âyou should be at the clubâ Brother I should literally be sent to the seaside for my health
156K notes
·
View notes
So so so so fxcking talented!!!! Your story with bugsy and Spencer has me hooked. I canât wait for the next part!!! Can you pretty please add me to the taglist đ©đ«¶
đ„čđ„čđ„čđ„č thankyou so much this is so nice to hear when these chapters take so long to write and so much effort Iâm so pleased everyone likes it!!
ofcourse I can honey!! I canât wait to see what you think of the next one đ„č
7 notes
·
View notes
whenâs the next part coming out? I read it all in a dayđ
soon I promise! I have it mostly written in just not happy with a few bits here and there so Iâm just going to fine tune them and it will be out then!! Thankyou so much for the love đ„°
4 notes
·
View notes
i think the cliffhanger on the latest part of prentiss!reader may kill me
Iâm so sorry you only have a few days to wait at most!!
5 notes
·
View notes
I literally started binging the entire spencer reid fics and when I finished part 3 and went back to the top it was RIGHT WHEN you uploaded part 4 and I LOVED reading it and I will cry if I think about bugsy being in the burning bank for too long!! Youâre so talented in your writing, the depth of the characters and the stubborn âI like them but they probably donât like meâ both spencer and bugsy have! Thank you SO MUCH for writing this series!! Canât wait for the next part to be up!
what would they be if not emotionally stunted!! I love that they are literally the same person in different fonts and so they just canât fathom that they could ever get each other, I love writing for them!!
THANKYOU SO MUCH for your kind kind words!! Itâs so lovely to hear what everyone thinks (and how much everyone is cursing me for this angst) but next chapter is out soon I promise!!
thankyou so much again honey !! đ
2 notes
·
View notes
how dare u đȘ đ
( canât wait for the next part)
I know I canât believe I did that đ„Čđ„ș
(I am planning big angst next chapter aswell)
1 note
·
View note
Heyy, I just wanted to say that I absolutely loved the new chapter of your Spencer x Bugsy series. Iâm currently in the middle of my exam season (really regret picking that law degree right about now but hey, following in Hotchnerâs footsteps I guess lol) so you have no idea how happy it made me to see another chapter. I love love love the relationship between Spence and Bugsy. I also love how fatherly Rossi is and how he truly cares about the team. I also liked how Bugsy didnât forgive Emily straight away but took some time. And that moment at the end between the two of them when they finally made up was so sweet. I also really liked the little moment between Bugsy and Strauss, Iâll be honest I was NOT expecting her to show up. AND THE CLIFFHANGER?!? I will be checking your page non-stop now to see if the next part is up. But overall I just wanted to say that your work is absolutely incredible so thank you for thatđđ
hello!! Thankyou so much Iâm so glad my writing bought you been the smallest bit of happiness and I LOVE LOVE LOVE when people tell me what their favourite parts are of my series itâs so validating!! the next part is coming soon Iâm just fine tuning the little bits, but thankyou so much for messaging itâs so sweet of you and it really makes all the difference when these things take so long to write!!!
Also good luck for your exams my love!!! đđđ
6 notes
·
View notes
⥠beautiful ghosts masterlist.
here you can find all content for the beautiful ghosts universe, a sequel trilogy star wars fanfiction featuring original characters. this story is told through a series of connected one-shots and is cross-posted on ao3. fic tag.
âââ summary:    YEARS AFTER THE REBELLION TAKES DOWN THE EVIL EMPIRE, all seems to be at peace in the galaxy. Luke Skywalker sets forth training a new generation of Jedi, his nephew Rion among them; Leia and her wife, Ashka, use their power and influence as former princesses to continue making the galaxy the best place it can be, and Yve moves from one chaotic life to another, as her daughter Pandora is born only months after the Empire is destroyed.
   They grow together, four children with the impossible legacy of their parents pressing down on their shoulders, baring the weight of it together. Difficult Dory, entirely too much like her roguish father Han, and her sister, Clarya, entirely too angelic to be related to either of her misfit parents. Troubled Rion, the son of two princesses who struggles with an incredible power flowing like molton lava through his veins, and his sister Mare, who only seeks to keep them all safe, and happy, and together.
   They could conquer anything. For a while, everything is almost perfect.
   But good things rarely last forever.
   After a tragic accident brings the Solo family to its knees, eighteen-year-old Dory takes to the stars, fleeing the memory of a dead sister she failed to protect. Rion falls prey to the darkness lingering at his shoulder, blamed for something he cannot remember, while Mare would happily follow her brother into the abyss if it meant saving him, and little Clarya...
   Well, nobody talks about her anymore.
   Nearly thirty years after the Empire's fall, something darker has risen in its place. Helmed by a monster who makes puppets out of lost, broken boys, the First Order seeks to crush the galaxy once and for all  ââ and the resistance, led once again by General Leia Organa and her wife, Colonel Ashka Cybele, will stop it by whatever means necessary.
   If that means sacrificing their children, then that is what they must do.
âââ warnings: canon-typical violence, basically a sequel-trilogy rewrite, minor character death, angst angst angst. individual chapters will contain specific warnings.
đ°đ«đąđđąđ§đ . works will be posted in chronological order of the timeline.
prologue: the burning sky ⥠coming soon.
part one: the red light [pre tfa-tfa] ⥠coming soon.
part two: monsters we've known & loved [tlj] ⥠coming soon.
part three: how to be haunted [tros] ⥠coming soon.
đđđąđđŹ.
gifsets ⥠poe & dory /
videos ⥠the organa siblings.
misc. ⥠solo sisters moodboard / cast list edit tbd.
8 notes
·
View notes
ohhhhhh iâm going to be checking tumblr religiously until the next part comes out
ITS MOSTLY WRITTEN I PROMISE it was just wayyyyyy too long for tumblr to handle it!!
10 notes
·
View notes
Like bugsy malone?
ooo very interesting but no!
I got the idea for her name from the word bugsy meaning crazy or âdriven unstable by bugsâ, basically because she was such a wild child Emily have her the nickname when she was younger :))
6 notes
·
View notes
hi!! im just gonna go straight to the point here....YOU ARE SO AMAZING ASDJISJFDGFH. no seriously, whenever i see you post anything spencer or bucky related i gasp so hard sometimes my sister might think im crazy lmfao and yeah i love your works, it always makes my day<33
ps. your prentiss!reader stories made me sob so hard so please pay for my therapy thank you:)
thankyou so so so much this is so very kind to say đ„čđ„čđ„č I really hope you liked the new chapter!! Bugsy is literally the closest Iâve ever gotten to writing someone who feels like me into a story and the love she has received is SO validating, Iâm so pleased you like my silly little writings from my silly little brain đ„čđ„č
THANKYOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE & SUPPORT đđđđđđđđ
5 notes
·
View notes
i'm gonna go crazy! i was just looking for the last details in my new fanfic before starting to write and now i have a hundred new ideas in my mind that i also want to write aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
talk me through it!! spill the beans we can work through it together!!!
3 notes
·
View notes
I just desperately want buggsy to be happy like all I want is for that little freak and Spencer to have weird genius babies and a quiet life and yet The Horrors persist (please tell me she meets Cat it's all I've ever wanted)
The horrors do indeed persist (for one more chapter and then I promise I wonât put you guys through so much angst) đ„č
and yes bugsy is going to meet cat and yes she is going to eat that woman for breakfast
10 notes
·
View notes
THE KID HITS BACK | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [4]
Description: The THREE times things feel weird between Spencer and you because you're just best friends.
Length: 21k (this is HALF of what I wrote for this chapter before I split it into two parts :0)
Warnings: explicit hints of suicidal ideation, as I have said in the last two chapters, Bugsy has really struggled with losing Emily and has been in a bad place. it is mentioned once or twice but please read with caution if you feel topics of mental health, not vividly described but the effects of it, are mentioned. Spencer's addiction is also mentioned. Violence, blood, swearing, usual CM warnings. Also there is a brief mention of SA (bugsy gets spanked by a stranger in a casino), again if this is triggering please be cautious. EXPLOSION. Emily and bug argue + fight. Bug + hatch fight. Bugsy takes no prisoners in this one won't lie. Spencer and bugsy turn each other on accidentally.
authors note: this was supposed to be a lot longer (I've had to split it with the next part released in a few days time) and yet every time I tried to upload to Tumblr, it crashed because it was over 30k words ;-; OTHER HALF IS COMING SOON.
previous chpt | next chapter
The one where Emily comes back.
She felt the headache as soon as she woke up. Sheâd experimented with Molly her first week of college, hated every second of it after she had prattled on for two hours to some other random freshman about the breakthrough research in enzyme-replacement therapy like she was catching him up on an episode of the Kardashians. Sheâd tried the odd few brownies, though they usually turned her stomach the next day and made her paranoid for about a week, before she swore them off entirely for their yummy, sober counterpart.Â
She should have known what to expect when she woke up, but then again, if she had been smart enough to pre-empt how awful sheâd feel the next day, she probably wouldnât have taken the little pink pill with a candied love heart on the top at all.Â
The duvet was soft against her face, and for a moment she didnât care about anything except chasing the warmth it provided; just that she was cosy and it smelled nice, smelled familiar.Â
Her eyes pinged open when she realised that whatever that familiar smell was, it was very much not her own sheets. And she was very much not in the clothes she left the house in last night.Â
Bugsy sat up too fast, that much she knew, because in the time it had taken her to swing her legs over the edge of the bed, reach for the side table where she hoped to find her phone, a home phone, or just any working phone she could call someone off, she felt the room that smelled like a dream spinning around her.Â
Her legs turned to jelly, her stomach tossed with a mix of nerves and nausea, and, graceful as ever, she fell face first to the ground with a thud, smacking her temple off the corner of the bedpost on her way down.Â
âFuck,â She whined, raising a hand to her brow that thudded with more than the side affects of last night, and she was quick to hear footsteps approaching as if in a half run. The door to the bedroom dragged on the thick sherpa carpet as it swung open, and she blinked wearily up at the culprit.Â
âAlright, up we get,â There were hands slipping under hers before she got a chance to see anything that wasnât a blurry mess of brown hair and worried eyes, and it wasnât until she heard his voice she felt herself sigh in relief, âOf course you wake up the second I turn around,â
âSencer?,â She cleared her throat, hands latching onto his shoulders as he lifted her back onto the bed, âSpencer?â She tried again, her lips chapped, her skin clammy.Â
âGood morning, to you too,â His voice was soft, quieter than usual, like he knew just how delicate her head was and changed his tone accordingly, âDid you sleep well?â
âMorgan- whereâs Morgan, I thought weâŠâ She murmured, turning her head in confusion to the window where Spence had gone so far as to pull the curtains closed for her, seeing just the smallest crack of daylight filtering over the bed sheets. Her hands ran down his chest, her eyes lost and dazed, like someone had taken her batteries out, and Spencer took it as an opportunity to hand her the glass of water heâd got her and two advil.Â
âMorganâs safe; he went home, he said he had a wonderful night,â Spencer lied, hoping she was just a little out of it that she didnât catch him in it. She always knew when he was lying. But, as heâd suspected, she barely picked up on it, her lips pouting in confusion when she took note of the medicine heâd given her, âDrink up, Morgan said you did a lot of dancing last night, youâre probably dehydrated.â
âI didâŠâ She echoed him, trailing off when the blur of the nightclub caught up to her, and she remembered exactly the last time someone had handed her a little tablet like those ones. Her heart plummeted, her eyes widening into saucers, and she swore she might have felt the glass crack beneath her palm with how tight her grip became. She looked up at him, and instantly picked apart the pity and the sadness swimming in his honey pooled eyes, âYou know,âÂ
He nodded softly, his hand coming up to stroke her hair away from her face, his gaze falling to where she felt something sore and achy forming on her forehead, bleeding into her brow.Â
âSpence-â Her own groan of pain cut her off when he brushed over the bump on her temple, and she understood she had perhaps hit it much harder than sheâd initially thought.
âLetâs get you breakfast, and then weâll talk,â He whispered softly, concern thick in his voice, and for the first time in months, she didnât fight it. She just listened, and let him love her.
-
âGod, I am truly pathetic,â She muttered, sipping her coffee with a scowl in between the maple ladened pancakes going down with a vicious chomp on her fork. Her other hand was occupied holding a bag of frozen peas to her head, where a nice dark bruise was spreading its way over the right side of her face, spider webbing out into a black eye.Â
âYouâre not pathetic, everyone makes mistakes,â Spencer tried reassuring her, but he couldnât help but smile as she devoured breakfast with the anger of a raccoon being dragged from a garbage bin, âYouâre safe, thatâs all that matters,âÂ
She sighed, and Spencer didnât actually think she had ever been so grumpy around him before, âSpencer, look at me,â He did, he had been all morning, but he did as he was told anyway, âIâm a federal agent who took molly from a frat boy all because I canât just grieve like a normal person and cry my pathetic little heart out and be done with it. I crashed your night because I canât even handle a little ecstasy without needing supervision and I just got into a fight with your bedframe,â She finished with a huff, dipping her next mouthful of pancake in the puddle of maple syrup sheâd created on the plate, âAnd the fucking bedframe won.âÂ
He smiled despite himself, reaching out to hold her wrist gently, making sure it was her turn to listen to him now, âBug, I grew up being shoved into lockers and swirlied my whole life. I was the only kid in a classful of seniors that used to wedgie me so hard I had to have the school librarian, Mrs Addler, walk me between classes. Believe me, Iâve seen pathetic and youâre not- why are you crying, Bug, donât cry,â
He remembered this bit, the mood swings, when he would pendulum between exhaustion and irritation straight into sadness and hopelessness, like there would never be an impasse between them unless he did more of the thing that had made him feel so awful in the first place. Still, he gently took the bag of now slightly soggy peas from her head, wrapping an arm around her back and scooching his chair to sit next to hers as she dropped onto his shoulder with a weepy sniff.Â
âIâm crying because I just thought of baby you all alone with Mrs Addler-â She sobbed loudly, and his heart bled out in his chest with warmth. No one had ever cried for him. âHow could they be so cruel to you, I swear if we ever see those bastards, Iâll show them how we settled things in Russia-âÂ
He chuckled, shaking his head, and she snuggled closer to him the way she had last night when the only thing keeping her on earth had been his body heat.Â
âIt wasnât all bad, she used to share her butterscotch with me,â He said with a small smile when she raised a wet glance at him.Â
âYou know, you never have to be alone again, right?â Bugsy murmured, and he swore his heart might have just jumped right up into his mouth then and there, âYouâre my best friend in the whole world, and I promise Iâll never leave you again. That was⊠selfish of me, Iâm sorry I was so selfish.âÂ
Spencer felt his throat tighten as he looked at her, innocent and entirely truthful, like he could ask anything from her right this second and her godâs honest words would be âAnything for you, Spencer, Iâd do anything for you.â He had never had anyone look at him like that, nothing even close.Â
âYouâre my best friend too. And you werenât selfish, you were grieving,â He choked out, and she tucked herself beneath his chin then, satisfied with the response, but his stomach turned sour when he remembered what he was going to tell her last night, what he should have told her months, years, ago instead of lying to her. Because he knew she would understand, knew she would get him the way no one else had even tried to, because she was just her. âI have to tell you something,â
She sat up straight, sensing the seriousness in his tone, and looked at him with imploring eyes, still sleep-addled and slightly wet around the edges.Â
He cleared his throat, âWhen I told you I was allergic to narcotics since I was born, that wasnât entirely true, and Iâm sorry I lied to you,â Her brows softened, creasing in a way that told him she was worried, or she knew where he was heading but couldnât find a voice in her to say anything. He ran clammy palms over his pyjama pants, âThere was a case, a while back, where we were tracking an UnSub to this farmhouse in the middle of Atlanta. Me and JJ got split up and the UnSub took me hostage in his fatherâs shed,âÂ
She stayed quiet, but she quickly took his hand in hers when she saw him fidgeting with it in his lap. He smiled at her weakly, and squeezed her fingers gently, telling her he was okay to talk about it no matter if his chest was rattling and his face felt like fire.Â
âHe was very sick, the UnSub. Tobias. He took on an alter of his dead father because he couldn't handle life without him. Even though his father was extremely violent and abusive, he still loved him enough to never want to let him go,â His lip pulled between his teeth for a moment, and he couldnât look at her for what he was about to say, âTobias tried giving me something to stop the pain of his fatherâs beatings when he would front and being a drug addict himself, the best thing he had was dilaudid. So, he gave it to me for the three days I was with him before the team found me,âÂ
âSpence,â She said softly, knowing he would hate to hear an âIâm sorryâ because she hated those two words with a passion, âYou donât have to tell me if you donât want to,âÂ
âNo, I want to, itâs just a little⊠fuzzy in parts,â He whispered, and she nodded, gently knocking her head against his jaw to let him know she was there to listen, âAfter the case wrapped up, everyone got home and just sort of pretended things went back to normal, even though I felt like I was drowning in everything that had happened, and the only thing I could think that had stopped the pain was the dilaudid. So I took more, and more, until I was using every other day, sometimes even at work to cope with the cases,â
âDid anyone know?â She asked, lips pressed tight as she scolded herself for talking, but he stroked her hand with his thumb to show he didnât care if she asked questions, âDid Emily know?âÂ
He nodded gingerly, âEveryone knew, but no one could do anything, or say anything, because otherwise Hotch would have to file a report on me, and Iâd be forced to leave the team,âÂ
âSo no one helped?â She said, and there was an unexpected trace of anger in her tone that he knew too well. Heâd be lying if he said that there were more than a handful of times when he was at his lowest he didnât curse the team out for not giving a single shit about his condition. But when heâd sobered up, when heâd got clean and back to his usual self, he knew they were trying to do what was best, that they were in uncharted waters as to what would be the correct approach to helping him that wouldnât diffuse a bomb that could ruin all of their careers.Â
âThere was nothing they could do, Bug. If they said anything they would be just as liable as me for what I was doing, the same way Morgan and I arenât going to say a word about what happened last night,â He pointed out, and she seemed bitter as if she knew he was right but hated the point of it anyway.Â
She held onto herself for long enough hearing that, and he saw it coming before it came as a shock when she threw her arms around him, hugging him tighter than she ever had before, not crying like she had been, but full to the brim of sadness and grief and mourning, as if she was trying to squeeze it all out of him so she could take it on for herself.Â
âYouâre never going to be alone again, I swear, Spencer,âÂ
And he believed her with everything in him.Â
â
Bugsy had been back in the field for five weeks now, looking healthier than ever thanks to Hotchâs insistence she joined Beth for triathlon practice despite the fact she really had started feeling more like herself.Â
It had only taken six months, but who was counting, right?Â
Sure, walking past Emilyâs desk had stopped her in her tracks the first day she got back, and Morgan had quickly jumped in to distract her with a cup of coffee, leading her over to the kitchenette and far away from the empty table her sisterâs things had once been on.Â
She was still adjusting to this alternate reality version of the BAU where Emily wasnât there to protect her and watch out for her, and where they didnât bicker about who got to ride shotgun with Hotch because Bug loved when he would drive fast (he pretended not to notice but would floor it when they hit the freeway), or when they would butt heads over who finished off the biscuits Emily kept in her secret stash (it was almost always Bugsy sharing them with Spencer and Penelope, when the three of them would gossip in Penâs lair at lunchtime.)
She was adjusting, slowly yes, but there was one thing to keep her going, to keep her holding her head high as she walked past Emilyâs picture on the way, full of smiles and dark hair the day sheâd been instated in the bureau, her excitement tangible even through a piece of paper and a thin sheet of glass.Â
There was one thing keeping her going, and it wasnât Penelopeâs cheerful good mornings she showered her in the minute she entered the building, it wasnât Bethâs runs that would take everything out of her even though she felt stronger than she ever had, it wasnât Rossiâs insistence on cooking for her once or twice a week because âhe had more wine he could ever need alone and she could stir the pasta while he chopped the meatâ, and it wasnât even Spencer sticking to her side like damn velcro since she had been back. Although, they played a pretty big part in it.Â
No, the one thing keeping her going was revenge.Â
Morgan had let it slip accidentally, the morning she had come back into the headquarters to fill in some forms with Hotch and Strauss before Hotch was reassigned to Pakistan, when she had slinked into his office with an apology ready at her lips for the way she had behaved, to which he was going to say he had no idea what she was talking about because that was how things had to be, only to find file upon file upon caseload on Ian Doyle splayed all over his desk, and she quickly realised Derek was not one to let sleeping dogs lie either.Â
And, reluctantly, he had let her help, because he hated the idea of them keeping secrets from her. Especially ones that involved them secretly tracking down the guy who killed her sister, who had threatened to abduct, torture and kill her if Emily hadnât gone after him first.Â
Because Bugsy was always going to be her little sister, no matter how grown and headstrong and stubborn as an ass she was. And Emily had had zero intention of letting Bugsy come even close to danger at the hands of Ian Doyle or any other motherfucker dumb enough to think theyâd get away unscathed making threats to her sister. Which was why Emily had been the one to track him down first, no matter who she had to trample on, what lines she had to cross.
And now it was Bugâs turn to reciprocate the favour.Â
The one thing that bounced around her head with every step she took across the BAU floor was how Ian Doyle would look when she dragged him to hell and back and everything in between, when she made him burn the way she had burnt.Â
Hotch had been away on temporary duty for the month, bar the occasional phone call where he checked in on her directly or through Spencer, and it wasnât until she walked into Morgan in a blunt exchange with his own cell that she realised he was perhaps closer to coming home than sheâd thought.
The man nodded, and bid the mystery caller goodbye before he flicked a look up to where Bugsy had entered his office with a cup of to-go coffee and an expression of intrigue.Â
âWe got him,â Morgan said, and it was the three words she had been waiting to hear for two hundred and fifteen days.Â
They had found Doyle.Â
She was in the back of an SUV not even two hours later, strapped to her neck with tactical gear and two loaded pistols holstered at her hips.Â
âYouâre sure youâre alright to do this?â JJ asked from her place beside her, noting the way the girlâs leg was bouncing, her fingers twitching as the three of them crowded around the screen linked to the surveillance camera set up outside Doyleâs apartment, Spencer and David watching an identical feed in the next block over, outside the safe house his son, Declan, was supposed to be in.Â
Only, when theyâd arrived, the little blonde haired, blue eyed boy that was the only thing Doyle gave a damn about in the world was gone, two agents and his nanny lying dead on the floor.Â
âPut it this way, JJ, Iâm going in after that son of a bitch whether you guys cover me or not, and it would be real nice to have back up,â Bugsy said simply, like she was reciting the weather, not ready to rain hellfire on anyone who got in between her and wringing Doyleâs neck.Â
The blonde woman exchanged a look with Derek, the two of them cautious about her behaviour, but thought better than to try stop her when she had just as much right as any of them for justice.Â
Before any of them could say another word, a car sped around the corner of the cul-de-sac, veering and wavering between parked cars, narrowly missing theirs by an inch, and red-blue blaring lights came racing after it within seconds, the siren full blast and no doubt waking the neighbours.Â
Or at least one neighbour in particular, as they spotted the curtains twitching in Doyleâs apartment, and they had their first sign of life in hours.Â
âHeâs in there, someoneâs in there,â Bugsy pointed to where the fabric moved in the dead of the night, unholstering one of her weapons and bursting the back door to the SUV open.Â
JJ clicked her radio on, speaking into her shoulder as Morgan was a hair width behind Bugsy, equally armed and ready, âWe got movement on Doyle, weâre heading up to search his apartment,âÂ
âBe careful, keep an eye on the kid,â Rossi ordered, he and Spencer adjusting their positions in their SUV, waiting for forensics to show up and investigate the nannyâs house. Spencer licked his lips nervously, and he could only imagine what was going through Bugsyâs mind at that moment, wishing more than ever she could have just stayed with him and let Morgan and JJ catch Doyle.Â
But she would never. She had nearly ripped Rossiâs head off for suggesting it even.Â
â
Sheâd seen him move up to the roof, had taken the stairs in twos, and she felt like kissing Aaron the second she saw him for all that cardio paying off a treat. She heard Morgan panting behind her, urging her to wait up so she wasnât going in alone, but she didnât listen, not when she was this close to getting that rat in her grasp and squeezing the life out of him barehanded.Â
She kicked down the door leading to the roof from the stairwell, her pistol drawn high and sharp and Morganâs steps racing up behind her were the only sound for a moment.Â
He was here somewhere, watching them, god only hoped they had caught him unaware before he could call in his own backup.Â
Taking a careful step out onto the concrete, willing herself to take a deep breath and calm herself; she checked her nine oâclock, checked her three, before her boots crunched under her and she moved further out onto the roofing. Flicking a look around again, her eyes squinted against the moonlight that did little to no good, searching for even the smallest movements that would give him away.Â
âI heard you wanted to see me, Doyle,â She said loudly, hoping he would fit the profile theyâd put together and want to tie up his loose ends once he realised who she was, âTruth is, Iâve been wanting to see you too,â
She had barely a second to react as she felt something hard slam across the back of her head, and she realised he had hit her with a rogue, loose pipe, hard enough for her to stumble forward, dropping her pistol when his body soon followed to tackle her completely to the ground in the effort to grab for the gun himself.Â
But she felt like body was alive with excitement, like the pain in her skull didnât ache, didnât matter, because she had him in her reach.Â
It took her barely a second to bring her elbow into his stomach, winding him hard enough he weakened his grip on top of her, then another hit square across his jaw, another to his temple, one to his already crooked nose and she threw a downward thump into his groin for good measure.Â
He hissed, cursing her something vile, and it was only then she saw the grey-blue eyes of the man who had killed her sister with no remorse, who had taken the person she loved unconditionally within a blink of an eye.Â
âYou recognise me?â She said, a manic smile on her face as she raised the other gun from its holster, kicking him hard in the knee sheâd seen him limping on, a bullet wound shaped scar giving his weakness away in seconds.
She wasnât the only enemy heâd made in that business of his, but she sure as hell would be his last one. Â
He fell to the floor, his eyes wary as he looked up at the girl he had spent weeks collating photos of, the girl heâd had two of his best men tracking, snapping pictures of her going about her day to day life before he sent them to Emily. Because she would know what that meant no words needed.Â
This was her sister. Her little sister she had fought tooth and nail for, that she had given her life for. Her sister, who had the same rock solid loyalty to her family as Lauren had.Â
âDo you want to know where you went wrong, Doyle?â She asked, and her voice wasnât calm like her body was, it was hiding the glee she was taking from his alarmed expression, like they both knew she was the last person he would have expected to be grabbing him in the night, âYour mistake, Doyle, was not killing me first,âÂ
She raised her finger to the trigger, feeling for a second the same thrill as when she popped that molly just to forget everything that was happening. Because she had tunnel vision, and pulling the plug on Ian Doyleâs pathetic existence was the solution.Â
Until Morganâs hand came over hers, and his voice was closer than sheâd expected to her ear. Sheâd barely heard him creep up on her, she realised with a jolt.Â
âDonât do this, kid,âÂ
âHe deserves it,â She spat, hating the sorrow in his voice when he pointed the gun away from Doyle who wiped his fingers beneath his nostrils and pulled back with a wince and a blob of blood over the back of his hand.Â
âI know he does. But we need to find Declan, and we canât do that without him,â Morganâs voice was deep and bitter, knowing full well he had to be the one to take the reins as much as he would love to just let her have at him.Â
Her nose scrunched in disgust when Doyle laughed at her annoyance, and she quickly holstered her weapon, pulling the cuffs out of her back pocket and helping Morgan yank him off the floor.Â
âI got some friends that would love to meet you, honey,â Doyle said through a wheezing breath, despite Morganâs rough hands shoving him forward towards the stairwell.Â
She chuckled however, her face still bitter, her eyes something nasty and wild as she flanked his other side, âDonât worry, I have some friends for you to play with too, Doyle.â She tightened her grip on his arm just to make it hurt, âI wonder how the Chernuses would feel about you and your men being so close to their turf. You ever fucked with the Russian Mob, Ian?â
His smile wiped clean off his face at that.
-
âHowâs it going?â Hotch asked, and she barely had time to comment on the fact he looked rather dashing with a beard and a tan, or that he had lost ten pounds, before he was straight back to business, even after an eighteen hour flight.Â
âHe wonât talk. He said the only person who could have helped us find Gerace would have been Emily.â She replied, rubbing her hands over her eyes with a huff, âJust another dead end,â She threw the file onto the roundtable, which was slowly piling up with documents relating to anyone Ian Doyle had ever had relations with.
Hotchâs face tightened. He took a single moment to enjoy the calm that overcame the room, took a second to enjoy the fact she was looking normal and healthy compared to when he had all but barged into her apartment to force her on a run.Â
Because he knew the normalcy they had found themselves in now was about to be flipped on its head, JJ confirming with a nod from the other side of the room that she was on her way.Â
He turned to look where Morgan, Rossi and Reid had walked in, Reid stroking a gentle hand over Bugsyâs hair where she hunched over the table and flicked through some files for anything to keep her mind off of going into that interrogation room and ripping into Doyle. She flicked a small smile up at him as he passed her, leaning over her shoulder to take half her workload off her.Â
She looked happier than she had in months, and he was about to take it all away again. Hotch swallowed the self loathing that threatened to choke him alive, and opened his mouth.Â
âEverybody have a seat,â The team looked up at him in confusion, but followed orders, JJ moving around the table to stand beside him, the same reluctant look on her face when she saw Bugsyâs frown.
âWhy?â Morgan asked, seeing as no one else was going to, âWhatâs going on? Everything alright?â
âSeven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team,â Hotch began, his eyes immediately flicking to where the youngest Prentiss faltered, âAs you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilise her,âÂ
Bugsyâs ears started ringing just hearing her sisterâs name coming from his lips, said so casually and blunt that it felt like he had punched her in the stomach and she thought she was maybe over estimating how well she had overcome the grief.Â
And that hadnât even been the worst part, she quickly realised. The doctors were able to stabilise her.Â
âAnd she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need to know. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security,â Hotch said, avoiding the piercing eyes that were slowly melting between confusion to heartache to one she finally could land on, horror.Â
No one breathed for a moment, no one said a thing as the words sunk in, and she felt her entire body wash over with a gut wrenching numbness as it dawned on her what he was saying.Â
Emily never died on that table like JJ had said. She had never died at all.Â
âWhat?â Her voice was tiny and childlike when it came out, and she felt like she was stuck in the worldâs worst nightmare, like she could claw and scratch and rip at her skin just to wake herself up from this terrifying dream where Hotch had lied and Emily had left her and everyone who was supposed to care about her had kept her in the dark.Â
âSheâs alive?â Garcia asked, tears in her own green lined eyes, looking at Hotch with utter shock.Â
âBut we buried her,â Spencer found it in himself to murmur, because none of this made sense and if any of what Hotch was saying was true, then he knew things were about to become really ugly.Â
âAs I said I take full responsibility for the decision; if anyone has any issues, they should be directed towards me,â And it was only then he looked at Bugsy fully, properly, since he had opened his mouth.Â
He could have swore he had never seen such complete and utter betrayal written across someoneâs face, let alone directed towards him. Because he knew thatâs what it was. He knew he had taken every scrap and shred of trust she had placed in him since that day she ran away from her own wedding and found herself stuck in that very same office, hugging him tightly with her sodden veil and even more soaked white dress, he had taken everything vulnerable she had ever given him and spat it right back at her.Â
He felt like crying but before he could think too hard about it, he saw Emily walking down the hall and her own face was just as, if not more, devastated than his own and he knew he had to be the one to stay strong.Â
Garciaâs head snapped to the doorway, the sight of it leading Spencer and Rossi to do the same, and Morganâs face morphed into anguish when he took a look for himself.Â
Because there, looking like a glowing beacon of everything theyâd been missing in seven months, was Emily Prentiss, alive and well.Â
She seemed lost for words, her eyes falling to her sister who seemed to force herself to look up at her from where she was staring in wide eyed terror at the table, as if she was struggling to comprehend any of this, or like the building was falling down around her and she was in complete fight, flight or freeze.Â
But she did, she looked up at her after a second, her face unrecognisable to Emily for a moment, and it took all of three moments where she seemed relieved to see her, before it curled into a vitriolic anger Emily had never, never seen from her.Â
She looked like she was ready to kill her with her bare hands herself.Â
Penelope was first out of her seat, practically flying across the room to grab her close friend in a hug, a complete bubble of sobs and wails, her pigtails shaking with her rattling chest as Emily hugged her tight to her.Â
âOh, my god, itâs real-youâre real- like I can actually touch you and youâre safe and not in that god awful box-â Penelope was a catalyst for the rest of the team standing up to take their turn crying on the womanâs shoulder.Â
That is, the rest of the team except Bugsy.Â
She remained in her seat, her gaze falling back to the mess of files that all of a sudden felt a complete waste of time, felt irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Who cared who was Doyleâs financial advisor between the years of 2005 and 2007 when Emily was alive and they had known the whole time.Â
And the more she thought, the more furious she got. And then the more furious she got, the stiller she became; an atomic bomb ready to detonate at the slightest prod.Â
âI am so sorry, I really am,â Emily said as Spencer had wrapped his giant arms around her tentatively, smelling her perfume and feeling his heart ache with how warm and alive and healthy her body felt. âNot a day went by that I didnât-â
But a sound cut her off, one none of them were expecting in the slightest.Â
Bugsy was laughing.Â
Not the sweet chirp she normally gave, or the hearty one that came from her gut that they hadnât heard in months, but something manic. Something frenzied, beserk. Deranged.Â
Hotchâs head snapped to her, Emilyâs too, though she had already taken note of the fact her sister hadnât so much as moved from her feet, and stupidly she had hoped it was the shock sinking in.Â
But her eyes were cruel, her teeth more of a snarl than a smile and the laugh she gave was that of a person over the edge.Â
The straw that broke the camelâs back, she believed it was called.Â
âShe never made it off the table,â Bugsy imitated woefully, her eyes snapping to JJ, who felt smaller than she ever had under the hatred in them, though the girlâs nasty smile hadnât let up, âYou are good, Jennifer. You really got me there, hey maybe if the agent thing doesnât work out then acting is alway an option for you,â
âBug-â Hotch started, only for her to stand up so harshly her chair nearly tipped back, but she didnât seem to care as she rounded the table towards him in a bitter chuckle.Â
âAnd you! I didnât know you had it in you. But very good, Hotch, very well played out. For a second I thought you actually gave a fuck about me,â She fist bumped his shoulder, a little harsher than something innocent behind it, before something spiteful settled in her tone, âBut then again, you are nothing if not professional, arenât you? I guess a suicide on your team would look terrible on your report card,â
âI think you need to calm down and letâs talk about this for a second,â Hotch tried to jump in, his brows furrowed enough to make him look annoyed but anyone with two eyes could see the worry that brewed there, that chased her as she retreated to where her jacket was slung over the back of her seat. She laughed again viciously, shaking her head. Grabbing her coat, she headed for the door where Emily stood helplessly, not knowing what to say for the best, and she thought for a minute her little sister was going to address her.Â
But she didnât; didnât even look her way as she approached, and it wasnât until Hotch rounded the room after her with a fixed gaze she showed any sign of stopping. Not until he reached for her arm with a tight grip, a call of her name, did she even halt in her step.Â
âStop, letâs just talk,â
âLet go of me,â Bugsy snapped, and it was the first time she actually gave way to the anger she felt, the amusement coming from a place of distraught long gone. She sounded pissed.
âListen to me, we had no choice here,â Hotch barked, because it was the only way he could communicate when he felt this lost. And thatâs what he was; he was losing her. They all were. âAnd I would have thought youâd be able to stop being so spoiled for one god damn second to see we were protecting-â
Her palm whirled around faster than he could have ever anticipated, slapping clean and sharp against his cheek, hard enough the air was sucked out of the room and his words died in his throat.Â
Penelope gasped. Spencerâs eyes widened. Emily took a heavy gulp.Â
âBugsy!â Emily said in horror, and it was then her little sisterâs eyes actually set on hers, every bit as cruel and hateful sheâd expected.
âI want nothing to do with you, do you hear me? I donât want to talk to you, or see you, donât even speak that name, I donât want it from you anymore,â Bugsy pointed at her with crooked, bitten nails Emily knew all too well, âYou left me. You left me.â
With those three choked words, the otherâs could only watch hurricane Bugsy whirl and burn and crash her way out of the room.
â
She sat on the steps to the federal building, perfectly dressed agents filtering around her with the occasional tut in disgust.Â
She couldnât really blame them; her face was wet with tears, she was pretty sure there was snot running out of her nose hastily, and between her free hand, the other of which was pulling at her hair, was a cigarette that swirled its grey smoke around her head with a horribly addictive smell.Â
She heard footsteps approaching her from the back, different from the rest, and felt someone stop beside her, sliding to their ass on the step.
âSpencer, if youâre going to tell me this is taking seven minutes off my life then please can it wait for another day-â Bugsy started with a tearful cadence, only to be cut off by a womanâs voice.Â
âI was actually going to ask if you had a lighter,â Erin Strauss said, pulling her own menthol cigarette between her lips, and Bugsy dug around her pocket for the cheap âI <3 Virginiaâ lighter she had snagged on New Years, clicking the flame out long enough for her bossâs boss to light the tip, âI heard you gave Aaron a shock,â
Bugsy stayed silent, taking a drag that burnt her lips and tasted awful, but it was the only thing she could turn to that would calm her even in the slightest, even if it was just the chemicals.
âBit of an understatement,â She mused, exhaling softly with a frown, âDid you know?âÂ
âAre you going to slap me too if I said yes?â Erin asked, and Bugsy gave a small, wet chuckle, shaking her head, âWould it matter if I did?â
 âNo, I guess not,â She replied, breathing in through her nose, âI want to feel sorry, but all I feel is just ⊠empty. Why did JJ and Hotch know what happened to her but she didnât think to tell her own sister?â
âProbably because youâre the one she loves the most,â Strauss picked over the hem of her navy blue midi dress that had been pressed neatly just that morning, and now here she was sitting on the steps to her building helping a girl in crisis chainsmoke, âIt was how she ended up there in the first place, right? Because she wanted to protect you,âÂ
 âShe left me torturing myself for months that her death was all my fault; believe me protection was not what I needed,â Bugsy said harshly, her final drag reaching the brown stub, and she scowled as she doubted it on the concrete floor below her, tucking her knees up to her face and resting her head on them.Â
Erin sighed, patting her on the back gently, not wanting to cross any lines for such a fragile girl, but not wanting to leave her entirely alone either.Â
âOur most basic instinct is not for survival but for family.â Strauss quoted, taking one more breath of her own cigarette before she squished it under her heel quickly. âPaul Pearsall,â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â Bug asked quietly, tilting her head onto her cheek to look over at the woman.
âIt means you can hate her as much as you can right now, but sooner or later, youâre going to need her, or sheâs going to need you, and youâll wish you never pushed each other away,âÂ
2. The one where you pretend to be a couple.
Her hair was shorter, Bugsy noted, where she saw the back of her sisterâs head from her desk. It looked nice, not that she would tell her that.Â
She wouldnât tell her anything.Â
It had been eight weeks, three of which Bugsy had spent taking a leave of absence and been forced to see the designated federal councillor for her behaviour towards Hotch. She had gone to the handful of sessions to keep him off her back, but had stayed quiet for most of them, except the one where she got the psychologist to tell her the dirt on her recent, messy break up so theyâd have something to talk about at least.
She had only really been speaking to Spencer the weeks since she had returned to work, had handed the slip of paper that declared her fit to work to Hotch with a smug look on her face, daring him to extend her sick leave as punishment for the tantrum sheâd thrown.Â
She knew it was dragging, knew most of the team were at least trying to adjust to the shellshock of Emily being back from the dead, but then again, the rest of the team hadnât been writing their own eulogy so the burden wouldnât fall onto someone else if they ever found her unresponsive.Â
In the time Emily had supposedly been dead, her mind had wandered someone cold and dark and alone. Worse than any of them had ever thought it had been, worse than they gave her credit for.Â
Only for it to be fake. As though she was the star of her own Truman show, with a laugh track playing on loop in the back; her own friends, people sheâd considered family, watching her kicking and screaming and fighting through every breath for some sort of relief from the pain, a pawn in their little sitcom of horrors.Â
Morgan had forgiven her sister with little resistance. Sheâd always known that, to Morgan, trust was higher than anything in his books. Yet with some soft words and tears shed, Derek had cracked and accepted Emily back warmly like nothing had happened. Rossi and Penelope had just been happy to see her, happy to have her back and very much not dead, so convincing them she was innocent had been no big feat. The only other person who had put up nearly as much fight as her had been Spencer. He had told her about the spat he and JJ had gotten into for being an accomplice to their pain, but even he was beginning to warm back up to her sister, not that she could really blame him.Â
Emily was putting in overtime trying to get back into her good books, while she couldnât even stand to look at her without remembering how hard sheâd cried when she realised Nico and Sergio would be in her apartment alone and confused if she had been sad enough to do something rash.Â
âGood Morning,â Emilyâs voice was nails in a chalkboard, two arms winding over her shoulder to plonk two take out coffees in front of her and Spencer, one with his name written in black ink on the lid and the other with a dozen hearts dotted over the cup, a little doodle of a lady bug and a bumble bee cuddling. What she supposed was meant to be the two of them.Â
Spencer watched Bugsy fight the urge to roll her eyes, surprisingly somewhat progress for her since the first two weeks of Emily even being near her resulted in the two of them screaming at one another until they were separated. Emily was growing tired of being punished for trying to keep her sister safe, Bugsy was full of hatred for every lie they had told her.Â
But he saw the way she immediately knocked the coffee into the trash without a second thought, ignoring the fact she would need to take out a very heavy and wet bin liner later, if only to drive the point home to her older sister. I donât want your charity.Â
Emily faltered for a second, her eyes snapping to him as if he could do or say anything to help her out, but he could only give her one of his awkward, straight smiles, because he had absolutely no intention of pushing Bugsy to heal any faster than she was doing like everyone else was, nor did he want Emily to feel like he didnât care she was hurting too.
Emily gave a resigned nod, daring to pat her sister on the shoulder. âBetter in the trash than thrown over my face, right?â
She moved away from the womanâs desk, shooting a disheartened look at Reid as she passed him and he murmured âthankyouâ for his own coffee, until the sound of JJ calling them into the round table room cut off whatever she was going to say back.Â
Spencer thoughtlessly handed Bugsy his own latte, smothered with caramel and cream the way he liked it, and she took an appreciative sip without a word.Â
He hadnât brought up that night, hadnât spoken about the way sheâd pressed her lips to his for a split second the night Morgan had dragged her over to his apartment to sober up. And because she hadnât brought it up either, he assumed she didnât want to talk about it anymore than she wanted to talk about what had got her there in the first place.Â
He had helped her brush her own teeth more than once in the early days of her grief, hell he had even had her lips against his, so when she handed him the coffee cup back, he didnât think much of it when he continued drinking the hot caffeinated goodness.Â
Bugsy was wired differently in his brain, everything about her was different than how he felt about everyone else. So if she didnât want to talk about kissing him, if she wanted to forget it ever happened, then he would swallow his feelings and accept she didnât ever want to do it again. If she wanted to keep the bond they had carefully crafted through days and months and weeks of being each otherâs solace, then he wouldnât fight it. Because he didnât want to ruin it either.Â
He just nudged her gently with his shoulder as they meandered up the stairs to the round table room, looking at her with the puppy dog eyes that usually followed her around when she was in one of her silent moods.Â
âYou okay?â He asked carefully, noting the way she tugged her files to her chest, smiling up at him nevertheless. Because she could never be mad at him, it was Spencer.Â
âYou donât have to do that, you know?â She said, lowering her voice as Morgan trailed behind the two of them his own mug of fresh brewed coffee sloshing in his hand, âPretend like you donât forgive her for my sake. I want you to be friends again if thatâs what you want,â
Sheâd noticed his sheepish glances when he met Emilyâs gaze, unmoving from her side like he wanted to make it clear he was there for her above everything else. But she saw how he would smile and joke with her sister when he thought she was in the bathroom, or when they would return from a crime scene, working together again like a well oiled machine.Â
They were still friends, even if she felt sick every time she saw her sisterâs noir black bangs flick her way, even if her heart was aching and her chest heavier than she would have ever let on.Â
âBut youâre upset with her?â Spencer muttered back, with a frown on his face, âIâm upset you got so hurt by the whole thing. Iâm essentially hurt by proxy,âÂ
She snickered, leaning into his side for a moment, pulling away when they reached Rossiâs office and began walking past the long window she saw everyone settling down behind, âI appreciate that, Spence, I do. But you were her friend first, and sheâs my sister. Itâs different for you guys. And itâs not like weâre dating, because then Iâd be allowed to be upset if you were still friends with her,â She explained lightly, though she felt her chest pick up at the very fact she had let that silly little dating word slip past her lips.Â
She had no idea where they were. He was the only thing keeping her together some days, the only one who understood her for all her silly, complex feelings and didnât make her feel dumb or crazy for feeling the world so deeply. He was special to her in a way no guy had ever even come close.Â
She just wished she hadnât made such an idiot of herself that night with Morgan; wished she remembered anything of what was said or done, because things had felt electrified since then and she had no idea why. All she knew was she was falling harder for him every time he stood so close, or offered her his drink, or every time they had a movie night at his and fell asleep on his couch pressed together like they were meant to be that way forever.Â
He sighed, still stuck on the situation, and shot her a frown, âIâll never understand the rules,â Though he hoped she didnât see how his cheeks tinged pink at the fact sheâd brought up whatever it was between them too.Â
Because he wasnât entirely talking about her and Emily. Sometimes, he really didnât understand the rules of telling your best friend you were in love with her.Â
-
The press was calling him âThe Circle of Eight killer,â no matter how much media liaison JJ had tried to do to stop them from giving him notoriety and possibly boosting an already inflated ego. But the team had already managed to profile that the killings were some sort of ritual the UnSub was using to turn his luck on a gambling addiction, or whatever suspicion he had mentally linked from the victims needing to die and being dealt a royal flush.Â
âEighty eight dollars, the UnSubâs getting generous,â She said grimly, her gloved fingers counting the wad of cash tossed over the victimâs body. Where they had usually found eight, single dollar bills and an eight card of any suit, his signature seemed to have changed on the most recent body and he had dumped a much larger sum of money, âThereâs more remorse with this kill too; shot from behind so he didnât have to see the victim when he did it,â
Bugsy slipped the cash into a clear baggie to send to forensics to see if they could pull prints, but then again bills usually gave a million possible UnSubs with how many people touched them. âThereâs less rage here, an undoing,â Emily chimed in, her own gloved fingers checking the victimâs pockets for anything off.Â
When they were in the field, Bug could hold her eye rolls and sharp tongue and resting bitch face for the sake of helping the victimâs families find closure. Because, despite how much she seethed in private about how Hotch, JJ and her own sister had conspired without her, she knew she could choke it down if it meant she could help someone, if it meant no one else had to grieve as deeply and gut wrenching as she had when Emily âdiedâ.Â
âThereâs no sign of robbery either, wallet is still intact except his ID,â Spencer added, standing back from the body while Bugsy handed the evidence off to CSI and the chief on the case headed their way.Â
âIs it even the same guy?â Agent Goslin asked, looking between Hotch and Emily for an explanation, Hotch shaking his head with a stoney look on his already tired face.Â
âThe ritualâs too similar to discount,â He said, Bugsy frowning and tugging her lip between her teeth in thought.Â
âThe change in MO makes sense if the UnSub is still refining his system, maybe killing the cashier at the gas station didnât work so heâs back to the drawing board.â Emily speculated, her little sister nodding along with her in the first sign of agreement sheâd seen all day.Â
âTwo eights instead of one could also be significant; I know in China the number eight symbolises prosperity, the more eights the better. As a matter of fact, in Chengdu, a telephone number consisting of all eights recently sold for over a quarter of a million dollars,â Spencer said, and Bugsy flashed a look up at him, her eyes thoughtful.Â
âIn ancient Egypt, the number seven represented completion in this life while the number eight represented success through ambition and determination in your reincarnated life,â She replied, peeling the gloves down her hands as they clung to her skin with tight clamminess, âAnd the eight pointed star is associated with the Babylonian goddess, Ishtar, or the light bringer,â
He nodded with her and he hated to admit that he loved that she managed to fill in the gaps in his own knowledge, like they were two puzzle pieces finding a way to fit together; like they were two halves cleaved from the same brain that hadnât stopped growing in the entirety of her twenty seven years.Â
That, and heâd always found her brain one of the most attractive things about her. One of the long list he could think of.Â
âWhy would he be doubling up on his luck out here, away from all the casinos?â Emily asked, because she was trying not to stand in awe of her sisterâs fat brain that rivalled even their pretty boy.Â
âThereâs been another killing,â Agent Goslin stated, hanging up the phone with a tense frown on her face, âA guest in his room at the Sapphire Lady,âÂ
âSame ritual?â Hotch asked without a pause, because they were on body number five now and they were barely closer to understanding him than they were a few hours ago.
âNo. His neck was broken. And he was robbed of $50,000.â Goslin replied, shaking her head, âStrange thing is? The killer left another $20,000 behind with the body,âÂ
âMoney isnât his motive here,â Bugsy input, crossing her arms while Hotch got on the phone to Garcia, âAtleast, not that guyâs money,â
âGarcia, is there a casino in the neighbourhood of Penrose and Morningside Avenue?â He asked, clicking the perky woman onto speakerphone.Â
They heard a quick clatter of typing, âUhhh, No casinos per se, but thereâs a private gambling establishment right around the corner.â She replied helpfully, with another bout of her long, delicately painted nails against her keyboard.Â
âIs it legal?â
âYeah, but itâs ultra exclusive. They have a monthly high-stakes poker tournament,â She paused for a second, âToday being the day for the month, coincidentally enough,â
âOr no coincidence at all,â Emily said, as they began putting together exactly where this chain of events had come from.
âWhatâs the buy in?â Bugsy asked, though she already guessed the answer.Â
âYikies, $50,000,â And with that Bug and Reid exchanged a knowing look, her suspicion confirmed, âBut, itâs a million dollar guarantee if you win,â
âWhat time does it start?â Hotch asked, Bugsy already rubbing the bridge of her nose with her fingertip, willing herself not to be right about what they were going to do.Â
âLater this evening,â Pen replied and Hotch thanked her, hanging up the phone. A second of silence spread around the crime scene.Â
âSo, if anyoneâs got fifty k lying around, now would be a great time to share with the group,â Busgy humoured herself with a straight face, realising the paperwork that would almost definitely be declined if Strauss had anything to say about it the would enable them to borrow fifty thousand from the government.Â
Because if they missed their chance tonight, she had no clue when they would get another.Â
â
âAny luck?â JJ asked, Emily sat to her right, Rossi across from her. Spencer and Bugsy sat on the end of the table, the girl breaking a KitKat in half to share with him, which he accepted happily.Â
âNo, they donât want to allocate emergency funds for the buy-in, Iâm still working on it,â Hotch said shortly, his phone blowing up with messages, no doubt needing a lot more details if they were really going to get the money they needed.Â
âWell, I canât imagine why not, weâre only asking for fifty thousand bucks of taxpayer money, so that FBI agents can play Texas Hold âem,â Rossi drawled, shaking his head with a cynical humour that was all they had to hold onto while they waited in limbo.Â
âHey, what about you?â Emily asked, something mischievous in her eyes as she watched David freeze in his seat, so like the old Emily that Bugsy felt her stomach turn.
âWhat about me what?â David said with a frown, pausing in his writing for a moment.Â
âYou could stake us the buy-in,â She suggested, and the other three members of the team turned their attention back to Rossiâs palling face.Â
âYouâre a best selling author,â Spencer chimed in, devouring the last of the chocolatey biscuit snack as she pulled another out of her bag.Â
âNo,â Rossi replied, slightly wide eyed at the suggestion of it, to which Emily jumped in.Â
âWhy not?âÂ
âOne, itâs against regulations and Iâd like to hold onto this job for a little while longer.â David said, his arms out in a defensive stance towards the four people who suddenly felt like his kids asking for the newest IPhone on the market for Christmas.Â
âItâs a minor administrative violation,â Bugsy pointed out between bites, offering the second half again to her best friend who took it without delay.Â
She could have given the whole thing to him to start with, and had the first one for herself, it would have ended the same, but she liked sharing with him. She liked being the one to split things with him when he cringed in horror at other people touching his food.
âAnd, two, I prefer to spend my money on actual things, like single malt scotch, a fine cigar, beautiful artwork,â
âPoker chips are things!â Emily tried to reason, but it only ended with David scoffing in her cheeky, hopeful face.Â
âMaybe just think of it as a new experience, I mean at your age how often does that happen?â Spencer said innocently, licking the chocolate from the tips of his fingers, noticing how Bugsy tensed up and Rossi slowly turned in his seat to face the BAUâs youngest members.Â
âAt my what?â He asked in an aghast tone, Bug grabbing onto Spencerâs forearm with a gentle squeeze.Â
âReel it in, reel it in,â She whispered, and he looked at her with a lost expression, willing her to explain to him where he had gone wrong, because he knew she would, âWhat he meant to say was this may be our only chance to get this guy,â
David chewed his words for a second, as if he was trying not to bite at the kids who looked between one another hopefully, and he wondered if this was what being a father felt like; handing his credit card over to two twenty something year olds and watching his bank deposit plummet in seconds.Â
âAll right. Fine.â He sighed heavily like heâd seen the fifty thousand burned there and then, âIâm a decent poker player, but I canât promise that I can stay in the game long enough toâŠâ
âYou know what? I bet youâre a great poker player,â Emily started kindly, her gaze drifting over to the hazel hues that watched between them curiously, âBut what if we sent in Reid?â
âI am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin and Pahrump because of my card counting ability,â Spencer said, and Bugsy rolled her eyes.Â
âThey canât ban you for maths, thatâs the stupidest thing I ever heard,â She said, nudging his side with her shoulder, âThey hate to see an underdog win, itâs Rocky all over again,âÂ
âTell me about it,â He murmured back, even though he had never watched any of the Rocky movies, he just liked humouring her.Â
âLook I know Iâm not a genius like the boy wonder here, but poker is not black jack. Itâs about bluffing; reading human nature, head games.â Rossi pointed at Reid, who badgered over Bugsyâs shoulder for the cookies she had packed in her rucksack, âThe kid does not have a poker face.â
âWhich is why weâre going to send him with someone who does,â JJ chimed in, and it was then that the youngest members of the team looked up from where they had cracked open the packet of chocolate chip delights, near identical looks of innocence painted on their faces, like they really were kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.Â
Bugsy looked between JJ and Rossi, who had equal parts hopeful and worried looks on their faces, before she glanced over to Spencer to see if he had any explanation. He looked as lost as she did.Â
âHuh?â She asked cluelessly, as Rossi buried his head in his hands.Â
At this rate was going to have to remortgage his house for wedding number four, he thought sourly.Â
â
âI swear to god if this dress rides up anymore, it will be me whoâs charging fifty thousand per head,â Bugsy growled, her hands frantically tugging the dress down her legs more. She couldnât deny it was a beautiful dress, bunched around certain areas that made the most of her body, but goodness was it shorter than she would have ever picked out for herself. She was the last person to be a prude when it came to showing off just how alluring she could look when she made an effort, but this was something else.Â
It was a striking red, meant to match the ruby of her lipstick and the vermillion of the diamonds and hearts on the cards spread around the tables in the room, flushed in between little plastic chips worth thousands of dollars, handfuls of dice being tossed over the green velvet surfaces, deciding whether the players lost their cars or paid off their kids college fund.Â
They queued up to be patted down, as if they were heading through airport security or into a packed nightclub. A handful of bouncers waved metal detectors over patronâs clothing, dipping hands into coat pockets, trousers, even some shoes were ordered off in the name of a fair game. She swore she had never seen so many sets of weighted dice confiscated off one man who swore blind as he was kicked out.Â
âOnly fifty? You could rinse them for a hundred at least,â Spencer replied, his arm entwined behind her back, if not to hold her up in the clunky heels one of the women on Goslinâs task force had loaned her along with the dress. She smirked at him, pressing herself closer to him when they both saw a dozen eyes shoot towards her as they entered the building, and he tightened his grip just the slightest with a calculating coolness.Â
He wished his cheeks didnât feel so hot feeling her body so close to his, wished she hadnât made such an effort to look the part of the expensive call girl they knew the UnSub had a history with, not because he didnât like it, but because she made everything a little more difficult when she looked like that.Â
He was having a hard time trying to calm the way his manhood brushed against his pants whenever she showed some of that saccharine affection, even though he knew it wasnât real. Or atleast, was an extreme version of the love she usually showed him.Â
The bouncers called them up next, and he let her go first, because getting her through would be easy. He was the one with the panic alarm disguised as a shot of Halitosis in his pocket.Â
Spencer would never admit that his eyes fell straight down to the curves of her butt that seemed to be spotlighted by that damn dress.Â
Why did she have to look so irresistible? He supposed that was the point; he was the mysterious young gambler that was going to keep them in the game long enough to spot the UnSub, she was the attractive, woman of the night brought only to boost his ego and as his good luck charm. She certainly wasnât the only one, sheâd already seen a handful of other women, tall as models and so toned it looked as though they hit the gym every morning and didnât leave until sundown, primped and primed for their playerâs delight.Â
They were ten times better looking than she was, but to Spencer, she was the only woman in the room who he was envisioning ripping that dress right off.Â
She was making it very hard, no pun intended, for him to accept the idea of them as just friends.Â
The bouncer patted her down, Bugsy flashing him a cheeky smile just a little too forced for it to be one of her real ones, when the woman patted around her waist and hips for any hidden pockets or stashed bills.Â
âYou wish this was you, huh, baby?â She teased him with a wicked look in her eyes, and he could only smirk back, hoping his blush didnât give him away as quick as he reckoned it did.Â
He felt his knees weaken, worrying he might just fall to the ground there and then and be forced to crawl towards her if he had any hope of getting into the casino alive, but even that sent a new wave of lewd thoughts through his head, and he was grateful when the other bouncer called him forward to inspection.Â
The muscled guy waved a metal detector over his torso, moving down to his trouser legs where he wondered with cynical humour if the rod he now sported in his pants painfully would set off the alarm. It didnât, and he begged his crotch to let up even the slightest if he had any hope of keeping his head on his shoulders during this game, but the detector sprung to life the minute it waved over the alarm in his pocket.Â
He produced the medical looking device, one theyâd already planned and checked for faults, showing the fake prescription clearly to the guard, âHalitosis,âÂ
The guy seemed to frown, took another look over the gangly guy who was with a woman way, way out of his league. A woman who waited for him after her own inspection, a very real diamond necklace that had been a sixteenth birthday present from Steph around her neck, courtesy of her dadâs bank account and ten years worth of emotional distance. Whether he took pity on Spencer because Bugsy looked like the kind of girl who could chew up a guy like him and spit him right back out, or he really didnât care about his medical condition, he didnât know, but he waved him through without another thought, and they both took a sigh of relief.Â
âYou want a drink?â He asked nonchalantly as possible, wrapping his arm around her waist again, and he tried to not let his flustered demeanour show when he found slits cut into the side of the fabric, and he felt the softness of her hips under his fingertips.Â
âMy treat, to get you started,â Bugsy replied, something unreadable in the teasing of her eyes, and she leaned up to his jaw to steal a quick kiss there like any other girl wanting to be paid the full sum of her night would have done.Â
At least thatâs what she told herself, pretending as if her brazen action hadnât caused her heart rate to spike.Â
She got him an iced tea, because she knew he wouldnât want alcohol, and got herself a half shot Moscow Mule, sipping the lime rim appreciatively.Â
âSee anything yet?â She asked under her breath, one hand trailing over the back of his neck, playing with the curls that sat there with vixen sly eyes that scanned the room.Â
He forced himself not to moan at the sensation, and he worried it was too obvious to the other patrons in the gambling room just how easily he melted beneath her fingertips. He felt like a dog drooling after a bone, like she was shaking a lead in his face and asking for walkies, and he was panting beneath her, tail wagging and dopey eyed.Â
Not the look of suave, mysterious stranger they were initially going for when they were coming up with identities for their covers. But at least it sold the part of a man desperate to win the jackpot if it meant he could spend the night with the siren woman that clung to him with a giggly sip of her pink straw.Â
âNo one looking particularly suspicious,â He noted; everyone was almost too good at a poker face, though he supposed that it made sense seeing the value of the prize pool, âYou are getting a lot of attention however,âÂ
And she was. In fact, he was quick to take her hand in his own free one when he saw a group of men dressed to the nines, solid gold rings along their knuckles, diamond encrusted Rolexs staring back at him from their wrists, their faces dead yet starved when they drank in every inch of her skin, their eyes falling to where her dress rode up high, as she had whined about the entire way there.Â
She chuckled, and something about it sounded like her own, not the woman sheâd had to become for the evening, and she kissed where his jaw clenched in annoyance, âNot from anyone that matters, boy wonder,âÂ
And he felt his heart rest for a moment, because as long as she was with him he knew he could shift that big brain of his into gear. He loved nothing more than the click he felt when he was with her, like their brains and bodies just seemed to bluetooth to one another and they werenât Spencer and Bugsy they were just them. A since cell amoeba.Â
He smiled at her, and she preened under his attention, so genuinely her that he felt the vignette that had clouded his vision shift into focus, and he knew he could find their UnSub if she was there with him.Â
He sat at the nearest table to them that was about to deal in, and within twenty minutes he was racking up a nice, fat pile of poker chips next to his iced tea.
Bugsy knew he was a smart man, knew he was good at magic tricks, but if he had turned to her then and there and pulled a rabbit out her ear hole she wouldnât have questioned him otherwise. Watching him play was something else.Â
It was entirely sordid, the whole hour of his first game was spent trying to keep her focus on any patrons sat at their table and the rest that seemed to be twitching, whilst also trying not to look awed at just how amazing his brain was when he won damn near every time.Â
But she did manage to rip her eyes off him when she could, not enough to seem suspicious, just enough to scan the area for someone who could be their UnSub, her eyes quickly jumping to the guy on the table across from them with a large magic 8-ball tattoo across his bicep, unsurprisingly already looking her head to toe as he waited for his hand to be dealt out. He winked at her, a smarmy, cocky grin on his face, almost too confident in his ability to be someone to turn to suspicions and rituals in order to win.Â
A serious contender, but nothing that screamed their UnSub.Â
She looked around a little more, ignoring the handful of men who tried to grab her attention, who thought they were somewhat validated or interesting for having her look at them for a split second. They were just part of the wallpaper compared to Spencer anyway.Â
It wasnât until she spotted a guy in a baseball cap a few paces away from them fiddling with yet another magic 8-ball, though this time a key chain, giving it a gentle touch every time he picked up his hand as if it really had the power to change the values once theyâd been dealt.Â
From the quick glance she got of his face, he seemed to be running on an hourâs sleep tops. His eyes were rimmed redder than her lipstick, and his hair was damp with sweat and grease against his temple.Â
Unstable if there ever was a man for the word.
She quickly looked back to Spencerâs cards, her hands weaving over his shoulders to rub his muscles gently, the signal that sheâd seen something important masked as an affectionate gesture.Â
The House called the end of the round, Spencer being awarded a heaped pile of tens, hundreds even a small few thousands thrown in there, to which he collected onto his tray they had handed him at the door.Â
Bugsy leaned down with a girlish squeal, giving him another big, cherry lipped kiss to his cheek, to which he felt himself blush under immediately. Quickly dodging to whisper into his ear, it looked to the other patrons as if she was simply promising him an even bigger reward later for his winnings in exchange, âNine OâClock at table two, guy in the green jacket has an eight ball keyring he ritually plays with before drawing,âÂ
Spencer nodded, standing from the table with his winnings, using Bugsyâs as an excuse to angle himself to where she was talking about. He pulled her to him effortlessly, his long arms wrapping over her bare back, his neck craning over her shoulder to serveill the table she had indicated, and she quickly hugged him back with that fake giggle of hers, her body pressing to his desperately like the other ladies of the night he had seen with men three times their age.Â
He clocked who she was talking about almost immediately, running a hand down her spine and squeezing her waist gently to let her know heâd seen him.Â
They moved in tandem, just like they always had.Â
A hostess came over to them, all big smiles and a tight fitted black dress, a log book in her arms of where everyone was sitting in the next round to keep a fair game. Bugsy took a look at him, wiping away the smudged lipstick on his cheek with a loving swipe of her thumb, nodding at him for a small bout of reassurance.Â
âIâm going to go get another drink, honey,â She said loud enough for the hostess to hear, as she flashed him a flirty smile, âDonât forget to wait for your lucky charm,âÂ
He bristled, a smile twitching at his lips at that, âI wouldnât dare,âÂ
Because her message was clear. Donât do anything stupid while Iâm updating the team.Â
She swanned through the crowd as if she owned the place, but then again a packed scene had never been an issue for her. She felt through her concealed inseam of the tiny cardigan she draped over her shoulders, until she felt the long bullet shaped object stuffed into a tampon wrapper that Penelope had geniously planted there to look like a feminine product.Â
Her own alarm, the one meant to let the team know they had sights on the guy and to be ready. It was Spencerâs that would give them the signal to enter.Â
She was fiddling with the damn thing when she felt it, a sharp crack across her ass as she was walking towards the bar, heard the laughter in the second she froze up.Â
Turning on her heel with a tight expression, the anger burnt hot in her eyes when she saw the guy with the tattoo who had been trying to get her attention not even a half hour ago, watched him sidling up to her with a conceited smile.Â
âSo, has that twiglet over there paid for you in advance or are you going home with the highest bidder?â He said, his head flicking to Spencer who now sat at table two, counting his chips out onto the table and paying himself in.Â
She smiled at the assailant widely, and it would have been pretty had it not been for the crazy look in her eye that twitched when he made a move to step towards her more.Â
âIâm spoken for in advance,â She said lightly, eyes trailing down his outfit like she was trying to commit it to memory, over his defining markers like the slit in his brow and his tattoos that looped over his hands, âBut Iâm sure Iâll be seeing you real soon, sweetheart,âÂ
And she flashed him a toothy smile again, yet something was wolfish about it this time, like she was ready to lunge for him there and then.Â
The guy wasnât their UnSub but he had made it to the very top of her hit list in a split second decision.Â
She waltzed away, securing herself another Moscow Mule she had no intention of drinking, and headed back to where Spencer was being allotted his hand of cards. Their round started, Bugsy keeping a close eye on the UnSub who sat directly to Spencerâs right, and she found a little solace in the fact he couldn't have brought in any weapons since they had all been patted down at the door.Â
It didnât shake the feeling of edge the guy with the tattoo had put her into when she watched their guy flick a look over Spencerâs shoulder to look her head to toe, glancing back at Spence who was already glaring at him.Â
âIs she part of the winnings?â The other guy to his right chimed in, sliding a stack of hundred dollar chips into the centre, two of the players already bust as they watched the others play on for the house.Â
She saw her partner tense in his spine when he heard the manâs drawling voice, and she knew he was struggling to keep a lid on the facade they were putting on for the evening.Â
Snickering, she ran a gentle hand through his hair, down the nape of his neck with a sickeningly sweet simper, âSorry, boys. Only person whoâs taking me home tonight is the pretty boy,â
One of the guys who had already busted out scoffed, grumbling under his breath, âLucky fucker,â
And Spencer knew it too. He felt almost rejuvenated just feeling her near, a damn near cocky smile on his face when he pushed his chips into the centre of the table, barely flicking a glance at his hand when he realised he had almost certainly secured a winning run.Â
Maybe she was his lucky charm, he thought cynically. Maybe he couldnât blame the guy to his right for carrying a silly little trinket around with him in the name of luck if he was no better.Â
âIâm calling,â The guy on the far right declared, shuffling two piles of his chips into the middle with the total pooling.Â
âIâll raise,â The UnSub cut in, grabbing some of his black thousand dollar tokens and clinking them one by one next to his opponents, âEight thousand,â
What a surprise, eight thousand, Bug mused, squeezing onto Spencerâs shoulder again as he was quick to match the bidding and then some with his own checks.Â
â$8,000, thatâs fifty six monthsâ wage for the average person in Bangladesh,â Spencer said, doubling the bet with a flick of those long fingers of his. It was heinous how much his brain managed to warm her insides, Bugsy thought, hoping she kept her poker face intact, âKind of makes you think, doesnât it?â
The two remaining players, UnSub included, looked at him like heâd grown a second head, and Bugsy fought off the urge to laugh in their face, because for a minute he was so Spencer like all she wanted to do was quip something back equally as smart.Â
âLook, itâs eight thouâ to you, are you in or are you out?â The first man snapped, perhaps seethin with jealousy that the pretty woman wanted nothing to do with him or perhaps just pissed that the fresh faced teenager of a man was serving their asses up cold.Â
âI am in,â He moved some more chips towards them, his eyes falling back to the guy they suspected was their UnSub with a challenge in his eyes, âAnd I raise,â
âThree raise,â The dealer declared, and the first guy huffed in defeat.Â
âThatâs too rich for my blood,â He growled, crossing his arms and flipping his dead cards over.Â
âSir, are you in?â The dealer asked the UnSub, and for a minute his eyes snapped to Bugsyâs where she was keeping a calm look on her face despite the fact her insides were stumbling with nerves. But she never doubted Spencerâs maths, she would stake her life on it in fact.Â
âIâll call,â The UnSub replied, flicking his cards over with another small token of a hundred, an okay run of cards but not an entire failure.Â
Spencer met it with a couple hundreds of his own, revealing his four and his eight that met the five, six, and seven he already put down. A winning flush. âStraight.âÂ
Her smile was genuine, dazzling, when the pile of chips were pushed over to him, and she would have laughed with glee had the UnSubâs face not dropped into something devastated, borderline demented, when he saw his ritual had meant nothing. That he had lost despite killing his own friend and four more people as a sacrifice.Â
He was unravelling fast, and it was then Bugsy knew they had only moments to confirm he was their guy obsessed with his suspicions and that damn lucky number eight.Â
âI guess you wonât be needing this anymore, will you honey?â Bugsy reached over for the charm with a cheeky grin as the other patrons grumbled at their losses, only for the guyâs hand to come slamming down on top of hers with a brutal grip, hard enough she knew it was going to bruise by morning.Â
âDonât,â He hissed at her, and it seemed to click with confirmation in Spencer and Bugsyâs mind there was no doubt this was their guy.
Spencer stood up to defend the woman, only for both of them to be grabbed by security secondâs later.Â
âYouâre going to let a man put his hands on a woman like that- would you relax I can walk,â Spencer snapped, watching the other security guard manhandle Bugsy just as roughly, pinning her arms behind her back, though she complied with a victorious grin, âReal tough there pal, grabbing on a woman half your size,âÂ
âRelax honey, I got a taser in my pocket if they really want to behave like bad boys,â The bouncers looked at her in alarm, and it was the distraction Spencer needed to reach into his jacket and trigger the signal. She gave the three of them a shit eating grin, and Spencer thought he might just love her even more, âDonât shit your pants, Iâm kidding. I charge extra for the rough stuff,â
Spencer was still laughing when Hotch and Emily barged past them after the UnSub, who was by now leaving out the back door.Â
â
âSpencer, really, we can go back to the hotel and forget about it,â After revealing their cover with the bouncers, courtesy of one David Rossi and his famous face clearing their names, and the UnSub caught and well on the way to the nearest jail cell for questioning, Bugsy was more than tired and ready to strip out of the impossibly tight dress.Â
âI want to see this guy brought to justice, think of him as another UnSub,â Spencer said, his arms crossed over his chest as they sat on the bonnet of a squad car out the front of the building, the tournament slowly trickling to an end with its patrons leaving for the night.Â
She rolled her eyes, his jacket over her arms the only thing keeping her warm against the evening air. It would have been so much easier if they had been allowed back in, but FBI agents or not, the guards had clear rules against breaching the peace in such a high stakes game. A bad rep for having the feds show up on their busiest day of the year was not welcomed, just as much as they werenât.Â
âExcept heâs not murdered anyone,â She replied, eyes darting between the guests leaving with their earnings spilling out of their pockets, âHeâs just some dumb asshole who canât keep his hands to himself and- itâs him,â
The guy with the tattoos, Mike Folio as would later be printed on the police report, had barely a second to grieve his losses of the night before Spencer had him cuffed against the squad car, yelling and spitting about his rights as an American citizen.Â
It wasnât until he saw the gorgeous woman donned in the candy red dress looking down at him with amusement that he felt the colour drain from his face.Â
âHi sweetheart,â She smiled viciously, âI told you Iâd see you again. Spence, read him the Mirandas,âÂ
3. The one with the bank explosion
The tweed trousers irritated her thighs, the head band fluffed her hair away from her face in a way she kept trying to fix, and the brown pumps squeaked every time she walked, but her smile was dazzling nevertheless.Â
âOkay, the TV movie is at Hall H at nine, can we go to that?â Penelope asked, reading from the pamphlet as Bugsy and Spencer all but ran to keep up with her.Â
âAbsolutely!â Spencer chimed in, âDo you think we can make it to the Captains of Enterprise at eleven?â
âObvs,â Penny replied, fixing the bow tie necklace her and Bugsy had made not even the week before. She looked over at the younger woman, who had a matching K-9 pendant, because apparently FBI salaries did not take into account life sized robot dogs, âThanks for coming with me,âÂ
âOfcourse, Iâve been knitting this scarf for weeks,â Spencer replied, his eyes falling down to where Bugsy donned a Sarah Jane Smith cosplay.Â
âWho are you going as?â Sheâd asked, the minute heâd asked her to go, because there were few things he did these days without her.Â
âThe Fourth Doctor,â Spencer replied, because he had explained in length to her about the concept of regenerating and had even flicked on some of the newer series for her to watch with him, âTom Bakerâs Doctor, heâs a fan favourite,âÂ
He showed her a picture of the time lord stood outside the TARDIS, a younger girl stood opposite him in a pink suit, large white peter pan collar hanging wide over her chest.Â
âWhoâs that?â She asked, pointing the girl with the cute bangs and pleated skirts.Â
âThatâs Sarah-Jane, or Sarah-Jane Smith. Sheâs one of the longest starring companions since she was the Third Doctorâs companion first and also was in the spin off show for her dog, K-9,â He explained, warming inside when Bugsy listened with raptured interest.Â
âSo like, is she his girlfriend or-â
âNo, no! The Doctor is often speculated to be asexual when it comes to relations with humans. Sarah Jane was one of his closest friends however, and in the Tenth Doctorâs third season he even comes back to rescue her from a wedding set up by one of his enemies,â He said, and her smile pulled out widely when an idea popped into her head.Â
âWell, can I be her? For your convention?â She asked, somewhat shyly, still a little unsure how the show worked in the fine details, âYou know, since you saved me from my wedding?âÂ
He paused, because sheâd never really spoken about that day sheâd jumped into his arms in the elevator, holding him to her like he was the only thing that made sense. Bugsy was like that alot; giving him everything he ever dreamed in the moment and then acting like it was never a big deal the next.Â
âS-sure! Yeah, that would be really nice.â He said, and she immediately started searching up what she should wear for it, âI didnât really save you though, you know, you saved yourself,â
She snickered, nudging him with her shoulder, âYou all saved me, I donât know what I would have done if Em-â She stopped herself, swallowing thickly, and he saw the glow leave her eyes.Â
If Emily hadnât been there.Â
Things were still awkward between them. There were no more catfights, thank goodness, though there also wasnât any doting between the sisters anymore. It was like a clean break had slit between them. Emily had given up trying to warm to her, given up trying to get her to come around, and had instead taken the high road of waiting for Bugsy to make the first move.Â
But Bugsy was nothing if not stubborn. So Emily would be waiting a while longer.Â
âHey, listen, next time I promise Iâll be the first one to object and then you can say I saved you,â Spencer joked, because he knew the subject of Emily stung her, because he knew she needed to stop thinking about it or sheâd unravel into self hatred.Â
She chuckled aghast, âNext time? I was kind of hoping to keep the next one, Spence, whoever the unlucky guy is,â
He shook his head, a fake look of disapprovement, âSorry, rules are rules. You wanted to be Sarah-Jane, I have to crash your wedding with the TARDIS Iâm afraid,âÂ
She laughed, resting her head on his shoulder as they flicked through the TV some more together.Â
âWell, I mean if those are the rules,â She simpered, snuggling under his chin, âDoes this mean I get a sick robo-dog too?â
She looked every bit the part he would have ever expected her to look. Down to the maroon tie, and the white dress shirt, and the matching tweed blazer and pants that made her look embarrassingly hot.Â
He was about to tell her just how great she looked because she still seemed unsure, being a casual fan of the show not nearly as religious as some of the surrounding guests were, when Penelope cut them off in a near gutted voice.Â
âOh my god,â
âPenelope?âÂ
Bugsy and Spencer looked up to see Penelopeâs ex beau, Kevin, dressed in a nearly identical outfit to her (though in Bugâs opinion he didnât have the same pzazz as she did with the glitter and the sparkliness,) a red headed woman beside him donned in a police woman uniform.Â
âKevin, hi, you came,â The blonde woman replied, her face mortified as she took in just how pretty the other woman was, âAnd you brought a friend, CSU technician Sharp, how are you?â
Hannah Sharp, from two floors below them in the BAU, grinned tightly, as if she could sense just how disastrous the situation had suddenly become, âIâm fine, uh, you?â
Bugsy gripped onto Spenceâs arm tightly, hating the turn this was taking, every second of it.Â
âI am also fine,â Pen replied, though she looked as though she was ready to float outside of her body any minute now. âOkay, well, see ya,â
âYouâre not gonna go in?â Kevin asked, his eyes crestfallen when he saw Penelope also grab onto the boy geniusâ arm, and he cursed Spencer Reid for getting so many attractive women.Â
âActually, we just went in and itâs super lame,â Bugsy interrupted, flashing a disjointed smile at the two of them, turning to usher her best friend away before he could call her out in her lie. âSo weâre leaving,â
âOh, okay,â Kevin replied, his date all but forgotten as the three of them made a sharp exit, a wince on the youngest Prentissâ face when they got far enough that the girl could cringe in peace, âWell, great costumes,âÂ
âYeah, you too,â Penelope called back, her heels practically leaving tire marks with how fast she had sped away from her ex that was opening fresh wounds as they spoke. At work they were separated by a whole floor, so it wasnât quite so scathing to see each other around or even hear of one another, but to be brought out in front of what she could only assume was his new woman was horrifying.
Bugsy was at her side immediately, grabbing onto her hand with a squeezing grip.Â
âWell, that was awkward,â Spencer noted aloud, and Bugsy lightly slapped his arm for him to shut up, her eyes wide with worry.Â
He looked at her in alarm, but her face told him everything he needed to know. Girl rules.Â
He hated girl rules. He never understood them.Â
âOh my god, we used to come every year, I canât believe he brought someone else,â Penelope sighed to the younger girl, who watched her with furrowed brows.Â
âWell you brought someone else,â Spencer pointed out, only to have his arm whipped at again in a chiding motion, and he watched Bugsy stroke Penâs back with a bite in her tone.Â
âGirl rules, Spencer, girl rules,â He tutted at her, rolling her eyes as if they were a married couple and she was nagging him to wash the dishes.Â
Sometimes it felt easy like that with them. Like she really was just his best friend and not the only girl who held any sort of romantic connection to his heart.Â
âYeah, someone I couldnât possibly be attracted to,â Penelope stated, âBesides, he always thought the two of you were a thing anyway, oh god what if he thinks Iâm your guys third-â
âWoah, woah, what?â Bugsy asked with wide eyes, âHe thought me and Spencer were, like, dating?âÂ
Penelope nodded, and Bugsy couldnât even look at him without stumbling over her words.Â
âWell he knows weâre- like I mean weâre not even each otherâs seconds so how could you be our third you know?â She said with a forced laugh, because she could feel her face going hot.Â
Spencer watched her tongue tie herself into oblivion, thinking of any and every excuse as to why she didnât want dating associated to the two of them. Because how could she ever feel the same way? He was just him and she was, well, her. So incredibly, beautifully her.Â
It wasnât until she bumped into an older gentleman waiting for his valet she even shut herself up.Â
âAnd I mean Kevin shouldnât have just assumed- oh sorry,â She whirled around to apologise the man she presumed was a fan of the early seasons of the show, perhaps even around when they first aired, though the thought died in her throat when he turned around, âOh, Rossi?âÂ
David Rossi looked suave as ever in his age, a blazer thrown casually over his shoulder, a neat shirt and dress pants ensemble at his hips as he looked between the three of them, their costumes staring back at him entirely too colourful for a Saturday morning.Â
He sighed, hard.Â
âWhy doesnât this surprise me?â He asked with a tired voice, as Bugsy bounced back over to Spencerâs side with an incredulous look on her face.Â
âAre you here for the convention?â Spencer asked, excitement bubbling in his tone as Bug grabbed his forearm gently, already sensing Rossi hadnât had nearly enough coffee to put up with them today.Â
âWho schedules a cigar aficionado event back to back with this?â Rossi asked, his eyes clamping on the pendant around her neck, âWhat is that, a robot dog?âÂ
âK-9,â The three of them replied, and it was as if it tipped him over the edge, his hair growing whiter by the second.Â
âKevin brought another woman, Iâm plotting revenge. Do you want to help?â Penelope asked, her face still warm from running into the guy who was almost her fiance.Â
âKnow where we can get any horse heads?â Bugsy asked, her expression lost in though as Penelope gasped, âWhat? Iâm thinking go big or go home. Also, horse head in the bed means they can't have sex-â
âIâm taking that as my cue to leave,â Rossi cut in, just as his valet arrived, âNow you know I love all three of you, but this is Saturday, and it is my day off, so Iâm going to love you from afar,â
He ruffled Bugsyâs hair fondly as he took his leave, throwing his blazer over the passenger seat and bidding them a wave goodbye.Â
They watched him go, wondering where it left them for a moment before Bugsy spoke up again, âSo are we saying a definitive no to the horse head idea, because Iâm sure I know a guy in college-â
âNo, Bugsy,â Penelope hissed, her face scrunched in disgust, and Spencer swore she turned green, âDefinitive no,âÂ
â
They had been half way through breakfast when Spencer got an emergency call from Hotch for a team of serial killers robbing a bank downtown, hostages and guns on scene.Â
She had barely had time to whip the tweed blazer off her shoulders, keeping the shirt and pants on as Derek threw her a kevlar vest.Â
âItâs definitely them,â Will said in his soft Southern drawl, JJ embracing him tightly to her with a worried expression. It had been him and his partner first on the scene, though unfortunately things had not ended well for her when they had ran into the three UnSubs slipping out the back of the bank and had engaged in a shoot out; Willâs partner getting a bullet to the head almost immediately, and Will narrowly escaping unscathed, but not before he managed to gun down one of the UnSubs in the stomach.Â
So there they were, the UnSubs back inside the bank for safety since they were now surrounded by the city police, the FBI, the SWAT team and a handful of ambulances and medics on standby.Â
âI only saw the King and the Jack but I figured the Queenâs inside too,â He added, JJ peeling herself from his side as they headed towards the building.Â
âThe media's calling them the face cards,â Hotch informed his team, all eight of them decked in their thickest vests and weapons loaded in full, âSeven bank robberies in seven months. Theyâve killed one person at each robbery,âÂ
âMO?â Rossi asked, now dressed out of his smart, Saturday wear and something more akin to his usual business attire.
âSingle gun shot wound, each of the victims has bled out,â Hotch replied, and it wasnât until they turned the corner towards the bank did Bugsy realise just how packed the street was with law enforcement.Â
Three or four choppers circled overhead with snipers and back up SWAT teams at the ready.Â
âSerial killers with a thirty day cooling off period, and weâre only just hearing about this now?â Emily asked in an incredulous tone, her voice raised to accommodate the shouting between other chiefs and their units.Â
âHeadquarters characterised them as robbers first, killers second,â Hotch said, his hands on his hips as they all assessed the situation from afar. Naturally a few new anchors had pulled up to the scene as well and were setting up their equipment despite the officers trying to corral them away.Â
âOh yeah? How did that turn out for them?â Bugsy grumbled behind her thick, dark sunglasses, biting her lip from saying worse.Â
âI disagreed with the original assessment, I was overruled,â Her chief shot back, because things had been just as cold between them since that day as they had with Emily.Â
JJ was slowly reaching out the olive branch in her direction, and if it wasnât for Henry being so darn cute every time he begged âBuggyâ to come play with him, she reckoned JJ would have taken even longer to forgive as well.Â
âWhy are we here now?â Rossi chimed in, eyes locked on Aaronâs frown, that seemed to harden every step they took closer to the bank.
âBecause crisis negotiation is overseas.â
âWhat do we know about them?â JJ jumped in straight away with the problem solving, because even if they were out in the field and not in their pretty little round table room anymore, the UnSubs were still just pictures on a white board needing that red string to connect them all together.Â
âTheyâre organised, they're efficient,â Hotch fired off, mentally running through whether he had loaded the pistol he kept around his calf for emergencies, âEach strike lasts about two minutes,â
Derekâs face scrunched in confusion, âThey gotta be scouting out the banks in advance, why havenât we been able to ID them off of surveillance footage?âÂ
âThey hacked the security feed and turn off the cameras both during the initial canvas and during the robbery, until the masks come back on and then were allowed to watchâ Hotch replied, and the eight of them slipped into the base of operation for the day; a wide trailer converted to house the high tech computers Penelope needed to keep an eye on the cameras with those magic skills of hers.Â
Bugsyâs eyes landed on the black and white feed of inside the bank, her heart lurching in her throat when she saw well over forty men, women and children lined on their knees execution style, facing the doors to the bank to act as a shield if the snipers did happen to get a shot through the windows.Â
The woman took the lead, a mask over her face with a doll-like expression on it, the other men soaked in blood as one fought to hold the injured one up for dear life.Â
âWhy havenât they cut the feed now that theyâve been cornered,â Derek said with a shake of his head, his lips pulled into a grimace, âLetting us see inside gives us a tactical advantage, they have to know that,â
âUnless they want the audience,â Bugsy suggested, watching the jack slowly growing weaker and weaker as they discussed tactics, âAlthough the only one who really strikes me as the attention seeker is her, he seems more prioritised with the other male,â
âThe masks add to their narcissism,â Spencer input with a nod, âTheir personas are the royalty of poker,â
âJJ, you, Bugsy, Reid and Prentiss, look at past robberies, thatâs going to be our victimology,â Hotch ordered, and they did as ordered with little delay, heading to the office they had set up in the opposite trailer.Â
This was going to be a long day.Â
â
âI can help,â Bugsy offered herself before the team even had a chance to protest.Â
It hadnât even been an hour into them pulling research from InterPol as to who their UnSubs were before they had made their next dramatic move; they had shot a hostage.Â
Which meant they needed medics in there fast, fast enough to save the hostage and the jack if it kept the king from unravelling into a massacre.Â
âWhat do you mean you can help?â Emily said with a scathing tone, âBug, you canât just throw yourself in harmâs way if you have no clue what youâre-â
âI did three years of a medicine degree alongside my biochemistry before I got bored of doing both and gave up on it,â Bugsy snapped at her sister, brows contorting into a harsher frown than sheâd had in months. She preferred it when they werenât speaking at all.Â
âBecause you were bored?â Derek asked, his face incredulous at the gall of the twenty year old theyâd plucked from college and sent into the midst of the Russian Mob five years ago, âDid you not have anything better to do like partying or making out with guys- a whole medical degree on the side is your idea of downtime?âÂ
She shrugged, looking back at Emily with a glare who seemed to bristle at the information.Â
âCan I speak to you outside please?â Emily said in the coolest tone she could muster, though even that sounded like a bite.Â
Something shifted in the air of the tiny, makeshift office and the other inhabitants tensed up at the sight of the Prentiss women gritting their teeth almost identically, staring daggers at one another for a moment before they stood from their seats and waltzed out of the side of the trailer to where there wasnât the bustle of squad cars or media to be seen.Â
JJ looked to Morgan, who looked to Spencer, who seemed to have paled for a moment, and the three of them were out of their own seats to linger at the doorway in case things really did get ugly between the sisters. Â
âDo you honestly think that throwing yourself into the line of danger today is a good idea or are you trying to hurt me to get back at me?â Emily seethed the minute they had stepped foot on the ground, and the scoff that left her little sisterâs throat was something nasty.Â
âOh, please, donât make yourself sound so important.â Bugsy snapped, whirling around on her heel to glare at her sister, âIâm not doing any of this to get back at you, Iâm trying to save those hostages in there-âÂ
âSo I just happened to have never heard about this medical side quest you set yourself on until now because, what, it just never came up?â Emily laughed, laughed, in her sisterâs face, and Bugsy saw red even more, âI thought you were a better liar than that,â
âMaybe if youâd bothered to even speak to me before you needed something from me that day with the Russians then you would have known anything about me that wasnât being your dumb little sister you can just walk all over like youâre my mom or something,â Bugsyâs voice was getting louder, and Emilyâs smirk wiped right off at the sound of that, because she knew she could have been ten times a better sister had she not wanted to get as far away from her mother as fast as possible. âSame with Hotch, he never wanted much to do with me until his wife died and then who did he come to needing help grieving, none a single one of you, and who gets bitten in the ass and punished when I find out I spent seven months grieving like some idiot to that uptight prick who lied to me-â
âDo not speak about him like that,â Emily was shouting now too because Bugsy was truly holding nothing back on her.Â
âWhy? Are you going to pick him over me, Em?â The younger woman snarked, her eyes hateful and narrowed, âWouldnât surprise me in the slightest given your track record-â
Emily shoved her, like, truly shoved her back and it robbed the words out of the girlâs throat. Yet it made JJ gasp where they were watching from the crack in the doorway, wanting to break them apart but knowing they needed to fix it for themselves.Â
The three of them hissed when Bugsyâs hand swiped against Emilyâs cheek in a territory neither of them had ever wandered into. Emily was always too old to argue with her sister, too big to fight the way most siblings did with slaps and hair pulls and scratches, but Bugsy was a grown woman now; they both were.Â
Emily swatted the same back to her own cheekbone, after a second of shock washing over her face, and it was like they were two cats fighting in a back alleyway over a scrap of chicken.Â
Bugsy shoved at her around the tits, because she knew it would ache, Emily pulled at her braid with a yank that made Bugsyâs eyes water, the two of them banging against the wall of the trailer, their heads clunking together.Â
âFucking punishing me after months like some insolent child-â
âI would never have left you thinking you were to blame for my death- I would never fucking do this to you-â
This was childish, entirely childish, playground offences and girlish curses in between. The worst part was they knew they could do much worse, they knew they could truly hurt one another if they wanted to. They were both trained to kill, and yet Emily had Bugsy grabbed in a headlock like they were two infants fighting over a sandpit.Â
Because they didnât want to properly hurt one another in any way that would last. Never.Â
âGet the fuck off me or Iâm punching you in the crotch,â Bugsy barked, trying to wriggle her way out of her sisterâs freakishly strong arms with a frown, âEMILY- I SAID-â
âI was trying to protect you- just get your head out of your ass for two seconds and listen to me- I was trying to protect all of you-â But by the time Emily had somewhat gotten her to stop squirming, the girl had grabbed her by the calf where she had been forced to bend at a forty five degree angle, holding her one leg up off the floor while she sweeped at the second one to knock her off balance.Â
She had been known to shoot an assailant in the foot from twenty feet away to stop them from getting away, and yet she was resorting to simply pushing her sister over as a way to get one up on her.Â
She felt like she was ready to finger paint and take a nap time next; like they were about to be sat in the headmasterâs office and have their wrists slapped with a ruler for not keeping their hands to themselves.Â
But it worked, and in seconds the Prentiss girls were on the floor, puffing out of breath, Bugsyâs lip bleeding where Emilyâs ring had caught it on the corner, Emilyâs cheek red and raised from where her sister had a surprisingly strong right hook. They took a minute to breath, Bugsy glaring at the awfully clear blue sky, much too happy and cheery for the travesty that had been her entire day. And it was only then did she hear the other three members of their team exit the trailer, JJ going to help Emily up while Morgan's face appeared in the middle of the powdered clouds, something sad and sympathetic in his eyes and it was then that he held out his hand to get her up.Â
She didnât want to, had every intention of laying there and staring at the broad daylight until she managed to float far away from there and from where her chest hurt with betrayal and her lip bled with lies.Â
He yanked her off the floor, offered her a cold can of coke for where she felt her lip swelling already, and she resigned to sit on the stairs to the trailer with her head in her hands until her temple stopped pounding or at least until she felt herself calm down in the slightest.Â
Emily shuffled to sit down next to her, her breathing still uneven but she could tell because she felt a tentative hand on her thigh rubbing gently, in the motherly way Emily had always watched her.
Because Bugsy had always been her baby, whether she wanted to admit it or not.Â
âBugsy?â The younger woman huffed in indignance, pouting as she stared at her lap, because she felt the tears welling up already, âIâm so sorry I left you, you know I never, ever wanted to, you know that right?âÂ
âWhy didnât you tell me?â Her voice cracked as she finally looked over at her sisterâs solemn face, âYou told JJ and Hotch but you couldnât even tell me? Did you just not want to come back for me?â
Emilyâs brows pulled up into a sorrowful frown, and she felt her eyes start to burn too.Â
âNo, that was never a part of it, I swear, there wasnât a day when I didnât want to come home to you,â She replied, taking a deep breath in through her nose as not to start bawling her eyes out there and then, âI had to tell Hotch and JJ as a matter of precaution, not because I wanted to tell them and not you. Bug, I missed you every day, I missed Niko and Sergio and those dumb documentaries you made us watch,â Â
Bugsy smiled despite herself, wiping a finger under her nose to stop the tears that had already started rolling there, âWell, I donât know about Niko but Sergio missed you a whole lot,â She sniffled, rolling the Coke over to a cooler side to sooth her lip some more, âBut I think he feels like you kind of abandoned him, and like you maybe donât love him as much because he can be kind of annoying and, like, heâs real torn up about me telling him you died only to find your youâre not, like you canât just do that to Sergio, Em, he doesnât deserve that,âÂ
Bugsyâs lip was quivering by the time sheâd finished, but Emily chuckled wetly, wrapping an arm over her shoulder and pressing their pounding heads together.Â
âAre we maybe not talking about Sergio anymore, Bug? Are we talking about you-â
âNo, weâre definitely talking about Sergio,â She cut in, wiping under her eyes with her sleeve, looking back up where Emilyâs face was glistening with tears though it seemed like she had somewhat calmed under her sisterâs gaze that wasnât so full of vitriol hatred anymore.Â
Emily nodded, a humoured smile on her lips, âRight, okay, my bad. Definitely Sergio,â She held up her hand, stroking down Bugâs cheek for her where her tears had started pooling, âWell, I want Sergio to know that even if he is annoying sometimes, that thereâs nothing that could ever take me away from him again, cause even though Iâm not his mom, heâs still always going to be my kid, you know?âÂ
Bugsyâs face crumpled in pain for a minute, sniffling and meeting Emilyâs eyes, dark brown hues watching her sadly, imploring her to know how much her heart called out for her.Â
âReally? You promise?â Bugsy whined, and Emily nodded with a sad smile, stroking the back of her braid that looked a little ratted and wispy from where it had been yanked at. She took a shaky breath, looking down to her shoes where they scraped against the steps, âWell, Iâm sure heâll love to hear that, Iâll tell him when weâre home-â
Emily laughed, kissing her sisterâs forehead, and pulling her into a side hug.Â
âAlright, tough guys. Letâs get back to working on the profile, Sergio can wait for a minute,â Morgan said, though his face fought off the smile that crept on his lips seeing two of his favourite girls finally at peace with one another.Â
Bugsy looked five years younger within seconds, and they clicked back into place, hopping up off the steps to get right to work, cursing herself for wasting so much time on silly things like hating her sister, because forgiving her felt cathartic in a way she didnât understand she needed.
Maybe they had a chance after all.
â
Bugsy swore she would never have an optimistic thought a day in her life again.Â
Because just as they had thought perhaps things could look up; just as they had sent in a different agent medically trained enough to save the jack, their UnSub, that theyâd identified as Oliver, had bled out before he could have done anything to save him. Without a second thought, the king, Chris, had shot the agent, and demanded he wanted Will next as retribution for his brotherâs death.Â
They had of course turned down the offer in a heartbeat but the moment everyone turned their backs, Will, ten times the cop Bugsy could ever hope to be, had walked into the bank with his arms raised in surrender despite JJ screaming for him to stop from where Morgan and Hotch held her back from following him in.
Bugsy and Penelope watched from the CCTV in blood curdling horror when Chris put two bullets in him before he could even declare he was unarmed.Â
âDid you see where he was shot?â JJ asked, her tone empty, her eyes bloodshot where she had broken down into a fit of wails as soon as the gunshots had sounded through the street.Â
Bugsy opened her mouth to speak, losing all hope as soon as the bluebell gaze fell to her for an explanation.Â
âIs he alive or dead, Bug?â JJ snipped, but she knew she didnât mean it, knew she was just worried out her mind and grasping at straws.Â
âI donât know, Iâm sorry,â Bugsy replied, Emilyâs hand at the small of her back in a comforting gesture because she sounded scared. She wished Spencer was with her, he always knew how to make people feel better, but he and Kevin had gone back to their office uptown to use Penelopeâs personal lair for better coverage on the BAUâs resources.Â
âHe was wearing a vest,â Emily jumped in, because Bug was tense and upset enough as it was, âHe might be okay,â
âMight be?â JJ said humourlessly, her face hollow with sadness, âAlright we need to get inside,â
âJJ, itâs too risky,â Morgan tried as the woman stood up, a new found determination, because she refused to accept her partner, the father of her child, was dead until she saw him in a body bag for herself, âWe donât have eyes in there anymore,â
Jenniferâs eyes welled up again, and she turned to their unit chief; he was the only one who could understand just how desperate she felt right now if there was even the smallest chance he could still be alive. âAaron.âÂ
Hotch took a breath, nodding to her with complete empathy, âLetâs go in,â
Bugsy leapt for the medical kit theyâd kept in the cupboard, because if she could stop the bleeding as soon as possible he might have a chance. She was taken back to when she had gotten to Emily that night with Doyle, when she had nothing but the clothes on her back and a loaded gun to treat her sister with, when she had felt completely helpless.Â
She refused to feel like that again, not now sheâd been lucky enough to get Emily back. She refused to let JJ and tiny Henry go through what she did.Â
Will wouldnât die if she had anything to do with it.Â
-
âSeeing whatâs going on outside doesnât help us inside,â Spencer said, standing behind where Kevin sat in Penâs office, his hazel eyes falling to the surveillance footage of the bank live streaming from one of the choppers, where the familiar woman he worried for more than he could ever tell her moved behind a SWAT unit towards the front doors, a large med kit strapped to her back, a pistol at her side.Â
He looked down at the blueprints of the bank because if he watched her get even ten feet away the bank he thought he might just throw up, even if there were four armed men shielding her.
âKevin, can you possibly pull up each of the surveillance feeds prior to Will being shot?â He asked, quickly diverting his attention away from where they were at an impasse waiting for something to happen, Emilyâs SWAT team moving slowly towards hers.Â
âSure, what are we looking for?â The other man asked, his fingers sprawling over Penelopeâs keyboard as he did as requested, playing the older footage on the opposite screen, though even he was getting cold feet watching their team getting ready to breach the perimeter.Â
âThe female UnSub disappeared once before, if she wasnât looking for an escape, what was she doing?âÂ
Spencer paused, because he couldnât help when his eyes flicked back to the footage of Bugsy shuffling closer to the entrance behind one SWAT agent, and the doors burst open, the entire street pausing for a second to see what the movement was.Â
The hostages. The civillians caught in the crossfire at the bank slowly trickled out of the doorway, their arms raised in peace, some crying in relief though there was no sign of Will anywhere.Â
This was bad. Though he felt utmost care that the hostages had been released safely, he knew that the UnSubs keeping Will meant one of two things. One, that Will was already dead and useless to them, or two, keeping him bleeding out as a bargaining chip was their final play. Meaning they had no intention of releasing him, otherwise they would be left with nothing.Â
If he wasnât already dead, he would be any minute now.Â
Spencerâs chest crashed in devastation for his friend and his godson, though it soon took a turn of terror when it seemed the same thought ran through Bugsyâs mind and she began stepping forward towards where the hostages were shuffling out in floods of tears.Â
He saw Morgan and Emily yelling at her to stop, two of the SWAT team trying to follow her because they had no idea what had come over the twenty something year old rookie with a death wish. Spencer tried to ignore the way his chest clawed in horror, his eyes snapping back onto the surveillance of the female UnSub disappearing into the back rooms of the bank, completely ignoring the vault and the very clearly marked exit, meaning she had no intention of using either.
So what was she doing?âÂ
Spencer felt his head rattling with a horrid thought, hoping his intuition was wrong when he held the blueprints up to the screen, his skin turning to gooseflesh when he realised just exactly where she had been dipping out to with that backpack of hers.Â
âGas mains,â His voice was numb with fear, his body diving for their comm link to Garcia, where she sat in the trailer with Strauss and Rossi, watching the surveillance just as he was, âGarcia, get them out of there now,â
But no sooner had he said anything, Bugsyâs figure disappeared into the building, the SWAT team confirming that the entrance was clear, JJ and Morgan moving after her with their own agents protecting them.Â
But she was already inside, his head screamed at him. Even when he heard Davidâs frantic voice through the radio they had linked to their kevlars, âABORT, ABORT!âÂ
Even when he heard Hotch swear hastily, calling to his team to hold back, trying to yell loud enough JJ and her team could hear his orders to take cover.Â
Spencer couldnât truly take any of it in as he watched the large glass windows wobble for a second, a shock wave of what he knew was about to come.
The lines went dead, and he thought for a second his heart stopped. Because he hadnât figured it out fast enough, hadnât warned them before she had chance to throw herself head first into danger the way he should have known she would.Â
Because Spencer watched the footage with a terror he had never known, not even in his eight years on the team, not even in his own situations as a hostage, not even when he was at his lowest and he thought the dilaudid was going to finish him off, alone and high in his apartmentâs little bathroom, a burnt out drug addict who had so much going for him.Â
Spencer had never felt the sheer, spine-chilling dread that he did when he watched, useless and heart broken, as the bank went up in a colossal explosion, a plume of flames bursting out of every window, shattering glass and cracking the brickwork, hard enough he watched part of the building start to crumble inwards.Â
And Bugsy went down with it.Â
Taglist:
@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions. @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3 @rosylnsworld @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist t @theoraekenslover @niktwazny303 @bliindmattmurdock @alyeskathewave @littlemadamred
575 notes
·
View notes
THE KID HITS BACK | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [4]
Description: The THREE times things feel weird between Spencer and you because you're just best friends.
Length: 21k (this is HALF of what I wrote for this chapter before I split it into two parts :0)
Warnings: explicit hints of suicidal ideation, as I have said in the last two chapters, Bugsy has really struggled with losing Emily and has been in a bad place. it is mentioned once or twice but please read with caution if you feel topics of mental health, not vividly described but the effects of it, are mentioned. Spencer's addiction is also mentioned. Violence, blood, swearing, usual CM warnings. Also there is a brief mention of SA (bugsy gets spanked by a stranger in a casino), again if this is triggering please be cautious. EXPLOSION. Emily and bug argue + fight. Bug + hatch fight. Bugsy takes no prisoners in this one won't lie. Spencer and bugsy turn each other on accidentally.
authors note: this was supposed to be a lot longer (I've had to split it with the next part released in a few days time) and yet every time I tried to upload to Tumblr, it crashed because it was over 30k words ;-; OTHER HALF IS COMING SOON.
previous chpt | next chapter
The one where Emily comes back.
She felt the headache as soon as she woke up. Sheâd experimented with Molly her first week of college, hated every second of it after she had prattled on for two hours to some other random freshman about the breakthrough research in enzyme-replacement therapy like she was catching him up on an episode of the Kardashians. Sheâd tried the odd few brownies, though they usually turned her stomach the next day and made her paranoid for about a week, before she swore them off entirely for their yummy, sober counterpart.Â
She should have known what to expect when she woke up, but then again, if she had been smart enough to pre-empt how awful sheâd feel the next day, she probably wouldnât have taken the little pink pill with a candied love heart on the top at all.Â
The duvet was soft against her face, and for a moment she didnât care about anything except chasing the warmth it provided; just that she was cosy and it smelled nice, smelled familiar.Â
Her eyes pinged open when she realised that whatever that familiar smell was, it was very much not her own sheets. And she was very much not in the clothes she left the house in last night.Â
Bugsy sat up too fast, that much she knew, because in the time it had taken her to swing her legs over the edge of the bed, reach for the side table where she hoped to find her phone, a home phone, or just any working phone she could call someone off, she felt the room that smelled like a dream spinning around her.Â
Her legs turned to jelly, her stomach tossed with a mix of nerves and nausea, and, graceful as ever, she fell face first to the ground with a thud, smacking her temple off the corner of the bedpost on her way down.Â
âFuck,â She whined, raising a hand to her brow that thudded with more than the side affects of last night, and she was quick to hear footsteps approaching as if in a half run. The door to the bedroom dragged on the thick sherpa carpet as it swung open, and she blinked wearily up at the culprit.Â
âAlright, up we get,â There were hands slipping under hers before she got a chance to see anything that wasnât a blurry mess of brown hair and worried eyes, and it wasnât until she heard his voice she felt herself sigh in relief, âOf course you wake up the second I turn around,â
âSencer?,â She cleared her throat, hands latching onto his shoulders as he lifted her back onto the bed, âSpencer?â She tried again, her lips chapped, her skin clammy.Â
âGood morning, to you too,â His voice was soft, quieter than usual, like he knew just how delicate her head was and changed his tone accordingly, âDid you sleep well?â
âMorgan- whereâs Morgan, I thought weâŠâ She murmured, turning her head in confusion to the window where Spence had gone so far as to pull the curtains closed for her, seeing just the smallest crack of daylight filtering over the bed sheets. Her hands ran down his chest, her eyes lost and dazed, like someone had taken her batteries out, and Spencer took it as an opportunity to hand her the glass of water heâd got her and two advil.Â
âMorganâs safe; he went home, he said he had a wonderful night,â Spencer lied, hoping she was just a little out of it that she didnât catch him in it. She always knew when he was lying. But, as heâd suspected, she barely picked up on it, her lips pouting in confusion when she took note of the medicine heâd given her, âDrink up, Morgan said you did a lot of dancing last night, youâre probably dehydrated.â
âI didâŠâ She echoed him, trailing off when the blur of the nightclub caught up to her, and she remembered exactly the last time someone had handed her a little tablet like those ones. Her heart plummeted, her eyes widening into saucers, and she swore she might have felt the glass crack beneath her palm with how tight her grip became. She looked up at him, and instantly picked apart the pity and the sadness swimming in his honey pooled eyes, âYou know,âÂ
He nodded softly, his hand coming up to stroke her hair away from her face, his gaze falling to where she felt something sore and achy forming on her forehead, bleeding into her brow.Â
âSpence-â Her own groan of pain cut her off when he brushed over the bump on her temple, and she understood she had perhaps hit it much harder than sheâd initially thought.
âLetâs get you breakfast, and then weâll talk,â He whispered softly, concern thick in his voice, and for the first time in months, she didnât fight it. She just listened, and let him love her.
-
âGod, I am truly pathetic,â She muttered, sipping her coffee with a scowl in between the maple ladened pancakes going down with a vicious chomp on her fork. Her other hand was occupied holding a bag of frozen peas to her head, where a nice dark bruise was spreading its way over the right side of her face, spider webbing out into a black eye.Â
âYouâre not pathetic, everyone makes mistakes,â Spencer tried reassuring her, but he couldnât help but smile as she devoured breakfast with the anger of a raccoon being dragged from a garbage bin, âYouâre safe, thatâs all that matters,âÂ
She sighed, and Spencer didnât actually think she had ever been so grumpy around him before, âSpencer, look at me,â He did, he had been all morning, but he did as he was told anyway, âIâm a federal agent who took molly from a frat boy all because I canât just grieve like a normal person and cry my pathetic little heart out and be done with it. I crashed your night because I canât even handle a little ecstasy without needing supervision and I just got into a fight with your bedframe,â She finished with a huff, dipping her next mouthful of pancake in the puddle of maple syrup sheâd created on the plate, âAnd the fucking bedframe won.âÂ
He smiled despite himself, reaching out to hold her wrist gently, making sure it was her turn to listen to him now, âBug, I grew up being shoved into lockers and swirlied my whole life. I was the only kid in a classful of seniors that used to wedgie me so hard I had to have the school librarian, Mrs Addler, walk me between classes. Believe me, Iâve seen pathetic and youâre not- why are you crying, Bug, donât cry,â
He remembered this bit, the mood swings, when he would pendulum between exhaustion and irritation straight into sadness and hopelessness, like there would never be an impasse between them unless he did more of the thing that had made him feel so awful in the first place. Still, he gently took the bag of now slightly soggy peas from her head, wrapping an arm around her back and scooching his chair to sit next to hers as she dropped onto his shoulder with a weepy sniff.Â
âIâm crying because I just thought of baby you all alone with Mrs Addler-â She sobbed loudly, and his heart bled out in his chest with warmth. No one had ever cried for him. âHow could they be so cruel to you, I swear if we ever see those bastards, Iâll show them how we settled things in Russia-âÂ
He chuckled, shaking his head, and she snuggled closer to him the way she had last night when the only thing keeping her on earth had been his body heat.Â
âIt wasnât all bad, she used to share her butterscotch with me,â He said with a small smile when she raised a wet glance at him.Â
âYou know, you never have to be alone again, right?â Bugsy murmured, and he swore his heart might have just jumped right up into his mouth then and there, âYouâre my best friend in the whole world, and I promise Iâll never leave you again. That was⊠selfish of me, Iâm sorry I was so selfish.âÂ
Spencer felt his throat tighten as he looked at her, innocent and entirely truthful, like he could ask anything from her right this second and her godâs honest words would be âAnything for you, Spencer, Iâd do anything for you.â He had never had anyone look at him like that, nothing even close.Â
âYouâre my best friend too. And you werenât selfish, you were grieving,â He choked out, and she tucked herself beneath his chin then, satisfied with the response, but his stomach turned sour when he remembered what he was going to tell her last night, what he should have told her months, years, ago instead of lying to her. Because he knew she would understand, knew she would get him the way no one else had even tried to, because she was just her. âI have to tell you something,â
She sat up straight, sensing the seriousness in his tone, and looked at him with imploring eyes, still sleep-addled and slightly wet around the edges.Â
He cleared his throat, âWhen I told you I was allergic to narcotics since I was born, that wasnât entirely true, and Iâm sorry I lied to you,â Her brows softened, creasing in a way that told him she was worried, or she knew where he was heading but couldnât find a voice in her to say anything. He ran clammy palms over his pyjama pants, âThere was a case, a while back, where we were tracking an UnSub to this farmhouse in the middle of Atlanta. Me and JJ got split up and the UnSub took me hostage in his fatherâs shed,âÂ
She stayed quiet, but she quickly took his hand in hers when she saw him fidgeting with it in his lap. He smiled at her weakly, and squeezed her fingers gently, telling her he was okay to talk about it no matter if his chest was rattling and his face felt like fire.Â
âHe was very sick, the UnSub. Tobias. He took on an alter of his dead father because he couldn't handle life without him. Even though his father was extremely violent and abusive, he still loved him enough to never want to let him go,â His lip pulled between his teeth for a moment, and he couldnât look at her for what he was about to say, âTobias tried giving me something to stop the pain of his fatherâs beatings when he would front and being a drug addict himself, the best thing he had was dilaudid. So, he gave it to me for the three days I was with him before the team found me,âÂ
âSpence,â She said softly, knowing he would hate to hear an âIâm sorryâ because she hated those two words with a passion, âYou donât have to tell me if you donât want to,âÂ
âNo, I want to, itâs just a little⊠fuzzy in parts,â He whispered, and she nodded, gently knocking her head against his jaw to let him know she was there to listen, âAfter the case wrapped up, everyone got home and just sort of pretended things went back to normal, even though I felt like I was drowning in everything that had happened, and the only thing I could think that had stopped the pain was the dilaudid. So I took more, and more, until I was using every other day, sometimes even at work to cope with the cases,â
âDid anyone know?â She asked, lips pressed tight as she scolded herself for talking, but he stroked her hand with his thumb to show he didnât care if she asked questions, âDid Emily know?âÂ
He nodded gingerly, âEveryone knew, but no one could do anything, or say anything, because otherwise Hotch would have to file a report on me, and Iâd be forced to leave the team,âÂ
âSo no one helped?â She said, and there was an unexpected trace of anger in her tone that he knew too well. Heâd be lying if he said that there were more than a handful of times when he was at his lowest he didnât curse the team out for not giving a single shit about his condition. But when heâd sobered up, when heâd got clean and back to his usual self, he knew they were trying to do what was best, that they were in uncharted waters as to what would be the correct approach to helping him that wouldnât diffuse a bomb that could ruin all of their careers.Â
âThere was nothing they could do, Bug. If they said anything they would be just as liable as me for what I was doing, the same way Morgan and I arenât going to say a word about what happened last night,â He pointed out, and she seemed bitter as if she knew he was right but hated the point of it anyway.Â
She held onto herself for long enough hearing that, and he saw it coming before it came as a shock when she threw her arms around him, hugging him tighter than she ever had before, not crying like she had been, but full to the brim of sadness and grief and mourning, as if she was trying to squeeze it all out of him so she could take it on for herself.Â
âYouâre never going to be alone again, I swear, Spencer,âÂ
And he believed her with everything in him.Â
â
Bugsy had been back in the field for five weeks now, looking healthier than ever thanks to Hotchâs insistence she joined Beth for triathlon practice despite the fact she really had started feeling more like herself.Â
It had only taken six months, but who was counting, right?Â
Sure, walking past Emilyâs desk had stopped her in her tracks the first day she got back, and Morgan had quickly jumped in to distract her with a cup of coffee, leading her over to the kitchenette and far away from the empty table her sisterâs things had once been on.Â
She was still adjusting to this alternate reality version of the BAU where Emily wasnât there to protect her and watch out for her, and where they didnât bicker about who got to ride shotgun with Hotch because Bug loved when he would drive fast (he pretended not to notice but would floor it when they hit the freeway), or when they would butt heads over who finished off the biscuits Emily kept in her secret stash (it was almost always Bugsy sharing them with Spencer and Penelope, when the three of them would gossip in Penâs lair at lunchtime.)
She was adjusting, slowly yes, but there was one thing to keep her going, to keep her holding her head high as she walked past Emilyâs picture on the way, full of smiles and dark hair the day sheâd been instated in the bureau, her excitement tangible even through a piece of paper and a thin sheet of glass.Â
There was one thing keeping her going, and it wasnât Penelopeâs cheerful good mornings she showered her in the minute she entered the building, it wasnât Bethâs runs that would take everything out of her even though she felt stronger than she ever had, it wasnât Rossiâs insistence on cooking for her once or twice a week because âhe had more wine he could ever need alone and she could stir the pasta while he chopped the meatâ, and it wasnât even Spencer sticking to her side like damn velcro since she had been back. Although, they played a pretty big part in it.Â
No, the one thing keeping her going was revenge.Â
Morgan had let it slip accidentally, the morning she had come back into the headquarters to fill in some forms with Hotch and Strauss before Hotch was reassigned to Pakistan, when she had slinked into his office with an apology ready at her lips for the way she had behaved, to which he was going to say he had no idea what she was talking about because that was how things had to be, only to find file upon file upon caseload on Ian Doyle splayed all over his desk, and she quickly realised Derek was not one to let sleeping dogs lie either.Â
And, reluctantly, he had let her help, because he hated the idea of them keeping secrets from her. Especially ones that involved them secretly tracking down the guy who killed her sister, who had threatened to abduct, torture and kill her if Emily hadnât gone after him first.Â
Because Bugsy was always going to be her little sister, no matter how grown and headstrong and stubborn as an ass she was. And Emily had had zero intention of letting Bugsy come even close to danger at the hands of Ian Doyle or any other motherfucker dumb enough to think theyâd get away unscathed making threats to her sister. Which was why Emily had been the one to track him down first, no matter who she had to trample on, what lines she had to cross.
And now it was Bugâs turn to reciprocate the favour.Â
The one thing that bounced around her head with every step she took across the BAU floor was how Ian Doyle would look when she dragged him to hell and back and everything in between, when she made him burn the way she had burnt.Â
Hotch had been away on temporary duty for the month, bar the occasional phone call where he checked in on her directly or through Spencer, and it wasnât until she walked into Morgan in a blunt exchange with his own cell that she realised he was perhaps closer to coming home than sheâd thought.
The man nodded, and bid the mystery caller goodbye before he flicked a look up to where Bugsy had entered his office with a cup of to-go coffee and an expression of intrigue.Â
âWe got him,â Morgan said, and it was the three words she had been waiting to hear for two hundred and fifteen days.Â
They had found Doyle.Â
She was in the back of an SUV not even two hours later, strapped to her neck with tactical gear and two loaded pistols holstered at her hips.Â
âYouâre sure youâre alright to do this?â JJ asked from her place beside her, noting the way the girlâs leg was bouncing, her fingers twitching as the three of them crowded around the screen linked to the surveillance camera set up outside Doyleâs apartment, Spencer and David watching an identical feed in the next block over, outside the safe house his son, Declan, was supposed to be in.Â
Only, when theyâd arrived, the little blonde haired, blue eyed boy that was the only thing Doyle gave a damn about in the world was gone, two agents and his nanny lying dead on the floor.Â
âPut it this way, JJ, Iâm going in after that son of a bitch whether you guys cover me or not, and it would be real nice to have back up,â Bugsy said simply, like she was reciting the weather, not ready to rain hellfire on anyone who got in between her and wringing Doyleâs neck.Â
The blonde woman exchanged a look with Derek, the two of them cautious about her behaviour, but thought better than to try stop her when she had just as much right as any of them for justice.Â
Before any of them could say another word, a car sped around the corner of the cul-de-sac, veering and wavering between parked cars, narrowly missing theirs by an inch, and red-blue blaring lights came racing after it within seconds, the siren full blast and no doubt waking the neighbours.Â
Or at least one neighbour in particular, as they spotted the curtains twitching in Doyleâs apartment, and they had their first sign of life in hours.Â
âHeâs in there, someoneâs in there,â Bugsy pointed to where the fabric moved in the dead of the night, unholstering one of her weapons and bursting the back door to the SUV open.Â
JJ clicked her radio on, speaking into her shoulder as Morgan was a hair width behind Bugsy, equally armed and ready, âWe got movement on Doyle, weâre heading up to search his apartment,âÂ
âBe careful, keep an eye on the kid,â Rossi ordered, he and Spencer adjusting their positions in their SUV, waiting for forensics to show up and investigate the nannyâs house. Spencer licked his lips nervously, and he could only imagine what was going through Bugsyâs mind at that moment, wishing more than ever she could have just stayed with him and let Morgan and JJ catch Doyle.Â
But she would never. She had nearly ripped Rossiâs head off for suggesting it even.Â
â
Sheâd seen him move up to the roof, had taken the stairs in twos, and she felt like kissing Aaron the second she saw him for all that cardio paying off a treat. She heard Morgan panting behind her, urging her to wait up so she wasnât going in alone, but she didnât listen, not when she was this close to getting that rat in her grasp and squeezing the life out of him barehanded.Â
She kicked down the door leading to the roof from the stairwell, her pistol drawn high and sharp and Morganâs steps racing up behind her were the only sound for a moment.Â
He was here somewhere, watching them, god only hoped they had caught him unaware before he could call in his own backup.Â
Taking a careful step out onto the concrete, willing herself to take a deep breath and calm herself; she checked her nine oâclock, checked her three, before her boots crunched under her and she moved further out onto the roofing. Flicking a look around again, her eyes squinted against the moonlight that did little to no good, searching for even the smallest movements that would give him away.Â
âI heard you wanted to see me, Doyle,â She said loudly, hoping he would fit the profile theyâd put together and want to tie up his loose ends once he realised who she was, âTruth is, Iâve been wanting to see you too,â
She had barely a second to react as she felt something hard slam across the back of her head, and she realised he had hit her with a rogue, loose pipe, hard enough for her to stumble forward, dropping her pistol when his body soon followed to tackle her completely to the ground in the effort to grab for the gun himself.Â
But she felt like body was alive with excitement, like the pain in her skull didnât ache, didnât matter, because she had him in her reach.Â
It took her barely a second to bring her elbow into his stomach, winding him hard enough he weakened his grip on top of her, then another hit square across his jaw, another to his temple, one to his already crooked nose and she threw a downward thump into his groin for good measure.Â
He hissed, cursing her something vile, and it was only then she saw the grey-blue eyes of the man who had killed her sister with no remorse, who had taken the person she loved unconditionally within a blink of an eye.Â
âYou recognise me?â She said, a manic smile on her face as she raised the other gun from its holster, kicking him hard in the knee sheâd seen him limping on, a bullet wound shaped scar giving his weakness away in seconds.
She wasnât the only enemy heâd made in that business of his, but she sure as hell would be his last one. Â
He fell to the floor, his eyes wary as he looked up at the girl he had spent weeks collating photos of, the girl heâd had two of his best men tracking, snapping pictures of her going about her day to day life before he sent them to Emily. Because she would know what that meant no words needed.Â
This was her sister. Her little sister she had fought tooth and nail for, that she had given her life for. Her sister, who had the same rock solid loyalty to her family as Lauren had.Â
âDo you want to know where you went wrong, Doyle?â She asked, and her voice wasnât calm like her body was, it was hiding the glee she was taking from his alarmed expression, like they both knew she was the last person he would have expected to be grabbing him in the night, âYour mistake, Doyle, was not killing me first,âÂ
She raised her finger to the trigger, feeling for a second the same thrill as when she popped that molly just to forget everything that was happening. Because she had tunnel vision, and pulling the plug on Ian Doyleâs pathetic existence was the solution.Â
Until Morganâs hand came over hers, and his voice was closer than sheâd expected to her ear. Sheâd barely heard him creep up on her, she realised with a jolt.Â
âDonât do this, kid,âÂ
âHe deserves it,â She spat, hating the sorrow in his voice when he pointed the gun away from Doyle who wiped his fingers beneath his nostrils and pulled back with a wince and a blob of blood over the back of his hand.Â
âI know he does. But we need to find Declan, and we canât do that without him,â Morganâs voice was deep and bitter, knowing full well he had to be the one to take the reins as much as he would love to just let her have at him.Â
Her nose scrunched in disgust when Doyle laughed at her annoyance, and she quickly holstered her weapon, pulling the cuffs out of her back pocket and helping Morgan yank him off the floor.Â
âI got some friends that would love to meet you, honey,â Doyle said through a wheezing breath, despite Morganâs rough hands shoving him forward towards the stairwell.Â
She chuckled however, her face still bitter, her eyes something nasty and wild as she flanked his other side, âDonât worry, I have some friends for you to play with too, Doyle.â She tightened her grip on his arm just to make it hurt, âI wonder how the Chernuses would feel about you and your men being so close to their turf. You ever fucked with the Russian Mob, Ian?â
His smile wiped clean off his face at that.
-
âHowâs it going?â Hotch asked, and she barely had time to comment on the fact he looked rather dashing with a beard and a tan, or that he had lost ten pounds, before he was straight back to business, even after an eighteen hour flight.Â
âHe wonât talk. He said the only person who could have helped us find Gerace would have been Emily.â She replied, rubbing her hands over her eyes with a huff, âJust another dead end,â She threw the file onto the roundtable, which was slowly piling up with documents relating to anyone Ian Doyle had ever had relations with.
Hotchâs face tightened. He took a single moment to enjoy the calm that overcame the room, took a second to enjoy the fact she was looking normal and healthy compared to when he had all but barged into her apartment to force her on a run.Â
Because he knew the normalcy they had found themselves in now was about to be flipped on its head, JJ confirming with a nod from the other side of the room that she was on her way.Â
He turned to look where Morgan, Rossi and Reid had walked in, Reid stroking a gentle hand over Bugsyâs hair where she hunched over the table and flicked through some files for anything to keep her mind off of going into that interrogation room and ripping into Doyle. She flicked a small smile up at him as he passed her, leaning over her shoulder to take half her workload off her.Â
She looked happier than she had in months, and he was about to take it all away again. Hotch swallowed the self loathing that threatened to choke him alive, and opened his mouth.Â
âEverybody have a seat,â The team looked up at him in confusion, but followed orders, JJ moving around the table to stand beside him, the same reluctant look on her face when she saw Bugsyâs frown.
âWhy?â Morgan asked, seeing as no one else was going to, âWhatâs going on? Everything alright?â
âSeven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team,â Hotch began, his eyes immediately flicking to where the youngest Prentiss faltered, âAs you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilise her,âÂ
Bugsyâs ears started ringing just hearing her sisterâs name coming from his lips, said so casually and blunt that it felt like he had punched her in the stomach and she thought she was maybe over estimating how well she had overcome the grief.Â
And that hadnât even been the worst part, she quickly realised. The doctors were able to stabilise her.Â
âAnd she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need to know. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security,â Hotch said, avoiding the piercing eyes that were slowly melting between confusion to heartache to one she finally could land on, horror.Â
No one breathed for a moment, no one said a thing as the words sunk in, and she felt her entire body wash over with a gut wrenching numbness as it dawned on her what he was saying.Â
Emily never died on that table like JJ had said. She had never died at all.Â
âWhat?â Her voice was tiny and childlike when it came out, and she felt like she was stuck in the worldâs worst nightmare, like she could claw and scratch and rip at her skin just to wake herself up from this terrifying dream where Hotch had lied and Emily had left her and everyone who was supposed to care about her had kept her in the dark.Â
âSheâs alive?â Garcia asked, tears in her own green lined eyes, looking at Hotch with utter shock.Â
âBut we buried her,â Spencer found it in himself to murmur, because none of this made sense and if any of what Hotch was saying was true, then he knew things were about to become really ugly.Â
âAs I said I take full responsibility for the decision; if anyone has any issues, they should be directed towards me,â And it was only then he looked at Bugsy fully, properly, since he had opened his mouth.Â
He could have swore he had never seen such complete and utter betrayal written across someoneâs face, let alone directed towards him. Because he knew thatâs what it was. He knew he had taken every scrap and shred of trust she had placed in him since that day she ran away from her own wedding and found herself stuck in that very same office, hugging him tightly with her sodden veil and even more soaked white dress, he had taken everything vulnerable she had ever given him and spat it right back at her.Â
He felt like crying but before he could think too hard about it, he saw Emily walking down the hall and her own face was just as, if not more, devastated than his own and he knew he had to be the one to stay strong.Â
Garciaâs head snapped to the doorway, the sight of it leading Spencer and Rossi to do the same, and Morganâs face morphed into anguish when he took a look for himself.Â
Because there, looking like a glowing beacon of everything theyâd been missing in seven months, was Emily Prentiss, alive and well.Â
She seemed lost for words, her eyes falling to her sister who seemed to force herself to look up at her from where she was staring in wide eyed terror at the table, as if she was struggling to comprehend any of this, or like the building was falling down around her and she was in complete fight, flight or freeze.Â
But she did, she looked up at her after a second, her face unrecognisable to Emily for a moment, and it took all of three moments where she seemed relieved to see her, before it curled into a vitriolic anger Emily had never, never seen from her.Â
She looked like she was ready to kill her with her bare hands herself.Â
Penelope was first out of her seat, practically flying across the room to grab her close friend in a hug, a complete bubble of sobs and wails, her pigtails shaking with her rattling chest as Emily hugged her tight to her.Â
âOh, my god, itâs real-youâre real- like I can actually touch you and youâre safe and not in that god awful box-â Penelope was a catalyst for the rest of the team standing up to take their turn crying on the womanâs shoulder.Â
That is, the rest of the team except Bugsy.Â
She remained in her seat, her gaze falling back to the mess of files that all of a sudden felt a complete waste of time, felt irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Who cared who was Doyleâs financial advisor between the years of 2005 and 2007 when Emily was alive and they had known the whole time.Â
And the more she thought, the more furious she got. And then the more furious she got, the stiller she became; an atomic bomb ready to detonate at the slightest prod.Â
âI am so sorry, I really am,â Emily said as Spencer had wrapped his giant arms around her tentatively, smelling her perfume and feeling his heart ache with how warm and alive and healthy her body felt. âNot a day went by that I didnât-â
But a sound cut her off, one none of them were expecting in the slightest.Â
Bugsy was laughing.Â
Not the sweet chirp she normally gave, or the hearty one that came from her gut that they hadnât heard in months, but something manic. Something frenzied, beserk. Deranged.Â
Hotchâs head snapped to her, Emilyâs too, though she had already taken note of the fact her sister hadnât so much as moved from her feet, and stupidly she had hoped it was the shock sinking in.Â
But her eyes were cruel, her teeth more of a snarl than a smile and the laugh she gave was that of a person over the edge.Â
The straw that broke the camelâs back, she believed it was called.Â
âShe never made it off the table,â Bugsy imitated woefully, her eyes snapping to JJ, who felt smaller than she ever had under the hatred in them, though the girlâs nasty smile hadnât let up, âYou are good, Jennifer. You really got me there, hey maybe if the agent thing doesnât work out then acting is alway an option for you,â
âBug-â Hotch started, only for her to stand up so harshly her chair nearly tipped back, but she didnât seem to care as she rounded the table towards him in a bitter chuckle.Â
âAnd you! I didnât know you had it in you. But very good, Hotch, very well played out. For a second I thought you actually gave a fuck about me,â She fist bumped his shoulder, a little harsher than something innocent behind it, before something spiteful settled in her tone, âBut then again, you are nothing if not professional, arenât you? I guess a suicide on your team would look terrible on your report card,â
âI think you need to calm down and letâs talk about this for a second,â Hotch tried to jump in, his brows furrowed enough to make him look annoyed but anyone with two eyes could see the worry that brewed there, that chased her as she retreated to where her jacket was slung over the back of her seat. She laughed again viciously, shaking her head. Grabbing her coat, she headed for the door where Emily stood helplessly, not knowing what to say for the best, and she thought for a minute her little sister was going to address her.Â
But she didnât; didnât even look her way as she approached, and it wasnât until Hotch rounded the room after her with a fixed gaze she showed any sign of stopping. Not until he reached for her arm with a tight grip, a call of her name, did she even halt in her step.Â
âStop, letâs just talk,â
âLet go of me,â Bugsy snapped, and it was the first time she actually gave way to the anger she felt, the amusement coming from a place of distraught long gone. She sounded pissed.
âListen to me, we had no choice here,â Hotch barked, because it was the only way he could communicate when he felt this lost. And thatâs what he was; he was losing her. They all were. âAnd I would have thought youâd be able to stop being so spoiled for one god damn second to see we were protecting-â
Her palm whirled around faster than he could have ever anticipated, slapping clean and sharp against his cheek, hard enough the air was sucked out of the room and his words died in his throat.Â
Penelope gasped. Spencerâs eyes widened. Emily took a heavy gulp.Â
âBugsy!â Emily said in horror, and it was then her little sisterâs eyes actually set on hers, every bit as cruel and hateful sheâd expected.
âI want nothing to do with you, do you hear me? I donât want to talk to you, or see you, donât even speak that name, I donât want it from you anymore,â Bugsy pointed at her with crooked, bitten nails Emily knew all too well, âYou left me. You left me.â
With those three choked words, the otherâs could only watch hurricane Bugsy whirl and burn and crash her way out of the room.
â
She sat on the steps to the federal building, perfectly dressed agents filtering around her with the occasional tut in disgust.Â
She couldnât really blame them; her face was wet with tears, she was pretty sure there was snot running out of her nose hastily, and between her free hand, the other of which was pulling at her hair, was a cigarette that swirled its grey smoke around her head with a horribly addictive smell.Â
She heard footsteps approaching her from the back, different from the rest, and felt someone stop beside her, sliding to their ass on the step.
âSpencer, if youâre going to tell me this is taking seven minutes off my life then please can it wait for another day-â Bugsy started with a tearful cadence, only to be cut off by a womanâs voice.Â
âI was actually going to ask if you had a lighter,â Erin Strauss said, pulling her own menthol cigarette between her lips, and Bugsy dug around her pocket for the cheap âI <3 Virginiaâ lighter she had snagged on New Years, clicking the flame out long enough for her bossâs boss to light the tip, âI heard you gave Aaron a shock,â
Bugsy stayed silent, taking a drag that burnt her lips and tasted awful, but it was the only thing she could turn to that would calm her even in the slightest, even if it was just the chemicals.
âBit of an understatement,â She mused, exhaling softly with a frown, âDid you know?âÂ
âAre you going to slap me too if I said yes?â Erin asked, and Bugsy gave a small, wet chuckle, shaking her head, âWould it matter if I did?â
 âNo, I guess not,â She replied, breathing in through her nose, âI want to feel sorry, but all I feel is just ⊠empty. Why did JJ and Hotch know what happened to her but she didnât think to tell her own sister?â
âProbably because youâre the one she loves the most,â Strauss picked over the hem of her navy blue midi dress that had been pressed neatly just that morning, and now here she was sitting on the steps to her building helping a girl in crisis chainsmoke, âIt was how she ended up there in the first place, right? Because she wanted to protect you,âÂ
 âShe left me torturing myself for months that her death was all my fault; believe me protection was not what I needed,â Bugsy said harshly, her final drag reaching the brown stub, and she scowled as she doubted it on the concrete floor below her, tucking her knees up to her face and resting her head on them.Â
Erin sighed, patting her on the back gently, not wanting to cross any lines for such a fragile girl, but not wanting to leave her entirely alone either.Â
âOur most basic instinct is not for survival but for family.â Strauss quoted, taking one more breath of her own cigarette before she squished it under her heel quickly. âPaul Pearsall,â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â Bug asked quietly, tilting her head onto her cheek to look over at the woman.
âIt means you can hate her as much as you can right now, but sooner or later, youâre going to need her, or sheâs going to need you, and youâll wish you never pushed each other away,âÂ
2. The one where you pretend to be a couple.
Her hair was shorter, Bugsy noted, where she saw the back of her sisterâs head from her desk. It looked nice, not that she would tell her that.Â
She wouldnât tell her anything.Â
It had been eight weeks, three of which Bugsy had spent taking a leave of absence and been forced to see the designated federal councillor for her behaviour towards Hotch. She had gone to the handful of sessions to keep him off her back, but had stayed quiet for most of them, except the one where she got the psychologist to tell her the dirt on her recent, messy break up so theyâd have something to talk about at least.
She had only really been speaking to Spencer the weeks since she had returned to work, had handed the slip of paper that declared her fit to work to Hotch with a smug look on her face, daring him to extend her sick leave as punishment for the tantrum sheâd thrown.Â
She knew it was dragging, knew most of the team were at least trying to adjust to the shellshock of Emily being back from the dead, but then again, the rest of the team hadnât been writing their own eulogy so the burden wouldnât fall onto someone else if they ever found her unresponsive.Â
In the time Emily had supposedly been dead, her mind had wandered someone cold and dark and alone. Worse than any of them had ever thought it had been, worse than they gave her credit for.Â
Only for it to be fake. As though she was the star of her own Truman show, with a laugh track playing on loop in the back; her own friends, people sheâd considered family, watching her kicking and screaming and fighting through every breath for some sort of relief from the pain, a pawn in their little sitcom of horrors.Â
Morgan had forgiven her sister with little resistance. Sheâd always known that, to Morgan, trust was higher than anything in his books. Yet with some soft words and tears shed, Derek had cracked and accepted Emily back warmly like nothing had happened. Rossi and Penelope had just been happy to see her, happy to have her back and very much not dead, so convincing them she was innocent had been no big feat. The only other person who had put up nearly as much fight as her had been Spencer. He had told her about the spat he and JJ had gotten into for being an accomplice to their pain, but even he was beginning to warm back up to her sister, not that she could really blame him.Â
Emily was putting in overtime trying to get back into her good books, while she couldnât even stand to look at her without remembering how hard sheâd cried when she realised Nico and Sergio would be in her apartment alone and confused if she had been sad enough to do something rash.Â
âGood Morning,â Emilyâs voice was nails in a chalkboard, two arms winding over her shoulder to plonk two take out coffees in front of her and Spencer, one with his name written in black ink on the lid and the other with a dozen hearts dotted over the cup, a little doodle of a lady bug and a bumble bee cuddling. What she supposed was meant to be the two of them.Â
Spencer watched Bugsy fight the urge to roll her eyes, surprisingly somewhat progress for her since the first two weeks of Emily even being near her resulted in the two of them screaming at one another until they were separated. Emily was growing tired of being punished for trying to keep her sister safe, Bugsy was full of hatred for every lie they had told her.Â
But he saw the way she immediately knocked the coffee into the trash without a second thought, ignoring the fact she would need to take out a very heavy and wet bin liner later, if only to drive the point home to her older sister. I donât want your charity.Â
Emily faltered for a second, her eyes snapping to him as if he could do or say anything to help her out, but he could only give her one of his awkward, straight smiles, because he had absolutely no intention of pushing Bugsy to heal any faster than she was doing like everyone else was, nor did he want Emily to feel like he didnât care she was hurting too.
Emily gave a resigned nod, daring to pat her sister on the shoulder. âBetter in the trash than thrown over my face, right?â
She moved away from the womanâs desk, shooting a disheartened look at Reid as she passed him and he murmured âthankyouâ for his own coffee, until the sound of JJ calling them into the round table room cut off whatever she was going to say back.Â
Spencer thoughtlessly handed Bugsy his own latte, smothered with caramel and cream the way he liked it, and she took an appreciative sip without a word.Â
He hadnât brought up that night, hadnât spoken about the way sheâd pressed her lips to his for a split second the night Morgan had dragged her over to his apartment to sober up. And because she hadnât brought it up either, he assumed she didnât want to talk about it anymore than she wanted to talk about what had got her there in the first place.Â
He had helped her brush her own teeth more than once in the early days of her grief, hell he had even had her lips against his, so when she handed him the coffee cup back, he didnât think much of it when he continued drinking the hot caffeinated goodness.Â
Bugsy was wired differently in his brain, everything about her was different than how he felt about everyone else. So if she didnât want to talk about kissing him, if she wanted to forget it ever happened, then he would swallow his feelings and accept she didnât ever want to do it again. If she wanted to keep the bond they had carefully crafted through days and months and weeks of being each otherâs solace, then he wouldnât fight it. Because he didnât want to ruin it either.Â
He just nudged her gently with his shoulder as they meandered up the stairs to the round table room, looking at her with the puppy dog eyes that usually followed her around when she was in one of her silent moods.Â
âYou okay?â He asked carefully, noting the way she tugged her files to her chest, smiling up at him nevertheless. Because she could never be mad at him, it was Spencer.Â
âYou donât have to do that, you know?â She said, lowering her voice as Morgan trailed behind the two of them his own mug of fresh brewed coffee sloshing in his hand, âPretend like you donât forgive her for my sake. I want you to be friends again if thatâs what you want,â
Sheâd noticed his sheepish glances when he met Emilyâs gaze, unmoving from her side like he wanted to make it clear he was there for her above everything else. But she saw how he would smile and joke with her sister when he thought she was in the bathroom, or when they would return from a crime scene, working together again like a well oiled machine.Â
They were still friends, even if she felt sick every time she saw her sisterâs noir black bangs flick her way, even if her heart was aching and her chest heavier than she would have ever let on.Â
âBut youâre upset with her?â Spencer muttered back, with a frown on his face, âIâm upset you got so hurt by the whole thing. Iâm essentially hurt by proxy,âÂ
She snickered, leaning into his side for a moment, pulling away when they reached Rossiâs office and began walking past the long window she saw everyone settling down behind, âI appreciate that, Spence, I do. But you were her friend first, and sheâs my sister. Itâs different for you guys. And itâs not like weâre dating, because then Iâd be allowed to be upset if you were still friends with her,â She explained lightly, though she felt her chest pick up at the very fact she had let that silly little dating word slip past her lips.Â
She had no idea where they were. He was the only thing keeping her together some days, the only one who understood her for all her silly, complex feelings and didnât make her feel dumb or crazy for feeling the world so deeply. He was special to her in a way no guy had ever even come close.Â
She just wished she hadnât made such an idiot of herself that night with Morgan; wished she remembered anything of what was said or done, because things had felt electrified since then and she had no idea why. All she knew was she was falling harder for him every time he stood so close, or offered her his drink, or every time they had a movie night at his and fell asleep on his couch pressed together like they were meant to be that way forever.Â
He sighed, still stuck on the situation, and shot her a frown, âIâll never understand the rules,â Though he hoped she didnât see how his cheeks tinged pink at the fact sheâd brought up whatever it was between them too.Â
Because he wasnât entirely talking about her and Emily. Sometimes, he really didnât understand the rules of telling your best friend you were in love with her.Â
-
The press was calling him âThe Circle of Eight killer,â no matter how much media liaison JJ had tried to do to stop them from giving him notoriety and possibly boosting an already inflated ego. But the team had already managed to profile that the killings were some sort of ritual the UnSub was using to turn his luck on a gambling addiction, or whatever suspicion he had mentally linked from the victims needing to die and being dealt a royal flush.Â
âEighty eight dollars, the UnSubâs getting generous,â She said grimly, her gloved fingers counting the wad of cash tossed over the victimâs body. Where they had usually found eight, single dollar bills and an eight card of any suit, his signature seemed to have changed on the most recent body and he had dumped a much larger sum of money, âThereâs more remorse with this kill too; shot from behind so he didnât have to see the victim when he did it,â
Bugsy slipped the cash into a clear baggie to send to forensics to see if they could pull prints, but then again bills usually gave a million possible UnSubs with how many people touched them. âThereâs less rage here, an undoing,â Emily chimed in, her own gloved fingers checking the victimâs pockets for anything off.Â
When they were in the field, Bug could hold her eye rolls and sharp tongue and resting bitch face for the sake of helping the victimâs families find closure. Because, despite how much she seethed in private about how Hotch, JJ and her own sister had conspired without her, she knew she could choke it down if it meant she could help someone, if it meant no one else had to grieve as deeply and gut wrenching as she had when Emily âdiedâ.Â
âThereâs no sign of robbery either, wallet is still intact except his ID,â Spencer added, standing back from the body while Bugsy handed the evidence off to CSI and the chief on the case headed their way.Â
âIs it even the same guy?â Agent Goslin asked, looking between Hotch and Emily for an explanation, Hotch shaking his head with a stoney look on his already tired face.Â
âThe ritualâs too similar to discount,â He said, Bugsy frowning and tugging her lip between her teeth in thought.Â
âThe change in MO makes sense if the UnSub is still refining his system, maybe killing the cashier at the gas station didnât work so heâs back to the drawing board.â Emily speculated, her little sister nodding along with her in the first sign of agreement sheâd seen all day.Â
âTwo eights instead of one could also be significant; I know in China the number eight symbolises prosperity, the more eights the better. As a matter of fact, in Chengdu, a telephone number consisting of all eights recently sold for over a quarter of a million dollars,â Spencer said, and Bugsy flashed a look up at him, her eyes thoughtful.Â
âIn ancient Egypt, the number seven represented completion in this life while the number eight represented success through ambition and determination in your reincarnated life,â She replied, peeling the gloves down her hands as they clung to her skin with tight clamminess, âAnd the eight pointed star is associated with the Babylonian goddess, Ishtar, or the light bringer,â
He nodded with her and he hated to admit that he loved that she managed to fill in the gaps in his own knowledge, like they were two puzzle pieces finding a way to fit together; like they were two halves cleaved from the same brain that hadnât stopped growing in the entirety of her twenty seven years.Â
That, and heâd always found her brain one of the most attractive things about her. One of the long list he could think of.Â
âWhy would he be doubling up on his luck out here, away from all the casinos?â Emily asked, because she was trying not to stand in awe of her sisterâs fat brain that rivalled even their pretty boy.Â
âThereâs been another killing,â Agent Goslin stated, hanging up the phone with a tense frown on her face, âA guest in his room at the Sapphire Lady,âÂ
âSame ritual?â Hotch asked without a pause, because they were on body number five now and they were barely closer to understanding him than they were a few hours ago.
âNo. His neck was broken. And he was robbed of $50,000.â Goslin replied, shaking her head, âStrange thing is? The killer left another $20,000 behind with the body,âÂ
âMoney isnât his motive here,â Bugsy input, crossing her arms while Hotch got on the phone to Garcia, âAtleast, not that guyâs money,â
âGarcia, is there a casino in the neighbourhood of Penrose and Morningside Avenue?â He asked, clicking the perky woman onto speakerphone.Â
They heard a quick clatter of typing, âUhhh, No casinos per se, but thereâs a private gambling establishment right around the corner.â She replied helpfully, with another bout of her long, delicately painted nails against her keyboard.Â
âIs it legal?â
âYeah, but itâs ultra exclusive. They have a monthly high-stakes poker tournament,â She paused for a second, âToday being the day for the month, coincidentally enough,â
âOr no coincidence at all,â Emily said, as they began putting together exactly where this chain of events had come from.
âWhatâs the buy in?â Bugsy asked, though she already guessed the answer.Â
âYikies, $50,000,â And with that Bug and Reid exchanged a knowing look, her suspicion confirmed, âBut, itâs a million dollar guarantee if you win,â
âWhat time does it start?â Hotch asked, Bugsy already rubbing the bridge of her nose with her fingertip, willing herself not to be right about what they were going to do.Â
âLater this evening,â Pen replied and Hotch thanked her, hanging up the phone. A second of silence spread around the crime scene.Â
âSo, if anyoneâs got fifty k lying around, now would be a great time to share with the group,â Busgy humoured herself with a straight face, realising the paperwork that would almost definitely be declined if Strauss had anything to say about it the would enable them to borrow fifty thousand from the government.Â
Because if they missed their chance tonight, she had no clue when they would get another.Â
â
âAny luck?â JJ asked, Emily sat to her right, Rossi across from her. Spencer and Bugsy sat on the end of the table, the girl breaking a KitKat in half to share with him, which he accepted happily.Â
âNo, they donât want to allocate emergency funds for the buy-in, Iâm still working on it,â Hotch said shortly, his phone blowing up with messages, no doubt needing a lot more details if they were really going to get the money they needed.Â
âWell, I canât imagine why not, weâre only asking for fifty thousand bucks of taxpayer money, so that FBI agents can play Texas Hold âem,â Rossi drawled, shaking his head with a cynical humour that was all they had to hold onto while they waited in limbo.Â
âHey, what about you?â Emily asked, something mischievous in her eyes as she watched David freeze in his seat, so like the old Emily that Bugsy felt her stomach turn.
âWhat about me what?â David said with a frown, pausing in his writing for a moment.Â
âYou could stake us the buy-in,â She suggested, and the other three members of the team turned their attention back to Rossiâs palling face.Â
âYouâre a best selling author,â Spencer chimed in, devouring the last of the chocolatey biscuit snack as she pulled another out of her bag.Â
âNo,â Rossi replied, slightly wide eyed at the suggestion of it, to which Emily jumped in.Â
âWhy not?âÂ
âOne, itâs against regulations and Iâd like to hold onto this job for a little while longer.â David said, his arms out in a defensive stance towards the four people who suddenly felt like his kids asking for the newest IPhone on the market for Christmas.Â
âItâs a minor administrative violation,â Bugsy pointed out between bites, offering the second half again to her best friend who took it without delay.Â
She could have given the whole thing to him to start with, and had the first one for herself, it would have ended the same, but she liked sharing with him. She liked being the one to split things with him when he cringed in horror at other people touching his food.
âAnd, two, I prefer to spend my money on actual things, like single malt scotch, a fine cigar, beautiful artwork,â
âPoker chips are things!â Emily tried to reason, but it only ended with David scoffing in her cheeky, hopeful face.Â
âMaybe just think of it as a new experience, I mean at your age how often does that happen?â Spencer said innocently, licking the chocolate from the tips of his fingers, noticing how Bugsy tensed up and Rossi slowly turned in his seat to face the BAUâs youngest members.Â
âAt my what?â He asked in an aghast tone, Bug grabbing onto Spencerâs forearm with a gentle squeeze.Â
âReel it in, reel it in,â She whispered, and he looked at her with a lost expression, willing her to explain to him where he had gone wrong, because he knew she would, âWhat he meant to say was this may be our only chance to get this guy,â
David chewed his words for a second, as if he was trying not to bite at the kids who looked between one another hopefully, and he wondered if this was what being a father felt like; handing his credit card over to two twenty something year olds and watching his bank deposit plummet in seconds.Â
âAll right. Fine.â He sighed heavily like heâd seen the fifty thousand burned there and then, âIâm a decent poker player, but I canât promise that I can stay in the game long enough toâŠâ
âYou know what? I bet youâre a great poker player,â Emily started kindly, her gaze drifting over to the hazel hues that watched between them curiously, âBut what if we sent in Reid?â
âI am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin and Pahrump because of my card counting ability,â Spencer said, and Bugsy rolled her eyes.Â
âThey canât ban you for maths, thatâs the stupidest thing I ever heard,â She said, nudging his side with her shoulder, âThey hate to see an underdog win, itâs Rocky all over again,âÂ
âTell me about it,â He murmured back, even though he had never watched any of the Rocky movies, he just liked humouring her.Â
âLook I know Iâm not a genius like the boy wonder here, but poker is not black jack. Itâs about bluffing; reading human nature, head games.â Rossi pointed at Reid, who badgered over Bugsyâs shoulder for the cookies she had packed in her rucksack, âThe kid does not have a poker face.â
âWhich is why weâre going to send him with someone who does,â JJ chimed in, and it was then that the youngest members of the team looked up from where they had cracked open the packet of chocolate chip delights, near identical looks of innocence painted on their faces, like they really were kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.Â
Bugsy looked between JJ and Rossi, who had equal parts hopeful and worried looks on their faces, before she glanced over to Spencer to see if he had any explanation. He looked as lost as she did.Â
âHuh?â She asked cluelessly, as Rossi buried his head in his hands.Â
At this rate was going to have to remortgage his house for wedding number four, he thought sourly.Â
â
âI swear to god if this dress rides up anymore, it will be me whoâs charging fifty thousand per head,â Bugsy growled, her hands frantically tugging the dress down her legs more. She couldnât deny it was a beautiful dress, bunched around certain areas that made the most of her body, but goodness was it shorter than she would have ever picked out for herself. She was the last person to be a prude when it came to showing off just how alluring she could look when she made an effort, but this was something else.Â
It was a striking red, meant to match the ruby of her lipstick and the vermillion of the diamonds and hearts on the cards spread around the tables in the room, flushed in between little plastic chips worth thousands of dollars, handfuls of dice being tossed over the green velvet surfaces, deciding whether the players lost their cars or paid off their kids college fund.Â
They queued up to be patted down, as if they were heading through airport security or into a packed nightclub. A handful of bouncers waved metal detectors over patronâs clothing, dipping hands into coat pockets, trousers, even some shoes were ordered off in the name of a fair game. She swore she had never seen so many sets of weighted dice confiscated off one man who swore blind as he was kicked out.Â
âOnly fifty? You could rinse them for a hundred at least,â Spencer replied, his arm entwined behind her back, if not to hold her up in the clunky heels one of the women on Goslinâs task force had loaned her along with the dress. She smirked at him, pressing herself closer to him when they both saw a dozen eyes shoot towards her as they entered the building, and he tightened his grip just the slightest with a calculating coolness.Â
He wished his cheeks didnât feel so hot feeling her body so close to his, wished she hadnât made such an effort to look the part of the expensive call girl they knew the UnSub had a history with, not because he didnât like it, but because she made everything a little more difficult when she looked like that.Â
He was having a hard time trying to calm the way his manhood brushed against his pants whenever she showed some of that saccharine affection, even though he knew it wasnât real. Or atleast, was an extreme version of the love she usually showed him.Â
The bouncers called them up next, and he let her go first, because getting her through would be easy. He was the one with the panic alarm disguised as a shot of Halitosis in his pocket.Â
Spencer would never admit that his eyes fell straight down to the curves of her butt that seemed to be spotlighted by that damn dress.Â
Why did she have to look so irresistible? He supposed that was the point; he was the mysterious young gambler that was going to keep them in the game long enough to spot the UnSub, she was the attractive, woman of the night brought only to boost his ego and as his good luck charm. She certainly wasnât the only one, sheâd already seen a handful of other women, tall as models and so toned it looked as though they hit the gym every morning and didnât leave until sundown, primped and primed for their playerâs delight.Â
They were ten times better looking than she was, but to Spencer, she was the only woman in the room who he was envisioning ripping that dress right off.Â
She was making it very hard, no pun intended, for him to accept the idea of them as just friends.Â
The bouncer patted her down, Bugsy flashing him a cheeky smile just a little too forced for it to be one of her real ones, when the woman patted around her waist and hips for any hidden pockets or stashed bills.Â
âYou wish this was you, huh, baby?â She teased him with a wicked look in her eyes, and he could only smirk back, hoping his blush didnât give him away as quick as he reckoned it did.Â
He felt his knees weaken, worrying he might just fall to the ground there and then and be forced to crawl towards her if he had any hope of getting into the casino alive, but even that sent a new wave of lewd thoughts through his head, and he was grateful when the other bouncer called him forward to inspection.Â
The muscled guy waved a metal detector over his torso, moving down to his trouser legs where he wondered with cynical humour if the rod he now sported in his pants painfully would set off the alarm. It didnât, and he begged his crotch to let up even the slightest if he had any hope of keeping his head on his shoulders during this game, but the detector sprung to life the minute it waved over the alarm in his pocket.Â
He produced the medical looking device, one theyâd already planned and checked for faults, showing the fake prescription clearly to the guard, âHalitosis,âÂ
The guy seemed to frown, took another look over the gangly guy who was with a woman way, way out of his league. A woman who waited for him after her own inspection, a very real diamond necklace that had been a sixteenth birthday present from Steph around her neck, courtesy of her dadâs bank account and ten years worth of emotional distance. Whether he took pity on Spencer because Bugsy looked like the kind of girl who could chew up a guy like him and spit him right back out, or he really didnât care about his medical condition, he didnât know, but he waved him through without another thought, and they both took a sigh of relief.Â
âYou want a drink?â He asked nonchalantly as possible, wrapping his arm around her waist again, and he tried to not let his flustered demeanour show when he found slits cut into the side of the fabric, and he felt the softness of her hips under his fingertips.Â
âMy treat, to get you started,â Bugsy replied, something unreadable in the teasing of her eyes, and she leaned up to his jaw to steal a quick kiss there like any other girl wanting to be paid the full sum of her night would have done.Â
At least thatâs what she told herself, pretending as if her brazen action hadnât caused her heart rate to spike.Â
She got him an iced tea, because she knew he wouldnât want alcohol, and got herself a half shot Moscow Mule, sipping the lime rim appreciatively.Â
âSee anything yet?â She asked under her breath, one hand trailing over the back of his neck, playing with the curls that sat there with vixen sly eyes that scanned the room.Â
He forced himself not to moan at the sensation, and he worried it was too obvious to the other patrons in the gambling room just how easily he melted beneath her fingertips. He felt like a dog drooling after a bone, like she was shaking a lead in his face and asking for walkies, and he was panting beneath her, tail wagging and dopey eyed.Â
Not the look of suave, mysterious stranger they were initially going for when they were coming up with identities for their covers. But at least it sold the part of a man desperate to win the jackpot if it meant he could spend the night with the siren woman that clung to him with a giggly sip of her pink straw.Â
âNo one looking particularly suspicious,â He noted; everyone was almost too good at a poker face, though he supposed that it made sense seeing the value of the prize pool, âYou are getting a lot of attention however,âÂ
And she was. In fact, he was quick to take her hand in his own free one when he saw a group of men dressed to the nines, solid gold rings along their knuckles, diamond encrusted Rolexs staring back at him from their wrists, their faces dead yet starved when they drank in every inch of her skin, their eyes falling to where her dress rode up high, as she had whined about the entire way there.Â
She chuckled, and something about it sounded like her own, not the woman sheâd had to become for the evening, and she kissed where his jaw clenched in annoyance, âNot from anyone that matters, boy wonder,âÂ
And he felt his heart rest for a moment, because as long as she was with him he knew he could shift that big brain of his into gear. He loved nothing more than the click he felt when he was with her, like their brains and bodies just seemed to bluetooth to one another and they werenât Spencer and Bugsy they were just them. A since cell amoeba.Â
He smiled at her, and she preened under his attention, so genuinely her that he felt the vignette that had clouded his vision shift into focus, and he knew he could find their UnSub if she was there with him.Â
He sat at the nearest table to them that was about to deal in, and within twenty minutes he was racking up a nice, fat pile of poker chips next to his iced tea.
Bugsy knew he was a smart man, knew he was good at magic tricks, but if he had turned to her then and there and pulled a rabbit out her ear hole she wouldnât have questioned him otherwise. Watching him play was something else.Â
It was entirely sordid, the whole hour of his first game was spent trying to keep her focus on any patrons sat at their table and the rest that seemed to be twitching, whilst also trying not to look awed at just how amazing his brain was when he won damn near every time.Â
But she did manage to rip her eyes off him when she could, not enough to seem suspicious, just enough to scan the area for someone who could be their UnSub, her eyes quickly jumping to the guy on the table across from them with a large magic 8-ball tattoo across his bicep, unsurprisingly already looking her head to toe as he waited for his hand to be dealt out. He winked at her, a smarmy, cocky grin on his face, almost too confident in his ability to be someone to turn to suspicions and rituals in order to win.Â
A serious contender, but nothing that screamed their UnSub.Â
She looked around a little more, ignoring the handful of men who tried to grab her attention, who thought they were somewhat validated or interesting for having her look at them for a split second. They were just part of the wallpaper compared to Spencer anyway.Â
It wasnât until she spotted a guy in a baseball cap a few paces away from them fiddling with yet another magic 8-ball, though this time a key chain, giving it a gentle touch every time he picked up his hand as if it really had the power to change the values once theyâd been dealt.Â
From the quick glance she got of his face, he seemed to be running on an hourâs sleep tops. His eyes were rimmed redder than her lipstick, and his hair was damp with sweat and grease against his temple.Â
Unstable if there ever was a man for the word.
She quickly looked back to Spencerâs cards, her hands weaving over his shoulders to rub his muscles gently, the signal that sheâd seen something important masked as an affectionate gesture.Â
The House called the end of the round, Spencer being awarded a heaped pile of tens, hundreds even a small few thousands thrown in there, to which he collected onto his tray they had handed him at the door.Â
Bugsy leaned down with a girlish squeal, giving him another big, cherry lipped kiss to his cheek, to which he felt himself blush under immediately. Quickly dodging to whisper into his ear, it looked to the other patrons as if she was simply promising him an even bigger reward later for his winnings in exchange, âNine OâClock at table two, guy in the green jacket has an eight ball keyring he ritually plays with before drawing,âÂ
Spencer nodded, standing from the table with his winnings, using Bugsyâs as an excuse to angle himself to where she was talking about. He pulled her to him effortlessly, his long arms wrapping over her bare back, his neck craning over her shoulder to serveill the table she had indicated, and she quickly hugged him back with that fake giggle of hers, her body pressing to his desperately like the other ladies of the night he had seen with men three times their age.Â
He clocked who she was talking about almost immediately, running a hand down her spine and squeezing her waist gently to let her know heâd seen him.Â
They moved in tandem, just like they always had.Â
A hostess came over to them, all big smiles and a tight fitted black dress, a log book in her arms of where everyone was sitting in the next round to keep a fair game. Bugsy took a look at him, wiping away the smudged lipstick on his cheek with a loving swipe of her thumb, nodding at him for a small bout of reassurance.Â
âIâm going to go get another drink, honey,â She said loud enough for the hostess to hear, as she flashed him a flirty smile, âDonât forget to wait for your lucky charm,âÂ
He bristled, a smile twitching at his lips at that, âI wouldnât dare,âÂ
Because her message was clear. Donât do anything stupid while Iâm updating the team.Â
She swanned through the crowd as if she owned the place, but then again a packed scene had never been an issue for her. She felt through her concealed inseam of the tiny cardigan she draped over her shoulders, until she felt the long bullet shaped object stuffed into a tampon wrapper that Penelope had geniously planted there to look like a feminine product.Â
Her own alarm, the one meant to let the team know they had sights on the guy and to be ready. It was Spencerâs that would give them the signal to enter.Â
She was fiddling with the damn thing when she felt it, a sharp crack across her ass as she was walking towards the bar, heard the laughter in the second she froze up.Â
Turning on her heel with a tight expression, the anger burnt hot in her eyes when she saw the guy with the tattoo who had been trying to get her attention not even a half hour ago, watched him sidling up to her with a conceited smile.Â
âSo, has that twiglet over there paid for you in advance or are you going home with the highest bidder?â He said, his head flicking to Spencer who now sat at table two, counting his chips out onto the table and paying himself in.Â
She smiled at the assailant widely, and it would have been pretty had it not been for the crazy look in her eye that twitched when he made a move to step towards her more.Â
âIâm spoken for in advance,â She said lightly, eyes trailing down his outfit like she was trying to commit it to memory, over his defining markers like the slit in his brow and his tattoos that looped over his hands, âBut Iâm sure Iâll be seeing you real soon, sweetheart,âÂ
And she flashed him a toothy smile again, yet something was wolfish about it this time, like she was ready to lunge for him there and then.Â
The guy wasnât their UnSub but he had made it to the very top of her hit list in a split second decision.Â
She waltzed away, securing herself another Moscow Mule she had no intention of drinking, and headed back to where Spencer was being allotted his hand of cards. Their round started, Bugsy keeping a close eye on the UnSub who sat directly to Spencerâs right, and she found a little solace in the fact he couldn't have brought in any weapons since they had all been patted down at the door.Â
It didnât shake the feeling of edge the guy with the tattoo had put her into when she watched their guy flick a look over Spencerâs shoulder to look her head to toe, glancing back at Spence who was already glaring at him.Â
âIs she part of the winnings?â The other guy to his right chimed in, sliding a stack of hundred dollar chips into the centre, two of the players already bust as they watched the others play on for the house.Â
She saw her partner tense in his spine when he heard the manâs drawling voice, and she knew he was struggling to keep a lid on the facade they were putting on for the evening.Â
Snickering, she ran a gentle hand through his hair, down the nape of his neck with a sickeningly sweet simper, âSorry, boys. Only person whoâs taking me home tonight is the pretty boy,â
One of the guys who had already busted out scoffed, grumbling under his breath, âLucky fucker,â
And Spencer knew it too. He felt almost rejuvenated just feeling her near, a damn near cocky smile on his face when he pushed his chips into the centre of the table, barely flicking a glance at his hand when he realised he had almost certainly secured a winning run.Â
Maybe she was his lucky charm, he thought cynically. Maybe he couldnât blame the guy to his right for carrying a silly little trinket around with him in the name of luck if he was no better.Â
âIâm calling,â The guy on the far right declared, shuffling two piles of his chips into the middle with the total pooling.Â
âIâll raise,â The UnSub cut in, grabbing some of his black thousand dollar tokens and clinking them one by one next to his opponents, âEight thousand,â
What a surprise, eight thousand, Bug mused, squeezing onto Spencerâs shoulder again as he was quick to match the bidding and then some with his own checks.Â
â$8,000, thatâs fifty six monthsâ wage for the average person in Bangladesh,â Spencer said, doubling the bet with a flick of those long fingers of his. It was heinous how much his brain managed to warm her insides, Bugsy thought, hoping she kept her poker face intact, âKind of makes you think, doesnât it?â
The two remaining players, UnSub included, looked at him like heâd grown a second head, and Bugsy fought off the urge to laugh in their face, because for a minute he was so Spencer like all she wanted to do was quip something back equally as smart.Â
âLook, itâs eight thouâ to you, are you in or are you out?â The first man snapped, perhaps seethin with jealousy that the pretty woman wanted nothing to do with him or perhaps just pissed that the fresh faced teenager of a man was serving their asses up cold.Â
âI am in,â He moved some more chips towards them, his eyes falling back to the guy they suspected was their UnSub with a challenge in his eyes, âAnd I raise,â
âThree raise,â The dealer declared, and the first guy huffed in defeat.Â
âThatâs too rich for my blood,â He growled, crossing his arms and flipping his dead cards over.Â
âSir, are you in?â The dealer asked the UnSub, and for a minute his eyes snapped to Bugsyâs where she was keeping a calm look on her face despite the fact her insides were stumbling with nerves. But she never doubted Spencerâs maths, she would stake her life on it in fact.Â
âIâll call,â The UnSub replied, flicking his cards over with another small token of a hundred, an okay run of cards but not an entire failure.Â
Spencer met it with a couple hundreds of his own, revealing his four and his eight that met the five, six, and seven he already put down. A winning flush. âStraight.âÂ
Her smile was genuine, dazzling, when the pile of chips were pushed over to him, and she would have laughed with glee had the UnSubâs face not dropped into something devastated, borderline demented, when he saw his ritual had meant nothing. That he had lost despite killing his own friend and four more people as a sacrifice.Â
He was unravelling fast, and it was then Bugsy knew they had only moments to confirm he was their guy obsessed with his suspicions and that damn lucky number eight.Â
âI guess you wonât be needing this anymore, will you honey?â Bugsy reached over for the charm with a cheeky grin as the other patrons grumbled at their losses, only for the guyâs hand to come slamming down on top of hers with a brutal grip, hard enough she knew it was going to bruise by morning.Â
âDonât,â He hissed at her, and it seemed to click with confirmation in Spencer and Bugsyâs mind there was no doubt this was their guy.
Spencer stood up to defend the woman, only for both of them to be grabbed by security secondâs later.Â
âYouâre going to let a man put his hands on a woman like that- would you relax I can walk,â Spencer snapped, watching the other security guard manhandle Bugsy just as roughly, pinning her arms behind her back, though she complied with a victorious grin, âReal tough there pal, grabbing on a woman half your size,âÂ
âRelax honey, I got a taser in my pocket if they really want to behave like bad boys,â The bouncers looked at her in alarm, and it was the distraction Spencer needed to reach into his jacket and trigger the signal. She gave the three of them a shit eating grin, and Spencer thought he might just love her even more, âDonât shit your pants, Iâm kidding. I charge extra for the rough stuff,â
Spencer was still laughing when Hotch and Emily barged past them after the UnSub, who was by now leaving out the back door.Â
â
âSpencer, really, we can go back to the hotel and forget about it,â After revealing their cover with the bouncers, courtesy of one David Rossi and his famous face clearing their names, and the UnSub caught and well on the way to the nearest jail cell for questioning, Bugsy was more than tired and ready to strip out of the impossibly tight dress.Â
âI want to see this guy brought to justice, think of him as another UnSub,â Spencer said, his arms crossed over his chest as they sat on the bonnet of a squad car out the front of the building, the tournament slowly trickling to an end with its patrons leaving for the night.Â
She rolled her eyes, his jacket over her arms the only thing keeping her warm against the evening air. It would have been so much easier if they had been allowed back in, but FBI agents or not, the guards had clear rules against breaching the peace in such a high stakes game. A bad rep for having the feds show up on their busiest day of the year was not welcomed, just as much as they werenât.Â
âExcept heâs not murdered anyone,â She replied, eyes darting between the guests leaving with their earnings spilling out of their pockets, âHeâs just some dumb asshole who canât keep his hands to himself and- itâs him,â
The guy with the tattoos, Mike Folio as would later be printed on the police report, had barely a second to grieve his losses of the night before Spencer had him cuffed against the squad car, yelling and spitting about his rights as an American citizen.Â
It wasnât until he saw the gorgeous woman donned in the candy red dress looking down at him with amusement that he felt the colour drain from his face.Â
âHi sweetheart,â She smiled viciously, âI told you Iâd see you again. Spence, read him the Mirandas,âÂ
3. The one with the bank explosion
The tweed trousers irritated her thighs, the head band fluffed her hair away from her face in a way she kept trying to fix, and the brown pumps squeaked every time she walked, but her smile was dazzling nevertheless.Â
âOkay, the TV movie is at Hall H at nine, can we go to that?â Penelope asked, reading from the pamphlet as Bugsy and Spencer all but ran to keep up with her.Â
âAbsolutely!â Spencer chimed in, âDo you think we can make it to the Captains of Enterprise at eleven?â
âObvs,â Penny replied, fixing the bow tie necklace her and Bugsy had made not even the week before. She looked over at the younger woman, who had a matching K-9 pendant, because apparently FBI salaries did not take into account life sized robot dogs, âThanks for coming with me,âÂ
âOfcourse, Iâve been knitting this scarf for weeks,â Spencer replied, his eyes falling down to where Bugsy donned a Sarah Jane Smith cosplay.Â
âWho are you going as?â Sheâd asked, the minute heâd asked her to go, because there were few things he did these days without her.Â
âThe Fourth Doctor,â Spencer replied, because he had explained in length to her about the concept of regenerating and had even flicked on some of the newer series for her to watch with him, âTom Bakerâs Doctor, heâs a fan favourite,âÂ
He showed her a picture of the time lord stood outside the TARDIS, a younger girl stood opposite him in a pink suit, large white peter pan collar hanging wide over her chest.Â
âWhoâs that?â She asked, pointing the girl with the cute bangs and pleated skirts.Â
âThatâs Sarah-Jane, or Sarah-Jane Smith. Sheâs one of the longest starring companions since she was the Third Doctorâs companion first and also was in the spin off show for her dog, K-9,â He explained, warming inside when Bugsy listened with raptured interest.Â
âSo like, is she his girlfriend or-â
âNo, no! The Doctor is often speculated to be asexual when it comes to relations with humans. Sarah Jane was one of his closest friends however, and in the Tenth Doctorâs third season he even comes back to rescue her from a wedding set up by one of his enemies,â He said, and her smile pulled out widely when an idea popped into her head.Â
âWell, can I be her? For your convention?â She asked, somewhat shyly, still a little unsure how the show worked in the fine details, âYou know, since you saved me from my wedding?âÂ
He paused, because sheâd never really spoken about that day sheâd jumped into his arms in the elevator, holding him to her like he was the only thing that made sense. Bugsy was like that alot; giving him everything he ever dreamed in the moment and then acting like it was never a big deal the next.Â
âS-sure! Yeah, that would be really nice.â He said, and she immediately started searching up what she should wear for it, âI didnât really save you though, you know, you saved yourself,â
She snickered, nudging him with her shoulder, âYou all saved me, I donât know what I would have done if Em-â She stopped herself, swallowing thickly, and he saw the glow leave her eyes.Â
If Emily hadnât been there.Â
Things were still awkward between them. There were no more catfights, thank goodness, though there also wasnât any doting between the sisters anymore. It was like a clean break had slit between them. Emily had given up trying to warm to her, given up trying to get her to come around, and had instead taken the high road of waiting for Bugsy to make the first move.Â
But Bugsy was nothing if not stubborn. So Emily would be waiting a while longer.Â
âHey, listen, next time I promise Iâll be the first one to object and then you can say I saved you,â Spencer joked, because he knew the subject of Emily stung her, because he knew she needed to stop thinking about it or sheâd unravel into self hatred.Â
She chuckled aghast, âNext time? I was kind of hoping to keep the next one, Spence, whoever the unlucky guy is,â
He shook his head, a fake look of disapprovement, âSorry, rules are rules. You wanted to be Sarah-Jane, I have to crash your wedding with the TARDIS Iâm afraid,âÂ
She laughed, resting her head on his shoulder as they flicked through the TV some more together.Â
âWell, I mean if those are the rules,â She simpered, snuggling under his chin, âDoes this mean I get a sick robo-dog too?â
She looked every bit the part he would have ever expected her to look. Down to the maroon tie, and the white dress shirt, and the matching tweed blazer and pants that made her look embarrassingly hot.Â
He was about to tell her just how great she looked because she still seemed unsure, being a casual fan of the show not nearly as religious as some of the surrounding guests were, when Penelope cut them off in a near gutted voice.Â
âOh my god,â
âPenelope?âÂ
Bugsy and Spencer looked up to see Penelopeâs ex beau, Kevin, dressed in a nearly identical outfit to her (though in Bugâs opinion he didnât have the same pzazz as she did with the glitter and the sparkliness,) a red headed woman beside him donned in a police woman uniform.Â
âKevin, hi, you came,â The blonde woman replied, her face mortified as she took in just how pretty the other woman was, âAnd you brought a friend, CSU technician Sharp, how are you?â
Hannah Sharp, from two floors below them in the BAU, grinned tightly, as if she could sense just how disastrous the situation had suddenly become, âIâm fine, uh, you?â
Bugsy gripped onto Spenceâs arm tightly, hating the turn this was taking, every second of it.Â
âI am also fine,â Pen replied, though she looked as though she was ready to float outside of her body any minute now. âOkay, well, see ya,â
âYouâre not gonna go in?â Kevin asked, his eyes crestfallen when he saw Penelope also grab onto the boy geniusâ arm, and he cursed Spencer Reid for getting so many attractive women.Â
âActually, we just went in and itâs super lame,â Bugsy interrupted, flashing a disjointed smile at the two of them, turning to usher her best friend away before he could call her out in her lie. âSo weâre leaving,â
âOh, okay,â Kevin replied, his date all but forgotten as the three of them made a sharp exit, a wince on the youngest Prentissâ face when they got far enough that the girl could cringe in peace, âWell, great costumes,âÂ
âYeah, you too,â Penelope called back, her heels practically leaving tire marks with how fast she had sped away from her ex that was opening fresh wounds as they spoke. At work they were separated by a whole floor, so it wasnât quite so scathing to see each other around or even hear of one another, but to be brought out in front of what she could only assume was his new woman was horrifying.
Bugsy was at her side immediately, grabbing onto her hand with a squeezing grip.Â
âWell, that was awkward,â Spencer noted aloud, and Bugsy lightly slapped his arm for him to shut up, her eyes wide with worry.Â
He looked at her in alarm, but her face told him everything he needed to know. Girl rules.Â
He hated girl rules. He never understood them.Â
âOh my god, we used to come every year, I canât believe he brought someone else,â Penelope sighed to the younger girl, who watched her with furrowed brows.Â
âWell you brought someone else,â Spencer pointed out, only to have his arm whipped at again in a chiding motion, and he watched Bugsy stroke Penâs back with a bite in her tone.Â
âGirl rules, Spencer, girl rules,â He tutted at her, rolling her eyes as if they were a married couple and she was nagging him to wash the dishes.Â
Sometimes it felt easy like that with them. Like she really was just his best friend and not the only girl who held any sort of romantic connection to his heart.Â
âYeah, someone I couldnât possibly be attracted to,â Penelope stated, âBesides, he always thought the two of you were a thing anyway, oh god what if he thinks Iâm your guys third-â
âWoah, woah, what?â Bugsy asked with wide eyes, âHe thought me and Spencer were, like, dating?âÂ
Penelope nodded, and Bugsy couldnât even look at him without stumbling over her words.Â
âWell he knows weâre- like I mean weâre not even each otherâs seconds so how could you be our third you know?â She said with a forced laugh, because she could feel her face going hot.Â
Spencer watched her tongue tie herself into oblivion, thinking of any and every excuse as to why she didnât want dating associated to the two of them. Because how could she ever feel the same way? He was just him and she was, well, her. So incredibly, beautifully her.Â
It wasnât until she bumped into an older gentleman waiting for his valet she even shut herself up.Â
âAnd I mean Kevin shouldnât have just assumed- oh sorry,â She whirled around to apologise the man she presumed was a fan of the early seasons of the show, perhaps even around when they first aired, though the thought died in her throat when he turned around, âOh, Rossi?âÂ
David Rossi looked suave as ever in his age, a blazer thrown casually over his shoulder, a neat shirt and dress pants ensemble at his hips as he looked between the three of them, their costumes staring back at him entirely too colourful for a Saturday morning.Â
He sighed, hard.Â
âWhy doesnât this surprise me?â He asked with a tired voice, as Bugsy bounced back over to Spencerâs side with an incredulous look on her face.Â
âAre you here for the convention?â Spencer asked, excitement bubbling in his tone as Bug grabbed his forearm gently, already sensing Rossi hadnât had nearly enough coffee to put up with them today.Â
âWho schedules a cigar aficionado event back to back with this?â Rossi asked, his eyes clamping on the pendant around her neck, âWhat is that, a robot dog?âÂ
âK-9,â The three of them replied, and it was as if it tipped him over the edge, his hair growing whiter by the second.Â
âKevin brought another woman, Iâm plotting revenge. Do you want to help?â Penelope asked, her face still warm from running into the guy who was almost her fiance.Â
âKnow where we can get any horse heads?â Bugsy asked, her expression lost in though as Penelope gasped, âWhat? Iâm thinking go big or go home. Also, horse head in the bed means they can't have sex-â
âIâm taking that as my cue to leave,â Rossi cut in, just as his valet arrived, âNow you know I love all three of you, but this is Saturday, and it is my day off, so Iâm going to love you from afar,â
He ruffled Bugsyâs hair fondly as he took his leave, throwing his blazer over the passenger seat and bidding them a wave goodbye.Â
They watched him go, wondering where it left them for a moment before Bugsy spoke up again, âSo are we saying a definitive no to the horse head idea, because Iâm sure I know a guy in college-â
âNo, Bugsy,â Penelope hissed, her face scrunched in disgust, and Spencer swore she turned green, âDefinitive no,âÂ
â
They had been half way through breakfast when Spencer got an emergency call from Hotch for a team of serial killers robbing a bank downtown, hostages and guns on scene.Â
She had barely had time to whip the tweed blazer off her shoulders, keeping the shirt and pants on as Derek threw her a kevlar vest.Â
âItâs definitely them,â Will said in his soft Southern drawl, JJ embracing him tightly to her with a worried expression. It had been him and his partner first on the scene, though unfortunately things had not ended well for her when they had ran into the three UnSubs slipping out the back of the bank and had engaged in a shoot out; Willâs partner getting a bullet to the head almost immediately, and Will narrowly escaping unscathed, but not before he managed to gun down one of the UnSubs in the stomach.Â
So there they were, the UnSubs back inside the bank for safety since they were now surrounded by the city police, the FBI, the SWAT team and a handful of ambulances and medics on standby.Â
âI only saw the King and the Jack but I figured the Queenâs inside too,â He added, JJ peeling herself from his side as they headed towards the building.Â
âThe media's calling them the face cards,â Hotch informed his team, all eight of them decked in their thickest vests and weapons loaded in full, âSeven bank robberies in seven months. Theyâve killed one person at each robbery,âÂ
âMO?â Rossi asked, now dressed out of his smart, Saturday wear and something more akin to his usual business attire.
âSingle gun shot wound, each of the victims has bled out,â Hotch replied, and it wasnât until they turned the corner towards the bank did Bugsy realise just how packed the street was with law enforcement.Â
Three or four choppers circled overhead with snipers and back up SWAT teams at the ready.Â
âSerial killers with a thirty day cooling off period, and weâre only just hearing about this now?â Emily asked in an incredulous tone, her voice raised to accommodate the shouting between other chiefs and their units.Â
âHeadquarters characterised them as robbers first, killers second,â Hotch said, his hands on his hips as they all assessed the situation from afar. Naturally a few new anchors had pulled up to the scene as well and were setting up their equipment despite the officers trying to corral them away.Â
âOh yeah? How did that turn out for them?â Bugsy grumbled behind her thick, dark sunglasses, biting her lip from saying worse.Â
âI disagreed with the original assessment, I was overruled,â Her chief shot back, because things had been just as cold between them since that day as they had with Emily.Â
JJ was slowly reaching out the olive branch in her direction, and if it wasnât for Henry being so darn cute every time he begged âBuggyâ to come play with him, she reckoned JJ would have taken even longer to forgive as well.Â
âWhy are we here now?â Rossi chimed in, eyes locked on Aaronâs frown, that seemed to harden every step they took closer to the bank.
âBecause crisis negotiation is overseas.â
âWhat do we know about them?â JJ jumped in straight away with the problem solving, because even if they were out in the field and not in their pretty little round table room anymore, the UnSubs were still just pictures on a white board needing that red string to connect them all together.Â
âTheyâre organised, they're efficient,â Hotch fired off, mentally running through whether he had loaded the pistol he kept around his calf for emergencies, âEach strike lasts about two minutes,â
Derekâs face scrunched in confusion, âThey gotta be scouting out the banks in advance, why havenât we been able to ID them off of surveillance footage?âÂ
âThey hacked the security feed and turn off the cameras both during the initial canvas and during the robbery, until the masks come back on and then were allowed to watchâ Hotch replied, and the eight of them slipped into the base of operation for the day; a wide trailer converted to house the high tech computers Penelope needed to keep an eye on the cameras with those magic skills of hers.Â
Bugsyâs eyes landed on the black and white feed of inside the bank, her heart lurching in her throat when she saw well over forty men, women and children lined on their knees execution style, facing the doors to the bank to act as a shield if the snipers did happen to get a shot through the windows.Â
The woman took the lead, a mask over her face with a doll-like expression on it, the other men soaked in blood as one fought to hold the injured one up for dear life.Â
âWhy havenât they cut the feed now that theyâve been cornered,â Derek said with a shake of his head, his lips pulled into a grimace, âLetting us see inside gives us a tactical advantage, they have to know that,â
âUnless they want the audience,â Bugsy suggested, watching the jack slowly growing weaker and weaker as they discussed tactics, âAlthough the only one who really strikes me as the attention seeker is her, he seems more prioritised with the other male,â
âThe masks add to their narcissism,â Spencer input with a nod, âTheir personas are the royalty of poker,â
âJJ, you, Bugsy, Reid and Prentiss, look at past robberies, thatâs going to be our victimology,â Hotch ordered, and they did as ordered with little delay, heading to the office they had set up in the opposite trailer.Â
This was going to be a long day.Â
â
âI can help,â Bugsy offered herself before the team even had a chance to protest.Â
It hadnât even been an hour into them pulling research from InterPol as to who their UnSubs were before they had made their next dramatic move; they had shot a hostage.Â
Which meant they needed medics in there fast, fast enough to save the hostage and the jack if it kept the king from unravelling into a massacre.Â
âWhat do you mean you can help?â Emily said with a scathing tone, âBug, you canât just throw yourself in harmâs way if you have no clue what youâre-â
âI did three years of a medicine degree alongside my biochemistry before I got bored of doing both and gave up on it,â Bugsy snapped at her sister, brows contorting into a harsher frown than sheâd had in months. She preferred it when they werenât speaking at all.Â
âBecause you were bored?â Derek asked, his face incredulous at the gall of the twenty year old theyâd plucked from college and sent into the midst of the Russian Mob five years ago, âDid you not have anything better to do like partying or making out with guys- a whole medical degree on the side is your idea of downtime?âÂ
She shrugged, looking back at Emily with a glare who seemed to bristle at the information.Â
âCan I speak to you outside please?â Emily said in the coolest tone she could muster, though even that sounded like a bite.Â
Something shifted in the air of the tiny, makeshift office and the other inhabitants tensed up at the sight of the Prentiss women gritting their teeth almost identically, staring daggers at one another for a moment before they stood from their seats and waltzed out of the side of the trailer to where there wasnât the bustle of squad cars or media to be seen.Â
JJ looked to Morgan, who looked to Spencer, who seemed to have paled for a moment, and the three of them were out of their own seats to linger at the doorway in case things really did get ugly between the sisters. Â
âDo you honestly think that throwing yourself into the line of danger today is a good idea or are you trying to hurt me to get back at me?â Emily seethed the minute they had stepped foot on the ground, and the scoff that left her little sisterâs throat was something nasty.Â
âOh, please, donât make yourself sound so important.â Bugsy snapped, whirling around on her heel to glare at her sister, âIâm not doing any of this to get back at you, Iâm trying to save those hostages in there-âÂ
âSo I just happened to have never heard about this medical side quest you set yourself on until now because, what, it just never came up?â Emily laughed, laughed, in her sisterâs face, and Bugsy saw red even more, âI thought you were a better liar than that,â
âMaybe if youâd bothered to even speak to me before you needed something from me that day with the Russians then you would have known anything about me that wasnât being your dumb little sister you can just walk all over like youâre my mom or something,â Bugsyâs voice was getting louder, and Emilyâs smirk wiped right off at the sound of that, because she knew she could have been ten times a better sister had she not wanted to get as far away from her mother as fast as possible. âSame with Hotch, he never wanted much to do with me until his wife died and then who did he come to needing help grieving, none a single one of you, and who gets bitten in the ass and punished when I find out I spent seven months grieving like some idiot to that uptight prick who lied to me-â
âDo not speak about him like that,â Emily was shouting now too because Bugsy was truly holding nothing back on her.Â
âWhy? Are you going to pick him over me, Em?â The younger woman snarked, her eyes hateful and narrowed, âWouldnât surprise me in the slightest given your track record-â
Emily shoved her, like, truly shoved her back and it robbed the words out of the girlâs throat. Yet it made JJ gasp where they were watching from the crack in the doorway, wanting to break them apart but knowing they needed to fix it for themselves.Â
The three of them hissed when Bugsyâs hand swiped against Emilyâs cheek in a territory neither of them had ever wandered into. Emily was always too old to argue with her sister, too big to fight the way most siblings did with slaps and hair pulls and scratches, but Bugsy was a grown woman now; they both were.Â
Emily swatted the same back to her own cheekbone, after a second of shock washing over her face, and it was like they were two cats fighting in a back alleyway over a scrap of chicken.Â
Bugsy shoved at her around the tits, because she knew it would ache, Emily pulled at her braid with a yank that made Bugsyâs eyes water, the two of them banging against the wall of the trailer, their heads clunking together.Â
âFucking punishing me after months like some insolent child-â
âI would never have left you thinking you were to blame for my death- I would never fucking do this to you-â
This was childish, entirely childish, playground offences and girlish curses in between. The worst part was they knew they could do much worse, they knew they could truly hurt one another if they wanted to. They were both trained to kill, and yet Emily had Bugsy grabbed in a headlock like they were two infants fighting over a sandpit.Â
Because they didnât want to properly hurt one another in any way that would last. Never.Â
âGet the fuck off me or Iâm punching you in the crotch,â Bugsy barked, trying to wriggle her way out of her sisterâs freakishly strong arms with a frown, âEMILY- I SAID-â
âI was trying to protect you- just get your head out of your ass for two seconds and listen to me- I was trying to protect all of you-â But by the time Emily had somewhat gotten her to stop squirming, the girl had grabbed her by the calf where she had been forced to bend at a forty five degree angle, holding her one leg up off the floor while she sweeped at the second one to knock her off balance.Â
She had been known to shoot an assailant in the foot from twenty feet away to stop them from getting away, and yet she was resorting to simply pushing her sister over as a way to get one up on her.Â
She felt like she was ready to finger paint and take a nap time next; like they were about to be sat in the headmasterâs office and have their wrists slapped with a ruler for not keeping their hands to themselves.Â
But it worked, and in seconds the Prentiss girls were on the floor, puffing out of breath, Bugsyâs lip bleeding where Emilyâs ring had caught it on the corner, Emilyâs cheek red and raised from where her sister had a surprisingly strong right hook. They took a minute to breath, Bugsy glaring at the awfully clear blue sky, much too happy and cheery for the travesty that had been her entire day. And it was only then did she hear the other three members of their team exit the trailer, JJ going to help Emily up while Morgan's face appeared in the middle of the powdered clouds, something sad and sympathetic in his eyes and it was then that he held out his hand to get her up.Â
She didnât want to, had every intention of laying there and staring at the broad daylight until she managed to float far away from there and from where her chest hurt with betrayal and her lip bled with lies.Â
He yanked her off the floor, offered her a cold can of coke for where she felt her lip swelling already, and she resigned to sit on the stairs to the trailer with her head in her hands until her temple stopped pounding or at least until she felt herself calm down in the slightest.Â
Emily shuffled to sit down next to her, her breathing still uneven but she could tell because she felt a tentative hand on her thigh rubbing gently, in the motherly way Emily had always watched her.
Because Bugsy had always been her baby, whether she wanted to admit it or not.Â
âBugsy?â The younger woman huffed in indignance, pouting as she stared at her lap, because she felt the tears welling up already, âIâm so sorry I left you, you know I never, ever wanted to, you know that right?âÂ
âWhy didnât you tell me?â Her voice cracked as she finally looked over at her sisterâs solemn face, âYou told JJ and Hotch but you couldnât even tell me? Did you just not want to come back for me?â
Emilyâs brows pulled up into a sorrowful frown, and she felt her eyes start to burn too.Â
âNo, that was never a part of it, I swear, there wasnât a day when I didnât want to come home to you,â She replied, taking a deep breath in through her nose as not to start bawling her eyes out there and then, âI had to tell Hotch and JJ as a matter of precaution, not because I wanted to tell them and not you. Bug, I missed you every day, I missed Niko and Sergio and those dumb documentaries you made us watch,â Â
Bugsy smiled despite herself, wiping a finger under her nose to stop the tears that had already started rolling there, âWell, I donât know about Niko but Sergio missed you a whole lot,â She sniffled, rolling the Coke over to a cooler side to sooth her lip some more, âBut I think he feels like you kind of abandoned him, and like you maybe donât love him as much because he can be kind of annoying and, like, heâs real torn up about me telling him you died only to find your youâre not, like you canât just do that to Sergio, Em, he doesnât deserve that,âÂ
Bugsyâs lip was quivering by the time sheâd finished, but Emily chuckled wetly, wrapping an arm over her shoulder and pressing their pounding heads together.Â
âAre we maybe not talking about Sergio anymore, Bug? Are we talking about you-â
âNo, weâre definitely talking about Sergio,â She cut in, wiping under her eyes with her sleeve, looking back up where Emilyâs face was glistening with tears though it seemed like she had somewhat calmed under her sisterâs gaze that wasnât so full of vitriol hatred anymore.Â
Emily nodded, a humoured smile on her lips, âRight, okay, my bad. Definitely Sergio,â She held up her hand, stroking down Bugâs cheek for her where her tears had started pooling, âWell, I want Sergio to know that even if he is annoying sometimes, that thereâs nothing that could ever take me away from him again, cause even though Iâm not his mom, heâs still always going to be my kid, you know?âÂ
Bugsyâs face crumpled in pain for a minute, sniffling and meeting Emilyâs eyes, dark brown hues watching her sadly, imploring her to know how much her heart called out for her.Â
âReally? You promise?â Bugsy whined, and Emily nodded with a sad smile, stroking the back of her braid that looked a little ratted and wispy from where it had been yanked at. She took a shaky breath, looking down to her shoes where they scraped against the steps, âWell, Iâm sure heâll love to hear that, Iâll tell him when weâre home-â
Emily laughed, kissing her sisterâs forehead, and pulling her into a side hug.Â
âAlright, tough guys. Letâs get back to working on the profile, Sergio can wait for a minute,â Morgan said, though his face fought off the smile that crept on his lips seeing two of his favourite girls finally at peace with one another.Â
Bugsy looked five years younger within seconds, and they clicked back into place, hopping up off the steps to get right to work, cursing herself for wasting so much time on silly things like hating her sister, because forgiving her felt cathartic in a way she didnât understand she needed.
Maybe they had a chance after all.
â
Bugsy swore she would never have an optimistic thought a day in her life again.Â
Because just as they had thought perhaps things could look up; just as they had sent in a different agent medically trained enough to save the jack, their UnSub, that theyâd identified as Oliver, had bled out before he could have done anything to save him. Without a second thought, the king, Chris, had shot the agent, and demanded he wanted Will next as retribution for his brotherâs death.Â
They had of course turned down the offer in a heartbeat but the moment everyone turned their backs, Will, ten times the cop Bugsy could ever hope to be, had walked into the bank with his arms raised in surrender despite JJ screaming for him to stop from where Morgan and Hotch held her back from following him in.
Bugsy and Penelope watched from the CCTV in blood curdling horror when Chris put two bullets in him before he could even declare he was unarmed.Â
âDid you see where he was shot?â JJ asked, her tone empty, her eyes bloodshot where she had broken down into a fit of wails as soon as the gunshots had sounded through the street.Â
Bugsy opened her mouth to speak, losing all hope as soon as the bluebell gaze fell to her for an explanation.Â
âIs he alive or dead, Bug?â JJ snipped, but she knew she didnât mean it, knew she was just worried out her mind and grasping at straws.Â
âI donât know, Iâm sorry,â Bugsy replied, Emilyâs hand at the small of her back in a comforting gesture because she sounded scared. She wished Spencer was with her, he always knew how to make people feel better, but he and Kevin had gone back to their office uptown to use Penelopeâs personal lair for better coverage on the BAUâs resources.Â
âHe was wearing a vest,â Emily jumped in, because Bug was tense and upset enough as it was, âHe might be okay,â
âMight be?â JJ said humourlessly, her face hollow with sadness, âAlright we need to get inside,â
âJJ, itâs too risky,â Morgan tried as the woman stood up, a new found determination, because she refused to accept her partner, the father of her child, was dead until she saw him in a body bag for herself, âWe donât have eyes in there anymore,â
Jenniferâs eyes welled up again, and she turned to their unit chief; he was the only one who could understand just how desperate she felt right now if there was even the smallest chance he could still be alive. âAaron.âÂ
Hotch took a breath, nodding to her with complete empathy, âLetâs go in,â
Bugsy leapt for the medical kit theyâd kept in the cupboard, because if she could stop the bleeding as soon as possible he might have a chance. She was taken back to when she had gotten to Emily that night with Doyle, when she had nothing but the clothes on her back and a loaded gun to treat her sister with, when she had felt completely helpless.Â
She refused to feel like that again, not now sheâd been lucky enough to get Emily back. She refused to let JJ and tiny Henry go through what she did.Â
Will wouldnât die if she had anything to do with it.Â
-
âSeeing whatâs going on outside doesnât help us inside,â Spencer said, standing behind where Kevin sat in Penâs office, his hazel eyes falling to the surveillance footage of the bank live streaming from one of the choppers, where the familiar woman he worried for more than he could ever tell her moved behind a SWAT unit towards the front doors, a large med kit strapped to her back, a pistol at her side.Â
He looked down at the blueprints of the bank because if he watched her get even ten feet away the bank he thought he might just throw up, even if there were four armed men shielding her.
âKevin, can you possibly pull up each of the surveillance feeds prior to Will being shot?â He asked, quickly diverting his attention away from where they were at an impasse waiting for something to happen, Emilyâs SWAT team moving slowly towards hers.Â
âSure, what are we looking for?â The other man asked, his fingers sprawling over Penelopeâs keyboard as he did as requested, playing the older footage on the opposite screen, though even he was getting cold feet watching their team getting ready to breach the perimeter.Â
âThe female UnSub disappeared once before, if she wasnât looking for an escape, what was she doing?âÂ
Spencer paused, because he couldnât help when his eyes flicked back to the footage of Bugsy shuffling closer to the entrance behind one SWAT agent, and the doors burst open, the entire street pausing for a second to see what the movement was.Â
The hostages. The civillians caught in the crossfire at the bank slowly trickled out of the doorway, their arms raised in peace, some crying in relief though there was no sign of Will anywhere.Â
This was bad. Though he felt utmost care that the hostages had been released safely, he knew that the UnSubs keeping Will meant one of two things. One, that Will was already dead and useless to them, or two, keeping him bleeding out as a bargaining chip was their final play. Meaning they had no intention of releasing him, otherwise they would be left with nothing.Â
If he wasnât already dead, he would be any minute now.Â
Spencerâs chest crashed in devastation for his friend and his godson, though it soon took a turn of terror when it seemed the same thought ran through Bugsyâs mind and she began stepping forward towards where the hostages were shuffling out in floods of tears.Â
He saw Morgan and Emily yelling at her to stop, two of the SWAT team trying to follow her because they had no idea what had come over the twenty something year old rookie with a death wish. Spencer tried to ignore the way his chest clawed in horror, his eyes snapping back onto the surveillance of the female UnSub disappearing into the back rooms of the bank, completely ignoring the vault and the very clearly marked exit, meaning she had no intention of using either.
So what was she doing?âÂ
Spencer felt his head rattling with a horrid thought, hoping his intuition was wrong when he held the blueprints up to the screen, his skin turning to gooseflesh when he realised just exactly where she had been dipping out to with that backpack of hers.Â
âGas mains,â His voice was numb with fear, his body diving for their comm link to Garcia, where she sat in the trailer with Strauss and Rossi, watching the surveillance just as he was, âGarcia, get them out of there now,â
But no sooner had he said anything, Bugsyâs figure disappeared into the building, the SWAT team confirming that the entrance was clear, JJ and Morgan moving after her with their own agents protecting them.Â
But she was already inside, his head screamed at him. Even when he heard Davidâs frantic voice through the radio they had linked to their kevlars, âABORT, ABORT!âÂ
Even when he heard Hotch swear hastily, calling to his team to hold back, trying to yell loud enough JJ and her team could hear his orders to take cover.Â
Spencer couldnât truly take any of it in as he watched the large glass windows wobble for a second, a shock wave of what he knew was about to come.
The lines went dead, and he thought for a second his heart stopped. Because he hadnât figured it out fast enough, hadnât warned them before she had chance to throw herself head first into danger the way he should have known she would.Â
Because Spencer watched the footage with a terror he had never known, not even in his eight years on the team, not even in his own situations as a hostage, not even when he was at his lowest and he thought the dilaudid was going to finish him off, alone and high in his apartmentâs little bathroom, a burnt out drug addict who had so much going for him.Â
Spencer had never felt the sheer, spine-chilling dread that he did when he watched, useless and heart broken, as the bank went up in a colossal explosion, a plume of flames bursting out of every window, shattering glass and cracking the brickwork, hard enough he watched part of the building start to crumble inwards.Â
And Bugsy went down with it.Â
Taglist:
@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions. @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3 @rosylnsworld @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist t @theoraekenslover @niktwazny303 @bliindmattmurdock @alyeskathewave @littlemadamred
575 notes
·
View notes
TROUBLE ALMOST ALL MY LIFE MASTERLIST
Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader. pictures are not indicative of readers appearance. Reader has not got any racial features mentioned & we never see Emilyâs dad so I have tried to make my fic as inclusive to all my fem!readers as possible! Please let me know if this is not the case <3
TROUBLE ALMOST ALL MY LIFE | the ONE time the BAU need you + the FOUR times you need them
NEARLY BROUGHT ME TO MY KNEES | the FIVE times Spencer thinks he likes you + the ONE time he knows
THEREâS NO SIGN OF LIFE | the one where you grieve Emily together + the one where you kiss him
THE KID HITS BACK | the THREE times things feel weird between Spencer and you because youâre just best friends.
755 notes
·
View notes
absolutely foaming at the mouth for anything faye writes anyway LET ALONE flyboy 2.0 meets his match đ„č
fight or flight â poe dameron.
writing masterlist | askbox
âââ summary: you and poe have never seen eye-to-eye. most days, you wonder if you ever will.
âââ pairing: poe dameron x solo!reader.
âââ warnings: reader is gender neutral, reader is han & leia's child, no use of y/n. lots of snarky banter. this was supposed to be flirty fluff but it turned into an angstfest so, yeah, sorry for that. finn eavesdrops and chewie is sassy bastard.
âââ word count: 1.6k.
     âYOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.â
     Poe ducks his head and quickly manages to conceal the wince creeping onto his features just in time, but crouched in the cockpit beside him, Rey still feels his shoulders go stiff. She presses a hand to her mouth in a weak attempt to stifle her laugh, but sheâs not quite successful as Poe shoots her a glare.
     She doesnât blame him, really. You are⊠Well, sort of scary when youâre angry.
     Thereâs more than just a spark of your motherâs fire in you, thatâs for sure.
     Glancing over her shoulder, she finds you standing in the doorway, regarding the pair of them with a ruthless glare so sharp it might leave a mark.
     Rey is suddenly pretty sure that Poe didnât talk to you like he said he would.
     âI go for a nap because I havenât slept properly in two days after youââ The finger you jab in Poeâs direction might as well be a knife, the way he flinches, ââ get us stranded in First Order territory after leading us on a wild goose chase, knock out the comms and the navigation with your, frankly batshit, behaviour which I have spent hours trying to fix, and then I left you with one simple instruction.â
     Which⊠Alright, not all of that is strictly fair, Rey thinks, because at least half of the chaos of the past few days can be attributed to sheer bad luck, and another third can be blamed on decisions made under pressure whose outcomes boiled down to bad or worse.
     Itâs not really Poeâs fault. Not anymore than the rest of them, at least.
     But Rey knows how you feel about this ship. The Falcon is your inheritance, the only real home you have left in the world. Itâs all that is left of your father.
     You were protective of it even before he died, and sinceâ
     Rey clears her throat. âIâm just gonna⊠go check on Finn.â
     Poeâs expression reeks of betrayal as Rey scoots past you to go and find Finn, whoâs loitering in the main hold with Chewbacca, but sheâs not about to hang around and get caught in the crossfire between the two of you.
     She doesnât have a death wish.
     Finn looks just suspicious enough, when she locates him, that she doesnât even bother scolding him for eavesdropping. Sheâs about to do the same, after all.
     âHe told me he checked it was alright before we started reconfiguring the navicomputer.â Rey folds her arms across her chest, frowning in the direction of the cockpit. Your voice is still rattling down the corridor towards them.
     Finn clicks his tongue. âEvidently not.â
     In the cockpit, Poe pushes himself to stand, resting a hand on the back of the captainâs chair. Your voice is hard as duracrete as you take a step towards him, crowding the small space with so much of your frustration that it feels difficult to breathe.
     Poe wonders if the sensors are on the blink, and someone popped an airlock somewhere, because the air feels a little thin. You jab in the chest with your finger, and all he does is blink, suddenly lightheaded.
     âI gave you one instruction. I said, the nav systems are rebooting, Iâm going grab some shuteye, donât touch anything. And what do you do?â
     âThe console was beeping!â
     âI donât care if a damn mynock got in here and started eating it, I said donât touch it.â
     âBut itâs alright for Rey to touch it?â Heâs being petty, he knows that, but an angry flush has started creeping up your neck, and he wants to know what you look like with your cheeks coloured that delightful shade of pink.
     âRey didnât break it!â A ragged breath tears from your throat, and you rake a hand roughly through your hair. âShe knows what sheâs doing. I trust her.â
     âAnd you donât trust me, is that it?â Something like sadness swirls low in his gut as he waits for your response. It hurts him to ask, even though heâs wearing his bravado like a mask, even though he likes pushing all your buttons because when your eyes flash like that, itâs like standing in the eye of a hurricane or falling in zero gravity.
     Youâre not friends, he knows that. Not since the day you met, and you pressed a blaster up against his neck in the cargo hold of your old ship and heâd grinned down at you as if getting his life threatened was his favourite pastime.
     Heâd been trying to steal it. Youâre still not sure what happened, exactly, except that there were Stormtroopers firing at your ship â which, honestly, was held together by little more than string and sheer stubbornness at that point â and your motherâs favourite flyboy watching you with a bizarre hope in his eyes, and youâd just⊠hated him, in that moment.
     Hated him for crashing into your life and dragging you, kicking and screaming, back to the life youâd fled. Hated your mother for her good heart and your father for running away. Hated the whole damn galaxy for not killing you when it had the chance.
     Poe had wanted you to take him to DâQar, but youâd spent too long leaving things behind to go back now, so youâd dropped him at the nearest safe outpost and prayed youâd never see him again.
     Clearly, the universe had other plans.
     Itâs been years since that first encounter, but neither of you have warmed to one another since then. Thereâs very little point, you think. Heâs unbearable, always needling at you, picking at all of your defences as if he has a right to know you.
     It doesnât matter. In the end, everyone leaves, one way or another.
     You just wish heâd hurry up and do it, already.
     Youâre not friends, but youâre something more and something less, and the way your lower lip twitches at his question feels like a punch to the gut.
     âWhy should I?â You blink at him, and a moment later you realise how close youâve grown, almost chest-to-chest with this man who drives you mad. With a rough swallow, you force yourself to take a step back.
     He doesnât move. Hardly dares to breathe, with his mouth curled into that little half-smirk he knows you hate, because it hurts that you donât trust him, but it would hurt more if you knew it.
     âWhy shouldnât you?â
     A scoff. âWell, for starters, I donât think youâve ever had a plan that didnât blow up in your face.â
     The familiar howl of Finnâs laughter rolls down the corridor, quickly cut off by a quiet thump and a low, pained groan.
     Poe blinks at you. âExcuse me?â
     âAnd you donât take proper care of the Falcon!â The controls and all their exposed wires serve to prove your point.
     Turning on your heel, you march out into the corridor, abandoning him in the cockpit. He stares at your retreating form, unable to kick his brain back into gear for a few seconds, but a moment later heâs striding after you.
     âI take care of the Falcon!â
     A huff of laughter bubbles out of you, entirely lacking in humour. âLightspeed skipping.â
     âThat was one time!â His voice squeaks out of him much higher than heâd like, and as they emerge into the main hold, he clears his throat. âAnd the Falcon was fine.â
     You come to a stop so suddenly that he can almost hear your shoes screeching on the floor. âIt was twice, and just because you can do something, doesnât mean you should. That seems like a lesson you shouldâve learned by now, but no, you keep pushing it!â
     Reckless and stubborn, headstrong and utterly selfless. Not for the first time, you regret being dragged back into this mess. Your life hadnât exactly been peaceful before â you are your fatherâs child, after all â but it wasnât this.
     How many more heroes will you watch die before all of this is over?
     How much of it can you take?
     You watch one of those heroes stare at you, now, and it feels like youâve swallowed a handful of broken glass.
     Behind you, sitting at the dejarik table and making absolutely no attempt to disguise his eavesdropping, Finn leans close to Rey. âYouâd never guess they were married, huh?â
     Heâs whispering, but itâs not exactly quiet.
     As if youâre suddenly possessed by the same entity, you and Poe whirl around, mouths agape. âWe are not married.â
     An uncomfortable heat curls around your spine at the thought of it. Married to Poe Dameron? You cannot imagine anything worse.
     Chewie, seated opposite Finn and Rey, makes an exasperated sound. Rey canât help but snort.
     You narrow your eyes at your fatherâs oldest friend, resting your hands on your hips. ââCouldâve fooled me?â Chewie, what are you talking about?â
     As your wrath settles upon a new victim, Poe takes the opportunity to slip out of sight, with every intention of hiding in the Engineering Bay on the opposite end of the ship until the danger has passed.
     Marching quickly down the corridor, Poe drags a hand over his unbearably warm face and feels like something beneath his ribcage is itching to crawl out. He thinks it might be his heart.
Married to you. Yeah. He canât think of anything worse, either.
99 notes
·
View notes