"Just hearing about a prison break scared you this much?" Jack was skeptical. Of all the women he had known in this life, if any were likely to never marry or settle down, it was probably Emily.
She embodied the modern independent woman. For something to scare her into fleeing with her cat in the middle of the night, there had to be more to the story.
"I came home the night before last and found signs that someone might have broken in," Emily admitted, somewhat guiltily.
"The night before last?" Jack scratched the black cat's belly, causing it to purr contentedly.
"Don't tell me you've spent the past two nights sitting by the door with a gun, reminiscing about your youth and ready to shoot any unexpected visitors?"
Judging by the dark circles under her eyes, Jack had a strong feeling he was right.
Emily, now frustrated and embarrassed, snatched the cat back. "Yes, you're right. I've been too nervous to keep going like this. Look at my nails—they're almost chewed off."
Jack glanced around the office. While it had a shower and a sofa, it wasn't a long-term solution.
"So, when are you planning to tell the others?" Jack asked, guessing that if Reid were around, he would have already noticed something was off.
Among the six members of the BAU team, everyone got along well, but Reid and Emily usually spent the most time together.
Emily's eyes shifted, betraying her uncertainty. "I haven't decided yet. I was thinking of using a fake identity to book a hotel first thing tomorrow."
"And wait until one of us gets shot or kidnapped by the bad guy before you tell us the truth? Or maybe you'd just disappear the moment things looked bad, leaving us to clean up your mess? We've only known each other for a year, but I trust you wouldn't do that, right?"
Jack's deliberately harsh words made Emily groan in frustration, covering her face. "Damn it, are you a monster? I'm already stressed enough, please cut me some slack."
Jack wasn't just making things up. Most screenwriters around the world used the same formula—forcing characters to make irrational decisions to create suspense or move the plot forward.
Since 9/11, while the DHS had taken over some counter-terrorism responsibilities, the FBI remained the main force handling domestic terrorism—or rather, doing the dirty and dangerous work. Who better than the FBI to deal with terrorists? Only a fool would go rogue and face those guys alone.
"Come on, you can stay at my place for a while. Sergio can be your rent; I get to pet him whenever I want."
Jack stood up and grabbed the black cat again. The well-behaved little guy's name was Sergio, meaning "loyal servant." It had been a gift from the team when Emily was recovering from a gunshot wound.
After a moment's thought, Jack opened his gun locker, took out a weapons case containing two Noveske N4 rifles, and sent a message to Rossi, asking him to meet at his house.
He threw the weapons case in the back seat and put Emily's luggage in the sealed trunk, then drove her home in his "Mammoth." He planned to have the tech team thoroughly check her car the next day.
"Ta-da! Surprise!" As Jack opened the door, he was startled to find Hannah dressed in a reindeer costume. Behind him, Emily, still holding the cat and rubbing her tired eyes, widened her eyes in surprise.
"Uh, Emily's in a bit of trouble. She might be staying here for a few days." The scene became a little awkward.
"Ah, haha, Christmas is coming, you know," Hannah explained to Emily.
Knowing there was serious business, Hannah gave Jack a quick kiss and winked before heading to the bedroom to change.
"I'll go get the guest room ready," Jack said, quickly retreating under Emily's amused gaze. Sometimes, his skin was thinner than the girls'.
An hour later, Rossi arrived. Jack whipped up something to eat, and the four of them sat around the table, eating and chatting.
Emily gave a brief overview of her past. The "JTF-12" task force she had worked with was a joint operation involving agents from several countries, including the UK, France, and Germany.
JTF-12 was responsible for conducting background checks and psychological profiles on terrorists. They gathered intelligence through undercover work but didn't handle the arrests; that was left to the country in question.
The problem stemmed from the last case JTF-12 had worked on: Ian Doyle, aka "Valhalla," the leader of a terrorist group linked to the IRA.
Emily had spent two years undercover with Doyle, gathering enough intel for British intelligence to arrest him and lock him up in a secret prison.
She faked her death to escape and, exhausted, returned to the U.S., where she joined the FBI and eventually became part of the BAU, chosen by Rossi over a year ago.
She thought she had left that dark past behind, but not long ago, Clyde Easter, the leader of JTF-12, contacted her out of the blue.
Easter informed her that after seven years in a secret prison in Eastern Europe, Ian Doyle had escaped and disappeared without a trace.
Jack did the math. Emily had only been about twenty-five or twenty-six when she went on that mission, no wonder she had gotten caught up in it so easily.
He figured Emily was still hiding some secrets, maybe for personal reasons or classified details from the mission. But for now, it wasn't necessary to dig deeper.
Jack's priority was to keep her safe. The rest would be up to Rossi, who could use his resources to gather more intel and assess the risk.
Whatever came next, they needed to act fast, whether it was laying a trap or launching a preemptive strike. As the saying goes, "You can't be a thief forever, and you can't guard against a thief forever."
A few days later, Reid returned from his vacation, and Hotchner came back to the office in a wheelchair. Rossi gathered everyone in the conference room for a quick briefing on Emily's situation.
They were still collecting more information, but as Emily had suspected, Ian Doyle was up to something. The CIA had recently tracked him to Mexico.
Doyle had recruited some armed men and a few of his old associates, moving between various drug cartels, apparently building up his forces.
Given the porous state of the U.S.-Mexico border, Rossi warned everyone to stay vigilant. For the time being, all fieldwork would be done in pairs, and they should always be alert to suspicious activity.
Of course, the work continued. Two days later, Jessica received a request for help from the LAPD regarding a series of recent female abductions and murders. The BAU team was asked to get involved.
"How many cases have we handled in Los Angeles now?" Jack mused, thinking that Rossi's decision to base the team here had been brilliant. It had saved the FBI quite a bit in travel expenses.
Rossi sighed and quipped, "Can someone remind me why they call this place the 'City of Angels'?"
"Actually, the name comes from Spanish explorers who called the first settlement here 'The Town of Our Lady the Queen of Angels,'" Reid corrected him in his usual serious tone. Then, under the group's collective gaze, he realized his mistake.
"Wait, was that a rhetorical question?"
"I really don't know what part of you Layla finds so charming," Rossi said, rolling his eyes in disbelief.
Jessica smiled at the banter between the older man and the young genius. She then turned on the projector and gave a brief warning before showing the photos.
"This case is pretty disturbing. You might want to brace yourselves before looking at the pictures."
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