Broken Doll, 1/?
Title: Broken Doll
Genre: Suspense
Rating: FRT
Characters/Pairings: Full cast. Definite Possible Morgan/Prentiss later on.
Disclaimer: Purely for the amusement of myself and hopefully others. I don’t own nothing so if you sue, you get nothing. See how that works?
Summary: It’s late when Emily’s phone rings. A DC family was found dead and the sole survivor needs a safe place to stay and where better than with a federal agent? Especially when the killer realizes he’s left his work unfinished…
A/N: A huge thank you to amichevole for the beta and sounding board work. This is an idea that popped into my head a little while ago and though I haven’t yet plotted it all the way out I do have a general idea of where I want to go with this, so bear with me on updates. And now I’ll shut up…
“All of us have moments in our lives that test our courage. Taking children into a house with a white carpet is one of them.”
Erma Bombeck
Chapter One
Emily Prentiss is a foster parent.
At least, she is listed as such in the CFSA database, a decision she made after one case too many where a child was left all alone to fend for itself in the system. Working for the government had its perks, a fast-tracked registration just one of the many. There was no real interview with a recruiter, orientation information was merely mailed to her to go through as her schedule allowed, attendance of the parental training session was postponed indefinitely.
There had still been a home visit though, an older woman showing up one scheduled Saturday Emily actually managed to keep free. It took less than an hour, the older blonde’s inspection of the Capitol Hill home perfunctory at best. Not that there was a lack of caring on the woman’s part, but the condo was free of disorder and hazards minus a small amount of chaos in her upstairs office. Life with the BAU simply didn’t leave time to make messes.
Once that had all been over she had hardly thought about it, her conscience and soul soothed some by the idea that she had volunteered to do something good, outside the realm of catching rapists and sociopaths. Because, truth be told, she wondered, not much but often enough, just how much good the job really did for those whose lives had already been turned upside down and inside out by the monsters she and her team hunted.
She didn’t think it could really do all that much.
They had arrived back from their latest case relatively early the night before but she, Reid and Morgan opted to make a little pit stop instead of heading straight home. It had seemed like a sensible idea then, the case ending on a bittersweet note giving them prime reason to go soak away their troubles at their favorite bar, as if drinking was pretreatment for the soul.
There had been little sleep to be had while in Minnesota, the case keeping them all on high alert for the duration of their weeklong stay. So while none of them had indulged to the point of regrets and a promised headache, it had gotten them home a lot later than the teammates that had opted out, a fact that proved to be of vague importance as the shrill ring of a telephone sounded just above her head.
A creature of relative habit, Emily had gotten up at her usual time despite her late night, taking advantage of a rare day off to run some errands and take care of the few chores that needed doing. She had settled on the couch then, attempting to do something else she didn’t have much time for: watch TV. But apparently she wasn’t quite up for that, having fallen asleep on the couch in pretty much the same position she found herself in now.
It took her all of five seconds to fully awaken, years of having to be ready to go at a moment’s notice helping her to shake the cobwebs that would have probably clouded someone else’s mind for much longer. It was her landline, not her cell, that had drawn her from sleep and she eyed it quizzically after glancing at the clock on her cable box. They had all had the day off though it had become obvious long before she joined the BAU that you were never really off the clock to the Bureau. Still, had a case suddenly arose JJ would have been calling her cell and it was too late for anyone outside of the government and telemarketing to be trying to get a hold of her now.
She reached for the receiver, bringing a hand up to rub at her forehead. “Hello?”
“Ms. Prentiss?”
She pulled a face, immediately thinking telemarketer. Still, she had to be sure. Just in case. “Yes?”
“I’m Beverly Rhodes with CFSA. You may not remember me but we spoke on the phone a few times when you first began inquiring about being a foster parent? I’m sorry to be calling at such a late hour but we have a situation…”
Emily blinked, shooting another glance at the clock. Almost midnight. She had apparently been right in her assumption of a government call, though the Children and Family Service Agency wouldn’t have placed top 10 on her list of would be callers. “Yes, I remember you.” Dark hair bobbed slightly as she nodded, though the other woman couldn’t see her, her brow furrowed in confusion. “What kind of situation?”
There was a pause. “There’s a little girl. If you watched the news this evening you probably saw the story. Horrible mess, just terrible. Ordinarily, she would just stay at one of our temporary facilities until Monday when we could place her properly, but under the circumstances I feel it would be best if she was placed in a calm, stable environment where she is the sole child.”
Emily had a good idea of where this was going and she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about it. But she didn’t interrupt, didn’t do much of anything except listen, figuring the woman would get to the heart of things fairly soon.
She was right.
“Given your particular areas of expertise and your profession, I think that, at least for the time being, yours would be that environment, Ms. Prentiss. Now, I understand if you’re unable,” she added hastily. “This is very last minute after all, but it would be a great help to us and to this little girl.”
A nice little guilt trip Rhodes had worked in there. Emily imagined it was probably something she did without even realizing now, available homes and foster parents not as readily available as was, sadly, needed. It hadn’t been necessary with her though. Though the request was definitely sudden she hadn’t signed up solely for the purpose of easing a trouble conscience.
“No, it’s fine. She’s, um, she’s welcome to stay with me. Do I need to come to you or…?” she trailed off, running a hand through her hair, unsure what the proper procedure was or if there even was one in cases like this.
“Thank you,” Rhodes sounded relieved. “I’ll bring Sophie to you since I’ll need to go over a few things with you before you can assume care,” she said. “I should be able to be there in…twenty minutes?”
“That sounds fine,” Emily nodded, not quite believing that this conversation was going on. She thought to ask one question though before letting the social worker go. “How old is she?”
The other woman’s voice carried a sad note when she replied. “She’s two.”
Emily sat for a moment, pondering the thought. What was she going to do with a two year old?
-x-
A solid gold locket was held between thumb and forefinger, hand steady, grip just tight enough to keep it from falling.
He flipped it over, read the inscription on the back with no real apparent interest, flipped it again and popped it open. He frowned. Two kids could be seen. A boy of maybe one, grinning hugely from the photo tucked into the right half, its colors faded just slightly with time, enough to know that it was probably a couple years old. The other though, on the opposite side, that one was newer. That one held his attention.
Wide hazel eyes stared up at him from a tiny round face. His frown deepened. There had not been two children. He had watched the house for three days. There had not been two children, only the older one from the first picture. He would have noticed if there had been two.
He could still see their faces, immobilized in death, eyes still round but free of the surprise and tears and fear that had been there previously. No emotion at all there now, he had made sure of that.
But this…
He snapped the locket closed, no trace of the anger he felt clawing its way from the depths showing on his features. Smiling at the waitress who had just appeared at his elbow he appeared every bit the amicable stranger, just in for a late dinner after a long day’s work.
Parts of that weren’t truly a lie. He liked to think of himself as amicable. And it had been a long day. But he loved his line of business too much to consider it work.
“Just passin’ through hon?” the woman asked, some faint accent touching her words but he didn’t know or care to know the region.
He flashed another smile, straight white teeth and dimples. A movie star smile. “Not quite. Looks like I’ll be in town for a bit.”
She made a noise that could have been anything from approval to disinterest to regret that he wasn’t able to move on. “Well you enjoy yourself. See a couple sights.”
He nodded but said nothing, accepting the bill when she offered it and waiting until she had moved on to another table before focusing again on the locket.
Apparently, he had a job to finish.
-x-
The solid oak door swung open to reveal a harried if pleasant looking redhead, younger than Emily had thought she would be. There were two bags slung over her left shoulder, one what Emily assumed to be a diaper bag, the other some sort of duffle. In her left hand was the tightly gripped handle of an empty carseat, clutching her right was Emily’s new charge.
“Ms. Prentiss?”
“Please, it’s Emily,” she said, giving Rhodes a small smile as she reached to take the bags, stepping back to allow the CFSA agent to enter. “Here, let me get these for you.”
It wasn’t lost on either woman that Emily had opted to grab the bags over the child. Not unusual in the case of first timers, especially if they didn’t have kids of their own. Jumping in with both feet often left you scrambling for the certainty of the surface, not the murky depths of the unknown.
The woman murmured a thank you, her gaze darting around the room with the practiced eye of someone who had done many inspections in their time. Apparently she saw nothing immediately amiss, bringing her attention back to Emily, following her into the sitting area just off the entry way.
They sat down across from each other, Beverly placing the carseat on the floor next to her chair before helping the silent and blank faced little girl onto the loveseat’s other cushion.
The child wasn’t nearly as big as Emily had pictured her and she wondered if the girl was merely small for her age or if her expectations of what a two year old should look like were merely skewed. After all, her most recent experience with babies was Henry and he hadn’t even made one. Of course, there were more children than she liked to think about in her cases at work, but compartmentalizing was critical to getting the job done. Focusing on things like size and eye color and practically anything outside of clinical analyzation, well, that just wasn’t smart if you wanted to stay sane.
But she didn’t need to see that she was a pretty child. A baby, really. No matter that she had technically entered the toddler stage. Her hair was chestnut brown, her hazel eyes almond shaped and intelligent. Her face was cherubic, her cheeks full, mouth a cupid’s bow. She looked like a doll.
Emily looked away, focusing instead on Beverly.
She hadn't watched the news. Hadn't made it long enough to get past the afternoon talk shows, and the call had woke her well after the eleven o'clock broadcast had ended. But television was only one of a thousand outlets for the news and Emily had used the time between call and arrival to crack open the laptop, skimming the local headlines. It hadn't taken long to find the story.
NO LEADS IN SLAYING OF LOCAL FAMILY
The article had been short, more blurb than anything else. But that was often the case with breaking news. They couldn't report on things they didn't know. Not unless they happened to be the National Inquirer or TMZ.
The first paragraph had been all she had to read, the remaining three just a long winded way for the writer to say she didn't know anything yet.
A woman and her two children were found dead in their home Friday evening, apparent victims of foul play. The police had no leads-though Emily knew it was just as likely that they were merely withholding them from the press. Just like they were not correcting the assumption that both of the children had died. There would be no mention of the little girl that had fallen victim to one of life’s greatest injustices, its biggest tragedy. Their job now was to protect the incident’s sole survivor.
Sophie.