Chapter Text
Rain hammered the pavement, turning the quiet residential street into a smear of reflected headlights and police tape.
The unsub had bolted from the house the moment the BAU moved in.
And Emily Prentiss had chased him.
“Prentiss, wait—!” Morgan’s voice had barely left the radio when the engine roared.
The car came out of nowhere.
Tires screamed.
A sickening thud echoed through the street as Emily’s body hit the hood and rolled across the asphalt.
“EMILY!” Morgan shouted.
The car sped away into the rain.
For half a second no one moved.
Then Rossi ran.
Emily lay twisted on the wet pavement, rain mixing with the dark blood pooling beneath her. Her chest rose in shallow, uneven breaths. One leg was bent wrong. Her jacket was torn open, the white of her shirt already soaked crimson.
“Emily—Emily, stay with me,” Rossi said, dropping to his knees beside her.
Her eyes fluttered open.
“Dave…” she breathed.
His heart clenched. She only used his first name when things were bad.
“Hey, hey. Ambulance is coming,” he said gently, pressing his hands against the worst of the bleeding. “You’re gonna be fine.”
Emily gave the faintest shake of her head.
“No… I’m not.”
“Don’t start that.”
Her hand weakly grabbed his sleeve, fingers slick with blood.
“Listen to me.”
The urgency in her voice made Rossi lean closer.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“For what?”
Her breathing hitched painfully.
“I should’ve told you. I just… I couldn’t risk it.”
Rossi frowned, confused.
“Emily—”
“I kept a secret,” she said, voice trembling as consciousness slipped in and out. “From the team… from you.”
Sirens wailed faintly in the distance.
“Kid, you can confess to tax fraud later. Right now you need to breathe.”
Emily almost smiled, but it faltered as pain ripped through her.
“Dave… please.”
The seriousness in her tone silenced him.
“…Alright. I’m listening.”
Her fingers fumbled weakly at the inside pocket of her jacket. Rossi helped, pulling out a small, slightly worn photograph.
Rain speckled the image.
Rossi looked down.
A baby girl—tiny, maybe a few months old—sat on someone’s lap. Curly dark hair, bright eyes. Behind her, arms wrapped protectively around both of them, was a small blonde woman with freckles and a soft smile.
Rossi blinked.
“Emily…”
“I’m married,” she whispered.
The words barely made it past her lips.
Rossi looked back down at the photo, then at her.
“Since when?”
“Year and a half,” Emily murmured. “Her name’s Isla.”
She swallowed hard.
“And that’s… Eilidh. She’s four months.”
For a moment Rossi forgot how to breathe.
Emily Prentiss had a wife.
And a baby.
And none of them had known.
“I know,” Emily rasped when she saw the shock on his face. “I know I should’ve told you. But they’re in… witness protection.”
Rossi’s attention snapped back to her.
“What?”
Her eyelids drooped.
“You have to… talk to Strauss,” she forced out. “She knows how to reach them.”
Rossi leaned closer so he could hear her over the rain.
“Emily—”
“Wit-Sec,” she whispered.
Her hand lifted weakly and tapped the tattoo on the inside of her wrist.
The blackbird.
A mark he’d seen a hundred times.
He’d never asked about it.
Now he wondered how much he’d missed.
Her hand slipped from the tattoo.
“Dave…” she breathed.
“I’m here.”
“If I don’t make it…”
“You’re gonna make it.”
“Please keep them safe.”
The fear in her voice was unlike anything he’d ever heard from her.
Not fear for herself.
For them.
Rossi wrapped one steady hand around hers.
“I swear,” he said firmly. “I’ll protect them. I promise.”
Emily relaxed slightly at that.
Her eyes flickered one last time.
“Tell her… I’m sorry…”
Then her body went limp.
“Emily?”
No response.
“Emily!”
Rossi felt for her pulse.
Weak.
But there.
The ambulance finally screeched to a stop nearby as Morgan and Hotch ran up behind him.
“What’s her status?” Hotch demanded.
Rossi didn’t answer immediately.
He carefully slid the photograph back into his jacket pocket, shielding it from the rain.
His mind raced with what she’d just told him.
A wife.
A baby.
Witness protection.
A secret she’d trusted him with in what she thought were her final moments.
He looked down at her unconscious form.
“I made a promise, kid,” he murmured quietly.
Then he stood as the paramedics rushed in.
And said nothing about the photograph.
Or the family waiting somewhere out there who had no idea their wife and mother was fighting for her life.