emily – not how they met exactly and not what he'd told her his plans for this woman were.

However, Consuelo figured it was fine to say it, as long as it was not in English.

Emily bit her lower lip, trying to figure out if she'd ever told Richard she was a polyglot.

Hearing this woman go on about Emily's beauty - her eyes of a tiger and her shiny hair was one thing; but did she hear that Richard had told the woman he was going to marry Emily!? Or did she hear the wrong verb in Spanish? And what about the statement that they would have beautiful children together?

"Buenos dias, señora Consuelo. Encantada de conocerLa y gracias por avernos invitado a su casa." Emily said politely, thanking her for the invite to her home.

"Ay…perdon!" Realizing the woman had understood the previous statement, Consuelo placed one hand to her mouth and silently excused herself to Richard who just smiled in return.

This was no big deal. He'd spoken nicely about Emily to everyone who knew about her. Now Consuelo only had to be careful not to mention how they met.

They were then welcomed into the cozy little dining room, full of small trinkets from different countries from Latin America. Their family was big and they had cousins and aunts and uncles all around. The tiny objects on the shelves in the dining room reminded them of all the people they loved – some living in Puerto Rico, others in Chile, Argentina, Cuba. It was a nice way to have all the family at the table, Consuelo had figured, even if they were miles away.

"Smells really nice." Emily said shyly.

It smelled like someone had poured their heart into a bowl and mixed it with all the finest of spices.

The woman told them to wait a little as she busied herself in the kitchen.

Soon enough the four kids started bringing plates to the table. Richard offered to go help bring the bigger, heavier things. Emily wanted to help, too, but he insisted she'd stay and hang out with the kids for a bit.

"Hey…" He said as soon as he entered the kitchen.

It was semidetached and the doors were open, so he had to be careful.

"Remember – absolutely no word about me, my job, that day we met and how…okay?" He whispered.

The elderly woman just nodded. She had been briefed already. Several times.

"Elle est très belle." She stated how beautiful Emily is, in French, with a heavy Latino accent.

Richard really enjoyed the way they communicated. He sometimes spoke in Spanish, she would randomly throw in French words in her sentences, but it was so natural for both and so easy to follow, regardless of grammar and the use of wrong terms here and there.

"She is more than beautiful. She is strong, resilient, opinionated, independent, super smart, loyal to the ones she loves…" He told her in reply to what she'd said about Emily's physical appearance.

He chose to trail off at the end, though. There was a lot he could say about the woman he had feelings for, but he chose not to make himself look like a lovesick puppy.

"And Bella?" Guadalupe asked. "Does she love Bella?"

Richard sighed.

Bella.

His deal breaker.

His one true love, the girl he would love until the end of time and even after.

The girl he'd protected, loved, taught and kept safe for many, many years.

His little girl.

His secret.

"I'm sure she will…" He smiled. "But Emily has not yet met any of my friends or family. Can we, maybe, not discuss them, either?"

"But I thought you loved this woman…" She looked perplexed and stated that in both languages, so he would better understand her confusion.

"Yes." He simply nodded.

"No." Her contradiction startled him. "If you love a woman, you don't keep secrets from her."

"I don't keep secre-…"

"Shhh!" She silenced him as if he was one of the little boys that were currently keeping Emily company in the dining room area.

"She doesn't even know who you really are!" The woman said a bit louder than what Richard would have liked.

He could only sigh. Yes, it was true. But it was also true that Emily was to blame for it all.

He brought a few big dishes to the dining table and they finally all sat down.

Consuelo proudly presented each dish and Emily found herself asking questions about the origin of many things. She loved foreign food, especially if it was made by a local.

Pedro offered to translate from his grandmother's Spanish-French mix and Emily let him do so for a bit as it was clear he wanted to show off his English knowledge.

Twenty minutes into the lunch and Emily realized something – she hadn't even noticed when it had started. It was so casual and the conversation flew so easily that Emily felt absolutely no pressure at all.

Richard's eyes shot up to the ceiling, silently praising the Lord for such a smooth transition deeper into his life.

He had reasons why Emily could not meet his closest – Victor, Sasha…Bella, most of all. And Emily was clearly not in a rush, as she tried to keep the huge gap of unknown between them, which suited him just fine for the moment.

But he knew it was inevitable. One day she'd know it all…one day she'd meet them all. So, taking small steps and making more casual acquaintances like today with Consuelo was a really good start.

"How many kids do you have?" One of the grandkids asked Emily, changing the vibe from easy to awkward for her.

"One." Richard answered instead of her.

"She has one girl whom she loves very much and she cares for her back in America now." Richard added.

Shooting a glimpse at Emily, he could tell she was content with his words.

"What's her name?" The other kid asked.

"Angela." Saying the name made Emily smile.

"Is she pretty? Like you?"

"Oh, she is so much prettier. And younger." Emily laughed. She loved how innocent kids were when asking questions that could possibly be uncomfortable for adults.

"Does she speak Spanish!? Like you!?" Pedro's little cousin asked, bobbing her head with excitement, her messy curls bouncing.

"Yes. She speaks Spanish and French and God knows what other languages, too." Emily chuckled.

Angela never told people about her skills. Any type of skills. She'd just randomly speak a new language like a native and nobody would have ever expected it. Or she would hold a gun, aim and get a perfect ten from the first shot at the Academy, like she'd been born with a Glock in her hand. But she would never reveal her special skill sets to anyone – she'd been taught this was the right way and sometimes the only way to survive.

"Can we see a picture of her? Why isn't she here with you? Can you bring her next time, so we can play?"

Emily pursed her lips. Angela was sacred to her. And with all the secrecy in her current relationship with Richard, she wasn't sure she was willing to randomly just start showing pictures of Angela to him and to everyone else at the table.

Yes, he'd already seen Angela with the corner of his eye when Emily had been in a video-call with the girl, but this was different…showing photos felt a lot more personal.

Also, Emily realized she had zero photos of the girl on her phone. Angela wasn't one to like being photographed.

"She is much older than you, little munchkins." Richard stepped in. "And she is studying right now, so she couldn't travel with Emily."

The kids nodded and quickly moved to a different topic when one of them unpacked a gift and everyone else wanted to play with that same toy, at the same time.

"Please excuse them. They are very curious kids." Consuelo said, blushing.

Emily let the woman know it was absolutely no problem and that she enjoyed talking to kids about the weirdest of things.

Then, they were urged to try more of the delicious things the woman had prepared for them. Emily was particularly interested in this one delicacy that she had no idea existed before.

"It's a Peruvian traditional dish. I can give you the recipe!" Consuelo said silently, as if they needed to keep it a secret that she was offering such a precious national dish recipe to some foreigner.

In surprise, Richard blew some bubbles back into the glass of water just as he was taking a sip.

Emily!?

A recipe!?

At best she'd frame it and put it on her kitchen wall, as a trophy.

Hah! What would Emily do with a recipe!?

"Careful not to choke!" Emily hissed at him with all the irony she could muster in her voice.

She'd caught his spontaneous outburst and she wasn't going to let it slide.

"Sorry…" He mouthed, but she looked away from him and just thanked Consuelo for her kind offer, knowing very well that she wasn't ever going to receive the recipe anyway. She knew Latino people were very proud with their cuisine and didn't usually give out such secrets to strangers.

The conversation slowed down then, as all three adults took their time to enjoy the food and drinks while the kids moved the noisy game they were playing to the living room and closed the door, as to not disturb anyone.

Consuelo mentioned how good of a gift giver Richard was, as she had noticed he'd bought each child the exact toy they'd been wanting for a while now, expensive toys at that.

He simply smiled and changed the topic. It once again showed Emily that while it was true that he was apparently very well off, he was also very generous and not conceited about it…not at all. He almost had a boy-ish vibe to him when each time someone spoke about his good deeds, he'd either smile or shrug and he'd start talking about something different, with slightly rosier cheeks now.

Emily believed that good deeds are done for no further purpose, no personal gain. She hated people who would boast about their donations or expensive gifts to others, as this only showed her that the gifts were not given from the heart, but with a horrible ulterior motive.

She, herself, was one to love giving to others. And nobody knew about it, not even her closest people – her team.

The BAU collectively participated in different charities, but what Emily was doing other than this was something nobody knew about. And she liked it that way. She wasn't doing it for recognition or for the applause.

Richard, apparently, was the same way.

"Riccardoooooooo, she doesn't believe you have a gun!" Little Pedro barged in the living room, screaming at the top of his lungs, followed by his younger curly-haired cousin.

"Pedro!" Consuelo hissed at him disapprovingly.

Before this lunch, Richard had had a very extensive talk with both Consuelo and Pedro, guiding them on what they must not mention at all, which was basically just that – his gun, his job.

Emily squinted for a moment. Yes, Ian Doyle all over again – the secrecy, the guns…

"Emily, I-…" Richard started to explain, but she stopped him by raising one pointy finger in the air.

"I like guns." She said calmly, against her better judgement, against anything that a normal human being would possibly say in a situation like this, against even her own wish to hide from him the fact that a gun was basically always in her own hand, day and night.

He took a shallow breath and then puffed out much more air than what he'd been able to suck in. It felt like he'd held all of this air inside, waiting for the ball to drop, on his toes, nervous and emotional.

Emily was not oblivious to the fact that Richard almost always forced himself to be careful – with what he said, how much he said, when he would say it and how he would say it. She acted like she wasn't noticing it all, but she knew damn well whenever he was being careful not to let too much information out.

Richard, in turn, fully believed he was being super secretive about those times when he'd need to consider his words before blurting them out.

Consuelo quickly changed the weird dynamics by asking Emily what her favorite things to cook were and then everyone laughed genuinely at her confession that the only thing getting 'cooked' in her kitchen was her morning coffee.

The elder woman sheepishly suggested that Emily should marry a French guy, because they were famous for their culinary skills and interests. She then proceeded to point out, in a very fake random manner, that Richard was just that type of a guy.

She told the story of when Richard had promised to attend Pedro's birthday some weeks ago, but he'd unfortunately been called to go abroad for work that whole week. He'd secured himself a plane ticket back to Paris, for one night only, and he'd surprised both the child and his grandmother when he'd knocked on the door, holding bags of presents in both hands.

Pedro had woken up on his birthday, crying. He'd been told that his favorite grown-up, a man who was a role model to him, was not going to make it to the festivity later that day. He'd skipped brushing his teeth and he'd spent the majority of his day in his pajamas, dragging his feet from one room to the other, helping his mother and grandma prepare for the arrival of the other guests that he no longer cared about. He'd been miserable for hours, faking a smile, so he wouldn't offend his parents and their efforts, but everyone could tell that the child was upset.

And then, in the late afternoon, just as the sun was about to start setting down, the first guest arrived. Pedro was instructed to open the door and he did so with the utmost nonchalance. Whoever this was, Pedro didn't care to see them and he regretted ever inviting them.

On the list of invitees were his cousins and their parents, and also two friends from school – one with his mother and the other with her father, and lastly…Richard. Those were the people Pedro considered close.

He knew his cousins weren't at the door as he neared it, because two of them had sports practice and they were set to arrive all together, later. And his two classmates were always late to everything, so…who could it be?

The boy was too short to reach the peephole of the entrance door and see for himself, and he was too uninterested to know, anyways.

He simply swung the door open and mumbled a 'hi, welcome' before turning around and making a hand gesture for the guest to get in, grab a pair of house slippers and go to the living room.

"No hug!?" A deep male voice said, with sadness.

Pedro jumped in his place.

Richard!

It was him! It was really him!

He was there. He'd made it!

Pedro let out a borderline girly scream as he turned around and saw the man, standing at the door, hands full of presents.

He jumped at him, making him drop two of the bags and embrace the child.

Pedro's mom had hurried to see why her son was screaming and she was now standing five steps away from where her he was still yapping about the fact that Richard was the best person ever and that he was happy he managed to come to his birthday.

They'd then helped in the kitchen where poor Consuelo had been struggling to finish everything in time. Richard had come up with some cute ideas for last minute decorations of the main dish and he'd prepared the sauce from scratch.

This was the story Consuelo was now telling Emily, praising Richard's ability to know exactly which spices and how much of them should go into a sauce.

Emily's hand slid down to Richard's knee where she found his hand, resting in that cute boy-ish innocent way once again – him being so modest and a little uncomfortable when someone else was praising him, for whatever reason. She gave his hand a tiny squeeze before it topped hers and they remained over his knee for a little while.

Emily Prentiss had always hated little intimate moments like there. She'd grimace and switch the channel if she was to ever see such a scene on TV, or she'd roll her eyes like a true hater if she saw this in public.

Yet again, she was the one who started it this time. And it felt good.

Two hours later, they were full, happy and very tired. Pedro's little cousin had fallen asleep on the couch, while the boys were now quietly playing with the new Lego set, constructing a train station.

Richard suggested it was time to leave and Consuelo wanted to give them some of the food, to bring back home.

"No, we already had so much. Keep it for dinner tonight. The kids barely touched the food at lunch." Richard said, knowing very well that this lunch would have cost Consuelo half of her monthly salary and hours of planning and preparing.

She insisted, so Emily managed to bargain only one box of food to go, and she chose the dessert that none of them had had space for, after the big lunch. It was something like a big donut, with cream filling and a little bit of jam in the middle. Consuelo put two in a box and handed them to Emily before they said their goodbyes and thanked the generous host for all of her efforts, making her tear up with emotions.

Consuelo was just a normal Latino grandma who worked hard, loved her family and always treated people with respect. She was the kind of person who deserved the best things in life and it pained Richard to look at her, knowing this fact, and also knowing the pain she'd been put through just recently. He refused to even think what would have happened if he hadn't been at the right place, at the right time, able to save her and the child when they needed him the most.

"Will you come back soon?" Pedro asked Richard in French.

"You too! Please come back." The child then added in English, looking at Emily.

"Yes." Richard said quickly before he gave the kid a warm, big hug.

Soon enough, they were in the car. Emily was so overwhelmed with emotions that she kind of didn't notice how they got in, but Richard was now driving back towards his part of the city.

Her eyes closed and she tilted her head back against the headrest, breathing in and out heavily.

"Yeah, I'm super full, too." Richard commented, assuming her heavy breathing was a tactic for quicker and less painful digestion after a huge lunch like this.

Emily did not even hear him speak. She was deep in thought. And no, her heavy breathing was not due to the massive food intake.

"I have a gun, too." She blurted out foolishly, instantly regretting it.

What an idiot! She'd now have to explain herself, give context to her weird ass statement and possibly be forced to tell him she was in law enforcement, too. What an absolute idiot she was!

"Guns are fine, as long as they're used for the right reason." Richard surprised her with those words.

True.

Very true.

In her country, guns were viewed as something utterly horrible and, unfortunately, for valid reasons.

However, in her field of work, they were an absolute necessity – a tool that could do so much good, if and when used for the right reason. Richard was so right!

Only people in law enforcement could ever appreciate the true beauty of guns and all the good those deadly weapons can actually do when used by officers, saving lives. And Emily was fine knowing that for the rest of the world guns were the devil. The more people hated guns, the less they would be likely to own and operate one, for whatever reason.

Neither of them had anything else to say on the topic. He was glad she'd opened up about something so personal and she was glad he hadn't bombarded her with questions or made her regret ever saying it at all.

"I was planning on an early evening out, maybe we could have had some wine before your flight, but…" He trailed off, his eyes darting towards the clock on the car's display.

"Next time." Emily smiled, but on the inside she was sad.

It was time for her to go get her belonging from his home and go back to her own home.

She loved her home. Well, not the apartment, precisely, but she loved her life at home, in Quantico, with her team…her job. Hell, she even missed the comfort of knowing her gun was within an arm's reach at all times. She'd sometimes lounge on her sofa and glimpse at her gun, laying at the coffee table, and she'd smile to herself, feeling like she was able to protect herself, no matter where she was, no matter what might happen. This was yet another trauma from the time when Ian Doyle had hunted her like a deer, entering her home, threatening her life and the wellbeing of her entire team. Having a gun close by gave her some peace, some form of protection against people like Doyle.

Weirdly, even without her gun, she felt more than safe and protected in Paris…with him.

When they arrived back in his home, Emily quickly grabbed her things and threw them in the suitcase. She'd been very careful how she'd placed them in it before the travel – not wanting them to be all creased and looking bad; but now that it was over and everything was going straight into the washing machine once she'd be at her place, it really didn't matter anymore.

She dragged the suitcase to the living room, finding Richard staring at his phone, reading something that he instantly put away when she joined him.

Her hands opened and he knew she wanted a hug.

In his embrace, she whispered a silent 'thank you', followed by a small kiss on his neck.

Richard gulped. It was not easy to live out each moment, knowing very well that it could be their last. She was now thanking him for something she may end up hating him for, in the future.

"I packed Consuelo's dessert in a sturdier box, so you can take it in the plane and have it as a snack." He told her.

"No, please, you take one, I will take the other." Emily insisted after seeing how Richard gave her both of the sweet treats.

"I see Consuelo sort of frequently. She always brings me something homemade. Please, take both."

Emily caved in. She didn't think she'd possibly be hungry after all the food she'd had, but seven hours into her flight she'd be thankful that Richard had insisted. She hated plane food and she rarely ever touched it, so those two sweets would be like Godsent to her.

Finding it hard to keep her emotions in check, she urged him towards the door.

She had enjoyed her stay in Paris, maybe a little more than she should have, which only meant that it would be this much more difficult to go back to being Emily Prentiss – the Unit Chief. She loved her job…but she loved her life in Paris, too.

Arriving at the airport, her heart sunk in her chest. This was it. The fairytale was over.

Emily was not new to 'starting over' or 'continuing life from where she'd hit the Pause button before jumping into an assigned character for a case', but it somehow was always much easier to do it all, back in her spy days.

And why was she constantly thinking of those days!?

She'd worked so hard to force herself to forget those days had existed. She'd erased every trace of Roxy, Jane, Sarah…Lauren. And yet, she was constantly thinking about them, as of recently. More so, Lauren.

Lauren Reynolds.

Ian Doyle's girlfriend. Future wife. Mother-to-be to his adorable blue-eyed son Declan. Accomplice in Valhalla's illegal gun dealings. And ultimately: Lauren Reynolds – the end of Ian Doyle.

Or rather: Ian Doyle – the end of Lauren Reynolds…or even Emily Prentiss.

She shook those thoughts away, commanding herself to stop making parallels between Ian and Richard. Everything about them was so damn different.

And yet, it sometimes felt so eerily just the same.

"Thank you for being here." Richard whispered, holding her hand as they stopped, now last in the small line of people, waiting to drop their luggage off at the airport counter.

This was as far as he could accompany her, without a ticket.

Without answering, she gave him a kiss he wasn't going to forget.

Five minutes later, her suitcase was already traveling on the line and she had her bag in one hand and her passport in the other.

Richard stood behind a line where two security guards were scanning people for their travel documents and a boarding pass before letting them proceed.

"I love you."

"I have loved you for a while now."

"I can't stop thinking about you."

"I am mad about you, Emily!"

"I cannot imagine a day, spent without you by my side."

"I want to love you and to hold you until the end of times."

Richard sighed at his dumb attempt to choose a fitting last line before Emily would be sucked in the mass of people, on their way to the security checks.

"I know." Emily softly replied to what he had only been thinking, in his own mind, with his mouth shut and not uttering a word or even a sound.

She knew.

Of course she knew.

One last kiss, initiated by her, and she whispered a second 'I know' in his ear, before taking a step back and quickly mixing with the crowd of loud travelers.

He stood there, frozen for a few more seconds until the airport guards told him off for blocking the entry and basically yelled at him to get lost.

"Check your attitude, Goddamn it!" Richard hissed at both.

In a fit of rage, he grabbed his wallet from his back pocket and placed his professional card in front of their faces in the most annoying way.

"I can very well just get in and go wherever I wish, in this building." He added lamely.

He had absolutely no control over the fact that Emily had to leave, so he decided to at least control the next best thing – making those rude idiots shut up and move back.

"Yes, Sir! Copy, Sir!" They said in unison after realizing who was in front of them. "Please, Sir…go ahead!"

"No…" Richard shook his head, ignoring their hands held out, inviting him to follow the woman he was just with.

"I need to let her go." He mumbled, more to himself.

"See if she comes back…" He continued mumbling, looking a bit like a psychopath as he walked away.

"…and if she stays at the end."

Fumbling with the car keys in one hand, he decided to grab a bottle of cold water from a kiosk and to just sit outside, calming down a bit before he'd trust himself to be behind the wheel again.

Emily, in turn, had felt a sharp pain just two steps after she'd turned around and started walking away from this man.

A pain, or an emotion, she was not sure what it was. She'd never felt it before. But it both sucked and was nice, at the same time.

One more step further and tears rolled down her eyes.

"You're an absolute idiot, Emily Prentiss!" She scolded herself quietly.

"Stop crying! Oh my God, you are so lame!" Her inner voice kept nagging.

Her team knew her as the tough woman with the insane and unhuman ability to compartmentalize everything. She was cool as a cucumber under pressure. She'd had guns at both sides of her head, simultaneously, and she'd remained cool and collected, even taunting and ironizing the UnSub, saying all the right things until they'd drop the gun and spare her life. She'd smirk to herself then and she'd not let any emotion cloud her judgement, change her behavior.

And yet – there she was…at an airport, surrounded by people who were in dire need of a shower and a spa day to fix those puffy eyes from the lack of sleep, hurrying to catch another flight. Everyone was in their own head, thinking about the flight, their family, their home and pets, their jobs and whatever else. Some were smiling, some looked annoyed at the constant airport checks, some were clearly scared to fly or were inexperienced travelers.

And Emily? She was crying. Looking down, seeing one foot get in front of the other with a pace she'd very much like to quicken but could not, because there were people everywhere around her…she cried. Or rather – she was doing absolutely nothing at all, it was just that tears randomly poured from her eyes.

She managed to somewhat look normal as she walked through the metal detectors while her hand luggage was being scanned, but right after that tears re-appeared and she could do absolutely nothing about it.

She hadn't cried like this for Ian Doyle.

Why hadn't she cried like that for him?

Didn't she love him?

Wasn't that the entire base of her trauma?

She'd been confused, broken, sad, emotional, upset, maybe even a bit depressed after Doyle. But she'd never cried for him. She'd sobbed a bit, at first, but those were dry sobs, more like whimpers, and she knew the psychology behind it – this was her body's way of re-adjusting to being her real self again, after having her fake persona ripped from her in such a quick, traumatic way.

Emily shivered, thinking of how she'd parted ways with Ian Doyle – the first time, that is.

But whatever emotion she'd had in the aftermath, she had always been perfectly able to hide it. Emily had always played it cool when around people and then let it all out once alone. She'd never experienced such downpour of tears: uncontrollable, sudden and quite frankly – super embarrassing.

And if she had never cried for the man she was convinced she'd truly loved, despite her better judgement…then what did it mean now that she was in tears over Richard? If she was unable to control her emotions when it comes to him, did this mean that the man she was actually in love with was not Ian Doyle, at all!?

"Attention, all passengers. Boarding has started for flight-…"

Emily didn't even listen to the announcement. She only figured it must have been for her own flight, as a whole bunch of people got up from their seats and started a long queue at the assigned Gate, right after the words spoken on loudspeaker.

Wait, how long had she been sitting there, deep in her thoughts about Ian…about Richard…if the Gate was now open for Boarding!?

An hour had gone by like it was mere seconds ago that she had walked away from the man she could not figure out.

Or maybe she could, but she was forcing herself not to see the truth.

"I'm boarding now. All is good." She shot Richard a quick reply to the message he'd sent her ten minutes ago, asking for an update.

Selfishly, Richard had hoped the flight would get cancelled. He was still outside the airport, the water now warm in the bottle that he was nervously squeezing with both hands. He had all the power to stop this plane from taking off, but it wouldn't be fair to all the passengers to miss their flight back home, so he could accommodate his needs to be with Emily for 24 more hours.

"Ok. Have a safe flight, ma chérie." He texted back.

This sucked.

Seeing her walking away from him sucked.

Wondering if by the next time they would schedule to meet up she'd find out the truth and hate him, sucked.

Not being able to control how she would react sucked.

Not being responsible for what was to happen and yet knowing that in her eyes he would be the sole responsible one for it all, sucked.

The fact that his beloved Bella knew nothing about his relationship with Emily sucked.

The fact that Emily's Angela knew nothing about him sucked.

The fact that he could see her plane from where he was sitting now, in the outside parking lot, sucked.

The fact that the plane closed the doors half an hour after her text and started to head over towards the assigned take off path, sucked.

The fact that it actually took off, taking Emily far away from Richard, sucked.

He'd been quite good with keeping his emotions in check, unlike Emily. But as soon as he saw the plane in the air, retrieving the wheels and heading in the opposite direction to where he wanted to bring Emily back to that evening, he could not help it anymore.

"I am so sorry, Emily…for everything…" He whispered, stopping midway through his sentence as his chin quivered, followed by a few tears falling down his cheeks.

Richard had only ever cried about the woman he loved and lost and about things that had to do with Bella. Nothing else. He was a rock.

And there he was now – sitting on the cold metal bench, alone at a huge parking lot, watching the woman he loved start her ten-hour journey to the place she called home.

He knew Angela needed her. But he selfishly could not shake the thought of him starting something with that woman and with her Angela in the States…or with Emily and his Bella in Paris.


REVIEW REPLIES:

"sweetkid45" Hello! Interesting theory you have there. Later on there will definitely be an answer to your question about Angie. While you don't trust Richard, please keep in mind the man CRIED for Emily! Hehehe. Could he be pure evil if he feels this strongly about her!? Also, your wish for Emily back in the US is granted with the next chapter where you will see her catch up with JJ and the rest of the team, but also with Angie.

"SLDGM" Hi there :)! Thanks for reviewing. I hope this new update makes you smile. There will be plenty more to come.

"Elle" Hello for the first time and thank you for reviewing :) Don't worry, the chapters you mentioned are written already and just waiting to be edited and posted, so I won't stop updating. I have so many ideas for future chapters, as well! This chapter now took me longer, as it was NOT written, I only had the idea outlined and I now had to do it all at once. Would really like to hear back from you again, don't be shy to drop a line hehe.

"rmpcmfan" (Everything until the end is a reply to YOU :) Hey hey:)! Yup, chapters began coming out loooong, which is why I stopped updating weekly hehe. You are not missing (too many) clues. Don't worry, Detective Why colored lenses? Or rather - why ONLY with JJ? I will tease soon with another clue about that. Oh and Angie is always staring at everyone's face btw. Imagine her staring you down as you converse haha...she's a creeper. Although, she does have ulterior motives with not just one person, for when she stares at them so intently. We shall learn why.

As for the couple - Emily is sooo terrified hahaha. I need her to be in denial until one certain moment, so what comes next would make sense. Don't expect her to ask him for his story. She's a stubborn animal lol.

Bella and Angela with a connection? Hmm, you think? Like...how do you mean that? Friends? Knew each other before? Working together? Elaborate. This is an interesting assumption! Arianna. Ally. Who else have we heard of by now...Amy? Certainly a pattern there...that's all I'm saying! It is sooo dang hard not to spoil anything, you have no idea! Been sitting here giggling as I read assumptions, knowing I can't say much or I will spoil literally everything. Hehe! But once things come out, I will be speaking about the hints I've dropped before the revelations and that's where a two-way discussion would be super helpful for both sides, without spoiling the plot :)!