Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/238591.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, Gen
  Fandom:
      Criminal_Minds
  Relationship:
      Aaron_Hotchner/Emily_Prentiss, George_Foyet/Emily_Prentiss, Jason_Gideon/
      OFC, George_Foyet/OFC, Emily_Prentiss/Other
  Character:
      Aaron_Hotchner, Emily_Prentiss, George_Foyet
  Additional Tags:
      POV_First_Person, POV_Alternating, Alternate_Universe_-_Noir, Original
      Character(s)
  Series:
      Part 30 of Living_For_the_Night
  Collections:
      Alternate_Universe_Big_Bang, 2011_-_Round_Two
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-08-11 Chapters: 7/7 Words: 19726
****** The Escape ******
by took_skye
Summary
     With the death sentence of wrongfully convicted best friend, Sam
     Kassmeyer, set Private Investigator Aaron "Hotch" Hotchner decides he
     can't let it be carried out without a fight. But when fighting back
     includes breaking Sam out of prison Hotch's limits are tested. Can he
     trust Dr Spencer Reid's mysterious friend, Ethan, and the daughter of
     his greatest enemy, Officer George Foyet, to help when both have
     questionable motives and morals? How much is Hotch willing to risk to
     ensure his friend's survival? His life? The life of his lover Emily
     Prentiss and son Jack Hotchner? ...In a city where corruption and
     double-crossing are the norm do the plans to save an innocent man
     even stand a chance of working?
Notes
     Art and Fanmix to the story posted here
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Aaron Hotchner's POV *****

 "Those gates only open three times. When you come in, when you've served your
             time, or when you're dead!" ~ Gallagher, Brute Force

                                   ***///***
I sign the visitor’s log and check my gun with the guard.
“You know procedure?”
“Yes.”
“You can retrieve your firearm here as you exit.”
“I understand.”
“Visitation ends at exactly 2:45.”
“Yes.”
The guard past the visitor’s booth waves me forward.
I thank the first and move onto the next. After a pat down that’s just this
side of uncomfortable I thank the second one as well. It’s the third that leads
me through the prison towards the visitor’s center.
“Pick a table and sit, he’ll be out in a minute or two.”
“Understood. Thank you.”
The guard nods and turns to leave.
I select a table in the corner and, despite having the opposing preference,
allow the chair at the back wall to remain empty for my friend. I turn so that
my back faces the sidewall. Still, I remain alert and searching for my friend.
When I finally catch sight of him he’s passing the hall windows with a guard
following close behind. His build hasn’t changed over the years, but his face
has grown gaunt and there’s baggage under his eyes. Yet, still, he manages a
genuine smile as he steps into the room and sees me.
I smile back; stand in respect and appreciation of him. He has every reason to
hate me, all of this is my fault, but he remains a loyal friend.
“Aaron.” He smiles all the more when he reaches me. We sneak a handshake and
his remains as strong as ever.
“Sam.”
“Thanks for dropping by.” It’s like he forgets he’s not in his coffee shop.
Forgets he’s in federal prison, on death row, for a series of crimes he didn’t
commit.
I let him sit before doing the same. “How are you, Sam?”
“Good, and you?”
“Sam,” I warn.
My friend smiles a little before taking a deep breath and growing more serious.
“I’m fine, Aaron, really. I don’t have any delusions about my circumstances, I
just don’t particularly feel like focusing on them.”
“They set a date.”
“I know,” he nods out, his fingers plucking at a gash in the particleboard
table. “Will you come?”
“Excuse me?”
“I just…” his feet shuffle about under the table, “I’d like for at least one
face there to be mildly friendly.”
“Of course I will, Sam.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’m sorry, Sam. I’m sorry I brought all this on you.”
“This wasn’t your doing, Aaron.”
“No, but it was…my fault.”
“No. It wasn’t.” He shifts some, rests his arms on the table. “And I’ll be
damned if I leave this Earth with you thinking that it was.”
I can’t find a proper response so just look down, ashamed.
“How’s Jason?”
I look up. “He’s good. He’s still running Nightingale’s and, I think, has
someone in his life.”
“You think?” Sam smiles a little.
I chuckle. “He’s being more than a touch secretive about the whole thing.”
“Well, everyone needs their secrets, right?”
“So I’m told.”
Sam laughs a little at my playful deadpan. “And how about you, Aaron? Anyone
special in your life?”
“No,” I shake my head some.
“No?” Sam’s tone says he doesn’t believe me.
“Well…” I shift some. “I…it’s complicated.”
“It usually is with you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Sam shrugs as slow as he smirks.
“I’m going to see if I can’t get Morgan to convince someone, somewhere, to
reopen the case. Even if nothing comes of it that alone might be enough to
postpone things.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Then we try something else.”
“Like what, Aaron?” Sam lowers his body towards me on the table and drops his
voice. “You can’t just break me out of here.”
This town, this city, is cruel and unfair and I’ve put up with it for far too
long. I’m tired of it destroying nearly every source of happiness those I care
for and I have. I’m tired of it running down the innocents while supporting the
inhuman. It has won for far too long, it won’t win this time. “I’ll do what I
have to.”
“You shouldn’t get into trouble on my account,” Sam replies as he leans back,
distancing himself from the thought.
“On whose account should I get in trouble for, if not my best friend’s?”
Sam smiles, but his lips twitch some in nerves as he realizes just how serious
I’m being. “Aaron.”
“Yes?”
“Just…be careful, okay?”
“Of course.”
“I’m serious. The last thing I want is to have you end up in here with me
because of me.”
“Well the last thing I want is you in here, period.”
My friend gives his most playful smirk, the one I saw most often before his
arrest. “Then you better make sure you think whatever little plot you’ve got
running in your head through carefully before acting.”
“Do I ever not think things through carefully before acting?” Sam opens his
mouth. “Don’t answer that.”
Sam laughs a little and I join him.
A guard bellows to the room at large: “Visiting hours ending in ten minutes!”
Convicts and their loved-ones begin their sad goodbyes. The phrases “I love
you” and “Take care” fly in every direction.
I stand up and Sam follows suit. “Do, um…do you need anything, Sam?”
“You mean for you to send or something?”
I nod. “Money for your account or…anything at all?”
He shakes his head with a polite smile. “No, Aaron, I’m good, just take care of
yourself, okay? And give Jason and the others my best.”
“Okay, I will. See you around?”
“Not like I’m not going anywhere.”
I laugh at the joke, inappropriate and dark as it is.
                                      ***
That special complication I avoided discussing with Sam leans on the passenger
side of my car. She pulls the cigarette from her mouth and mashes it into the
dirt. “So how’s he holding up?”
“Fine.”
“Is that normal person fine? Or is it the kind of fine where you lock yourself
in your inner-office for a few hours and come out smelling like Scotch?”
“Very funny, Emily.”
Her lips curl a touch. “Sorry, I’m a little on edge.”
“Why’s that?”
“In the time I’ve been out here waiting I got approached by five men fresh from
the inside.”
“I’m sorry.”
Emily waves it off. “It’s fine, just increasingly irritating with each go. Want
me to drive?” She offers with an almost pleasant smile.
“Why?”
Her delicate fingers pinch one side of her frames as she pulls her sunglasses
up through her hair. The smile is gone. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
“You just saw your wrongfully convicted best friend in prison after discovering
there’s a date set for his execution, Hotch. Most people would want to, you
know, digest that.”
“I can digest while driving.”
Emily rolls her eyes. “Of course you can.”
I go around to the driver’s side. “Get in the car, Prentiss, we’re done here.”
“Of course we are.”
For the next few miles I feel it build, the sickening rage I can usually drown
in Scotch and work and sex. I’m defenseless as it creeps up my spine and
throughout my body and I grip the steering wheel. My entire being starts to
shake.
I swerve to the dirt shoulder, park, and let loose. I curse, hit the dash, and
shake the entire car until I exhaust myself. Then I lean back, rest my head on
the seat, and try to keep any real tears from falling through deep, long,
breaths.
“Feel better?”
“Not really.” I hold still. “I need to get him out of there.”
Emily’s lips quirk. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
I look up at the ceiling. “I couldn’t ask you, any of you, to take that risk
with me.”
“You don’t have to, we’ll do it anyway.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“We’re a team.” I listen to her smile. “It’s what we do.”
“Can you drive?”
“Only if you let me.”
I start to smile and she does the same and soon enough our places are reversed.
She makes sure I’m settled before pulling back onto the road.
“Nightingale’s?”
“Yeah.”
                                      ***
In the middle of the afternoon and Jason’s bar is quiet and mostly empty.
Anderson’s there, working the bar.
“You want my vote, I say we just break him out,” says Emily, tapping her
cigarette over the ashtray.
I look up at her. “That doesn’t clear his name though.”
She puts the cigarette in her mouth. “Hotch.”
“What?”
She holds my gaze as she takes a deep drag. “You have to face the very real
fact that it might not be possible to clear Sam’s name.” Smoke jets out of her
nostrils. “Ever.”
“I’m aware.”
“Are you really, Aaron?”
“Yes.” I finish off my latest glass of Scotch before taking a deep breath. “No,
I’d like to clear the name of my friend, Emily, but I’ll settle with saving his
life.”
Emily stubs out her cigarette. “Then let’s see if we can make that happen.”
“It’s not going to be easy to break a man on death row out of prison.”
“Since when have I ever liked anything easy?”
I smile, tap my glass to indicate the need for another refill. “That’s all fine
and good for you and I, but what about the others?”
“You mean the pick-pocketing card-shark who breaks into places for us, the
former con woman that answers your phones, the mobster, or the cop who, by all
technicalities, is crooked?” Emily’s smile turns itself into a smirk. She leans
on the bar. “Somehow I don’t think they’ll have a problem with a little danger
in the name of helping some good men.”
“Men?”
“They’re helping you help Sam, Hotch. Believe it or not, you’re one of the good
ones.”
Anderson leaves me the bottle. He leaves Emily two drinks instead of one. The
man knows his customers almost as well as Jason.
                                      ***
Back at my place we hit the sheets running. I’m so desperate for the place
inside her I’ve come call home these days I can’t even get us fully undressed
before burying deep. My name spills out of her mouth, hot and loose, as she
grips me by the collar.
I shudder, let out a deep groan, and shut her mouth with mine. I swallow wet
sounds of pleasure, take breaks only to suck on that magnificent tongue of
hers. We breathe the same gasps of air back and forth. Buttons pop and hair is
pulled to the breaking point as I pin those bucking hips back into place. It’s
still not enough. With her it’s never enough. I tear and push clothing aside
until her breasts fall into my hands. Her weight shifts and I know to roll. My
raven-haired beauty rides better than anyone, swiveling and swirling hips so my
cock hits spots most others could only dream of. Emily pulls her lips from mine
on an inhale, sucking the breath out of my lungs. She sits up, arches her back.
“Fuck!”
Emily moans as she leans over me and lets her hair make a curtain around us.
Her hips slow a touch; her cunt holds me ever tighter.
“I want you to come with me.” She runs a hand through my hair. “Please?”
I nod before lifting my head to catch her lips. One hand grabs thigh and ass as
the other leaves her breast for her hair. She presses, grinds, down until I
feel my belly start to let loose in small pops that follow that heated love
trail and sink in to tighten my balls. I can feel her start to shiver and my
cock swells. I push up against her, spreading her open. Her muscles strangle me
for all they’re worth and half my name comes out in a strange squeak and her
shivering turns into tremors that shake out my own orgasm.
No more worry, no more guilt, no thoughts of anything beyond how amazing
Emily’s body feels quaking on top of mine; if only I could hold onto this
feeling forever.
                                      ***
The morning smells thick with sweat, sex, and coffee. The combination is almost
enough to make me dizzy, but I shake it off and groan out of bed. What’s left
of my shirt from last night is still clinging to me. I toss it in the trash
before grabbing boxers and heading out.
Coffee waits for me at the table, as does Emily in her bra and panties.
“Morning Mr. Hotchner.”
I smile a little as I reach her, kiss coffee-flavored lips. I moan a little, go
in for another taste as her arms go around my neck. “Keep this up and we won’t
leave the apartment.”
“Fine by me,” I mutter into her lips.
We both know better though. The day must begin and I won’t let my decision
yesterday slide off to the side so we can slide back into one another. Another
kiss is all I take before going for the coffee mug and my seat.
Emily slips off the table and heads towards my room to dress. “I say we bring
the idea to the group first thing,” she calls over her shoulder.
“We can see their thoughts on the situation,” I nod out after a strong sip.
“Maybe they’ll have some ideas?”
“Possibly.” Honestly I just want to be sure they’re all on board.
Emily steps out of the room missing only her shirt now. “Five to one odds Dr
Reid knows someone who knows someone who broke out of prison.”
I start to chuckle. “Ten to one he just plain knows someone.”
                                      ***
I have Garcia call up the usual suspects as soon as I enter the office with
Emily.
“What about Rossi?” my forever bright and bubbly secretary asks with a smile as
her fingers hover over the buttons of the phone.
Emily nods. “We might need him.” The warning look I shoot her does nothing to
deter her. “He has connections, connections we might need, and he’s never
crossed us before.”
Garcia pauses for another reason. “Wait…what’s this all about? Did we get some
big, covert, case I don’t know about, Boss-Man?”
“Don’t worry Garcia, I’d never take a case without letting you be the first to
know. This is something more…personal.”
“Personal?”
“Yes,” I switch my eyes to Emily. “Which is why I want to keep it within a
small, secure, group for as long as possible. Once we have something in place,
and I think we need it, we’ll call in more help.”
Emily shrugs, mocking her own acquiescence. “Fine, but I know he’ll have
connections we’ll need. He always does.”
I know that too, but I don’t want David Rossi in on this. I don’t want his
arrogance, his too-easy charm, and the way he watches Emily whenever she’s
around. Like the cat that got the cream and now can’t stop licking himself. I
can’t stand it.
“Just the usuals, Garcia.”
When the group arrives I gather them together in the outer office and lock the
door to prevent any drop-bys from walking in on us. I explain the situation.
“I understand if you wish to opt out, this isn’t your fight, all I ask is that
you keep this meeting to yourselves. Please. For me.”
Dr. Reid sits between Emily and Officer Morgan on the couch. “I might be able
to help.”
“If you once broke outta jail and never told us I’m gonna slap you,” Morgan
playfully warns.
“What? No.”
“You just know someone who did,” Emily clarifies for him as she smiles at me.
“Yeah, back in Vegas.”
Morgan sighs out a laugh unsure if he’s exacerbated, impressed, or amused. “Oh
my God, what the hell type of life did you live before you came to Quaint
Cove?”
“La vida loca,” Reid answers with a complete lack of accent in the
pronunciation.
“So you’re willing to help?”
“Of course we are. Helping your friend is important to you so it’s important to
us,” Garcia’s voice is soft, but genuine in its heart. “Right guys?”
Reid and Emily nod.
Morgan smiles. “Can’t say it any better than Beautiful over there.”
“We’ll do whatever we have to,” Emily states. She smiles. “So how about you
give us some tasks, Boss?”
I give her a crooked smile back as I try not to blush. It never quite sounds
right when she calls me by a title outside…well… I clear my throat. “Reid, talk
to your friend but stay vague for the moment, okay?”
Reid nods.
“And Morgan –“
“Do the police thing?”
I nod. “Do the police thing.”
He gives me a thumbs-up.
“Garcia, I want you to run down our contacts list and look for people who might
be able to help after the fact. Just tell them someone I know might be in need
of…well…whatever it is that they specialize in.”
“You got it, Boss-Man!”
Emily gets up from the couch and heads over to me, lips pulling up some. “And
me?”
“You stick with me. I might need you.”
***** Emily Prentiss' POV *****
Reid rocks between the heels and balls of his feet as we wait for the train to
arrive. I look around. “Are we at the right track? Is he coming in from Vegas?”
“Actually, um, he’s coming in from New Orleans.”
“New Orleans?” Only a slight change in my pitch indicates curiosity from behind
my sunglasses.
“Yeah.” Reid shrugs. “He moves around a lot.”
“Wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with that whole escaping from prison
thing, would it?”
I spot the dimpling of Hotch’s cheeks.
“Actually, yes.”
Hotch looks at me. “Are you sure we can trust him?”
“Of course.” Reid turns back to us. “Ethan’s helped me out plenty of times and
most of those things I do for you and this team I learned from him.”
“You do more than pick locks and pockets, Reid.” Hotch states firmly.
While those talents have always proved helpful, they were never why Hotch kept
the young man around. After all we were all able to do those things to a
certain extent. Reid has skills beyond that. His knowledge is vast and
detailed. He can read and dissect ransom notes, decode strange bits of
information gained through contacts, and memorize what he’s read, even heard,
in just one go. Without him we’d move at a snail’s pace.
Reid reddens a touch; he looks like a boy who has been praised by his father.
“I know but…” he shrugs, “those things I did learn from Ethan are the types of
things I’m guessing we’ll need to help Sam.”
The train starts to de-board.
I turn to him. “So which one is he, Dr Reid?”
“There he is!”
We look to where Reid points and rushes before we turn our heads to each other.
“Is that at all what you expected?”
“From Reid? No, but then I’ve learned to expect the unexpected from most people
over the years.”
Ethan was scruffy and easily twice the size of Dr. Reid, sure-footed, and
gifted with natural charisma.
I fish out a cigarette. “You ever looked at someone and thought, ‘uh-oh, here
comes trouble’?”
“The first moment I saw you,” Hotch answers smoothly.
I laugh.
“Guys,” says Reid. “This is Ethan.”
                                      ***
Only the most basic of pleasantries are exchanged before Hotch decides to get
us out of the public and into his car.
“So, what’s the game, Reid?” Ethan asks with mild interest as his feet press
into my seat.
“Free cell.”
“What’s the hand so far?”
Reid looks in the review mirror, catching eyes with Hotch and I briefly before
looking away. “Eight, Queen, and Jack of Clubs with a King of Diamonds.”
“Any sevens of Spades?”
“No, but, uh, I know that, uh, a pair of sevens would be nice in that suit.”
Ethan nod, smiles, then smirks. “Well at least you got a Joker now.”
Reid nods with a smile. “In more ways than one.”
I know it’s all code. I know it’s Ethan asking about what’s going on, why his
friend asked for his help, and who else is involved. I might not know all the
details of the conversation, but I can decode enough of it to share a small,
knowing, frown with Aaron. If this is what passes for stealth with this guy Sam
could be in real trouble. I reach over to take Hotch’s hand, squeeze it with a
comforting smile as he starts to explain the situation.
                                      ***
“So, how long until he’s switched to actual death row?” Ethan looks like he’s
slouching on the couch, but he’s not. He’s relaxing. He relaxes like most ex-
cons, always wary and ready to bolt.
“A week from today,” Hotch says.
Ethan whistles low and tense before turning to Reid, “You’re gonna need more
people.”
Hotch arches an eyebrow. “Not everyone is here.”
Ethan’s eyes slide back to Hotch’s before he smiles. “Any them work in the
prison?”
“No.”
“Then you’re gonna need more people.” He turns to Reid. “You need the sevens
and a Jack of Spades wouldn’t be bad either.”
“Oh!” Reid gets excited. “Oh, we might have that card!”
“Jack of Spades?”
“Yeah.”
I look back and forth between them. “What the hell are you two talking about,
exactly?”
It’s Reid who answers as Ethan lets out a loose and easy smirk. “Um, well,
Rossi actually.”
“Jack of Spades means Rossi?” I repeat, thinking as I do, before smiling. “A
gangster?”
Ethan smiles full and bright for the first time. “You’re a sharp one, aren’t
ya?”
I give him my grandest of eye-rolls before the click, click, click of Garcia’s
heels announce her return from dinner. “Hello boys and girls,” she chirps. “Did
you have a successful day?” She heads straight for her desk to drop a stack of
papers. “I know I did.”
“Garcia,” says Hotch. “This is Ethan, Reid’s…connection.”
She turns and claps her hands. “Oooh, the jailbird!”
Ethan and Reid laugh. Hotch and I try not to.
Ethan stands, still chuckling, as he heads over with his hand extended. “Just
Ethan’s fine, darlin’, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Garcia takes it and he lifts her hand to his mouth.
“Well, you’re a smoothie, aren’t you?” she teases.
“I do all right,” Ethan says with a wink.
“Right,” she says, blushing a little. “As I was about to say, I talked to the
Vaughns and they said they’d help with whatever they could and so did Josh
Cramer. Oh and Morgan called and said that Father Marks can offer sanctuary if
need be too.”
Hotch nods, “Not a bad start.”
“Not at all considering the rest were just not home so I get to try them all
again.” Garcia announces happily.
“Just keep calling, Pen.”
“When able,” Ethan cuts in, “I’d like to meet the others.”
“For now, why don’t you stick to what you’re here for?”
Ethan just looks at Hotch, blinking, before his eyes scan the rest of us. He
leans forward. “In order to help I kinda need to know all the players, now
don’t I?"
“You’ll meet them tomorrow evening,” Hotch replies. “From now until then it
might benefit to get a look at the prison, yes?”
“Sure.” Ethan looks at him and says with a chuckle, “Whatever you say, Boss.”
                                      ***
Hotch is no good for company and he tells me so when we end up at my place. I
ask him if he’s sure, if he’ll be okay, and he says he just needs to think
alone for awhile. He needs to think and plan and worry on his own. His kiss
claims me before I’m allowed out of the car and inside.
Less than an hour later I’m showered, robed, and listening to Jace Everett as I
sip my White Russian on the couch. I tend to prefer things with a stronger
kick, but I need to mellow out, and the Russian will get me there; I need to
forget the tensions of the day and the knowledge that it’ll increase as the
days go on.
The knock startles a shake into my drink before I set it down. I get up, walk
to the door, open it a crack.
“Emily, right?”
I step back and open the door. “You knew how to find me, but can’t recall my
name?”
Ethan chuckles.“I remembered, I just wasn’t sure if I should call you that or
if you preferred Prentiss or somethin’ else?”
“Why are you here?”
“Hotchner doesn’t like me very much, does he?”
“You need my confirmation on that?”
“Nah,” Ethan waves off the question. “I need your help with it. Can I come in?”
I do it because I don’t believe Dr Reid would bring us someone who couldn’t get
the job done. I let him in because he’s right, Hotch doesn’t like him, doesn’t
trust him. I let him in because he’s a man I can handle. I let Ethan in because
he’s the type of man I’ve never been able to completely refuse.
“You want something to drink?” I relock the door and head over to the mini-bar.
He settles into the corner of my couch, lounges with an arm over the back.
“I’ll have whatever you’re havin’.”
“White Russian?”
“Sure.”
“Look.” I pour in the milk. “With Hotch, trust is something you have to earn.”
“I don’t think his friend has time for that, Emily.”
“Sam.” I bring him his drink. “The man whose life you’re here to help save? His
name is Sam.”
“Sam,” he takes the drink, sips, and sets it aside to look up at me. “Sam needs
us all to be on the same page, Emily, and I’m way behind. Hotch is keeping me
way behind.”
“He just…” I sigh and sit. “He doesn’t want to take a risk that’ll get Sam
killed. This is a hard city to find someone to trust in, everyone has an
ulterior motive and agenda.”
“I’m not from this city.”
“No.” I smirk. “You’re from New Orleans by way of Las Vegas, cities both known
for citizens of high moral standing.”
Ethan picks up on the tease. “I never said I wasn’t a fella of low morals. I’m
just not from this town so I got no other allegiance but to Reid, no other
motive but to help ya’ll save your friend.”
I take a sip. “How is it you know Dr Reid anyway?”
“Went to school together.”
“You look older than him.”
“I am,” Ethan admits with a smile. “Five years older to be exact, but we were
in the same classes. The genius thing.”
I smirk a touch, adjust myself as my body gravitates into his space on the
couch. “He said you taught him things.”
“I did.” Ethan smirks back. “And he taught me things.”
“Like?”
“I taught him all the bad, he taught me there was good. Didn’t do much in
helping me stay outta trouble, but it was something.”
“So what were you in prison for?”
“Which time, darlin’?”
I laugh. “Oh that’s comforting.”
Ethan’s closer to me, the tricky little fucker’s damn near closed the gap and I
think that maybe I should back off, reestablish personal space, but I don’t.
“Cons, mostly. Maybe a few bar fights and outright thefts, but mostly it was
just different cons and breakin’ out, of course.”
“You got caught after breaking out? That doesn’t inspire much confidence.”
“What’d you think, I was some kinda savant at it?” He laughs. “No,” he says,
shaking his head, “I had to learn through practice and, sometimes, that meant I
got caught. My last escape was about ten years ago though and I ain’t been
caught yet.”
“Maybe because you sound like a Southerner?”
“Excuse me?”
“Reid said you two grew up together in Vegas, but you came in from New Orleans
and, if I wasn’t told otherwise, I’d have thought you were from there. You
adopted the southern persona, complete with accent, to fit in better, yes?”
Ethan’s holds his arms up playfully. “Caught me.”
I smile, and as he goes to take a sip of his drink he leans into me more,
brushes his arm against mine.
“Tomorrow I’m gonna go check out the prison,” he says. “I’d like you come with
me.”
“Couldn’t Reid help you with that?”
“Two men go into a prison together they’ve either done something wrong or are
about to ‘cause they’re casing the joint. Man and a woman go in together?”
Ethan shrugs as he finishes his sip, sets his glass down. “Well that’s just a
unique date.”
“So bring Garcia.”
Ethan laughs and I give a slight scowl.
“Hey, don’t get me wrong, Garcia seems a great girl,” he chuckles. “But I’m not
sure she could handle it.”
“Garcia can handle more than you’d think.”
“Okay, lemme put it another way. I think Garcia, amazin’ as she is, might call
attention to herself there. She’s too happy, too bubbly, and too bright to fly
under the radar on this. Also, if I need to lie a little, I need someone to
play whatever part I need.”
“And that’s me?”
“I think so.”
“Why’s that?”
Ethan looks me up and down. “You strike me as the type who’s played parts
before.”
“That so?”
“Yeah.”
“And what parts are those?”
“Whatever parts you’ve needed, I’m sure.” He winks.
I laugh. “You must think yourself pretty clever, Mr. Bellamy.”
“I do alright for myself.”
“You really are arrogant.”
“That what Hotch called me?”
“Among other things.”
Ethan chuckles a little. “Man’s got some serious control issues.”
“His best friend’s life is at stake.”
“I think they go beyond that, Emily.”
“Do you?”
“Well what do you think he’d think of me being here, at your place, late at
night?”
I say nothing.
Ethan grins. “You’re smiling cause you know I’m right.”
I feel my cheeks flush. He’s right; Hotch is a rules man; he sets them and only
he can break them.
Ethan leans back. “So will you help me help Hotch?”
“Of course.”
“Even if it means pissing him off in the process?”
“If it helps Hotch and Sam, yes.”
“Good.” The man returns to his drink. “Reid said he was gonna contact some
people tomorrow so he’ll be busy anyway.”
“Should you have Reid check the people through Hotch first?”
“Why?”
“So you’re just aiming for a fight with Aaron then?”
“I trust Reid’s read on people, doesn’t Hotch?”
“Well, sure, but –“
“I don’t particularly care either way, Hotch’s sense of security as the man in
charge doesn’t concern me.” He shrugs. “I’ll let ya get to sleep, we’re gonna
have a big day tomorrow.”
I get up, walk with him to the door. “We’re starting early?”
“Earlier the better. People are less likely to pay attention when tired, but
the later it is the more on alert guards tend to be. They wanna make sure
nothing goes wrong to fuck up their end of shift and make them stay late. I’ll
pick you up.”
“You better come with coffee then.”
“Notta problem.”
                                      ***
I wake the next morning to the smells of coffee and Kahlua hovering over my
nose. I’m still slow to get up until I realize that I should be alone in my
apartment, then I’m up and going for the gun at my bedside.
The coffee sits on my dresser with a small card leaning on it.
Wake Up Emily. Big Day Ahead. Ethan.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I groan somewhere between tired,
annoyed, and outright pissed off as I set the gun back where it belongs.
Then I hear the voice. Strong, deep, and Southern. “That you, Emily?” He’s in
my kitchen if his voice is any indication. “I made the coffee, should still be
warm, but if not I’ll make ya a new batch.”
“Isn’t part of the Southern culture to be charming and respectful?”
“I made us coffee.” His smirk spreads itself all over his voice.
“You broke into my house!”
He chuckles and steps out of the kitchen just as I come out in my robe, the
coffee in hand. “Actually, I took your keys.”
I’m struck mute by the changes in him. He’s clean-shaven, hair cropped, in a
nice three-piece suit. There isn’t a part of him that’s out of place; no more
scrubby conman, he looks like a business professional. His brows lift a touch;
I try to switch out my surprise for continued displeasure.
“What are you, a kleptomaniac?”
“No,” Ethan laughs. “I’m just someone who knows a late sleeper when he sees
one.”
“Fuck you.”
“Don’t think Hotch would like that much, you bein’ his girl and all.”
“I’m no one’s girl.”
“Look, I’m sorry, I won’t enter your home again without express permission,”
Ethan states as he sets my keys on the small table in the dining area. “I just
don’t think any of us got time to be waitin’ on anyone else at the moment.
Clock’s tickin’.”
“You still suck.”
“Only when required.” He heads towards me with a pleasant smile. “You look very
lovely for so early in the morning.”
“You think that’s going to earn you my forgiveness?”
“I’m still aimin’ on just not getting shot.”
My lips curl into a smile despite myself. Ethan reminds me of the types I used
to enjoy, the bad boys. If he fucks us over I’ll kill him myself, but that
doesn’t mean he still doesn’t have a naughty little charm to him.
“You should wear something domineering.”
“Excuse me?” Too bad he doesn’t seem to know when to just shut his mouth and
smile.
“You need to look tough, professional, but feminine. Like you’d threaten a
guy’s goods right after giving him the best head of his life.”
“Colorful.”
“I think we can get something of an exclusive tour, be able to see what we
really need to, by going one of two ways, press or government official.
Official opens more doors I find.”
I nod some, sip the liquor-infused coffee, and find it much better than I
expected. “Is that why you raided Hotch’s closet in the middle of the night?”
For a moment Ethan doesn’t seem to follow, then he laughs. “Well, I’ll confess,
your man was the inspiration for this very serious ensemble.”
“He’s not my man.”
“He’s not your man, you’re no one’s girl.” He moves closer to me, to my
bedroom. “Tell me, Emily, is it you that hates labels or is it Hotch?”
I sidestep the topic. “So what government office has their women dress like a
dominatrix, exactly?”
“Doesn’t matter. If the serious faces and sunglasses don’t work then how you’ll
look in the outfit will.”
“This how you used to pull cons? Use a sexy woman as distraction?”
“If I needed to.”
“Girlfriends?”
“Excuse me?”
“Were they girlfriends?” This time I step up to him.
Ethan does the same. “I don’t like labels.”
“Did they know what they were getting into? These…sexy women.”
I don’t know what game I’m playing with him, but my house suddenly seems like
it is on fire. The heat between us is suffocating. Smoke should be filling the
rooms; it would explain the sensation of dizziness overtaking me as he steps in
even closer.
The voice goes deeper, but stays crystal clear. “I gave forewarning.”
“Oh really?”
His chest rises and falls swiftly; he has to force the air in and out of his
lungs.
My voice climbs between the sheets. “So, are you going to tell me?”
A hand moves out, brushes hair off my shoulder. It settles at the back of my
neck. “If you want to know.”
“Might be nice.”
Ethan pulls me into him. “Arrest or bein’ shot come to mind,” he whispers.
I begin to wonder who’s playing who now. “Good to know.” I step out of his
touch, his reach, and smile.
Ethan seems unhurt, maybe even unaffected, by my sudden change in demeanor. He
smiles and nods politely. “So, you gotta outfit in mind already or am I gonna
hafta wait three hours for you to pick one?” he teases.
I roll my eyes. “I’m going to take a shower so how about you just go into my
closet and pick out something you think might work?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“If you snoop, I’ll know.” I’m already heading past him for the bathroom. “And
don’t call me ma’am.”
I hear him reply just as he had before, “yes ma’am”, as I shut the bathroom
door behind me and start the water. I’m smiling, I can’t stop, but I don’t like
it.
                                      ***
I go to pull the skirt down as I sit in whoever’s car Ethan decided to boost.
“Could you have possibly picked a smaller skirt?” Another inch higher and I’ll
be showing off my everything.
Ethan laughs. “You don’t exactly strike me as the modest type, Em, so what’s
the problem?”
“I thought we were supposed to look professional?”
“You do.”
“No, I look like a professional.”
He gives up arguing and moves on. “Our credentials are in the glove box, can
you pull ‘em out? We’re close.”
I dig them out and look them over some. “Federal marshals, huh?”
“They do a lot of different things so get a lot of slack when they say
something is their job.”
“So do CIA and FBI agents.”
Ethan smirks. “Who’s gonna buy you as FBI in that get-up?”
I laugh as I stick my new credentials into the inner pocket of my jacket. “Reid
didn’t tell us you were skilled at falsifying papers as well.”
“They aren’t completely falsified.”
“How do you mean?”
“They belonged to marshals once upon a time, then I made adjustments and now
they’re ours.” There’s a darkness to Ethan’s answer that tells me there’s a
larger, deeper, story to it all that I don’t want to ask about.
The prison looms large in the skyline, taking the place of Dracula’s castle for
this horror story, and grows as we make our approach. By the time we get out of
the car and go to the guard at the front it’s oppressive, intimidating, in its
size.
“Lemme do most the talking,” Ethan says, easing out of his Southern accent into
one I can’t identify.
“Sure thing.” I get the feeling he’s already planned every word, every
interaction, and my stepping in would just risk the whole operation.
In all the times Hotch has visited the prison he never once had me go in with
him. I figured it was a protective thing, maybe a privacy one, but either way
it would be with Ethan that I’d first get the chance to pass through those
gates. Under the guise of federal marshals, complete with papers, we’re allowed
crossing into the inner sanctum of the prison to meet with the warden.
                                      ***
He’s a stout, measly, little man with longish white hair and glasses. His look
and way of carrying himself is suited more for lecturing a classroom than
watching over convicts.
“Hello, I am Warden Henry Grace Rothschild. How may I help you?” The warden
speaks meticulously, addresses only Ethan. He won’t even catch my eyes from
behind my sunglasses.
Ethan lets silence build until the other man shifts. “We’re here to look in on
an inmate of yours, a Mr. Samuel Kassmeyer.”
“He’s due to be executed at the end of the week.”
“We’re aware.”
“Makes me ponder…why would two marshals need to see a dead man?”
“To make sure he dies the way he’s supposed to,” Ethan replies. His manner of
speech, the forming of the words, is not unlike Hotch’s. “This man massacred at
least four women that we’re aware of and the families want to see justice
served.” He pauses, seems to count out the break. “I’m sure you want everything
to go perfectly, Warden Rothschild, and we’d like to help you ensure that
happens.”
Something in the last statement lights up the insides of Rothschild’s eyes and
he almost smiles. All his defenses slip as he finds a like-minded individual.
“Of course, Agent Walsh. You and your…fellow agent…have this prison’s complete
co-operation.”
“Thank you.”
“If you’d like I could have one of the guards personally escort you around the
premises,” the warden offers.
“That would be helpful, thank you,” Ethan replies before looking at me until I
look back and then leading my gaze back to the warden with his own. “We’d also
like to talk to Prisoner Kassmeyer privately. There are some things a man won’t
say to anyone but those he thinks might be able to protect him.”
“Of course, of course. Consider yourself to have full access.” He scurries back
behind his desk to his phone and hits a button. “Could you have C.O. Battle
come to my office please?”
No more than five minutes pass when an attractive man about our age appears in
the office with a smile that’s too smooth for its own good. “You wanted to see
me, Sir?”
“Ah, Jason Clark, I would like you to take these two marshals on a tour of the
grounds and make sure they’re able to speak to prisoner Kassmeyer.”
“Not a problem.”
“Good. Thank you.”
Battle waves us out of the room and introduces himself happily. He chatters
throughout the tour. “Always happy to help.” “I broke up a fight over there
just a few days ago.” “Not all the other guards are as aware as I am.” He’s
playing hero for us and maybe some of his tales are true, but most strike me as
bullshit.
Still I let him talk as I focus in on my surroundings. The halls are narrow,
mazelike, and loud with the hoops and hollers of convicts. Guards seem to roam
every alley and post at every corner. I don’t see how Sam, or anyone, would be
able to get out of here. How in the hell has Ethan done it multiple times?
“How’s your infirmary?”
“Huh?” Battle is thrown off his latest hero rant so much he stops short and
turns to us.
“Infirmaries are notorious weak points in prisons. How’s yours?”
The corrections officer takes the challenge almost personally and immediately
whisks us off to the prison’s infirmary to inspect it. And now I can see how an
escape might be possible. The guards are few and most of them are busy hitting
on the nurses working there. If a prisoner wasn’t busying himself in surviving,
recovering, or giving the guards competition with the ladies, he might be able
to slip out without even being noticed.
A little of the old Ethan slips out when he gives a pretty young blonde a
playful smirk as Battle chatters on about the alarms on the back door and
whispers about the undercover in the bed they switch out every so often.
“It might look less secure, but I promise you it isn’t,” the guard assures.
Because Ethan seems distracted with nurses, because he’s starting to irritate,
I speak up. “And what about the staff?”
“What about them?”
“They aren’t about to be manipulated by the convicts, are they?” I drawl.
“No, of course not, and if they were suspected of fraternizing they’d be
fired.”
Ethan seems to snap out of whatever trance the pretty blonde’s ass has put him
in and speaks. “Good, now show me the prisoner.”
“Yes sir!”
                                      ***
By the time we’re out of the prison I’m downright furious.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” I demand the moment we’re in the
car.
Ethan’s sunglasses look back at mine. “Excuse me?”
“You completely shut me out!”
He turns to start the car. “You didn’t need to know.”
“What do you mean I don’t need to know?”
“I mean that this’ll all work better if people only know what parts they have
to play.”
“If something goes wrong and we’re in the dark about what one another is doing
then we won’t be able to protect each other.”
“If something goes wrong and we all know each other’s business we can all be
brought down,” Ethan counters as we drive away from the prison.
“We’re in this together, all of us, we don’t keep things from one another.”
“That you talkin’, or Hotchner?” The man’s too familiar smirk is back with the
Southern twang.
“Fuck you!”
He chuckles and it irritates that way Rossi first used to, the way that makes
me want to both hit and kiss him. Anything to stop that mouth of his.
I slap his arm.
“Relax, everythin’s fine.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I talked to Sam, let him know what’s going on, and what he’ll need to be
prepared for.”
“And what’s that?”
“Can’t tell ya.”
I hit him again.
He laughs.
I hit him again, harder.
More laughter.
I hit again and again, I hit him until he swerves off the road and sirens blare
behind us.
“Fuck.” I know exactly who it is; I don’t even have to check the review like
Ethan does.
“Who is it?”
“Officer George Foyet.”
“He still got that hard on for you and Hotchner?” Ethan asks, pulling off his
sunglasses and tossing them on the dash.
“Reid told you about all that?”
“Yeah.”
I can’t stop my own smirk. “You know, we could just shoot him.”
“No, we’re too close, it’ll raise too many alarms.” He undoes his seatbelt.
“Put your seat back.”
“Why?”
“Just do it,” he orders even as he reaches over to do it himself.
I gasp a little as I fall back fast and hard. Ethan undoes my seatbelt. “What
the hell?”
“We need to give this guy something to think about other than our location.”
Ethan smiles at me. “Trust me and play along.”
He shifts quickly, though awkwardly, on top of me.
“You serious?” I laugh even as I slip a hand between us to pop out the buttons
of my jacket and open it.
“It’s worked in the past.” Ethan chuckles a touch before his eyes dart up and
then back to me. “Here he comes, make it good.”
Even just for a dirty show the man’s a good kisser; good enough to let me
forget it’s an act as I kiss back and hum out a moan, good enough that I don’t
mind his hand skimming the edge of my too-short skirt, good enough that my
hands go to his belt on their own accord.
The knock on the window is what pulls me out of the little fantasy. Ethan
breaks our kiss in the turn of a head and acts as if this is the first time
he’s noticed any one else is around as he scrambles off me.
It isn’t until he’s back in his own seat, rolling down the window, that I
notice his pants are open.
Ethan smiles politely. “Mornin’ Officer.”
“License and registration.”
“Sure,” Ethan smiles over at me. “Emily, could ya get that for me?”
“Of course, handsome.”
I watch Foyet’s stature change from boredom to deep interest just before he
bends to peer into the car. He smirks, smiles, grins, and then laughs a little.
“Well hello there, Emily Prentiss.”
“George Foyet,” I give a brusque reply as I make a show of trying to cover
myself up.
“Officer George Foyet,” he corrects.
You’d think once you’d shot a guy, almost killed him, he’d want to avoid you.
Not Foyet, he sees the whole thing as a fun and challenging game…I’m right up
there with Hotch as one of his favorite playmates.
“So, what’s going on here?” the cop glances at Ethan a moment who smiles
awkwardly as he does his pants back up before Foyet’s eyes return to mine. “A
little fun on the side?”
I laugh. “We all have our secret indulgences.”
“But never for long.” Foyet gives a wink then returns his attention to Ethan.
“I’ll let you off with a warning. Stay away from Prentiss, she’ll only bring
you trouble. Have a good day.” The man stands and slaps the hood of the car
twice as if releasing us from his control before heading back to his cruiser.
Ethan and I stay still in the car, waiting for Foyet to drive on, before
speaking.
“He wasn’t that bad,” Ethan comments as he starts the car again.
“He was in a good mood,” I counter, doing up the last of my jacket buttons. “If
he hadn’t been he’d have killed us…well, you at least.”
“Not you though?”
“That’s not how he works. First he destroys everything you love, everything
that brings you happiness and peace of mind. Then he kills you.”
“He’s a real charmer.”
“Oh yeah, that’s him, Foyet the charmer.” My eyes roll with a sigh. After a
moment of silence I turn to look at Ethan. “Are you going to tell me the plan
to get Sam out now?”
“No.”
“Hotch will want to know.”
“Hotch will get the same information as everyone else working on this.”
“What you decide?”
“What they need to.”
“What you decide they need to.”
“Okay.” Ethan shrugs, uninterested in keeping up the debate. “Yeah.”
I look away, out my own window, to hide a slight smile. “You’re an asshole.”
“An asshole that you’ll all thank later.”
“Sam is his friend, he deserves to know.”
“The fact that he’s Sam’s friend is exactly why he can’t know, Emily,” he
points out as he grabs the sunglasses off the dash and puts them back on.
“I disagree.”
“He’s too close. The things that have to be done to save his friend are high
risk and he if knows all the details he’ll dick around trying to find a safer
way and Sam doesn’t have that kind of time. Tonight I’ll share the basic layout
of the plan with everyone, but not the details.”
“You’re still an asshole.” This time I let him see my smile.
Ethan laughs a little. “I never claimed not to be.”
“You know Hotch isn’t just going to give up because you say it’s for the best.”
“I’ve already figured that.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Whatever I have to, Emily.”
***** Lil Foyet's POV *****
He can frame it as a lesson, another exercise in bonding, or anything else he
wants to soothe his conscience but it doesn’t change the fact his head’s
between my thighs cause we both want it there. That he likes my taste and the
way I fist his hair, nearly pulling bits out as I approach climax.
Jason Gideon is a good man who desires a very, very bad thing. Me.
“Fuck,” I shudder out as there’s the briefest brush of teeth atop my pubic
mound that flushes my body with another shot of adrenaline. I’m going to need
it soon; need to get that other urge satisfied, but I won’t do it with Jason so
willingly vulnerable. It’s not fair.
I tug gently on the hand that’s resting on my stomach and he knows. He kisses
his way back up to my lips and I taste myself in his mouth. I don’t want to
brag, but I taste pretty good.
It doesn’t hurt when his cock slams in to the hilt, with my high tolerance and
enough times I can’t get that pained rush anymore. Still feels amazing though
and for that I’m grateful, I’m not a complete monster at least.
“Are you okay?” Jason always asks as he sets kisses over my face.
“Yes.” I always smile back. I’m not sure why he still asks, I only look
fragile, but my guess is it’s for his own peace of mind.
He takes possession of the hand that’d been holding his and intertwines the
fingers with care as he begins, slowly, to thrust. Another tradition of ours,
but this one I understand. It is to remind me. We are equals, in and out of
bed, and as we make love we bond. Jason’s idea. I don’t know if it works, but
he says the fact I continue to allow my hand to be held in this manner means it
does.
“I won’t break,” I reassure him with a playful buck just in case he’s having
one of his moments of doubt.
He chuckles softly into my throat as his lips work there way to my chest. “I
know.”
“Then go harder.”
He does and I moan my approval. Jason’s moan back can be felt against my lungs
as he takes my breast in his mouth before biting down with restrained strength.
He moans again and this time it shakes my rib cage.
“Yesss…” I love that. I dig fingernails into him, pulling skin from his body
and releasing blood. The thought of it, of that crimson gold, is enough to get
me that much closer…but I hold back, see if I can’t control myself and wait for
Jason to join me over the edge.
By the time he gets to the other breast my man’s lost some of his restraint. He
bites and I bleed.
“Jason!”
I arch high as I slip past into the orgasmic abyss, my cunt’s rhythmic
tightening leading Jason to join.
The white warmth inside is accompanied by a deep kiss to my lips. My man goes
soft and fills with care as he pulls out and shifts to my side. He pulls me
into him tight, secure, as if afraid I’ll scurry away in the night.
I won’t. I’ll stay. Where else would I go anyway? I terrify most others,
including my mother. Only Jason understands, he understands without judgment.
“Night Jason.”
“Goodnight, Lilith.”
I close my eyes and let him spoon.
The images of my latest kills begin to play behind closed lids, calming me into
a sleepy state. It’s a state I reach just as there’s knocking at Jason’s
apartment door. I do my best to ignore it even as I feel Jason start to shift
and get up.
“Fuck ‘em, let ‘em come back tomorrow,” I mutter, feeling my irritation grow.
“It’s better to answer than risk them getting louder,” Jason explains in a
smiling voice as he redresses.
“Because then I’ll really kill them.” It’s almost a joke. Almost.
Jason chuckles as he kisses the top of my head. “Hopefully it’ll be something
quick, try to get some sleep.”
I moan out my concession, but the fact that Jason encourages me to sleep makes
me not want to. Instead I’d rather stay up and listen in. I like listening in,
especially with Jason who still keeps so much of himself private.
I hear Jason answer the door and give a friendly greeting; he welcomes the
person in and I hear one go to sit and the other heads into the kitchen.
Goddamn fucking visitors fucking up my night with my fucking man!
I shift, roll, adjust in the bed until I give up. Better to get my anger out on
the visitor now than Jason later. I get up, grab a robe, and head out into the
main room.
There’s a skinny guy in a mismatched suit with long hair perched in a chair at
the table. I recognize him from his visits to Nightingale’s. “Reid, right?”
The man looks up startled, then shocked, at my appearance. Certainly didn’t see
me coming all open-mouthed and bug-eyed like he is.
“Dr Reid,” Jason corrects, unfazed, from his work with the coffeepot in the
kitchen. “Dr Reid, I don’t believe you’ve been formally introduced, but that is
Lilith Foyet. Lil, would you like to have some milk?”
I laugh some, as much to Jason’s question as the dear doctor’s continually
shocked face. “I’d like coffee,” I reply as I intentionally slink my way over
to the skittish man-boy at the table. “That is, of course, if you don’t mind me
joining you, Doctor.”
The man my father calls Dr Buddy Holly finally moves his mouth to try his hand
at speaking. “Uh…I uh…um…I…I g-guess not.”
“What’s the matter, Doctor?” I slip into the chair beside him, smirk wide and
vicious. “You seem scared. Are you scared?” My hand crawls across the table
towards the young man.
“Lil,” Jason’s voice edges a warning to me. He knows I’m just starting to play.
I pull my hand away and lean back in my chair with crossed arms. “Why are you
interrupting us?”
Dr Reid’s relief at my backing off only lasts until I ask my question, then he
turns back to Gideon as he brings out two coffees. “I, uh, need to talk to you
about something.”
“Like what?” I ask as Jason leaves to get his own drink.
The young doctor turns back to me and finally shows some balls. “That’s not
your, uh, concern. I’m talking to Gideon.”
“I’m gonna end up knowing either way so you might as well tell me anyway.” I
counter with another smirk. I like the stubbornness, but I’m tired and don’t
feel like going around in circles with the nerd that’s keeping me up.
Gideon returns with his mug to sit beside me and opposite Dr Reid. He sips and
we both watch, waiting for his input. He sets the coffee down with a sigh and
looks to Dr Reid first. “I understand if you have a need for privacy, Spencer,
but if this is about Sam, which given what I’ve heard lately I think it is, Lil
here may actually be able to help.”
I give a smug smile as I fall back into the doctor’s personal space. “Who’s
Sam?”
“Sam Kassmeyer, an old friend of mine and Aaron Hotchner’s,” Jason answers
instead. When I turn to him, he smiles. “He was wrongfully convicted of a
series of murders years ago. His date of execution was set a day or two ago.”
Things have always clicked fast for me, whether academic or social I’m a quick
read on a situation. “You want him out?” My guess is not a legal way, but it
doesn’t matter to me…I’m not one to fuss over such details.
Dr Nerd gives a furtive look Jason, then me, then back at Jason. The answer’s a
yes that he doesn’t want to give me.
“Ya know, Jason’s right, I might be able to help there, Dr Reid.”
“Your dad is, uh, the one that arrested him,” the man points out, still unsure
of my motives, of me…if he should trust either. He shouldn’t. I don’t have much
loyalty to speak of and what I do have is often circumstantial.
“Lil would help us if it was the right thing to do,” Gideon assures the man.
Falsely in my opinion as little of what I do is based on any set of grand
morals.
It’s the idea of fucking over my dad by helping his adversaries that’s just too
good to pass up. I know better to share that thought at the moment, though, so
I just smile and nod at Gideon’s statement instead.
Reid’s mouth twists in debate before he sighs in resignation. “Yeah, uh…” He
starts to nod. “We’d like to get Sam out before, um, well…you know….”
“They fry him?”
Reid frowns deep and disturbed. Even Jason’s lips fall to despair as he sips
his coffee.
I frown back. “Sorry,” I mutter.
Jason reaches out and takes my hand, squeezes it so I know he’s not mad. He
keeps hold of the hand as he speaks to the doctor. “What do you need from us?”
I keep my smile behind the coffee mug.
“Uh…” Reid has to pull his focus from Jason’s hand over mine. “Um…I don’t, uh,
actually know yet but, um, I’m pretty sure it’ll involve, uh, someone getting
in…there…to, uh, you know, help Sam get out.” Jason nods and Reid continues. “I
just thought that I’d, um, let you know now, rather than come to you later and,
uh, surprise you, I guess.”
Jason smiles wide and comforting. “Don’t worry, Dr Reid, I’m glad you came to
inform me now rather than wait until it might be too late to really help.”
Between Jason’s hand still holding mine and my Get-The-Fuck-Out glare, Reid
seems to sense the need to exit. He finishes his coffee quick and goes to
stand. “Well, uh…”
Jason lets go of me, stands, and not wanting to be left out I decide to do the
same.
“I’ll, uh, stay in touch, I guess,” Dr Reid offers, then changes his statement,
“or, uh, at least someone from the, um, team will.”
“Of course,” Jason nods as they make their way from the table to the door.
Bored now, I down my coffee. “See you later, doctor boy.”
Reid swivels on his feet. “Boy?” He’s insulted, I think. “I-I’m at least ten
years older than you.”
I laugh a little and shrug. “Yeah, but you look like a classmate, big guy.
Sorry.” I head back to Gideon’s room, dropping the robe and climbing back into
the bed without bothering to shut the door. Jason’s seen me and if Reid wants
to it’s no skin off my nose.
Jason says his final goodbyes, locks up the place, and then comes back to me in
the bed. “Play nice with Dr Reid.”
“Why?”
“Because you’d like him if you got to know him,” Jason promises with a kiss to
the bare blade of my shoulder. “He knows a lot of unique facts.”
“So do you,” I point out. “So do I.”
“Not as many as Spencer. Believe me.”
                                      ***
In the morning Jason makes me breakfast, which he joins me in before we head
down to his bar below. I make my way to school from there. It’s not that far
and I don’t mind the walk alone. In fact, I prefer it. I hate small talk and
most my peers, aside from Nathan, make me fantasize of murder as they chatter
on. Getting alone time is crucial for my sanity.
I’m not alone though; he’s nearby. I can smell him in the air. Most would think
it’s because he’s my father, it’s that familial bond, but it’s just that I
sense him like I would anyone else like us…predator to predator.
I let him think he’s got the drop on me and walk right past the alley he’s
tucked himself away in. Let him reach out from the shadows and pull me back to
the darkness of building angles and his arms. There are times when playing the
prey brings the power to you; being held tight by a man who knows he shouldn’t
enjoy it is one of those times. He nuzzles, sniffs, my along my jaw-line,
confident in his control.
“Morning Lil,” he croons in my ear.
I smirk. “Morning, Officer Foyet.”
Dad laughs a touch before kissing my cheek. He wants more, I know that and, on
some level, I’m sure he does too, but he’s still held off from what morals he
does have. “Have anything for me?”
I lean back into him some, rest my head onto his shoulder to catch his eye. “Be
more specific.”
One arm stays securely around both mine, keeps me from reaching any weapon,
while the other travels from shoulder to waist. “Dr Buddy Holly was spotted
around these parts last night. He pay Jason a visit?”
I swear the only reason he never made a fuss about my mom signing custody over
to Jason is because I can be a permanent source of information on Hotch and his
crew this way…also he doesn’t know yet that I was the one who shot him six
months ago at Jack Hotchner’s place.
His hand glides across my stomach to my ass. He’ll swear it’s a pat down, but
it isn’t. It’s a free grope. He knows where I tuck my weapons.
When his hand fills my back pocket I arch, moan, and then laugh some. “Lemme
know if you find anything good, Dad.” I laugh all the harder when his hand
leaves, quickly, with my blade.
“You going to answer my question or not?”
“He paid a visit.”
“And?” Dad slides my blade flat under my chin. It’s cold and hard and I moan at
the blood rush the feel of it brings me.
“And I know something you don’t know.” I laugh until the blade presses my chin
up a touch.
“What?”
I can feel the blade about to shave off the first layer of my flesh and press
into it a moment before pressing into my father instead. “Don’t tell me you
can’t guess.” He’s half-hard and doing his best to ignore it. A hard, hot,
breath comes out on my neck. “I mean, come on, you’re a smart guy…aren’t you?”
“Sam?”
“Who?”
“Kassmeyer. They’re breaking him out, aren’t they?”
“Bingo!” I grind into him a moment before slipping out between the space
available. I misjudge, the knife draws a thin red line on my throat. I feel wet
heat seep out and can’t help but press my fingers into the sting before pulling
them back to note the pinkish hue of blood. “Pleasure chatting, Daddy, but I
really do have to go to school.”
“What about your neck?” He’s not concerned, just curious. Will I find an
advantage for it or cover it up? How will I adapt?
“I have a scarf.” I smile at my father before giving a girlish pout and
fluttering my lashes. “You wouldn’t want me to have to explain why I’m late,
would you?”
He gives a snake’s version of a parental smile. “And if you are?”
“Then I’m afraid someone else will have to fall on your sword.” I won’t specify
whom because it doesn’t matter so long as it isn’t me.
***** Aaron Hotchner's POV *****
The rest of the night I use to drink myself to sleep. When I wake up I find
I’ve broken my bathroom mirror at some point. Oh well, it’s not the first time.
I shower, shave, and dress before heading out to see Jason, let him in on the
plan. It isn’t that I want him to help, I know he’d rather stay out of most
investigations and crime-fighting these days, but I think he should know about
the plans to save Sam. He was friends with the man as well after all.
The drive to Nightingale’s takes me into the afternoon hours so I use the back
entrance to Gideon’s apartment above where he’ll have his lunch. I give a few
firm knocks and wait, listening. It’s fast, light, feet that approach the door.
Not Gideon. Perhaps the lady he’s been so secretive about? I smile a touch,
torn between hoping I’m not interrupting and being a little excited to meet the
woman who’s made my old boss so light and almost carefree as of late.
What answers the door chills my blood. It’s Lilith Foyet, daughter of Officer
George “The Reaper” Foyet and his soon-to-be ex, Jennifer “JJ” Jareau. She’s
petite, blonde, and sixteen; a psycho-killer in the most disarming package
available.
“Well if it isn’t Captain America himself?” She giggles.
I’m not fooled. I let her fool me once, but never again. Even knowing she’s
close to my son, that she saved his life once, and that Gideon cares for her
enough to take guardianship of her, I will never accept her. Never let my guard
down around her. Never.
“Is Jason here?”
“He’s…indisposed.”
“Cut the shit and go get him.”
It isn’t until she leaves me at the door to get Jason that I truly note her
state of dress. Or undress more like. No pants and one of Gideon’s favored dark
blue button-down shirts sans most the buttons. Her hair’s down and mussed like
she’s just wrestled a bear to the ground.
I step into the apartment. I am greeted by Jason coming out of his bedroom in
slight disarray. Hair uncombed, pants rumbled, belt lacking, and only an
undershirt for a top.
What. The. Fuck.
“Aaron,” Jason smiles almost awkwardly. “What a surprise.”
He knows what I see, he knows what I can read into the sight, and his reddened-
face tells me I’m right in the assumption.
“What the fuck, Jason?”
Jason’s smile falters. “Maybe we should go down to the bar to talk?”
“What the fuck?”
I hear Lil start to laugh some from the bedroom.
“Aaron, this isn’t the time or place.”
“Do…do you even…”
Lil steps out in her jeans. “Calm down,” she laughs more and her eyes roll.
“You’d think you’d never caught two people post-fuck or something.”
“You’re a sixteen-year-old sociopath and not a part of this conversation!”
“Who is?” she counters smoothly, heading towards us with that cat-like slink
she always carries with her. “You? Jason?” the devilish grin spreads wide and
wicked, “Sam Kassmeyer?”
One can forget how strong their friend is until he’s holding you back from
killing a teenage girl. It isn’t until we’re outside his door that, with a
final shove into the opposite wall, Jason and I stop fighting one another.
“How the fuck does she know?”
“I told her,” Gideon answers with that look he would give others as they edged
towards their breaking points. He’s prepared to stop me if I snap, but he’ll
implore me not to with his eyes until that moment.
“Why? Why would you do that?” I’m pacing. I whisper almost to myself before
addressing my old friend directly. “Why would you do that, Jason?”
“Because she can help.”
“How in the hell can she possibly help?”
“She has access, can gain access, to places and people we can’t.” I snort and
he continues. “People like Sam.”
I pause mid-step and just stare. My face becomes a blank slate. “I don’t want
her going anywhere near Sam.”
“Not even if she can help him?”
“How would she do that? Kill him before his execution?”
“Aaron.”
“Don’t even start, Jason. You of all people should know her kind can’t be saved
or tamed or whatever the fuck it is you’re trying to do with her. She’s a
killer. She enjoys it.”
“I know. But she’s also saved lives, including Jack’s.”
“You’re fucking her!”
“That…doesn’t have anything to do with my opinions on this.”
“Really?”
“I’m not under any delusions about what she’s capable of.”
“So you know you’re sleeping with someone capable of murder without remorse?”
“Do you trust me, Aaron?”
“I used to. I don’t know what to think now.”
Jason frowns just a touch, like he saw this all coming but hoped it wouldn’t.
“Do you believe me when I tell you I only want to help Sam?”
I sigh. “Yes.”
“Then trust when I say she can be a help to you and to Sam.”
I don’t. I never will. But rather than continue what seems to be an endless
debate I sigh. “I need to get to the office. I’ll…I’ll keep you posted.” I turn
to leave when Jason calls me back.
“Aaron, she wants to help. She’s not her father.”
“She’s a killer.”
“Yes, but she’s not her father.”
I shake my head and walk away. If my old friend says anything else I block it
out because I hear nothing until I’m starting my car once again.
“Red Rover, Red Rover, Hotch, are you there? Over!” Garcia’s voice chimes over
the car-radio Kevin had installed for us.
“I’m here.”
“You forgot to say over.”
“Garcia.”
The woman sighs, drops some of the chipperness in her tone. “How about some
lunch?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’ve already eaten?”
“No.”
“Well I’ll have some food waiting for you here then,” she announces, forever
undeterred by my foul moods. “Just head on into the office, Hotch, okay?”
“Okay, Garcia.”
“Thank you, Boss-Man.”
“Welcome.” I can feel my lips turning up into a smile.
                                      ***
I arrive at the office to a grinning Garcia and spread of food on one corner of
her desk that I know she fetched especially for me. I smile.
“You know you really didn’t have to run out and get me all that food.”
“I’m not about to let my favorite boss go hungry.”
I take the coffee in one hand already knowing she’s made it perfectly, like
always, before opening the box of donuts. I chuckle a little. I have a weakness
for the cop cliché of donuts. I could eat them at virtually any meal. “Even got
the seasonal ones with sprinkles this time.” They’re a secret favorite of mine
that Garcia knows I only eat when the others aren’t around…if Morgan found out
I’d never hear the end of it, I’m sure.
“Actually,” a voice comes from my inner office, “those ones are mine.”
I turn and there he is, in a fine Italian suit, mobster extraordinaire, David
Rossi. We still don’t always see eye-to-eye, but over the years we’ve gained
one another’s respect and trust enough to occasionally work together. He gives
me information and connections and I help him with blackmailers and other
gangsters. It’s a rocky relationship between ex-cop and mobster sometimes, but
a trusting one for the most part.
“Mr. Rossi.”
“Can we talk?”
“I don’t know if I have the time just now.”
“It’s about your friend, Kassmeyer.”
“How do you know about him?”
Rossi smiles. “I hear things.”
I pause a moment, unsure exactly how to read the statement, before grabbing a
donut with a smile to Garcia and heading towards Rossi. “How about we talk in
my office?”
“Sure.”
I close the door behind us, let Rossi find a seat as I go to mine. I set the
donut aside and look at him for sometime, let the awkwardness of the silence
come, before speaking. “How do you know about Sam?”
“I’ve always been aware of his imprisonment, of course, who hasn’t? But it
wasn’t until I had an insider from the prison call me about an hour or so ago
telling me how Emily and a man had been in there, asking questions, that I
started putting things together.”
“Putting things together?”
Rossi gives a smile that can only be described as mischievous. “You’re going to
try and break him out.”
I sit, mute, unwilling to give up either facts or feelings.
“Do you need help?”
“I need your insider to stay silent.”
“She can help.”
“She?” My lips curl into a little smile. “Of course. She.”
Rossi just smiles. “Like I said, she can help.”
“Well, I’m not sure how. Though if I need her I’ll be sure to let you know.”
“Why are you doing this, exactly?”
“Helping my friend?”
“Turning down help for your friend.”
I lean in on my desk some. “I’m not turning down anything, Rossi, I just don’t
know how she can be help.”
“Her name’s Ashley, Ashley Seaver, and she’s a nurse at the infirmary. She
could be a big help in getting him out.”
“I still don’t see how. It isn’t as if she can walk him out the back door.”
Rossi stands with a sigh. “You can’t either, you’re going to end up needing
help getting Sam out.”
I stand when he does. “Rossi, I…I just don’t want to bring a bunch of people in
on this that I don’t know or don’t trust completely. I want this to remain
discreet and, if possible, easy.”
“There’s nothing discreet about breaking a man out of prison, Aaron. Nothing
easy about it either so you better prepare for a very bumpy ride.”
When Rossi steps out of my office, all smooth-talk to Garcia as he leaves, I
slump back down in my chair and eat my donut. So far nothing is going quite as
planned…or it wouldn’t be if we even had a real plan. We don’t. I don’t.
Instead I have people involved I don’t trust and a mobster warning me things
will only get worse.
                                      ***
In the end it’s Dr Reid’s friend, Ethan, who calls a meeting up at my office.
My core team shows up with smiles full of hope and I can only pray that means
good news. That it means Ethan’s come up with a plan and that Morgan’s heard
good things at the office. Only one person is missing.
“Where’s Dr Reid?”
Ethan smirks at me. “Grabbin’ somethin’ for us.”
I get the sense there’s a great deal more to that statement, but I don’t get
the chance to call him on it.
“No signs of any potential leaks on my end,” Morgan cuts in. “So far as anyone
at the station is concerned everything’s on schedule with Sam.”
“Even with Foyet?”
“If he knows anything he’s not giving any indication of it, but I’ll keep an
eye on him.”
“Good…good,” I nod. “Keep an eye on him though.”
“Oh, that reminds me,” Garcia chimes in. “Now I know you said not to, Hotch,
but I talked to Kevin last night about all this.”
“Garcia.” I know she means well but this is just another person I’ll have to
depend on to be honest and true. Even having accepted Kevin’s help in the past
I don’t know if I want Sam’s life depending partly on a man who dresses like a
Vaudeville performer.
“I know, Hotch.” She knows what I’m going to say. “But he can keep an ear out
for extra chatter on the police radios for us and let us know if something
seems off. I swear, he won’t do anything else but listen and inform.”
I give a small smile. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to have an extra pair of ears
on the cops.”
“Especially since I still gotta work and be out in the field most the time,”
Morgan points out.
Emily, who’d remained quiet in her spot next to Ethan, finally speaks. “Ethan
and I went to visit the prison. Ethan talked to Sam.”
All worries are suddenly forgotten in favor of this news. “How is he?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t talk to him, Ethan did.”
My eyes flick immediately to Ethan.
“He’s fine,” Ethan assures me with a faint smile. “He knows what’s comin’ too.”
“What’s that? Have you figured out a set plan?”
“I have.”
The words set all of us on edge.
“Well,” says Morgan. “What the hell is it, man?”
“We need to kill him.”
“Excuse me?”
The room holds its breath.
Ethan looks around. “It’s the safest way to get him out and make sure no one’s
looking for him after.”
I nod stiffly, knowing Ethan’s probably right but wishing he wasn’t.
“How…how do we do that?” Garcia asks, lip almost quivering in worry.
Ethan smiles over at her. “We either find a friendly already in the prison to
fake the attack or, somehow, get someone in to do it.”
“I could do it,” I offer. “It wouldn’t take much to get myself arrested, we
could even have Morgan do it.”
“Aw, it’d be my honor to faux-arrest ya, Hotch,” Morgan chuckles out.
“But no one’s going to buy you attacking Sam,” Emily says.
“She’s right,” Ethan points out. “We’d need someone who could believably want
to hurt, kill, Sam.”
I look at him. “How about you then?”
Ethan laughs. “Nice try, but I need to make sure all the pieces stay in play
and on track.”
“Rossi said he knows a nurse in the infirmary, could she do it?”
“She might be better at getting Sam out once he’s in the infirmary. Her and…”
Ethan stops as the door opens and Dr Reid and the last person I ever wanted in
on this walks into the room.
“Jack!” Garcia cheers in utter delight as she rushes to give my grown son a hug
that elicits an “oof” from him. Garcia apologizes as she steps back. “Oh, I’m
sorry Jack.”
“I’m fine, Pen. Really, I’m okay. I wouldn’t lie.”
“What are you doing here?” I try to maintain curiosity in my voice even as I
have another feeling that I express in a quick glare to Reid.
“Reid tells me you might need help so…” He shrugs. “I’m here to help.”
“That…” my eyes go back to my son, “that’s very kind of you to offer, Jack, but
I’m not sure how much you could do.”
Ethan stands and goes to shake hands. “So you’re Hotch’s kid?”
Jack smiles as he heads farther into the room. “Yeah, Jack. You must be Ethan,
Dr Reid’s friend, right?”
“That’s me. Reid tells me you’re a doctor or something?
“I’m an EMT.”
I see Ethan’s eyes light up a little. “Perfect. You’re just the type of person
we need for what we’re planning.”
“Really?” Jack’s smile grows, clearly excited at the prospect of helping.
“No!”
“Hotch, he, uh, he could really be a help,” Reid countered.
“No.”
“Hotch,” Emily warns.
“No!”
Morgan and Garcia eye each other, debating if they should take up the cause,
but both seem to decide better of it.
Jack gives a sigh as he turns to me. “Can we talk?”
“We’re talking here and I’m respectfully declining on your offer.”
Jack gives a snort of a laugh and turns back to Ethan. “If you need me, let me
know, Reid can find me.”
“Jack” I call out and he turns on his heel. “This is not up for discussion, I
don’t want you involved in this.”
With an eye-roll my son leaves. The tension in that silence spreads and
suffocates.
Only Garcia makes the effort to break the spell. “He looked good.” The attempt
falls flat.
***** Emily Prentiss' POV *****
I leave Aaron with a sinking heart. More than anything I want to help him, I
want him to allow me to. I want him to realize that he can’t save Sam alone; he
can’t even do it with just the core team. He needs to trust those that his team
trusts.
As I drive home I wonder if Jack’s offer will still stand and if he’ll go
around his own father to help. I imagine Jack will. He’s always been as strong
and strong-willed as his father. A handsome youth with dimpled cheeks when
smiling and a heart-stopping glare from normally gentle eyes…I doubt Jack
realizes just how much like his father he really is.
I pull my car into the small drive I have as I spot another car pull up to the
street behind me. A man gets out. “Of course,” I sigh recognizing him as I turn
off the engine and open my door. “Ethan.”
He heads over with a smile at his name. “Thought talkin’ to Jack again might go
best if I brought someone he knew better along.”
I get out of the car and started to head over. “Dr Reid knows him the best.”
“Reid’s busy.”
“With?”
Ethan shrugs.
“Is that a you don’t know or you won’t tell me?”
Ethan smiles, closing the gap between us. “He’s talkin’ to some press folk with
that Gideon guy. Makin’ sure that they don’t start diggin’ for a story with Sam
and all.” His smile becomes a smirk. “Happy?”
“About?”
“Bein’ let in on somethin’ you don’t even need to know.”
I give a small smile, but say nothing.
“So, what’s with Hotch?”
“He’s being protective.”
“Jack don’t look like he needs protectin’.”
“Everyone needs protecting, Ethan.”
“Do you need protecting, Emily?”
I debate answering. I debate showing him how much I don’t and how much I do.
“We should go find Jack.”
“I already know where he is.”
“Where?”
“Gideon’s place, Nightingale’s.”
“I know where that is,” I turn to get back into my car. “How about I drive?”
Ethan takes my hand. “How ‘bout ya let me chauffer you?”
I’m inclined to decline and he seems to know it.
“It makes me seem more gentlemanly.”
“I thought you liked playing the rogue?” I tease some.
“I do. The gentlemanly rogue.”
“Fine, but you’ll take my directions and tell me what it is, exactly, you need
Jack to do for us.”
“How come?”
“Because I’m going to be the one talking to Jack.”
“But –“
I spin at his car. “You said you wanted someone he knew to talk to him.”
“Fair enough.”
                                      ***
Jack sits at the corner of the bar with a petite blond I recognize immediately:
Lilith Foyet. I’m not all that surprised, word in the city is that Jack looks
out for her…not that her last name wasn’t plenty of protection alone. The girl
looks up, catches my eye, and gives her father’s smirk.
“Lil,” Jack calls before giving a sigh. “Lil, you need to concentrate.”
“Puta y pendejo a las seis, ” the girl works out in broken Spanish.
Jack turns on his stool, his hand going to his hip as if reaching for a gun,
but he smiles upon seeing it’s me. “Ms Prentiss.”
“Emily.”
“Emily. Jason’s stepped out, did you need something?”
“Jack!” Lil stretched out the vowel in his name plaintively as she squirmed
like a child and leaned on the bar. “You said you’d help me!”
“Uno momento, por favor,” Jack replies with a smile. He gets up and heads over.
“The girl can probably perform a successful surgery on someone, but she can’t
conjugate Spanish for the life of her.”
“I could always give her a hand,” Ethan offers causing both Jack and I to turn
our attention to him. “That way you two can talk and all.”
“Fine, but if you have any sharp objects on you leave them on the bar, here,
before going over there.”
Ethan laughs. “You serious?”
“Deadly.”
He leaves a sheathed knife from his belt on the counter before heading over to
the girl, all smiles. “Hey darlin’, need a hand?”
Lil cocks her head, then her lips, as she gives the approaching Ethan the twice
over. “En Espanol?”
“Hacen necesitan ayuda?”
“Si, senor!” The girl gives a laugh.
Jack watches the two speaking in broken Spanish for a few minutes before his
attention returns to me. “So, you’re going around my dad’s back now? How can I
help?”
I explain to him the basics of the plan, how he can help transport Sam away
from the prison, and even do a preliminary declaration of death if need be.
Jack agrees to it all without concern and only one question. “When do you need
me?”
“I…” I don’t know. “Ethan?”
He’s deep in conversation with Lil at the bar and the body language tells me
they’ve moved on from conjugating verbs. Only after I call his name again does
he turn his attention back to Jack and me.
“When are we doing this?”
Ethan smiles as he gets up. “Jack, you in?”
“Yes, but I need to know the times in order to be sure I’m on-shift.”
“Two days from now.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Two days gives them enough time to relax since our visit and keeps them
from gearing up for the switch to death row at the end of the week, when
they’ll be on high alert again.”
I give a small nod and then shrug. “Two days.”
“I can do that. Either way I’m on most the week so I’ll just try and answer any
call to the prison. You talked to Lil?”
“She’s…an interesting girl.”
Jack smiles a little. “You have no idea how much.” His smile leaves. “If you
made her a part of this I’d like to know exactly how.”
“It’s not important.”
“I assure you it is.”
“Don’t trust her?”
Jack’s face grew serious. “Trusting a girl like Lil completely is never a good
idea. She’s a killer because she enjoys it and, if the task you gave her
involves violence, she’s liable to get carried away.”
“She’s going to get Sam into the infirmary,” Ethan says. “I didn’t tell her how
I just said it had to look bad without actually being bad.”
“I’ll have Gideon work with her on control until it’s time.”
“In the meantime maybe you guys might wanna do a little something about the
problem that is my daddy,” Lil chimes in.
                                      ***
I tell Ethan to stay in Nightingale’s with Jack and Lil where Foyet won’t enter
to cause trouble without good reason. Then I step outside, keeping my eyes
keyed into his.
He sits in his cruiser with a satisfied look on his face. He thinks he’s won
because he got someone to come out and play with him. And not just anyone,
someone he’s wanted for years. I can tell right now he wants nothing more than
a reason to take me into custody. Not arrest me, he doesn’t want that. He just
wants to play, see what he can get out of me and what I can get out of him.
I hang back against the wall as he gets out of his car and leans back on it
with a friendly smile. The floor’s left open for me. Another dance with The
Reaper.
I make my overture in a subtle shift in my jacket, a false adjustment with a
tempting glare in his direction that flashes that gun I’m not supposed to have.
He smirks his appreciation as he heads on over as calmly as if he were just
coming to chat up an old friend. “I swear,” he croons. “It’s like you want me
to take you.”
My eyes never leave his as I smirk back. “Take me in for what?”
He ticks his head to one side, letting his smirk grow into a full-on grin as he
reaches out to pull back my jacket. Pull it open, spread the sides out wide,
and crawl his eyes over my body before leaning in. “Happy to see me or not,
that’s definitely a gun in your pocket.” He chuckles as he takes the weapon,
skimming his fingers over my side to see if I’ll squirm away. “Well, on your
belt anyway.”
I don’t. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead I shift into the touch,
show a flash of boldness that I know he’ll enjoy. “Girl’s gotta protect
herself.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
If we were friends we’d have shared a laugh over that. Instead I simply lift
the corner of my lips. “So what now? You arrest me? Get me in that little
interrogation of yours and…” My eyes crawl over him. “Rough me up?”
“Getting you to sweat under those lights does sound tempting.”
“I sweat a lot better in the dark.”
He spins me fast like we’re back on the dance floor. I’m stopped at the brick
wall that scratches my face while he pins me with his body to get the cuffs on.
“Good. Then we’ll skip the interrogation and go right to the tombs.”
                                      ***
I lean back against the bars of the cell, arms spread but relaxed. "You going
to bark all day, Officer, or are you going to bite?"
He takes the invitation, my latest challenge accepted in the rough capturing of
lips and forcing of his tongue in my mouth. I accept it greedily, thrust mine
right back as I move my hands to go around his neck. But he knows that trick
too well and grabs my wrists to pin back to the bars. I throw a moan into his
mouth. He throws it back deeper, harder, as I pinch his tongue between teeth.
Only when he pulls back do I taste the blood. I know he tastes it too as he
smirks at me.
"Don't tell me you're going to let a little blood ruin the mood."
He almost laughs. "Never."
He must know I’m playing him, but he doesn’t seem to care. What he does care
about is the blood, what we both taste, that it’s still running hard and fast
in our veins. It’s the blood that pushes him back into me, that melts me
between the bars and his body, and that brings both our breaths to unite in the
small space our lips leave.
“I know what are you and Hotchner planning, Emily,” he growls.
“Who says we’re planning anything?” I smile back as I press my body up into
him, swivel when our groins meet.
He chuckles his moan as he releases one hand to grab my jaw, keep me slightly
open-mouthed to suck in that fresh scent I breathe out.
“You’re planning something,” he says, pressing hard into me so the other hand
can wander about my body in search of a home…or at least a place to play for
awhile.
“Prove it.” I begin to undo the buttons of his police-shirt blues.
His hand’s a roamer. It likes new terrain, both of blade and body, and works
its way under the white shirt to skim around my waist. “I don’t have to, I have
confirmation of my own. My only question is,” the words elongate into a moan as
his hand detours down an arousing slope that pulls a moan from me. He needs a
full breath to get the rest out. “When are you breaking Hotch’s little butt-
buddy from prison?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His hand clenches into a fist on the fleshiest part of my ass and he presses me
up into him. He takes hold of my throat. “You think I’m stupid?” His voice
shows the edge his smiling face won’t.
“I think you’re hard,” I laugh soft, almost sweet. My hands skim down his chest
to head for his crotch. I’m not wrong. I start to massage his cock.
One hand works fast to hike up my skirt while the other slips down to enjoy the
full heat of a breast. I press into him, squeeze his hard-on as I spread my
smile. It’s not enough for him though. His hand circles around my ass and hips,
bringing my panties down to my thighs.
“What if someone comes in?” I moan out as his lips land on my throat. At least
Foyet’s a man who knows what he’s doing. I don’t stop working his cock as my
second hand does an expert job at unbuckling his belt.
“I’ll fucking kill them.” He’s not kidding. After all our battles, our dances,
this is where he’s wanted me all along. Moaning under his weight. He’s not
about to stop now. And, honestly, if I didn’t have better things to do I might
not either. Foyet will never be a man I want to be with, but he’s a man I
wouldn’t mind experiencing.
“So…” My own arousal grows when I feel teeth embed into my collarbone and the
sucking of blood to the surface of pale skin, “we’re alone.” I yank apart the
lapels his opened pants made as my panties finally slip their way down my legs
to the floor. I step out and kick them aside.
“Yes,” Foyet growls out. Then, suddenly, that roaming hand that’d been
smoothing over the roundness of ass and thighs finds new terrain. Hot, slick,
terrain that allows the passage of just two of his fingers.
The moan rolls out from my cunt on up. I had a clever line ready to go, but
he’s pulled it right out of me in the steady thrusts of his fingers.
“But maybe you wanna call up Hotch and see if he’d like to take in the show?”
Foyet chuckles. I get a moan out of him.
It’s then that I see Ethan standing back, watching without emotion and with a
gun to the back of Foyet’s head.
Even as more and more of me wants to keep going, to let that pressure building
in my fevered gut find its release, I know I can’t. So I do the only thing I
can: quickly shift tactics and hands to push George off and away. He’s no
longer expecting it, so it’s not difficult. Before he can move back in, he
feels the barrel of Ethan’s gun.
“Lemme guess,” his eyes slip from me to his periphery, “the man from the car?”
“The man from the car,” Ethan confirms.
As much as I hate him, as he disgusts me, I can’t witness Officer Foyet’s
death. I grab my panties and head around both men. “Took you long enough,” I
mutter to Ethan with undirected annoyance and anger.
I walk out without looking back. Not even as I hear the exchange of growls or
fists or grunts and groans. By the time I reach the end of the hall I hear the
unmistakable sound of a body hitting the concrete. I head out the door.
***** Lil Foyet's POV *****
I stand over them both, wicked amusement sweeping my face. The body’s already
let out a sheet of blood over the cell.
“Don’t get up,” I tell him as he kneels before me. “I wanna enjoy this and I
don’t need your voice ruining it.”
Dad looks up at me, smirks, but he does as told.
“You’re pretty pathetic, ya know that, right?” I smile down on him. “Let your
cock do all the thinking with that woman every time.” I reach out and touch his
cheek before moving the hand up into his hair. I bend low to hold his smug
gaze. “Bet she still didn’t even give you a real taste, did she?”
“Am I supposed to answer now?”
I laugh, tightening my hold on his hair. “I’d play nicer if I were you.” My
lips smirk and I turn to glance at Ethan’s body. “After all, I did just save
your life.”
I had nothing against the Bellamy guy, he was actually something of a hoot, but
the guy was pushing it. If anyone’s going to end up killing my father it’s
gonna be me…and I’m not ready yet.
Daddy Dearest sweetens his laugh. I turn back to him. He’s one of the few that
can hold my eyes for longer than a minute or two, but at the moment that’s not
what his eyes are doing. Instead they’re noting those nice little tits I’ve
developed over the past year or so and the flat stomach I’ve kept in spite of
finally getting myself some nice, womanly, thighs and hips.
I smirk a little as I take a step closer to him. “And I bet I can even make you
happy.”
“How’s that?” The heat of his breath huffs onto my stomach.
“I know when the breakout’s going down.”
Despite playing nice Dad’s clearly in little mood to play as he move fast,
grips my thighs and yanks so I fall hard onto my back in the bloody cell floor.
“When?” he growls low as he crowds on top of me, a hand holding my knife by my
head and another on my stomach.
“Say please,” I laugh. Most little girls would be terrified to see their daddy
like this, but not me. I like it. Just like I like the fear in my victims and
when Jason gives that low-down growl when I nip at his earlobe in bed. I’m not
my father, but we certainly share some key characteristics.
The hand moves from playing with my belly-ring to playing with the button on my
fly. “Lil, I’ve had a long, hard, day.”
“Feels like it’s not the only thing long and hard you got.”
Pointing out he’s as hot for me as he is for Emily gets him to stop. “I’m not
in the mood for this shit!” he yells as his hand goes from my pants to my
throat. “Fucking tell me! NOW!!”
“I’ll do you one better,” I croak out. “I’ll kill Sam before they get to him.”
                                      ***
Daddy gets me all the way into one of those rooms reserved for cops and lawyers
to speak with the prisoners privately. It’s perfect. It even has dark corners
for me to tuck myself into for an added bit of fun. He enters cautiously,
immediately scanning the room for potential attackers and jumps when the door
slams shut behind him.
I can’t help but let out a giggle at the poor bastard’s seeming panic. He’s a
jumpy fucker given his size. “So you’re Sam Kassmeyer?” I ask from the dark
corner to his right; he nearly leaps out of his skin. “Calm down, you’re gonna
make me all excited.”
He turns to me as he slowly steps back. “Who’re you?”
“Call me Lil.”
“Lil?” He’s thinking, racking his brain for a connection, then takes a wider
step back. “Lil Foyet.”
“Bingo!” I start to step forward as he continues back. I laugh again. “Oh my
god, will you relax? I’m here to help.”
“Y-You’re who Ethan’s sent?”
“Gotta make it believable right? Not like Hotch could come in and stab you.”
His unnerved face makes me laugh all the more, but I quickly make the effort to
collect myself. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it as painless as possible. Promise.”
“So, how do we…” Sam doesn’t even want to finish the question. He really is a
riot.
“Wow, you really haven’t killed anyone, have you?”
“No.”
I head over to the pock marked table in the center of the room as I reply. “I’m
gonna stab you, Sam. Enough that you’ll bleed a lot, but not so much you die.”
Hopefully, for him, anyway. I stop and crook my finger for him to come over. He
doesn’t seem sure he wants to, though. Apparently my kind makes him a little
nervous. “Come on, we don’t have all day.”
“Couldn’t you just…pretend to stab me?”
I giggle a little. “The guards need to see blood, Sam, or they’re not gonna
take any of this seriously.” He starts to edge closer, like a wary dog or
something. “That’s it, Sammy, come on. You’ll barely feel it, I promise. Just a
little more.”
The moment he’s within reach my knife’s out of my back pocket and in his gut.
His eyes bug, breathing stops, and blood flows out onto my hand and coats it
red. I twist my wrist down to open the wound just a touch, cause the blood to
run thicker. Sam’s air comes back in my name. “Lil?”
My own breath catches in the vision of pain and confusion mixing in his eyes. I
have to concentrate, stay focused, so breathe deep and carefully as I pull the
blade out. I grab his shirt and yank down hard sending his head into the table
with a crack. He crumples onto the floor with a groan and red trickling down
from his head. The trickle soon becomes a small pour…head wounds are always
bleeders.
“Don’t freak out, it won’t kill you, just bleed a lot.” I whisper. My heart’s
beating a mile a minute and I want nothing more than to slip my knife into him
over and over as I get down on my knee next to him. “Relax,” I tell myself,
reminding myself, as his muscles tense. “I have to make this look real and…”
the urge comes and I can’t resist sliding the knife into his side, “it’ll go so
much easier if you relax.”
I knew getting a kill under my belt with Ethan wouldn’t be enough. The urges
are always getting stronger and, in wanting to spare a decent guy a lot of
pain, I didn’t take the time to enjoy the kill. Me and my stupid sense of
humanity.
I slip the knife back into my pocket and stand. I smile a little at the man
bleeding, curled, on the concrete floor. “Thanks for not losing your shit,
Sammy. Now play hurt and good luck.”
I turn on my heel, hit the door twice, and head out once the CO opens it.
***** Aaron Hotchner's POV *****
When Emily called from Gideon’s to tell me what happened, and that Ethan never
came back out of police headquarters, I got a sinking feeling. As I watch
Lilith Foyet nearly skip out the front of the prison and head into her father’s
cruiser parked nearby the feeling is confirmed. That little psycho-bitch fucked
us over. The girl’s been playing both sides for years, now she’s made her
choice and it’s not the one Gideon swore she would. I knew it. Jason was too
blind to see it, but I see it…and now I’m going to fucking destroy it.
I’m out of my car and to theirs in under two. The baton unleashes in its
journey to the glass window that shatters and showers the car’s occupants.
Foyet exits his own car through the broken window before I drop him on his back
and set my foot on his neck. “Move and die.”
Foyet gurgles out a laugh.“You’re kidding,” he croaks out.
I cock the gun. “I’m not. Lil, get your ass out the car now!”
The girl works her way out of the car from the other side, shaking glass off
her clothes and out of her hair as she does. She giggles. “What’s up, Captain
America?”
“Get in my car.”
“Why?”
Foyet laughs. “You really think –“
I shoot out his kneecap and he screams, curses. “Shut up,” I growl.
“Woah!” Lil laughs. “Someone sure is testy!”
I glance up, lock eyes with her, and aim the gun at her. “You have five seconds
to get in the car or you’re next.”
“Really?”
I cock back the hammer and her hands go up with a laugh as she finally heads to
my vehicle. I give Foyet two more shots before catching sight of the ambulance.
Sam. I shoot out two of the cruiser’s tires and head back to my own car. “If
he’s dead, I’ll fucking kill you.”
Lil smirks as she leans against my car. “Which he are you talking about?”
I grab her by the throat and pin her against the door before putting the barrel
of the gun to her head. “You think this is a fucking game?”
She hasn’t even flinched as she bites her lip. “Why not go full-on badass and
put it in my mouth?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah, I really would.”
I step back. “Take off the backpack and remove your weapons.”
She leans towards me. “Don’t you wanna do it, Aaron?” I fire just over the car,
but close enough to her body that she jumps. “Fine,” she relinquishes.
By the time I see the ambulance leaving the prison, sirens wailing and lights
flashing, Lil’s left her bag and two knives next to her. I order her into the
car before throwing her stuff in the trunk and hopping in and starting the car.
“You kill him?”
“Your father?”
“Yeah, did ya kill him?” Her tone is one most teen girls reserve for asking
their little girlfriends about dating and kissing boys.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know.”
“He might die, he might live,” I answer as I start the car and begin to follow
Sam in the ambulance.
Lil smiles a little, bats her lashes. “You don’t care, do you?”
“Not right now. Right now I care about Sam. And, if you killed Sam, no matter
how accidental, I’m going to be the one who kills you.”
“Fair enough.” There’s all of five minutes of blessedly silent speeding before
the little bitch speaks up again. “Ya know, you haven’t even asked me.”
“Asked you what?”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
She just laughs. “Why I killed Ethan, stupid. I mean I know you know that’s
what’s happened, but you haven’t even asked me why.”
“You’re a sadist, a psychopathic killer who gets pleasure from murdering
others. I don’t have to ask why, what you are is enough.”
“You really think so?”
“Yes, you’re just like your father. Now shut the hell up.”
“You’re wrong.”
My hands grip the steering wheel as I see the ambulance turn off all signs of
urgency.
Lil either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “We needed my dad to live to get me
into the prison but Ethan…that guy was never leaving this town alive.”
“He was leaving the moment the job was done, your father wouldn’t have had the
chance for revenge.”
“Oh, great, so then my dad woulda just destroyed everything he loved here
instead. Ya know, Dr Boy, Jason, Emily…Jack.”
“Shut up.”
“Get your head out your moral ass, Aaron. Stop being such a pathetic excuse for
a –“
My fist flies out and she slumps into the car door. I’m grateful for the
silence.
                                      ***
I pull up to the entrance of the morgue just minutes after the ambulance. I
hang back and watch, wait, and pray that Sam’s alive.
Jack jumps out the back of the ambulance as his partner comes out around the
front to help him. They work together to pull Sam out on a stretcher before
Jack pulls up the sheet to cover Sam’s face. The men wheel their dead patient
into the building for drop-off. It doesn’t take long; the two EMTs are back out
and into their truck in about five minutes. As they pass I swear I catch a
smile from Jack thrown in my direction.
I start to get out when I hear Lil groan as she finally comes to. “Fuck me,”
she mutters as she pushes herself up to sit back in the passenger seat. Her lip
as blood on it and her cheek’s a touch swollen.
“Come on, you’re coming with me.” It’s an order, but I keep my voice soft,
borderline gentle, for the moment.
Her head lolls towards me before she smiles a little. “Nice hit.”
“I…I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
Because I hit a girl, a young girl, a girl who bears more resemblance to those
I protect than those I go after. I don’t answer.
Lil’s smile grows as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Don’t
worry about it, Hotchner, I’ve gotten more from worse.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Knock it off.” She rolls and shifts her way out of my car. “I’m not whatever
you’re seeing at the moment.” She stands up straight and looks at me over the
car before giving a smile that re-splits her lip. “Don’t ever forget that.”
I look away, focus on locking the car door. “Come on, let’s go in.”
“Find out if I live to see another day?”
                                      ***
Thankfully I know the ME, Sarah Danlin, from my days on the force so when I see
her out in the hall, when see her smile, I’m a touch more at peace.
“Gideon called about an hour or so ago.” Her smile grows as I get closer. “And
Jack slipped me a note in Sam’s file so everything’s all set.”
My voice is shaky. “He’s okay?”
“He’s out, but he’s alive.”
I don’t press my luck by asking for more details at the moment. Instead I just
smile and follow Sarah the rest of the way into the autopsy room, keeping Lil
close by me while I do.
“The drugs should wear off shortly,” says Danlin. “Then I’ll give him some
locals to stitch him up, check his vitals, and, if he’s feeling all right,
he’ll be good to go.”
“Thank you.”
“You and Officer Gideon saved me that night at the bar.” She smiles. “This is
the least I can do.”
“Still, it’s…it’s a lot.”
There’s a groan from the teen next to me. “Make out already if that’s what
you’re going to do. I’m bored and wanna get out of here.”
Sarah’s eyes go to Lil and her face grows concerned. “What happened to you?”
“Not everyone loves me as much as good old Hotchner here,” Lil cracks with a
laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.”
“You’ll have a bruised cheek, possibly a black eye,” the ME counters as she
heads over to us. “And your lip’s cut open.” Lil just shrugs. “Sit down, I’ll
get you an ice pack.”
Lil does as told and, for a few brief moments, I’m left out of the loop as
Sarah dotes on the girl. I suppose I should just be happy Lil doesn’t say it
was me…but then that’d be the simple, quick, revenge and if a girl like Lil
wanted revenge it’d be anything but simple and quick.
There is sudden movement beneath Sam’s sheet.
“Sarah,” I call warily at first, then more insistent when the movement picks up
in the heaving of my friend’s chest. “Sarah!”
Danlin leaves Lil with a covered ice pack and the suggestion to stay seated for
the moment before rushing over to Sam and me. Sam’s eyes start to move,
flutter, then they open. “How do you feel?” Sarah asks even before I can.
“Sore…sick.” he croaks out as his eyes dart about until they spot me. He gives
a smile and I return it tenfold. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“You have the wound in your stomach and on your side and a nasty bump on the
head, but I think you’ll survive,” says Danlin. “Would you like to try and sit
up?” Sam nods and the young woman goes to support him with a hand on his and
another at his back. “The sickness is probably a mix of a mild concussion and
the sedative.”
Sam starts to tip back before he even gets up all the way, but this time I move
to grab him. He turns his head towards me. “Hotch?”
“I got you Sam.”
“You always do.”
“How long before he can leave, Dr Danlin? I don’t want someone catching on.”
“How about you use my phone to make whatever calls are needed to transport Sam
out of town while I stitch him up? It’ll cut down the time and he might be
ready when whoever else is helping you arrives.”
I nod as I help Sam relax back down on the table before heading over to Sarah’s
private office. It’s then I realize Lil is gone. The icepack sits where she did
not moments before, but otherwise there’s no sign of her.
                                      ***
By the time Sarah is finishing off Sam’s sutures and giving him some extra pain
meds for later, Josh Cramer has arrived.
“How are you going to get him out of the city?” I ask him as we step out into
the hall.
“I can’t tell you that, Aaron. But you know me, you know I’ve done this
before.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So you know that there is nothing I won’t do to ensure Sam stays safe and
unfound.” I nod a little and Cramer’s smile turns more genuine. “Good. Now go
in and spend some time with your friend before we have to go.”
I just nod again before going back into the autopsy room. “Cramer’s outside
waiting so, well…”
Sarah just smiles as she goes to grab some clothing off the nearby counter.
“Just as soon as he can change into these.”
“Can you?” I ask in such a serious tone Sam laughs at me a little. It’s so
carefree and genuine it’s like music to me.
“I’m a big boy, I think I’ll be all right.” he replies, still chuckling, as he
takes the clothes from Sarah.
“Sure, you say that now,” I deadpan. “Then I’m picking you up, half-naked, off
the floor.”
“If I end up on the floor, half-naked,” he says, not missing a beat, “send in
Dr Sarah.”
I give Sam his privacy, but stick to the other side of the small divider in the
room just in case.
“You know where I’m going?”
I stand as I answer. “No, but I’m not supposed to. Josh is…he’s good at this,
Sam. He’ll set up you somewhere safe, somewhere far away from here. I
just…can’t know where that is.”
Sam appears with clothes that are mismatched; the top is twice his size and the
bottoms are a couple of inches too short. I choke on a small laugh.
“So I do look as ridiculous as I think I do.”
"I’m afraid so.”
Sam turns to Sarah. “Where did you get this stuff, anyway?”
The woman smiles at us both. “Off your roommate over there.” She points to the
dead man a few tables over.
“Ew.”
“Better than the I-just-escaped-from-prison look,” I say. “Here, you can have
my shoes.”
“That’s okay, Aaron.” Sam smiles. “I am supposed to be dead after all.”
My head snaps up. “I’m so very glad you’re not, Sam.” There’s a moment I swear
I’m about to get misty-eyed, but I simply take a deep breath and carry on. “Are
you ready to start your new life?”
“As I’ll ever be. Just wish you could be a bigger part of it.”
“So do I.” The fact that I’ve given him this new one is enough though…it has to
be.
                              -- EPILOGUE: SAM --
The sun is hot, scorching, but the breeze off the ocean and margaritas keep me
cool. It’s beautiful here, so much so I almost feel guilty.
“Samuel Kassmeyer?”
I know better than to answer, so instead I just open my eyes under my shades to
see who it is. The sunlight silhouettes the man in a way that blocks out all
his details. “I’m afraid you have me mistaken for someone else.”
“So you’re not the guy who once set fire to his own kitchen because he couldn’t
keep his eyes off the waitress he’d hired that very day?”
I smile wide and take off my shades as I move to stand. “Aaron!” We meet for a
hug and, for a brief moment, I worry we’ll crush each other. “What are you
doing here?”
Hotch smiles. “A private eye can’t take a vacation?”
“Sure he can,” I tease. “Just not you.”
Hotch laughs and we both move to sit in the lounge chairs. Hotch eyes the drink
and open book left next to his chair. “Are you…with someone?”
I laugh and then smile over at him as I put my sunglasses back on. “Sort of,
but don’t worry, she won’t mind.”
“The hell I won’t,” Jordan’s voice comes up behind us. She crouches down
between Hotch and I with a teasing smile. “Get out of my seat, Private
Investigator Hotchner, Sam’s my man.”
                                   ***///***
           "Thank you for getting me out" ~ Colin, The Great Escape
End Notes
     Written for Alternate_Universe_Big_Bang_2011.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!