rarepairs_cm | The Lost Ones, 5/?

Title: The Lost Ones
Author:

amichevole
Pairing: Morgan/Prentiss
Summary: Chicago, 1997. A beat cop and a federal agent join forces to solve the mystery behind the disappearance of a homeless teenager. They uncover a conspiracy that turns their fight for justice into a fight for their lives. Morgan/Prentiss AU.

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four

The Lost Ones

Chapter Five

A/N: Muchos gracias to Windy City Dreamer for doing those things that she does.

Emily pulled a notebook from the glove compartment, flipping to the first empty page. Morgan eyed her with curiosity as she wrote quickly, but neatly.

‘We didn’t get anything from that,’ he commented. ‘Apart from the fact that his parents are complete bigots. Why are you writing it down?’

She looked almost embarrassed. Her blatant – almost innocent – enthusiasm upon joining the Chicago Field Office had been the target of much ridicule, yet she refused to give up. She would tolerate the backstabbing, and the politics, and generally inefficiency of the whole thing, but she would not give up. Because that’s what they wanted her to do. They wanted her to throw in the towel, and admit she was just riding on her mother’s coat-tails. And that was one thing Emily Prentiss would never do.

‘I’m just, uh...Just being thorough,’ she finished lamely.

But that wasn’t all there was to it. The fact of the matter was, she knew Frank Pearson had died investigating this case, and if they were going to die too, then she at least wanted an accurate record of the clues they had followed up on so far. She found it strange, almost, that the thought of dying didn’t really seem to bother her. Sacrifice was just another part of the job.

He nodded. ‘So what do we think?’ He was priming his own brain cells as much as he was hers.

‘Well his parents are well off, but they would never pay ransom. So it’s not money.’

‘And whoever it was went to the trouble of killing Frank, so we know he doesn’t have any qualms about murder.’ His worked to keep his voice free from emotion when talking about his former partner, but he had to admit, it was difficult. ‘There must be some reason why he’s keeping Stevie alive.’

Emily added his thoughts to the notebook page. ‘Does it feel almost...random to you? He definitely needs Stevie alive for something, but only took him in the first place because...’ she paused slightly, casting a sideways glance at Morgan. ‘Maybe...he thought that people would care less. That they wouldn’t investigate.’ The thought had been running through her head all day. ‘As though it only seemed to matter when a police officer ended up dead.’ She cursed herself mentally, realizing that she’d almost insinuated that Frank’s death didn’t matter. Fortunately, though, Morgan did not take her words as such.

He nodded again. ‘Do you think it could be serial?’ he asked.

Emily furrowed her brow. In the academy, she had been warned against so called “Federal Agents’ Syndrome” in which agents found evidence when there was none, simply because they were looking. If they were to jump to conclusions, then the whole case could become overblown rather quickly.

‘It’s possible,’ was the answer she settled on. ‘But we’d have to look into it further.’

He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, there was a sharp knock on the driver’s side window.

‘Jesus!’ Emily jumped in surprise, which was in turn, no surprise to Morgan.

She swore once more, this time a little more explicitly when she looked out the window and saw who it was.

They were parked just down the block from the crime scene; most of the police cruisers that had been there earlier that morning had disappeared, only to be replaced by non-descript black sedans. The FBI was here.

‘Give me a sec,’ she muttered to Morgan, exiting the car quickly. This was not going to be pretty. It was never pretty, she knew, but today it was going to be downright gruesome.

‘Sir,’ she greeted Agent Wellington, mentally kicking herself. When he had said he was sending someone over, she wasn’t expecting him to come himself. ‘Were his eyes always so raving?’ she wondered to herself.

‘I told you to stay here, Prentiss.’ Though he wasn’t yelling, she knew he was angry. He had the strangest ability to look absolutely terrifying without even trying. Emily wasn’t fazed though; while she admitted he made her slightly nervous, she had grown up with a woman that ate people like Wellington for breakfast.

‘With all due respect, sir, that’s bullshit.’ Her eyebrows were raised, as if she was surprised by her own tenacity. ‘I can be of far more use actually investigating the crime rather than standing around waiting for you to show up.’

He didn’t say anything, and this, she knew, was the worst possible response. It was the calm before the storm. She’d be trudging through sewerage pipes for the next seventeen years.

* * *

Morgan heard every word of the conversation between Emily and Wellington. Sensing that his presence would not exactly smooth things over, he left as quietly as he could. At a loss for anything else to do, he found himself walking down the street aimlessly, mind filled with thoughts.

‘Hey! Excuse me!’ The calls were directed at him, he realized. He stopped, and turned, just in time to see a young man almost barrel into him. He was in his early twenties, Morgan thought. Homeless, definitely. ‘You’re the...uh...police guy? Wanted to know if I’d seen anything suspicious?’

Morgan nodded. Vaguely, he wondered if this man even knew what had happened to Pearson. He had to have known – there had been a heavy law enforcement presence in the area all morning.

‘The night before last, there was this guy. Maybe forty, greyish hair. He and Stevie got into a scuffle. I didn’t say anything yesterday, ‘cos he was hanging around. I think he wanted to know if anyone was going to turn him in. I was scared, man – didn’t want to say anything.’

‘Can you give me a more detailed description?’ He almost laughed when he realized that he didn’t even have a pen and paper on him. Maybe Emily’s methods did have some merit after all. He attempted to catalogue the information inside his memory instead.

‘Hey,’ Morgan called out to the man, who had turned tail upon the removal of his burden. ‘What’s your name?’

There was a look of hesitation, as if revealing this part of himself to Morgan could only end badly. ‘Eric,’ he said eventually.

‘You’re around these parts most of the time?’

‘Yeah.’

Morgan gave the young man a half smile. ‘Be careful, Eric.’

* * *

When he returned to the car, Emily was leaning against it, sucking in a lungful of cigarette smoke. The look in her eyes told him that she was barely concealing her anger.

He tried to give her a sympathetic look. ‘I’m sorry.’ He felt responsible – he had dragged her into this, though she hadn’t needed much persuasion.

‘Don’t be,’ she said darkly. ‘You’re not the one that decided I needed a few days of “cooling off time.” Seriously, he couldn’t just come right out and tell me that he didn’t like the way I was doing things?’ She shook her head.

‘Wait?’ asked Morgan. ‘He suspended you?’ The young officer was incredulous. All Emily had been doing was trying to help him find Stevie’s kidnapped – Pearson’s killer. Surely that didn’t warrant such severe punishment.

‘That’s Special Agent Asshole for you.’ She sighed, flicking the butt to the ground. She could not honestly give a crap about littering laws right at this time. ‘I hope you find what you’re looking for, Officer Morgan. Don’t worry; the FBI have their best agents on the case.’ The last sentence she spoke with something of an exaggerated eye roll, as if she didn’t even believe it herself.

And before Morgan had a chance to convince her otherwise, she had gone.