madlorific

CASEFILES OF MR. PRENTISS AND MRS. GENIUS
a “Criminal Minds” fanfiction series by MadLori

Previous Casefiles

Casefile #1: The Frantic Friend

Casefile #2: The Mysterious Manuscript

Part 1 -- Part 2

temporal note: This story takes place about six weeks after the end of “How to Fight Loneliness," and about two weeks after "Mr. Prentiss & Mrs. Genius and the Frantic Friend."

"What did you tell them?" Emily asked Dr. Fordham. They were in the Beinecke's conference room, where in a few minutes most of the permanent staff would be gathered for a rather sudden meeting.

"I said that we'd gotten some very exciting news that couldn't wait."

"And what exciting news will you be inventing?"

"None, actually. I did just get some exciting news, namely that we've been chosen to host an exhibit of rare medieval illuminated manuscripts. I was going to tell everyone tomorrow, but given that the exhibit will require a lot of planning and rearranging, it won't seem all that strange that I wanted to meet immediately."

"Perfect."

Fordham cocked his head, his eyes on Reid, who was slowly perambulating the perimeter of the room, looking at the notices and bulletins and displays on the walls. Across the room was a wide window that looked into the room next door, which was darkened. "What's he doing, if I may ask?"

"He just wants to know the space. We'll be watching the eyes of your staff a great deal, and he'll want to know if they look at anything particular and if it has meaning."

Fordham sighed. "This profiling business is more complex than I imagined."

"It can be. A task like this can be tricky."

"Who shall I tell the staff that you are?"

"Don't tell them anything," Reid said from across the room. Fordham looked a little startled; no doubt he hadn't realized that Reid had been listening to everything they said. "Don't introduce us, don't look at us, don't acknowledge our presence. Let them wonder."

Fordham shook his head. "I don't know what you hope to learn from this."

"Well, we don't know, either," Reid said, walking over to join them. "That's what we're going to find out."

Emily glanced at her watch. "They'll be arriving soon. We better take our places." Reid nodded. They went to the chairs they'd set up against the wall, behind where Fordham would be seated at the head of the table. From here, they could see everyone who'd be seated at the table, and the staff would be able to see them. In fact they wouldn't be able to avoid seeing them. She sat down and crossed her legs. Her job would be to sit and look attentive and slightly authoritarian. Reid's job would be to take copious notes and appear as if he weren't paying attention at all. They’d both studied photos of all the staff, they’d know who was who and what they were looking for.

Fordham had a folder of materials, presumably about the upcoming exhibit. He sat down and started going through it. Emily sat quietly while Reid got out his notebook and a pen.

"Maybe we should get a dog," she murmured, leaning in a little.

He stopped writing, then looked at her with an expression of thinly veiled horror. "A dog?"

"Umm...or not."

"You want to get a dog?"

"I've never had one. I've always wanted one. Haven't you ever wanted a dog?"

"No. I can honestly say that I have never in my life wanted a dog."

"But they're cute and lovable."

"I'm just picturing all the things in our house that are chewable." He narrowed his eyes, peering at her. "Tell me you're not contemplating getting a dog as some sort of dry-run for having a baby, to test out my fitness as a parent."

"No." She thought for a moment. "That isn't a bad idea, though. Not for you, for me. You have experience as a caretaker. I've never had so much as a goldfish. I never even babysat when I was a teenager." She frowned, the truth of what she was saying hitting her all at once. "What if we had a baby and I forgot to feed it, or left it out in the rain or something? What if I end up being one of those parents who goes to work and forgets that the baby is in the car seat and it dies from the heat!"

He gave her a withering look. "You're not serious."

"I'm a little bit serious. What if I suck at it?"

"You've never sucked at anything in your life."

"Oh, let me count the ways in which that is not true. I sucked pretty profoundly at relationships until I met you."

"Technically, until a number of years after you met me, since we didn't have a relationship until we'd already known each other for..."

"Stop it."

"Sorry."

"We should definitely get a dog."

"We are not getting a dog, sweetheart." He only called her that when he was annoyed, which just made her want to needle him some more.

"I think a schnauzer. I will name him Enzo."

"Can we discuss this later?" he said, nodding toward the door. "These people will be coming in any second and our aura of mystery will be spoiled if they overhear us arguing about schnauzers named Enzo."

"That's an awesome name for a schnauzer, though, don't you think?"

Reid heaved a weary sigh. Emily made herself shut up.

The first group of staff members to come into the conference room included Rosemary Battelle. Emily watched her, but Rosemary didn't say anything about them to her two companions as they all took seats. Each one of them glanced at her and Reid with varying levels of curiosity. Fordham greeted them like it was any other day. Reid was scribbling on his legal pad. She knew he was watching, though. He was really good at watching without anyone being able to tell he was watching. Emily made her watching even more obvious than it would normally have been, letting her eyes rest on each person in turn.

Over the next five minutes, a dozen more people filtered into the room, taking seats around the conference table, pulling up extra chairs when there were none left. Emily heard a few people murmur to neighbors, wondering who she and Reid were, but no one had an answer. Rosemary Battelle, interestingly, didn't offer up the fact that their two interlopers were FBI agents.

Dr. Fordham called the meeting to order. Emily saw more glances at them; the staff were clearly waiting for him to tell them who they were. Instead, he started talking about his big news. She saw their curiosity about herself and Reid pushed to the back burner; excited murmurs ran over the staff as Fordham told them about the exhibit they were soon to host. Hands were raised, suggestions were made, people volunteered to handle this or that part of the preparations. No one was really looking at them anymore.

These people were nerds. They were history and literary nerds, to whom the prospect of rare medieval manuscripts was exciting and stimulating. This was their life, it was what they'd chosen to pursue, and this was a fantastic opportunity, as Fordham was explaining.

The meeting took about half an hour. As Fordham was winding up, Emily saw a few more curious glances tossed their way, but no one asked. He dismissed the group and everyone filed out, chattering excitedly amongst themselves. Emily glanced over at Reid’s notepad, which he was subtly holding so she could read it. She saw what he’d written and nodded, glancing at him. They were on the same page.

Once they were alone again, Fordham turned to face them. "Well?"

"Interesting," Reid said.

"Were you able to tell who stole the manuscript pages?"

She and Reid exchanged a glance. “It isn’t quite that simple.”

“I don’t know what you could even tell just from watching them.”

Emily went to one of the chairs and put her hands on it. "Well, I can tell you that Chase Gregory is after your job."

"No kidding. That isn't exactly a secret."

"Is it a secret that you slept with him?"

Fordham's jaw dropped. "How did you know that?"

Emily smiled. "Don't be too impressed. Last night we did quick backgrounds on everyone on the list you sent us and Chase has a long history of sleeping his way to the top, reading between the lines, and when he started here you would have been the one he targeted. And he's resentful that it didn't apparently get him the result he wanted."

"No, it didn't. I wish I could go back in time and take that back. You're saying he took the pages?"

Reid interrupted. “Cynthia Mershon, she was sitting here,” he said, standing behind one of the chairs.

"That’s right.”

"She's going to quit soon."

"Really?"

"Really. Everyone else was excited about the new exhibit, except her. She seemed distracted and her mind was elsewhere. Plus she was carrying a new briefcase. Her schedule over the last four weeks shows that she's taken three afternoons for 'doctor's appointments.' She's going on interviews."

"Damn," Fordham said. "I don't want to lose her."

“Also, Ms. Mershon and Chase Gregory hate each other. Quite a lot,” Emily said.

Fordham nodded. “I’ve noticed some tension there. It started a few months ago. I don’t know what went on with them. None of my business, as long as it doesn’t affect their work.”

"Rosemary Battelle, the archivist who helped me yesterday morning," Reid said, going to the chair where Rosemary had sat. "It’s curious that she knew we were both FBI agents and yet didn’t mention it when everyone around her was wondering who we were."

Fordham rubbed his semi-bald pate in frustration. "So who took the pages?"

Emily sighed. "Dr. Fordham, we suspect that whoever took the pages took them not because they wanted them, for financial or other reasons, but as a demonstration that they could be taken. Why such a demonstration is necessary, we’re not sure.”

“So you’re saying that this theft was some kind of message?”

“It’s the motive that makes the most sense, especially considering that as far as we can tell, the stolen pages have not been actually sold. Whoever took them still has them.”

"What do we do now?"

"Now? I'd suggest something proactive," Reid said, looking over at her. "Em, what do you think?"

She thought for a moment. "What if he made it known to the staff that the theft had occurred, but that the pages had been returned?”

His eyebrows went up. "Interesting."

"What would that accomplish?" Fordham asked.

“Dr. Fordham, what time does the evening shift change happen on your security staff?”

“Two a.m.”

“Can you meet us back here at, say, quarter of two?”

He frowned. “Yes, but…why?”

“It’s better if you don’t know,” Reid said. “We're supposed to leave this evening, but I think we can extend our stay until tomorrow." He glanced at her and she nodded. "If you were to circulate a memo to the staff this evening, would they read it tonight?”

“Oh, yes. Everyone here is an email addict. I often send out memos to people’s home emails. Everyone will at the very least check before they go to bed.”

“All right, then. Here’s what you should do. Send a memo to the staff that they’ll see tonight. Don’t say that the pages were stolen. Say that they were – misplaced. During maintenance of the manuscript, or something that’ll sound plausible. But say that they’ve fortunately been located and will be returned to their proper place. Call a meeting for tomorrow to discuss new procedures to prevent such a thing from happening again, and tell them that you’ll have the missing pages there for them to see.”

Fordham was nodding. “All right. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“We do this for a living,” Emily said. Reid was fidgeting a bit and looked a little impatient. Emily knew why. “Dr. Fordham,” she said, “we appreciate the importance of this crime to you and we’re glad to help. But frankly – well, we came here so that my husband could have some time with the manuscript. It was a gift to him from me. We’ve already spent some of his valuable research time on this. Would you mind if he resumes with the manuscript? I will help you with the preparations for the meeting tomorrow.” She glanced at Reid, who was looking at her with an expression of great relief.

“Of course, of course,” Fordham said. “How inconsiderate of me not to have thought of that sooner. Dr. Reid, of course you’d like your full time with the manuscript. Come with me, I’ll take you down to the archival room myself.”

Reid came over to get his bag and paused to squeeze her hand and kiss her cheek. “Thanks,” he whispered.

She just smiled and sent him off, a bounce in his step that made him look like an eager schoolboy. Emily went back out to the hall and headed for the lobby, getting out her cell phone and dialing.

“Hotchner.”

“Hotch, it’s Emily.”

“How’s Yale? Is Reid having fun with that whatever manuscript?”

“Oh, he’s on cloud nine. Listen, I know we’d planned to be back tomorrow morning, but we’d like to stay through tomorrow and be back Tuesday morning if that’s all right with you.”

“Anything wrong?”

“Well – the director here has asked for our help investigating something. Don’t worry, we’re not using any Bureau resources.”

“You two need the team?”

“Nothing that serious. Some stolen medieval manuscript pages.”

“Sounds like you’ve got everything under control.”

“We’re hoping to lure the thief out of hiding with a carefully worded memo,” she said, grinning.

“Maybe we should try that approach,” Hotch said, and Emily could hear him smiling. “Listen, take as long as you want. Maybe some time away from the office would be welcome,” he said. “I know you both care about the job, but make sure you’re taking care of your marriage, too.” She heard the bitterness of his own experience in that regard in Hotch’s voice, and the regret.

Emily nodded. “We will.”

She went downstairs to the archival rooms when five o’clock rolled around and found Reid with the manuscript, bent close over it with his magnifying glass in front of his face, his hair falling in his eyes and his tie askew. He looked up as she entered. “Oh, is it lunchtime?”

She put her hand on his shoulder. “Honey, it’s five o’clock.”

He blinked in dismay. “Really?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Oh.” He sagged like a little boy who’s just been told the zoo is closing in five minutes. She half-expected his lower lip to pooch out and start trembling and big, fat tears to roll down his cheeks. Instead, he just sighed and began putting everything away. “It’s just as well,” he said. “I could spend weeks with this thing. Better cut me off sooner rather than later.” He looked up at her. “What did you do all day?”

“I’ve been here.”

“All day?” he said, frowning.

“Mostly. I helped Dr. Fordham write the memo he’s going to send out, and then I went down to the security office and made all the arrangements there. I changed our flight home and ran a few errands.”

“So that’s it?”

“That’s it. Everything is set up. I called Hotch, he’s fine with us staying an extra day. Dr. Fordham sent the memo just after lunch. So until two, there’s nothing more for us to do, so you and I are going on a date, Dr. Reid.”

He closed up the manuscript’s sealed Plexiglas case. “A date?” he said, grinning.

“That’s right. In the city. I made reservations for us at Daniel.”

“One of only five New York City restaurants to receive four stars from the Times,” Reid recited. He frowned. “Can we afford to eat there?”

“It’s not like we go once a week. We can afford it.”

“We didn’t bring appropriate clothes.”

“I may have taken some time away from security arrangements to go clothes shopping,” Emily said.

“This is turning into an expensive date.”

“Consider it part of your anniversary-present package.”

“I don’t know if I should, considering that your present only cost me fifty dollars.”

Walking up Fifth Avenue after dinner on the arm of her handsome, well-dressed husband, Emily wondered for a moment if this was what it felt like to be one of the Beautiful People. She’d grown up around a lot of rich, well-connected people but had never felt like one of them despite her family’s resources. She’d moved around too much to feel rooted anywhere. Wealthy New Yorkers were all around them, and at a first glance they blended in.

“I feel like an anthropologist,” Reid commented. “Cloaking myself in the garb of the natives to study their customs.”

She smiled. “It takes more than a nice suit to blend in. As long as no one talks to us, we ought to pass.”

“Dinner was amazing,” he said, looking down at her.

“I know, wasn’t it? Of course, it ought to have been, at that price.” She shivered a little with the chill, tucking herself closer against his side. “What now?”

“I don’t know, this is your show.”

“I hoped you might have some ideas.”

“How about we find a little café where we can get coffee or a glass of wine before we head back to New Haven, and then I ravish you in our hotel room?”

“Perfect.” They kept walking. “Of course – this isn’t exactly a ‘little café’ neighborhood,” she said, looking across the street at the designer boutiques

“I could buy you an overpriced handbag.”

“No, thanks. I think we’ve spent enough money already tonight.” She took a deep breath of the crisp November night air. “I feel so glamorous after that restaurant.”

“You look pretty sensational in that dress, Mrs. Reid.”

“Why, thank you. I keep half-hoping we’ll run into someone we know so we can be all glamorous in front of them, too.”

“The odds of us running into someone we know are pretty slim,” he said.

“Spencer?” said a woman’s voice behind them. They both stopped in their tracks. “Spencer Reid?”

She looked up at him. “You have got to be kidding me.”

They turned around to see who’d spoken. It was a young blond woman, very pretty and perfectly turned-out. Emily recognized her immediately; it was Lila Archer, a young actress who Reid had a brief relationship with years ago. Since first mentioning it back in Dallas, he’d filled her in on the whole story. Naturally this had sent Emily straight to the woman’s IMDB page. She felt Reid start in surprise at the sight of her. Lila’s jaw dropped and her whole face creased in a broad smile. “Oh my God, I thought that was you!” She rushed forward and hugged him, a little too intimately for Emily’s taste.

“Lila,” Reid said, half-hugging her back. “This is a…” She kissed him firmly right on the mouth. “…surprise,” he said, once she’d let him go. Reid had told her about how he and Lila had kept in sporadic contact, meeting up a few times over the next year, but never actually progressing to anything resembling a real relationship. He’d confessed that yes, they had slept together on occasion, but they’d both known it could never work between them.

“Reid, you look amazing!” Lila exclaimed. Emily covered her smile with one hand. The woman might as well have had little cartoon hearts in her eyes. “It’s been years, you’ve changed so much!”

“You, uh, haven’t changed at all,” he stammered. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m doing Letterman tomorrow night,” she said, with a dismissive hand-wave. “Some press for a movie I shot last hiatus. What are you doing here? It’s so amazing that we bumped into each other…”

Reid cut her off, pulling Emily back to his side. “Lila, I’d like you to meet my wife,” he said, pointedly. “Emily Prentiss. Em, this is Lila Archer, an old – friend.”

Emily almost felt bad for Lila as she watched her visibly deflate. “Oh,” she said, pasting on the phoniest smile Emily had ever seen. She couldn’t begrudge her, though. That phony smile was covering disappointment. “Your wife, that’s great! Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking Emily’s hand.

“You too. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Oh, really? That’s – nice. How long have you been married?” she asked.

“Little over a year,” Reid said, his arm around Emily’s waist. “Emily is an agent in the BAU as well.”

“I don’t remember you from before,” Lila said.

“Your case was before I joined the unit,” Emily said.

“Oh, I see. Well, it’s really nice to see you, Spencer,” Lila said, falling back into politeness.

“You, too. I’ll try and catch you on Letterman tomorrow night.”

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks. It was nice to meet you, Emily. Take care.” She gave Reid one last glance, then turned around and resumed her course up the street. Reid watched her go, looking a little befuddled.

“That was weird,” he said.

“You heartbreaker,” Emily said, taking his arm again. They started walking again. “So,” she said after a silence of a few minutes. “That was Lila, huh?”

“Emily…”

“She’s very pretty.”

“Yes, she is. Tell me you’re not considering acting jealous.”

“Maybe I am jealous.”

“No, you’re not, and if you acted jealous you’d just be doing it to tease me, so can we skip it, please?”

“Oh, all right. Ruin my fun.”

He was quiet, and Emily started to regret her flippancy. “I didn’t know she still had any feelings for me,” he said.

“Maybe she didn’t, until she saw you again.”

“I haven’t talked to her in – gosh, it must be three years. It was after Gideon left but before Foyet.”

“A girl can carry a torch for a long time.”

“It just seems counterproductive. She could have any man she wanted.”

“Well, most of us don’t want any man, Reid. We just want one particular man.”