I've had this story in my head for such a long time, but I finally figured out the logistics of it! It'll be multi-chapter, and eventually it'll probably turn into Hotch/Prentiss. But I want the main focus to be on Emily and her mother. As always, thank you to anyone and everyone who reads, favorites, follows, or reviews!

XxxxxxxxX

There are two things Emily Prentiss hates most. One is not realizing she's out of her favorite wine; the second is being harshly woken up by the sound of her stupid telephone- especially on a Friday night after a long week of running Interpol.

The brunette groaned loudly when she heard the sound of her landline reverberating through her bedroom. She sat up quickly, growing concerned once she saw it was two o'clock in the morning.

"Prentiss," she snapped harshly after snatching the phone off her nightstand. Whoever was calling her was about to get an earful, she thought bitterly.

"Miss Prentiss, this is George Freedman, your mother's assistant." A familiar male voice said.

Of course, Emily thought. The ambassador didn't even have the decency to wake Emily up herself. She was pretty sure her mother was back in DC, so it was kind of late for a phone call, she wondered what was so important.

"Yes, of course. What's this about? It's very late in London." Emily said firmly, just hoping to end this call and get back to sleep.

"It's your mother, Miss Prentiss..." George said softly, Emily could tell by the tone of his voice that this wasn't just the normal call about a political agenda.

"What's wrong?" Emily asked, immediately becoming much more awake. She and her mother were by no means close, but their relationship had been on the mend ever since Elizabeth came to Emily at the BAU for her help on a case nearly seven years ago. The mother and daughter didn't talk daily, they did well to get a short conversation in once a month, but at least the conversations weren't so forced anymore. Their tones were much less bitter and awkward towards each other. Emily hoped nothing was seriously wrong, because she honestly didn't remember the last time she'd even had a conversation with her mother, let alone visited.

"Your mother's been diagnosed with Alzheimer's, and it's progressing quickly. She's going to have to move into a nursing home, Emily. She wants you to move her in." George told her regretfully, his voice quiet.

Emily didn't respond for a long moment. Alzheimer's? Emily was pretty sure her mother seemed fine last time they talked. She didn't remember when that was, exactly, but surely she would at least have picked up on it.

"Um..." Emily said finally. "When does she move in?"

"Monday morning. I know it's late there, it's after ten o'clock here, but she was hysterical. She didn't want to tell anyone at first, not even you. But tonight she just- it was kind of like a panic attack. We were talking about moving in, and she just kept saying over and over again that's she wants you here." The man said.

Emily took a sharp breath, suddenly angry. Picturing her mother losing her always cool and calm demeanor was extremely unsettling; but knowing her mother had probably been scared for so long was making her downright pissed. "How long?" She demanded. "How long has she been showing symptoms? When was she diagnosed? Why didn't you tell me?" She asked the questions quickly, her mind spinning. "Did you honestly think this is something I didn't need to know?"

"Emily, I'm so sorry. She was very specific in her request. Only I have known, other than her doctors. She hasn't even told your father." George said, though that didn't surprise Emily. They'd been divorced since Emily was a teenager, but had been distant years before that. "She began showing symptoms several months ago. You know, forgetting the words for things, losing her keys, forgetting appointments. It wasn't until I accompanied her to a function a few months ago that I knew something was seriously wrong. She had been doing fine, but all of a sudden, she forgot where she was. It only lasted for a few minutes, but she seemed so scared. When she came to, she made me promise to keep it a secret, even from you. She didn't want to worry you. She was sure she was fine." George continued.

The thought of Elizabeth Prentiss being scared was nearly impossible for Emily to wrap her brain around. For Emily's entire life, her mother had been someone that never faltered, never showed any kind of weakness. She always kept her head high, and no matter how Emily had felt about her mother in the past, she had to respect the ambassador for that. The image of her mother so confused and scared was just not sitting right with her.

Emily didn't know what to say, so she said nothing. She barely heard George continue with his story.

"Your mother was diagnosed nearly two months ago. She was doing well; she remained lucid more often than not. But lately...you just have to catch her in the right moment. She has some good days, but a lot of bad ones. She can't take care of herself anymore, Emily. She had a good afternoon today and she decided moving into a nursing home would be in her best interest. She doesn't want me there, doesn't want me to see her like that. She only wants you, and you have to keep it a secret. She doesn't want anyone else to know." George said calmly, but Emily could hear the sadness in his voice.

That didn't surprise her, George had been Elizabeth's assistant for so many years, and Emily considered him family.

Despite any bitterness Emily had ever felt toward her mother, despite their strange relationship, Emily put it all behind her. Her mother needed her, she'd never needed anyone before, and Emily wasn't going to let her mother down.

"I'm on my way." Emily said softly, already out of bed and getting dressed, before getting the necessary information and hanging up the phone.

XxxxxxxxxxX

She hurriedly got out of bed and started piling things into a suitcase while simultaneously grabbing the phone and calling Clyde.

"What the bloody hell is wrong?" She heard Clyde Easter's thick accent speak on the other end.

"Clyde, it's me." Emily said. "I need you to cover for me. I don't know how long. I don't know when… or if, I'm coming back here." She said quickly, too dazed to really explain what was happening.

"Emily?" Clyde asked, finally alert enough to comprehend what was going on. "What are you talking about?"

Emily blew out a breath, chewing on her bottom lip as if it were a lifeline.

"I need you to take over for me. I don't trust anybody else to take care of things." She told him honestly. She hadn't even been working at Interpol long, and she hadn't really gotten to know very many people yet. Clyde was the only person in London she considered a close friend, and that was only because they'd known each other for so long.

"Why?" Clyde asked, recognizing Emily's tone. He could tell she was very upset about something. "Em, are you alright? Has something happened?"

Emily shook her head before remembering he couldn't see her. "No," she replied finally. "I'm okay, it's just… I have to go home, Clyde. I have to go to DC. I can't really… I can't tell you why. But I can tell you that I'm fine, no international arms dealer's trying to kill me." She managed to joke, her go-to response in tense situations.

"If you're absolutely sure there's no threat or danger to you, then yes, I'll cover for you." Clyde replied.

"Thank you so much," Emily said, her vision blurry with tears she was refusing to let fall. She didn't have time for that. "I know there's a lot of stuff you're going to have to deal with, and I know I'll probably be in trouble with my superior, but I have to leave. I have to leave as soon as possible." She was rambling now, tossing the necessary toiletries into her suitcase.

"I'll take care of everything, Emily. I promise." Clyde told her sincerely.

"I'll tell you what's going on, I really will." Emily said. "But I can't right now. So, thank you for doing this for me. I'll really owe you one." She told him.

"Be safe, Em." He said, and the phone call ended.

Emily ran her hands through her hair, plotting her next course of action. She wasn't sure if she should try to book a flight from her computer, or just drive right to the airport and get on the first available flight.

After some debate, she opted for the latter. She grabbed her passport from the safe in her office in her tiny London flat, her purse, her suitcase, and headed out the door.

XxxxxxX

Emily sped to the airport, thankful that she had decided to get her own car, rather than depend on public transportation. With her job, sometimes she needed to be places quickly, so it made sense to have her own car. She turned into a parking spot faster than anyone should ever be moving in a parking lot, got out all her stuff, and headed to the desk. She was glad it was so late… so early, whatever you wanted to call it, because the airport was practically dead. There were only a handful of people at the front desks.

In less than an hour, Emily had somehow managed to book the next flight to DC, leaving at 6am. She rushed through security, getting through quickly since the airport wasn't busy yet.

She flew to Dublin, which took only an hour and a half. She landed a little before 8am, and had three agonizing hours to wait before she boarded the eight hour flight to DC, which would her there at 2pm local time.

As Emily sat in the Dublin airport, biting her fingernails, she really wanted to call and check on her mother, but she knew it was late in DC. She didn't want to somehow make anything worse. She e-mailed George her itinerary, so he knew when to expect her. He replied and said he would come with Elizabeth and pick her up, but Emily told him she would just get a cab from the airport and head to the house. The house in DC that Emily had always loved the most growing up, but seemed to spend the least amount of time at.

It was just far enough out of the city that you could see the stars at night, but close enough that Elizabeth could get to the embassy or the white house, or wherever she was needed, in a fair amount of time. Emily remembered spending nights out on the patio in front of the house, just looking at the stars and reading by flashlight.

Emily picked at her fingernails, wishing she had remembered to bring something to do. She hadn't been thinking about waiting and layovers, only about getting home. DC. The only place that had truly felt like home to Emily for as long as she could remember. She sighed, leaning back into the uncomfortable airport seat, finally allowing herself to let a few tears fall from her eyes.