Punished by Barnes with the worst reassignments possible, Tara and Emily reunite with the fractured BAU team to investigate a case off the books. Follows S13E16, "Last Gasp."
Tara was reassigned as a Bureau therapist. It was an easy enough job, with regular, predictable hours—in that way, it might have been a better gig than the BAU. But it was thankless, soul-sucking drudge work. She was a trained forensic psychologist; she was supposed to be using her skills to get inside the minds of psychopaths, not mediate between squabbling partners. Her days were spent in a revolving door of one dysfunctional relationship after another, and for all her best efforts, nobody ever really left her office feeling completely satisfied—least of all her.
Emily was faring even worse. She'd been reassigned to OPR, and it was all boredom and stakeouts and barging in on agents in compromising positions that were as uncomfortable for her as for them. Her new partner, Odenkirk, was a particular source of unpleasantness, both in his personal habits and his personal hygiene. When Emily wasn't gagging at his body odor, she was gagging at his chauvinism, his bravado, and his crass sense of humor. He had the nerve to flirt with her, no matter how many times she shut him down. Emily was doing her best to keep her head down and be a good soldier, but every minute she spent with Odenkirk was an exercise in self-restraint.
A few weeks into their reassignments, Tara and Emily were still holding onto hope that this was all temporary, and that they'd find their way back to the BAU before too long. But the way back was becoming less and less clear as the days passed, and hope was fading fast. They found comfort and strength in each other, and in knowing that whatever happened, they'd get through it together. They'd walked into this relationship with their eyes wide open, and they knew that being together might come with professional setbacks, but they'd said from the beginning that it was worth it. It was still worth it now. The promise of seeing each other in the evenings helped them get through even the longest days.
Tara finished up her final appointment of the day and shooed her patients out of her office. She was right behind them, grabbing her coat and her briefcase and waiting impatiently for the elevator down to the garage. She sped over to Emily's apartment, and Emily greeted her with a passionate kiss that almost made her forget about her day at work—almost. Emily was always willing to listen to her girlfriend vent her frustrations, and Tara started recounting the details of her day as Emily poured two glasses of red wine and led Tara out onto the balcony.
"I mean, who knew there were so many dysfunctional partners at the Bureau?" Tara said.
"I'm learning the hard way," Emily replied, "I had three stakeouts with Odenkirk last week."
"I know how much you love those," Tara deadpanned.
"And it's one thing to be out in the field with him," Emily said, "But sitting with him in a car for hours on end—he smells! Like dirty tightie-whities dipped in sweat."
"Ugh!" Tara groaned, "Barnes really knew how to punish you; I mean, sticking you with him—a not-so-subtle reference to what happens to agents who transgress."
"And there is no dirt on Barnes in the OPR database," Emily lamented, "She is squeaky clean."
"You pulled her file?" Tara said.
"I thought we might get lucky," Emily giggled.
Tara sighed. "So, what now?"
"I don't know what our next move is," Emily admitted.
"Well, we have got to think of something," Tara said, "I do not know how much more of this assignment I can take."
"You don't-you don't have any regrets, though, do you?" Emily asked nervously.
"No regrets," Tara said, wrapping an arm around Emily's shoulders and kissing her temple, "I'd do any job in the world, as long as I got to be with you."
Emily rested her head against Tara's shoulder. "I love you so much, Tara," she said.
"I love you, too." Tara gave Emily's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "Oh, you're so tense, baby," she cooed.
"Yeah, I know," Emily sighed.
"Let me help you," Tara murmured, massaging Emily's neck, "I can work out some of these knots, make you feel good."
Tara led Emily into the bedroom and placed both wineglasses on the dresser before kissing Emily and gently undressing her, letting her hands graze slowly and tenderly over newly exposed skin. She unzipped her own dress and let it fall to the floor around her. Emily lay on the bed on her stomach, and Tara straddled her hips. She started massaging Emily's shoulders—Emily always held so much tension in her shoulders—and worked out all the knots she'd accumulated at OPR before moving down her back, working her way down Emily's spine with strong, sure hands. It felt so good, but Emily wanted Tara's hands somewhere else, too. When Tara finished her massage, Emily rolled over onto her back and pulled Tara down on top of her, kissing her deeply as she reached around and unhooked Tara's bra. Tara nestled a toned thigh between Emily's legs, eliciting a quiet, strangled whimper.
"I want to hear you, Em," she husked, "You know how much I love those pretty sounds you make." She slid her hand down, gathering Emily's wetness on her fingers, and Emily didn't hold back her moans, nor the whine of protest when Tara pulled her hand away, but she wasn't complaining anymore at the sight of Tara bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking Emily's arousal off them with a satisfied hum.
"Oh, you taste so good, baby," she cooed. She slid down Emily's body and spread her legs apart to taste her again. She grazed the tip of her tongue along Emily's pussy, teasing her with soft, gentle little licks that made her whine and pant, desperately seeking more of Tara's tongue. Tara loved that she could have this effect on Emily, almost as much as she loved the decadent moan Emily let out when Tara finally stopped teasing and swirled her tongue over Emily's clit, or the way Emily somehow managed to stretch her name out into four or five syllables as her orgasm made her legs tremble around Tara's head. She kissed the inside of Emily's thigh before sliding up the bed to lie next to her, brushing her bangs aside and stroking her flushed cheek. Emily looked so beautiful, and Tara felt like her heart might burst from pure love.
"You're so good to me, Tara," Emily purred with a coy smile, trailing her fingers down Tara's sternum between her breasts, "But don't you need to feel good, too, sweet girl?" She circled her index finger over Tara's nipple and kissed her neck as she shifted her weight, propping herself on one elbow to hover over Tara, who smiled up at her with bedroom eyes. Emily's hand slid down Tara's body until it reached the waistband of her underwear.
"Em..." Tara whispered. She plunged her fingers into Emily's hair and pulled her close, crashing their lips together in a passionate kiss as Emily's hand slipped into her underwear and started stroking her. Tara broke the kiss with a sharp gasp when Emily's fingers found her clit, and she released her grasp on Emily's hair, instead gripping the bedsheets as Emily's touch made her body feel weightless. She arched her back up off the mattress and came with a long, low moan.
Emily fell asleep with her head resting on Tara's chest and the covers—much more than her fair share of them—pulled up to her chin. They both slept soundly, feeling peaceful and happy in each other's arms, but when Emily's alarm went off in the morning, the bubble burst. Another day of stakeouts and couple's counseling awaited them, and they had to get up and face it. Emily buried her face in Tara's shoulder with an anguished groan.
"Yeah, me too, babe," Tara chuckled.
The whole team was feeling the same. Reid's teaching assignment wasn't going as well as he'd hoped; the fawning coeds were much more interested in him than his lectures. Rossi was spending his forced retirement on movie sets with actors whose narcissism could rival some unsubs. Penelope had been moved to the Cybercrimes unit, where she had to wear neutral colors and limit her desk décor to three personal items. And for the three remaining team members still at the BAU, life wasn't much better. Barnes kept them on such a tight leash that they couldn't do their jobs, and said no to just about every case they brought her. People were dying because Barnes wouldn't let them investigate, and more would die if they ignored this new case Penelope found.
It was a drop box of photographs of the same young woman. The first appeared to be a candid photo, the second taken while the unsub held her captive, and the third postmortem, posed and dressed in a white satin negligée. There was also a fourth photo of another young woman, and they had to assume she was the unsub's next victim. Barnes, of course, rejected the case outright, and Cybercrimes couldn't do anything unless the women were underage. So rather than ignore a potential serial killer hunting in their own backyard, the team went behind Barnes' back to investigate this one off the books, gathering at Emily's apartment after work that evening.
"Thank you, all of you, for coming," Emily said, "I've missed this—us. Before we do this, I need to be sure everyone understands what we're getting into. We have been told not to investigate this case. If we do, we are violating direct orders, and eventually Barnes will find out. So, if something goes wrong, or we don't catch this unsub, she will shut down the BAU and most likely fire all of us. No more reassignments."
"You know what?" JJ said, "Even if everything does go right, and we do catch our unsub, I mean, the same thing could happen."
"Right, Barnes would try to spin it, label the BAU a rogue unit that needs to be shut down," Matt added.
"Right," Emily said, "So if anyone has doubts...No shame. No judgment."
"The BAU started in a room just like this one," Rossi said, "If this is how it goes out, so be it."
The following morning, they began in earnest, canvassing high-end hotels in the area to see if anyone recognized the women in the drop box. Matt and Rossi paid a visit to the owner of the drop box in prison to see what they could get from him. By the end of the day, they knew that their victims were high-class escorts who frequented swanky hotels, but they knew next to nothing about their photographer until Penelope came bustling in from her day at Cybercrimes.
"Okay, I have news," she said, "I have-I have copious, copious news. First, the backstory: That drop box that I first found those four photos on—I kept it active because I thought maybe we'd get lucky. I also fashioned it with every tool and trap I know for capturing IP addresses."
"So, did we get lucky?" JJ asked.
"No," Penelope said, "I mean, yes, but no. Uh, there's been a new drop of photos. I just sent it to your tablets now. They include a series of captivity and postmortem photos of our second victim. We were too late. And it's even worse than that; there's a whole new series of photos of a third victim we didn't even know about, plus one new candid photo."
"He's already got his fourth victim," JJ said.
"Did you find the IP address?" Emily asked.
"No, I'm sorry," Penelope replied.
"Okay, any good news?" JJ asked.
"No," Penelope shook her head, "I mean—okay, this might be helpful: I did a search of cases involving D.C. high-end hotels, and I found a bunch of articles regarding the death of someone named Tracy Ferguson."
"Wait, I think I remember that," Emily said.
"Mmhmm, you probably do," Penelope replied, "She was in a bunch of headlines, mostly because her father was George Ferguson, the D.C. power broker. Anyway, she was 27; she was found in a suite at the Montclair Hotel, and she was wearing a white satin negligée."
"Like the one the unsub dresses his victims in for the captivity photos," JJ said.
"Exactly," Penelope nodded.
"Okay, so Tracy Ferguson could be our unsub's first victim," Emily said.
"Did they investigate?" JJ asked.
"They did," Penelope replied.
"Good!" Emily said, "We need those files."
"That's where it gets sticky," Penelope said, "The case was sealed at the time. In order to unseal it, you need special permission from the lead investigating agent. The D.C. field agent in 2010 who was in charge of that case was Linda Barnes."
Tracy Ferguson was the key to understanding and finding this unsub, but they couldn't do that unless they got a look at that file. And that meant asking Barnes for permission—and, presumably, forgiveness. JJ went into her office the next day to make her case for unsealing the Tracy Ferguson file, and the rest of the available BAU team gathered at Emily's apartment to continue working with what they had and wait for news from JJ. It felt like an awfully long wait, but Emily's phone finally rang.
"JJ, what have you got?" Emily asked.
"Emily, hey, um...so I talked to her," JJ said, "She, uh, she knows I put the BAU on the case...and, uh, she fired me."
"JJ, I'm so sorry—"
"No, Emily, I'm fine," JJ insisted, "I'm fine. Look, she's not going to give us access to the case, but I-I got something: There were seven other people in that hotel room the night Tracy died."
They could do a lot with that information, even if they couldn't look at the whole file. If Penelope could get a hold of the crime scene photos, they could look for anything those men in the room might have left behind that might help identify them. Indeed, Penelope did find something useful—there was a rare 1918 Château Anjou by the bed when Tracy died. It would be easy to track any bottles that might have been sold at auction and find out who bought them. While Penelope tracked the wine sales, JJ found another lead. A missing persons report had just gone out for a young woman named Jessica Mayhew, the daughter of Senator Alfred Mayhew.
"Jessica Mayhew is our unsub's newest victim," Emily said.
"She looks a lot like Tracy Ferguson," Spencer noted.
"And like Tracy, she's a high-profile member of the D.C. elite," Emily said, "Call girls—even expensive ones—weren't satisfying him anymore. He needed someone with a pedigree, someone more like Tracy."
Garcia's search of auctions turned up something big: A 1918 Château Anjou was sold to a local man named Kevin Peck, who just so happened to be George Ferguson's stepson. He was six years younger than Tracy, and thirteen years old when his mother married Tracy's father. From what Garcia could gather, it seemed like young Kevin had quite the crush on his stepsister, but she never gave him the time of day—at least, not until his stepfather set him up with a hefty trust fund. Kevin Peck was definitely their unsub, and Jessica Mayhew was definitely his latest victim, but when Emily and Rossi went to search Kevin's house, they didn't find either of them. But then Emily realized that if this was all about recreating Tracy's death, he wouldn't hold Jessica here. Tracy had died at the Montclair hotel; Kevin must be there now. Sure enough, Kevin had rented a room, and when the team broke down the door, they found him crying over a passed-out Jessica Mayhew. She was alive, but barely hanging on, and the paramedics came rushing in to get her to safety. Her father, the senator, was waiting outside the hotel, and Barnes was with him. The team came out of the hotel just as he and Barnes were watching the paramedics load Jessica into the ambulance.
"Her abductor gave her an overdose, but she should be alright," Matt told him.
"You said this was the work of the BAU, is that right?" the senator asked Barnes.
"Yes, sir," she said.
He turned to Emily and the team. "Thank you. All of you. You saved my daughter's life."
"It was a team effort," JJ said, "Glad we were here."
"So am I," Senator Mayhew said, "Look, I know there's been talk about shutting down your unit, spreading profilers out into the field offices."
"That's just one option to increase efficiency," Barnes interjected.
"I think it's a mistake," he told her, "When I return to the Senate, I will personally ensure that the BAU is funded and staffed to full capacity. But in the meantime, don't you think Agent Prentiss should be reinstated as unit chief?"
"Consider it done," Barnes said reluctantly.
"Senator, does this mean I have hiring authority?" Emily asked.
"Within reason," he replied.
"I'm only asking because Assistant Director Barnes terminated Agent Jareau when she asked questions about the Tracy Ferguson case," Emily said, "That was the case that allowed us to identify this unsub."
Senator Mayhew nodded. "You have full authority. Staff the BAU anyway you see fit."
"Thank you, sir," Emily said.
After the day they'd had, they were all too amped up to go home right away, so they went back to their office—it was finally going to be their office again. Penelope was back in her bright colors, and Spencer and Tara were setting up their old desks again. They all felt like celebrating, and what better place for it than their home away from home?
"You guys really did it!" Penelope said.
"Oh, I wish I could have been there to see Barnes' face when the senator showed up!" Tara said.
"I thought she was gonna melt like the Wicked Witch of the West when he said Prentiss could hire whoever she wanted," Matt chuckled.
"You think she'll back off for good?" Luke asked.
Emily nodded. "The Director called me; he said Barnes was told to keep her hands off the BAU."
"And so we live to fight another day," Rossi said, "Ladies and gentlemen, we're back!"