Chapter Text
Ignoring John humming along with the radio and the car passing through yet another oaky forest, Emily tries to focus on the papers in the plain manila folder on her lap. She already knows the new identity the Bureau cooked up for her by heart, but some revision never hurt anyone.
Emily Mitchell
37
Military brat, moved around a lot as a kid
Studied history on a military scholarship
Completed two non-combat tours
Settled in Quebec as a high school teacher
Recently divorced and returned to the States
She had to hand it to the analyst responsible, he had masterfully sprinkled in hints to her own background and proficiency with languages. She also appreciates the opportunity to keep her own first name this time around…
“You seem nervous,” John breaks the silence.
She just shoots him a glare. She used to think working with profilers was difficult, but it seems working with outcasts, like the empath next to her, came with its own set of difficulties.
“I’m not reading you,” he says, slightly miffed. “You’ve been on the same page for ten minutes. And you’ve been biting your nails since we started.”
A whiney mreow escapes from the back of the car.
“See, even Sergio senses your stress.”
Emily suspects he’s just tired of being stuck in the crate. She empathizes, knowing full well what being cooped up feels like.
“It’s ok, buddy. We’re almost there,” she tells the elderly black cat before turning to John and telling him with a wave to her injured leg, “I just can’t wait to get there, stretch my legs.”
She hated the brace that immobilized her right leg and knee with a passion. Still, it was a big step up from the cast that had kept her hostage in her new tiny bureau provided flat. And she knows she really shouldn’t complain, having seen the video from when she had been flung into oncoming traffic. She’s very aware it could have been way worse.
“Sergio your mom is an awful liar,” John counters easily.
Facing John, she suppresses the urge to show him her middle finger. She has only known him a few weeks, but they got along spectacularly. It sometimes makes her forget he is still technically her superior. She sighs and tries to compose herself.
“Don’t worry about the mission. I’m ready.”
John just hums in reply. Quickly checking his rear view mirror, he slows down and parks the car at the side of the road. Then he turns his full attention to Emily.
“Look, I know you’ll do great. You’re a damn fine agent, that’s why I requested you as my co lead for the Outcast Alliance Branch. I was ecstatic when you accepted, especially after I heard you got offered the Interpol London Office.”
Having felt out of place at the BAU after her return, Emily had been looking for a new challenge. Starting again in Europe seemed like a good idea, but Interpol still would have felt familiar. When John had called her, she had been immediately intrigued. Having limited experiences with outcasts - or so she believed, it turned out a few of the best interviewers she met were actually empaths like John - it was a whole new world opening up for her.
“But I’m worried about you too. Your file is highly redacted, but I can read through the lines. The last time you went on an undercover mission like this, it came back to haunt you.”
Emily just starts laughing. “I’m going to a high school, John. Not to an international illegal arms sale.”
“You and I know that, but does your subconscious?”
Amusement quickly turns to annoyance. “It’s not like I haven’t gone under since. I faced cult leaders, rapist, serial killers, …”
John ignores her. “You haven’t been back in the States that long. Are you really sure you want to be someone else again?”
That… she… to her chagrin, he was onto something. After she died , she spent almost a year traveling through Europe, shedding passports more quickly than other people changed clothes, all the while looking over her shoulder. But Doyle was dead. She was safe now. She was doing great.
The denial died in the back of her mouth, the truth coming out: “Honestly, I don’t know.”
John nods. “We can still pull the plug on this assignment. Let the senator know we can’t spare the agents.” It wasn’t a lie, their team counted four agents right now, John and Emily included. The only reason they had considered helping out the school was because Emily would be out of commission for a few months anyway. She couldn’t go out in the field with a broken leg, their unit was too fresh to have a lot of paperwork and the manuals she should study as the only ‘normie’ in the team weren’t written yet. Honestly, going undercover in an outcast school would be the best way for her to learn about the different kinds of outcasts.
“It’s not even sure the school is in actual danger,” John continues. He had been ambivalent about the mission since the beginning. But Emily knows that a successful mission would go a very long way in establishing a good outcast-law enforcement relationship. The new unit had few friends, and a lot of enemies right now.
Emily shakes her head. “Those letters were real. Someone has it out for Nevermore.”
The unsub or unsubs had been sending letters for a while. The principal, Miss Weems, had ignored them at first, as the school regularly got hate mail. But as the last letter alluded to a secret passage onto the school grounds and when she went to check it she had found a funeral wreath. The sheriff's office hadn’t taken it seriously, thinking it was just a prank. The board of directors disagreed with that assessment and after bricking up the passage, one of them had pressured the senator who had gotten them involved.
Emily hated cases where children were threatened. So initially she hadn’t thought twice about accepting the assignment. Especially because she knew she was going to go stir crazy if she had to stay in her flat for a few more weeks. On that front, nothing had changed. She wanted to help the school.
“Worst case scenario, I’ll teach some kids about the Second World War and get my knee back into order.”
To her surprise there was not only a doctor on staff, but a physiotherapist as well. Due to her privileged upbringing Emily had attended a few fancy schools herself, but Nevermore Academy had managed to surprise even her with the wide amenities offered to its students.
Noticing John still wasn’t convinced, Emily sighs: “John, honestly. Yes, I’m nervous. I’m about to go back to high school, an experience I didn’t exactly enjoy the first time around. But it’s fine. It’s what I do. If the unsub decides to try something, I’ll be there. Busted knee or not, I’m hardly defenseless. Besides, we’ve got back up systems in place. The principal and the mayor know who I am. I won’t be alone.”
The nervousness dissapaited. In trying to convince him, she had managed to convince herself. This was just another mission and she was better prepared than ever. Her phone and laptop had been outfitted with new software, so she could safely share information with John and their team. He nods slowly, as he notices the change come over her. “You call me if you need me, understand?”
She smiles and jokingly points to the manila folder on her lap: “I will, you’re my emergency contact, brother-in-law. Now, let’s get back on the road.”
John rolls his eyes at her, but makes to turn the keys. “Yes. We wouldn’t want you to be late,” his voice gaining the sweet inclination Emily knows means his comeback is imminent. “We wouldn’t want you and the principal getting off on the wrong foot.”
Emily groans. During the first online meeting principal Weems had vehemently protested the entire idea, stating she had firmly it under control and stating it was an outrage the authorities wanted to use her new normie/outcast outreach program to introduce an incompetent teacher infringing on her students’ privacy. John stating that Emily actually held a History and Criminal Justice bachelors and had taught several courses at the Academy had calmed her some, but then Emily had put her foot firmly in her mouth joking that if she could handle the testosterone filled halls of the FBI, a bunch of teenagers would be a piece of cake.
The second call had somehow gone even worse. It was just the two of them going over the curriculum, more general Nevermore rules and the specifics of Emily’s stay at the school. It had ended with Emily being chastised for swearing and the message she needed to clean up her act if she wanted to integrate into the Nevermore’s staff.
“You know what. She’s gonna love me,” Emily countered, with a confidence she hardly felt.