Friday Fic Teaser
PLEASE DONT POST IN THE bau_inbox. THANK YOU.
I left the plantation at 1:30, ran an errand, got some lunch, and brought myself home. I put my pajamas back on and maxed out on my bed with my laptop and my brand new AU. I typed up the first 15 pages for a still untitled story that puts a twist on It Takes a Village and has Emily and Ian as estranged parents of a kidnapped boy. Since nothing much else is going on, and that is just fine by me, I thought I would post the beginning here and try to get some feedback. Dont everyone jump at once *lol* Love or hate Ian Doyle, I would love to know what people think.
Now I'm gonna go and get some dinner and finish relaxing. Plans to clean have been postponed but not officially canceled.
Emily grabbed the vibrating cell phone from the nightstand. She was lying in bed in the dark. The headache she had needed Vicodin but she settled for Motrin. It was starting to do its job. The last thing she was in the mood for was talking on the phone. But when she saw the name, Emily sat up in bed and answered.
“Agent Hotchner?”
“Emily, are you alone?” he asked.
“What?”
“Are you alone? Is Ian there with you?”
“He's downstairs. Why are you asking me that?”
Her stomach dropped. They usually wanted the parents together when they delivered the bad news. Even though she suddenly felt more nauseous than before, Emily thought her heart would break or she wouldn’t be able to breathe if something happened to her children. While Declan didn’t come from her womb or nurse at her breast, he was her child just the same.
“I need to talk to you Emily, and I need to do it without Ian. Is there anyway you can get out of the house without casting suspicion?”
For the past 72 hours, Emily felt as if she was stuck in a suspense film. Instead of the director yelling ‘cut’, the plot just thickened. What was going on?
“I could walk the dog. I always do that before bedtime anyway.”
“Good. Walk up three blocks and turn the corner. A black SUV with tinted windows will be waiting for you.”
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” she asked.
“I’d rather do that when we were face to face.”
“My son is out there somewhere. Do we really have time for these games, Agent Hotchner?”
“There's a group of very experienced and formidable agents searching for Declan. Will you please meet me?”
“Of course. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”
Emily hung up the phone. She was dressed in grey tights and a white camisole. Throwing on a Yale sweatshirt and her sneakers, Emily left the bedroom. She checked the twins’ room…Lauren and Leith were sound asleep. Walking down the back stairs, she found Ian in the kitchen on his laptop. He had already dipped into the Jameson’s.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Emily prayed he wasn’t drunk but wouldn’t be able to blame him if he was. There were still police and FBI agents in their living room and dining room. They were waiting for a ransom call that had yet to come. For the most part they all but ignored Emily and Ian; they pumped the parents for as much information as they could at the beginning. If Emily startled him, Ian showed no response. In eight years, she thought she may have startled Ian Doyle twice.
“I'm trying to distract myself from the goddamn FBI not working hard enough to bring my boy home. I mean they're just sitting in there,” he pointed toward the living room. “And Declan is gone.”
“That’s not true.”
“Oh really?” he looked at her with glassy eyes. “It’s been three days, Emily. Where is our son?”
“I don't know.” She shrugged. “Thankfully I have no experience in this department. We don’t know how long it'll take.”
As she came closer, Ian minimized his screen and pulled up some spreadsheets. Emily stood behind him and massaged his shoulders. He was so tense but so was she. Ian groaned, his head lolling back against her.
He missed her touch more than he thought possible. If only she would let him make her feel good again. Ian had no idea how to get his wife and family back. Just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, his boy was snatched from under his nose.
“I thought you had a headache, babe. You don’t need to be catering to me.” Ian kissed her hand.
“I need to walk the dog.” She replied. “He shouldn’t be in all night.”
“I’ll let him run in the side yard. You need to go back to bed. How much have you slept in the past three days?”
Sleep was something Emily would worry about when her son was back in her arms. She also had a funeral to plan and one to attend. Thinking about that made it hard to breathe.
“Ian, I'm fine.” Her hands slid off his shoulders. “I need to get out and breathe some air. It'll be good for me. And Bastian needs a walk. He senses something is wrong; he's antsy.”
“He's a fuckin Beagle, Emily.”
“They are one of the most intelligent, perceptive breeds. I just need to take a walk. Don’t try to talk me out of it.”
“Carry your stun gun.” He replied.
“Ian, we live in Fairfax County for God’s sake.” She rolled her eyes as she walked away.
Ian took hold of her wrist, stopping her movement. He stood from the chair and pulled her into his arms. Emily held on just as tight as he did.
“If anything ever happened to you…” his voice caught but Ian Doyle would rather die than cry. He sucked it up but held her tighter. “Listen to me for once. Just take the damn stun gun.”
“I’ll take it.” Emily replied nodding.
She took his face in her hands. He needed a shave, and probably a shower. He was scruffy and his blue eyes were full of both rage and sadness. Closing her eyes, Emily pressed a kiss on his mouth. Ian coaxed her lips open with his tongue. They held the kiss until they were breathless.
Then she moved out of his arms, whistling for the dog. Two year old Bastian walked into the kitchen. He definitely wasn’t his usual peppy self. Emily grabbed the leash from the kitchen wall as Ian sat back at his computer. Attaching it to the beagle’s collar, she headed out of the room.
“I’ll be back in 20 minutes or so.” she said. “I have my cell phone…and my stun gun.”
“Thank you.” he nodded, blowing her a kiss before going back to his laptop.
I left the plantation at 1:30, ran an errand, got some lunch, and brought myself home. I put my pajamas back on and maxed out on my bed with my laptop and my brand new AU. I typed up the first 15 pages for a still untitled story that puts a twist on It Takes a Village and has Emily and Ian as estranged parents of a kidnapped boy. Since nothing much else is going on, and that is just fine by me, I thought I would post the beginning here and try to get some feedback. Dont everyone jump at once *lol* Love or hate Ian Doyle, I would love to know what people think.
Now I'm gonna go and get some dinner and finish relaxing. Plans to clean have been postponed but not officially canceled.
Emily grabbed the vibrating cell phone from the nightstand. She was lying in bed in the dark. The headache she had needed Vicodin but she settled for Motrin. It was starting to do its job. The last thing she was in the mood for was talking on the phone. But when she saw the name, Emily sat up in bed and answered.
“Agent Hotchner?”
“Emily, are you alone?” he asked.
“What?”
“Are you alone? Is Ian there with you?”
“He's downstairs. Why are you asking me that?”
Her stomach dropped. They usually wanted the parents together when they delivered the bad news. Even though she suddenly felt more nauseous than before, Emily thought her heart would break or she wouldn’t be able to breathe if something happened to her children. While Declan didn’t come from her womb or nurse at her breast, he was her child just the same.
“I need to talk to you Emily, and I need to do it without Ian. Is there anyway you can get out of the house without casting suspicion?”
For the past 72 hours, Emily felt as if she was stuck in a suspense film. Instead of the director yelling ‘cut’, the plot just thickened. What was going on?
“I could walk the dog. I always do that before bedtime anyway.”
“Good. Walk up three blocks and turn the corner. A black SUV with tinted windows will be waiting for you.”
“Are you going to tell me what this is about?” she asked.
“I’d rather do that when we were face to face.”
“My son is out there somewhere. Do we really have time for these games, Agent Hotchner?”
“There's a group of very experienced and formidable agents searching for Declan. Will you please meet me?”
“Of course. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”
Emily hung up the phone. She was dressed in grey tights and a white camisole. Throwing on a Yale sweatshirt and her sneakers, Emily left the bedroom. She checked the twins’ room…Lauren and Leith were sound asleep. Walking down the back stairs, she found Ian in the kitchen on his laptop. He had already dipped into the Jameson’s.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Emily prayed he wasn’t drunk but wouldn’t be able to blame him if he was. There were still police and FBI agents in their living room and dining room. They were waiting for a ransom call that had yet to come. For the most part they all but ignored Emily and Ian; they pumped the parents for as much information as they could at the beginning. If Emily startled him, Ian showed no response. In eight years, she thought she may have startled Ian Doyle twice.
“I'm trying to distract myself from the goddamn FBI not working hard enough to bring my boy home. I mean they're just sitting in there,” he pointed toward the living room. “And Declan is gone.”
“That’s not true.”
“Oh really?” he looked at her with glassy eyes. “It’s been three days, Emily. Where is our son?”
“I don't know.” She shrugged. “Thankfully I have no experience in this department. We don’t know how long it'll take.”
As she came closer, Ian minimized his screen and pulled up some spreadsheets. Emily stood behind him and massaged his shoulders. He was so tense but so was she. Ian groaned, his head lolling back against her.
He missed her touch more than he thought possible. If only she would let him make her feel good again. Ian had no idea how to get his wife and family back. Just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, his boy was snatched from under his nose.
“I thought you had a headache, babe. You don’t need to be catering to me.” Ian kissed her hand.
“I need to walk the dog.” She replied. “He shouldn’t be in all night.”
“I’ll let him run in the side yard. You need to go back to bed. How much have you slept in the past three days?”
Sleep was something Emily would worry about when her son was back in her arms. She also had a funeral to plan and one to attend. Thinking about that made it hard to breathe.
“Ian, I'm fine.” Her hands slid off his shoulders. “I need to get out and breathe some air. It'll be good for me. And Bastian needs a walk. He senses something is wrong; he's antsy.”
“He's a fuckin Beagle, Emily.”
“They are one of the most intelligent, perceptive breeds. I just need to take a walk. Don’t try to talk me out of it.”
“Carry your stun gun.” He replied.
“Ian, we live in Fairfax County for God’s sake.” She rolled her eyes as she walked away.
Ian took hold of her wrist, stopping her movement. He stood from the chair and pulled her into his arms. Emily held on just as tight as he did.
“If anything ever happened to you…” his voice caught but Ian Doyle would rather die than cry. He sucked it up but held her tighter. “Listen to me for once. Just take the damn stun gun.”
“I’ll take it.” Emily replied nodding.
She took his face in her hands. He needed a shave, and probably a shower. He was scruffy and his blue eyes were full of both rage and sadness. Closing her eyes, Emily pressed a kiss on his mouth. Ian coaxed her lips open with his tongue. They held the kiss until they were breathless.
Then she moved out of his arms, whistling for the dog. Two year old Bastian walked into the kitchen. He definitely wasn’t his usual peppy self. Emily grabbed the leash from the kitchen wall as Ian sat back at his computer. Attaching it to the beagle’s collar, she headed out of the room.
“I’ll be back in 20 minutes or so.” she said. “I have my cell phone…and my stun gun.”
“Thank you.” he nodded, blowing her a kiss before going back to his laptop.