Title: Desolation Row
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Emily Prentiss, Aaron Hotchner, team - gen
Summary: Emily Prentiss is the BAU's latest unsub.
Warnings: Character Death
Author's Note: Written for Round 3 of the Criminal Minds Prompt Meme.
'This is some serious overkill,' Morgan noted. 'Whoever killed these guys...it was definitely personal.'
'Look at the grouping,' Reid pointed out. 'Considering the victims our unsub is going after, and the precision of the shots, it's likely that whoever we're looking for has had training in weapons use. Perhaps military service. Though, judging by our first victim, it's also possible that the unsub worked within the intelligence community.'
'How does he keep getting them alone?' Morgan said, frowning. 'I kinda get the feeling that the kind of victims we'd be dealing with aren't likely to let themselves get let away at gunpoint.'
'Guys...' Reid frowned. 'What if we're looking for a woman?'
And that was the turning point they needed.
Fifteen minutes later, Garcia had a name.
'Okay, I did what you said, and looked into people that were connected to our first victim, Clyde Easter. As it turns out, there aren't as many super-sexy spies in the intelligence community as J.J. Abrams would have you believe, and even fewer that have undergone a traumatic experience. Meet Emily Prentiss, aged thirty-four, daughter of the Ambassador to the Ukraine, Elizabeth Prentiss. Miss Prentiss the junior worked with the Central Intelligence Agency up until two years ago – and I hope you're appreciating this information, by the way, because I had to do some serious hacking to get it. Where was I? Oh. Two years ago in Tuscany, thanks to some seriously hinky circumstances involving our first victim, Prentiss' cover was blown, and she was tortured pretty significantly by an Irish weapons dealer named Ian Doyle. Cut to her rescue by an Interpol team, Prentiss spends the next six months in and out of hospital, with a not insignificant amount of psychiatric visits.'
There was a long pause as they processed the intel. A lot of the unsubs they hunted had traumatic pasts, but that didn't justify murder. At the same time, though, it didn't make the information any easier to here.
'Everything okay?' Rossi asked Hotch, who was frowning.
'I did security for the Ambassador when I started out at the Bureau,' Hotch revealed.
'You knew the daughter?'
Hotch nodded. 'Stubborn teenage kid, determined to prove herself. Definitely intelligent.'
'I have an address,' Garcia said, quietly.
The team left without another word
Morgan kicked the door in with a splintering crack. Hotch entered first, fingers gripping the gun tightly.
He found her in the living room, hands in the air and gun on the table.
'Agent Hotchner?' The dark haired woman looked at him, clearly surprised. She wasn't angry, or afraid, but there was something of a sadness in her voice. This was not the headstrong teenage girl that he'd known almost fifteen years ago. 'You're here about the murders.'
'I'm here about the men you killed,' Hotch said. Emily nodded, biting her lip. She didn't argue. There was some kind of twisted remorse in there somewhere.
Morgan shoved her against the wall roughly. 'Emily Prentiss, you are under arrest for the murder of Clyde Easter, Richard Fowl, Timothy Albright and Christopher Smith...' She didn't fight back as he cuffed her.
'We still need a confession,' Morgan said, when they were back at the station almost half an hour later. Prentiss was cuffed to a table in the interrogation room, the look on her face worryingly blank.
Hotch didn't even bother to discuss the matter. He opened the door and walked inside.
'Agent Hotchner,' she greeted him.
'Emily. Why did you kill them?'
'You know why,' Emily said evenly, refusing to look him in the eye. 'Don't tell me you managed to track me down without finding out what happened.'
'You killed Clyde because you found him responsible for what happened to you in Tuscany,' Hotch surmised. 'The rest...you didn't like the way they put their political machinations ahead of human life, so you ended theirs.'
'I studied Psychology. I know what you'll call me. A woman caught in the throes of a psychotic break, killing because it's the only way she knows how to feel something other than pain. I'm not going to say you're wrong, but I'm not going to say they didn't deserve it, either.'
'Some of those men had families.'
A flash of pain passed through her eyes, but it was gone just as quickly. 'Let me guess? Children waiting all night for mothers and fathers that don't even pay them attention, that would rather drink Scotch and go over their latest profits, or political escapades. We all know that kind of parenting style works well. Do you really think that Tuscany is the only reason I'm here right now?'
He didn't answer.
There was nothing more he needed from the conversation.
Thanks to the jurisdiction of the crimes, she wouldn't get the death penalty, but the political side of things meant she'd probably spend a long time in prison. At least in theory.
It wasn't even three months before he got the email saying that Emily Prentiss had committed suicide in her cell.
Somehow, he wasn't quite surprised.