Hotch looked at his phone for what felt like the millionth time since he left for the case. He was trying valiantly to restrain himself from contacting Emily again, to check on her, to make sure she’d napped. Nevertheless, he also knew that he drove her crazy by checking on her all the time.
“Hey Hotch, everything okay?” Morgan asked from the driver’s seat.
Hotch looked up, startled at being addressed. “Fine,” he answered. It was a half-truth after all. But he was talking to Morgan.
“Do you know when Em’s due back?” he asked.
“She still can’t lift her arm over her head, so it’ll be a couple of months yet,” Hotch replied absently. The constant checking of his phone was driving him nuts. It was impulsive.
“You going to let her back on desk duty before then?”
Hotch sighed. This conversation was starting to convey how much Emily was missed. He ran his team as if they were family so when one was out, the others reacted accordingly. “Strauss wants to bring in a temporary agent,” he confided. Morgan was the first person he told, but arguably the most volatile.
“She what?”
Exactly the reaction he’d been assuming would come through. “We’re down to four agents, we’re going to be assigned a new one eventually.”
“We’ve been doing just fine without help.”
Hotch resisted the urge to laugh. Sometimes Morgan could act like a petulant child. Especially when he didn’t trust someone. And a new agent would be someone no one trusted until they proved they could be a functioning part of the family.
“It’s not to replace Emily,” he tried to placate his colleague. “Kind of a trial.”
“See how they do in the unit. If they work, someone gets promoted to Gideon’s old office and the newbie slides in,” Morgan nodded in understanding. “We don’t need the help, Hotch.”
“The extra set of hands would be nice,” he pointed out. He wanted a new agent like he wanted the plague, but he was telling the truth to say they could use the extra set of hands. A small unit by characterization, they were still at a slight disadvantage being down to three field agents and JJ.
“One of Strauss’ picks? You and I both know they’ll be a mole in the unit. We’ll be screwed.”
Hotch thought back to Emily, the original Strauss mole before she’d become part of the family. “Maybe not.”
“C’mon Hotch. You know it. She’ll pick some-“
“She picked Emily.”
That shut Morgan up quick. Emily hadn’t told anyone about the reason she’d been assigned to the BAU and the only reason he’d known was because he’d guessed it before their case in Milwaukee. “I still don’t like it.”
Hotch sighed. He didn’t either. He trusted his team implicitly. They did their jobs, they protected their own, they knew each other. He’d been blessed with agents that fed off of each other and knew each other. His phone rang in his lap, startling him out of the bad thoughts of new agents and strict rules.
Drugged and napped.
He smiled. She was indulging him, he knew, though he believed that she really had at least relaxed for a time.
And bored.
That much he expected. Emily didn’t do well when she was out of the action. He’d known she was going stir crazy in the house all the time, but he also knew that she, like him, didn’t want to aggravate the wound until she could go without the pills. His fingers hopped over the keys as he texted her back. Nightmares?
That was what bothered him the most. He had his own nightmares because of the cases they saw, but he was never a victim in those versions of hell. And he’d found out just as he had to leave the house for Miami, Florida. The world was playing cruel tricks.
Drugs, her message said. No nightmares.
He sighed. She hated to rely on drugs, he knew. He’d known before. They all knew. She hated even taking a painkiller for a headache. And on their job, headaches came often.
Tell me about the case?
She really was bored. Though, as she’d been quick to point out on the phone, with their job, who needed anything else? Television was too unreal for those who worked in the industry and movies or books could only occupy a person for so long when they did a job as intense as the BAU. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try and dissuade her. You’re supposed to be resting.
His phone beeped not thirty seconds later. I rest anymore and I’ll be out of shape when I get back.
He wondered how long he could pretend he didn’t get the text message before she started prodding him. Then reconsidered.
Celebutates. Media circus.
Emily chuckled to herself as she sat on the couch. The tabloids must be absolutely sobbing. Or they’d fixed on a new subject. No one was blind enough to miss how attractive her team was. She hoped it was the former.
JJ’s been picking them up.
And probably running herself ragged in the process. Poor Jayje. This one was going to take a chunk out of even her tough hide. Tabloid reporters were vicious. She made a mental note to send JJ an encouraging message. Give me something to work with. If he didn’t, she was going to call him.
She’d woken up well-rested from her unintentional nap, much to her surprise. And she’d lied. She hadn’t taken drugs before passing out. She’d been slowly straightening his unmade bed before her exhaustion caught up with her and virtually knocked her out right there. She’d only intended on laying her head down for a minute and when she’d opened her eyes, it was well passed three in the afternoon.
But there was no way on God’s green earth she was going to tell him she had slept in his bed without nightmares. The implications of a revelation like that and the possible repercussions would kill her and any chance she had with Hotch. That was just the other side of the creepy line for her and if she was going to have to look at the man when she was back to being his agent, she was going to be screwed.
Not that she wasn’t already. The erotic feeling of his hands brushing through her hair and the soothing warmth that followed were memories that made any injury she’d had go away. It had been what lulled her to sleep in that false sense of nightmare-less security the night before. Emily sighed, she was quite royally and thoroughly screwed. There was no way she was going to come out of this arrangement with her heart in tact, but she couldn’t ask Morgan or JJ for a place to stay now. That would tip them all off that something was up, especially since he wasn’t there right now. Even when they came back…
We really could have used your politics.
Emily’s fingers flew over the keys. At this rate, she was about to say what would become the mantra for this case. I hate politics.
But you’re good at it.
Damn if he wasn’t right. She’d spent too long playing the game not to be good at it. She was probably a little rusty since she’d been in the FBI and out of the ring of politics, but after growing up in that world, it was probably a lot like riding a bike. JJ probably is too.
She’s got her hands full with the media.
And the parents don’t want to give up their drug dealers, Emily typed back. Entitlement’s a pain.
They both knew she spoke from experience. She wished whole-heartedly that she was there, not to play politics, but just to be with the team again. With the long hours they worked it was no surprise, really. Lunch with Penelope had not only been a welcome break, but a thankful reconnection.
Morgan wants to know if you have any pointers on how to handle the Oranes.
Emily chuckled. Same way we all deal with politicians. Patience, calm, negotiation.
She could almost hear him sigh as she read the next message. It hasn’t worked so far. Wish us luck.
Emily grinned before typing her response.
Luck!
The text messaging had done something to his brain. Maybe reattached a vital synapse or something else important because he was back on his game. It felt like a silly thing for him to even think, but Hotch was really too happy that things seemed to be evening out to really care. Where he’d been antsy and touchy, he was calm and collected. They’d gotten more out of the Oraneses than they had out of the two previous families he and Morgan had seen or talked to.
Unfortunately, while it gave them more information, neither he, nor Morgan really felt they were any closer to their unsub.
“He’s targeting these kids for a reason,” Morgan said with a heavy sigh. “The question is, why?”
“Not money,” JJ repeated for the hundredth time. “He’d ask for money, call the parents, contact the families. There isn’t so much as a letter, phone call… nothing.”
“Revenge,” Hotch threw out.
“We can’t find a connection between the families,” Morgan said. “Nothing.”
Hotch sighed. Then Emily’s text message came back to him. And the parents don’t want to give up their drug dealers.
Suddenly he was shifting through pages around them, trying to find the autopsy reports. “Maybe it’s not about the parents.” He put the pages side by side, hunting down the same information on each report. Then he turned it to his teammates, his pen pointing out the same thing on each report. Tox screens all showed the same thing. Physical discoveries confirmed it.
They all had the same drug dealer.
“You know you’re brilliant?”
Emily pulled the phone away from her ear in surprise. “Try that again.”
“You’re brilliant.”
“Okay. Can I ask why?”
“Drug dealers.”
She sighed. “You’re going to have to speak in full sentences.”
“Our connection is with the drug dealers.”
Emily smiled. “You know I said it without thinking right?”
“You were right anyway.”
“Got him?” she asked.
“Not yet, we’re still hunting him down. Then we have to figure out-”
“Exactly how it fits, yeah,” she finished, doing the mental calculations in her head. That would still give her about four days before he’d be home. She’d have to find some way to keep her nightmares at bay without needing Hotch’s sheets. Luckily it gave her plenty of time.
It terrified her that she’d discovered his smell dulled the nightmares. They weren’t as vivid when his smell was around her. She preferred them murky, almost indistinct. All in all, she just slept better when she could smell Hotch. She’d already psychoanalyzed it, looked at it from her usual perspective. There were things about it that were easily understandable and other parts that she, really, didn’t want to think anything about.
It didn’t surprise her that she associated him with safety. He was a teammate, someone she trusted with her life every day when she was on the job. Trust built a feeling of safety. Hotch had always been safe. It didn’t surprise her that she felt comfortable with him, if only because he’d been the one to visit her every day, to check up on her, to insist that she stay with him during her recovery. They’d established a relationship that went beyond that of which they built in the office. She liked it, enjoyed it, and yet part of her knew it would be short lived.
“Emily?”
“Sorry,” she answered on reflex. “I missed that.”
“Are you okay?”
All of a sudden, that question took on more than one meaning. “I’m fine.”
“You sleeping?”
She was surprised by the blunt way he asked the question. “Yeah,” she answered. It was the truth, she was. He just didn’t need to know it happened to be within his bed.
“Nightmares?”
“Not so bad.” Again, the truth and she knew there wasn’t even a waver in her voice that could belay any issues.
There was silence for a moment. “Thanks for the help.”
She chuckled. “As inadvertent as it was.” In the silence that followed Emily knew there were things they were starting to leave unsaid.
“I’ll call you later,” he said finally.
She quite thoroughly believed him.