A/N: Based vaguely on the Battlestar Galactica episode Unfinished Business, a fact I only realised after I started writing. Another one for the badfic contest. Seriously, I can't stop writing these things, they're so fucking addictive. This one takes something of a different tone than the other two, with, hopefully, much worse characterisation and plot. Heh. Betaed by Windy City Dreamer, who is so nice to do this for me, since she doesn't usually read femslash. Requested by the good folk at Television Without Pity. I hope I did this justice - I didn't initially set out to make it an entry for badfic, but I was in an incredibly silly mood. Femslash fans, please don't take this the wrong way. I do write serious femslash too!
It was a quiet day in the offices of the BAU. The majority of the team were doing paperwork at their respective desks. At least, in theory. Morgan and Reid's idea of "paperwork" was discussing, or rather, arguing the finer points of film and television.
Emily stood, several files that she needed to get to Hotch in her hand. 'Yeah, guys, I don't really think that the ending to St. Elsewhere is really pertinent to whether or not a serial rapist deserved to get locked up.'
Morgan shrugged, swinging his chair around. In doing so, he caught sight of the figure that was making its way in their direction.
'Well look who it is,' he said, grinning.
The figure in question was that of Elle Greenaway, former BAU agent. He stood to greet her, followed by a rather enthusiastic Reid. When she finally extricated herself from the young genius's grip, there was a moment of silence as Elle turned to face the woman who had replaced her.
Emily returned the files to her desk, her eyes not leaving Elle's.
'Elle,' she said eventually.
'Emily,' was the reply.
Morgan raised an eyebrow. Since when did these two know each other? Before he could even ask what was going on, Elle had broken into a run.
At least half the agents on the floor were watching as Elle crash-tackled Emily to the ground.
'What the fuck?' was Morgan's immediate response, as he moved to pull Elle off the stunned agent. Emily was perfectly still as the first fist smashed into her face. Before Elle could strike again, though, she was being held back by Morgan and Reid.
'What's going on here?'
The commotion had drawn the attention of several higher-ups, including Hotch, Rossi, and to the team's consternation, Strauss.
Slightly shaken, Emily got to her feet, hyperaware of all the eyes that were trained on her.
'Just a misunderstanding,' she shrugged. The hesitation in her voice was clear though.
'There's obviously some bad blood here,' commented Strauss. 'And since it's a slow day, I'm willing to let the two of you work through it. Though the manner may be a little...unconventional.'
Hotch was nodding, until he realized just what Strauss had said.
'Wait, what did you have in mind?'
The grin on Erin Strauss' face could only be described as "diabolical."
'Cat fight,' she said.
'Morgan, do you mind telling me just why you have so much Jell-O in your desk drawers?' asked Hotch curiously.
Morgan did not turn, unwilling to talk his eyes off the scene before him – he didn't want to miss the start. He wiped a tear from his cheek. 'I've been waiting for this day a long time,' he revealed. The BAU had front row seats to the event, being sold at $80 a ticket by Strauss. They were over budget already that year.
Then, suddenly, an idea struck him. 'Hey, Hotch, do you think JJ and Garcia-'
'No.' Hotch answered before Morgan could even finish asking the question. The younger agent slumped slightly in his chair.
'Do you think JJ and Garcia what?' asked Garcia, jumping excitedly into the seat next to him, spilling popcorn everywhere. Rossi eyed the popcorn curiously.
'Agent Anderson was selling it,' Garcia said, having completely forgotten about her own question. 'He's also in charge of the betting pool, if you haven't already...Right. Of course you've already placed your bets. I've got fifty on Elle,' the technical analyst added. At Morgan's questioning glance, she elaborated. 'She scares the crap out of me.'
'Odds are pretty tight,' commented Morgan. 'Personally, I don't mind who wins. I'm just here for the entertainment.
'Emily's got it in the bag,' Rossi postulated. His short experience of Elle was enough to feed his beliefs. 'Elle's aggressive, but she'll burn out quickly. Em'll take the punches that she needs to, and strike out as soon as the time is right.'
'Don't underestimate Elle's strength,' commented Hotch quietly. Though he had expected that he would see the ex-agent again one day, these were hardly the circumstances that he would have predicted.
'So do we know what the "issue" is between them?' asked JJ, sidling in next to Garcia. She had popcorn in one hand, and a betting slip in the other.
'Rumor-mill says that Emily betrayed her in a deep-cover mission in Guatemala fifteen years ago,' Garcia said. 'But that's coming from Agent Clark, the guy that said you were a mermaid that would die if she ever went back to the ocean. Bit of a weirdo.'
JJ tugged at her collar. 'Yeah,' she said flatly. 'Weirdo.'
'Lynch is coming out now,' Hotch said, hushing his teammates. Kevin Lynch had won the – admittedly, rather large – draw for the opportunity to referee the match. Rumor had it that Morgan had cried for almost half an hour when the announcement of the referee was made. Garcia would be having words with both of them later.
The poncho clad technical analyst slipped slightly in the Jell-O pit. With one hand, he hushed the crowd, with the other, he blew his whistle.
There was a bated silence as the two opponents entered the pit.
Emily had never found herself so scantily clad in the workplace before. Thinking about it, she seriously wondered just why Derek Morgan had a bikini in her size sitting in his desk drawer. No, scratch that. She didn't want to know what kind of fantasies were running through his head.
Overhead, the jovial commentary of Spencer Reid began.
'...very tight odds on this one, folks. Greenaway's beaten up serial killers before, but the rumor mill tells me that Prentiss once strangled a man with her own thighs. I'm not quite sure what to believe, but the statistics of probability tells us that...'
Emily pulled her attention away from Reid's voice. She needed to concentrate on what was important her. Getting into the Jell-O pit without slipping.
And then kicking Elle Greenaway's ass.
Elle was willing to bet that no-one was on her side here; she had, for all intents and purposes, attacked an FBI agent without provocation. At least, without any provocation that they were aware of.
The whistle had barely been blown when she tackled Emily to the ground for the second time that day.
'So what's the objective of this supposed to be?' asked Rossi.
'Objective?' Morgan was nonplussed, still refusing to take his eyes off the pit, where Elle was attempting to find a grip on Emily's Jell-Oed torso.
'Yeah, how do we know when someone's won? Is it knock-out, or what?'
'It's like mud wrestling,' Hotch revealed unexpectedly. 'Winning or losing isn't as important as putting on an entertaining show. The objective isn't to beat the opponent, but to make the match as long and as interesting as possible.' He blushed slightly under their sideways glances. 'I had to pay for college somehow,' he said defensively.
'Wait, wait,' interrupted Garcia. 'If there's no objective, then why are they doing this to settle a dispute? And why are we betting over it?
They all pondered this for a moment, before returning their attention to the match at hand.
'Oh, go for the top, oh...' Morgan made a sound of disappointment as Emily gained the upper hand.
'I don't think she's going to deliberately rip off Emily's bikini top, Morgan,' said JJ in an amused voice.
'I can live in hope.'
For Emily and Elle, this was as much an opportunity for them to talk as it was to attempt to wrestle the other into submission. Neither was an easy task – the Jell-O made them both slippery, and the excess physical exhaustion made it difficult to get a word out.
'Why did you do it Emily?' Elle asked, trying to slide her arm beneath the other woman's waist. 'Why did you leave me alone in a hotel room in Vegas without even saying goodbye?'
Normally, she might have been worried about being overheard, but the audience was too raucous to hear their hushed words. Subconsciously, she thought she might have heard Strauss screaming to "rip her a new one!"
'I told you,' grunted Emily, slipping out of Elle's grasp. 'I was in town on business.'
'With the BAU,' was Elle's bitter reply.
'I never lied, Elle.' They were standing, hands on knees, breathing heavily and ignoring the catcalls from the crowd. 'I was in town for business, and you were looking for a good time. I left because I was hungover, and I didn't remember anything and I was going to miss my flight.'
'It's a private jet, Emily,' said Elle caustically. 'They wait for you.'
'Hey, I'm not the one who proposed we get married,' Emily replied loudly, completely unaware that the audience had stopped with their cheering, and was now listening to every word of their conversation.
'No, you're just the one who walked out without telling me who you even were.'
'You couldn't look at the fucking marriage certificate, Elle?'
'Vegas doesn't do gay marriages, Emily! You told them you were a post-op named William Heisenberg the Third.'
Emily bit her lip. 'I did? God, I was so fucking wasted that night.'
Elle had tears in her eyes, though they were hard to see beneath the Jell-O. 'So you're saying that it was all some huge mistake.'
'No! I'm saying I left because I was terrified. Because I did something when I was off my face, and I woke up the next morning and I didn't regret it at all. And I was wondering just what kind of person that you fell in love with at first sight. Was it me, or was it the person I was pretending to be?'
Elle put a hand on Emily's cheek, barely aware of the stickiness. 'It was always you, Emily.'
'I'm sorry.' Emily was in tears too, by that point. 'I'm sorry I left, Elle. I hope that maybe one day you can forgive me-' Elle interrupted the BAU agent with a long, drawn out kiss, which garnered several cheers from the assembled audience. Out of her peripheral vision, Emily could see Morgan leaning so far forward, he was almost in the pit.
Elle's hand drifted to the back of Emily's bikini top; meeting no resistance, save for the slipperiness of the Jell-O.
'I fucking knew it,' muttered Rossi from the stands. 'All the good ones are lesbians.'
'Just enjoy it man,' said Hotch, slapping Rossi on the back.
Morgan was silent, staring. Staring so intently that he almost jumped out of his seat when the bikini top struck him in the face. Frowning, he touched it, fingers coming away red with Jell-O. Then, he realized just what was going on.
'This is the happiest day of my life,' he declared.
DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW SO YOU CAN TELL ME HOW BAD IT IS.