I got a suggestion for an 'Emily mom' story from a PM (Mendoza was suggested but I saw he's not coming back, and a commenter's idea of Mick Rawson would work better timeline-wise). It also fits really well with the case element of this story.

This is really going to be two stories in one. First of all, I'm going to start with building a relationship between Emily/Mick (also dealing with some Doyle fallout the show skipped over), and then we'll do a time jump and move into a new case that will directly impact Emily/them. I'm going to try to make it less sap more banter, but it's post-Doyle so there will probably be a little emotion. I'm most excited for the case aspect because it'll be a lot of clues and more Agent Prentiss than 'Emily.'

Starts in Season 7 (with the old team) and then time jump will bring us to the current CM timeline. However, an old team member will come back in 'current time.'

WARNING: After the "flash forward" this starts with a sex scene. It's not necessary reading so if you're not into that just skip to chapter 2. The flash-forward is important though.

"You've worked for a Prentiss before, how bad was it really?" She joked with that ever-present Emily Prentiss smirk. She seemed happy and at ease, but he knew her well-enough to know it was not the case. He knew her well enough to know the fact that she was in his living room meant something was not right. The minute his eyes drifted down to her chewed fingertips he had confirmed it. The whole thing never had been right. Maybe he just wanted it to be 'right.' He wanted her to just be 'seeing things' and wrong. He had hoped- for her sake and selfishly maybe his own- that she was wrong, and she wasn't. Emily rarely was. "I can bring you on. I have permission to hire another new agent. It's in the budget. You can be home more often to take care of Jack. I would make travel minimal for you. All your work would be out of Quantico. And the paperwork- you know I'm stuck with that now. Just think about it, okay?"

"All right."

She couldn't help but laugh at the lack of emotion in his response. It was just so…typical. It was so typical of him in a way that made her feel like at least something was normal. He hadn't really changed from the moment she met him nearly thirty years before. "Is that a yes?"

"I love Jack," He was careful to preface, "But I just can't handle retirement anymore. I'm worried I might get a hobby."

Emily slightly snorted at the idea of Aaron Hotchner collecting stamps or catching butterflies, "No one wants that."

"And I have worked for a Prentiss before. It wasn't that bad, but I like this one a lot better," He offered with a smile. It was a real one that showed his dimples.

They both rose from the beige-colored chairs in his living room, and before he offered a hand she found herself pulling the man into a hug, "Welcome back, Hotch."

Seven Years Earlier

"Emily Prentiss," The accent immediately had tipped her off. She had been meeting up with a few friends from college for a drink. She had stupidly offered to get the group of three their next round, and after walking to the bar had been caught solo by none other than Mick Rawson. "I thought you were dead."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the huge grin he gave her. He looked the same. His hair was still medium-length and mussed. He was wearing his same old uniform of a black leather jacket, jeans and boots. He looked good, and he knew it. She hated that he knew it. She couldn't help but hate it because he was just always so damn cocky. "Disappointed?"

"I was gutted at the news of your burial! Don't be stupid, love," He laughed. "I put a lot of effort into saving ya. It would be such a shame to have it all go to waste." Mick scratched at his scruff and leaned forward to say into Emily's ear, "I've grown fond of you and your very specific charm." He pulled back to look her over again. He studied the black dress with 'U' neck she had been wearing, the "Viper Dress," and couldn't help but smirk at the way she looked. "You here with anyone?"

"A couple old friends from college."

"No," He said before he crossed his arms and leaned back against the bar. "Are you here with any sorry blokes who you'll refuse to phone back?"

Emily rolled her eyes at the little dig about how she didn't call him back two years prior, "You know, surprisingly, the BAU and the constant travel doesn't lend itself to a lot of dating. Neither does being dead."

"Thank god you've risen then, eh?" Mick said with a genuine smile. "And getting dates is hardly a BAU problem. I've had no such issues. Maybe you just bottle it."

"What are you doing now?"

"I am…" He started a little embarrassed, "I have been holed up at Quantico—" He was cut off by a laugh from Emily. "—Doing analysis-" more laughter from Emily, "—It's very important work."

"Is that what they tell you?"

Mick couldn't help but grin at her mockery, "Yes. It's not all bad. It's quite nice, not going from pillar to post all the time."

Emily shrugged and agreed with the man. There was some truth to that. "Even so, what happened?"

"Bureaucrats, whole of red cell's gone tits up," He answered and moved to take a quick drink of his beer. "Couple of pricks decided they don't need us anymore. Budget got moved around, we got the sack, and they gave most of our work to the C.I.A.! I'd like to see them arseholes try to profile." Emily chose to ignore the swipes at the C.I.A. and just reply 'mhmm' to the man. "Back to your dating problem, love."

"Who said I have a problem?"

"You said yourself you can't meet a soul."

"I can meet plenty of people. I just know what some people, some men, do. You know..." She drifted off and raised her eyebrows.

"I'm not a murderer."

"No, you're much worse," Emily said and ran her eyes over the man's body, "You're Mick Rawson."

"I'll walk to your car."

Emily scoffed at the offer. It was a scoff, but it wasn't bitter. It was very obviously all in good fun. "I'm not leaving for a long time."

"I'll wait for ya."

And he did. He did wait at the bar for the evening to wind down. She did see him flirting with other woman, but she had also seen him check to make sure she had seen him flirting. Emily had found it- him amusing. She had found herself in an interesting predicament. JJ and Garcia had been nagging her for months about how she needed to get laid. Morgan had offered to take her out to try to meet guys. Even her FBI-appointed therapist had encouraged her to go on at least one date, which she lied about doing. That was probably the most humiliating moment in her life. Emily wasn't the best at dating to begin with, but she hadn't been on a date in over a year. She hadn't slept with someone in even longer.

That was where her problem lay, because honestly she did miss having sex. She wasn't opposed to finally getting laid, but was sex really worth Mick Rawson? It was a tough trade off. Finally having sex versus having to admit she didn't find Mick Rawson entirely unattractive. She had weighed the horrible situation in her head throughout the night. There was also the fact that Mick Rawson knew something had happened. He had known she had been in some sort of peril. He knew her job. Therefore, the scar on her abdomen and chest would hardly be as embarrassing to show him compared to a regular guy. A stake scar would be a huge deal to an accountant. A- former- BAU Red Cell member? Mick Rawson probably wouldn't even notice.

She wasn't sure which factor had possessed her to. She was sure she couldn't stand the man, but one of those aforementioned reasons had made her walk up to the bar and whisper in his ear, "I'm leaving." She couldn't help but smirk when she watched him quickly follow behind out to her car. "Where are you parked?"

"I didn't drive here. Didn't take you for a drink driver."

"I'm just checking to make sure it's locked." She turned around to face him and he moved closer to her. "I hope you have a long walk home."

"No, you don't," He challenged before he leaned about eighty percent of the way. She was pushed up against her car and appreciated he gave her the inch to decide, and then she decided. She wrapped her arms around his neck pulled him in for a kiss. It was fast and harsh. Before she could remind herself that it was Mick Rawson and she hated him, she found herself deepening the kiss and running her tongue against his. She hadn't been kissed like that in a long time.

She was breathless when they pulled apart and was barely able to rasp out, "God knows where that tongue has been."

"Wouldn't you like to know, love."

"You say that, 'love,' more than you would normally in England, don't you?"

"Is that what you think, Agent Prentiss?"

Emily dropped her voice at his question, "Get me a cab and I'll tell you exactly what I think."

"Absolutely," He said and took out his phone to request a car. He was just about to ask if she was going to steal the ride and leave him alone and vulnerable to serial killers in the parking lot, but then he opted to kiss her again instead. So in the parking lot they kissed. And then they got into the car to take them back to Emily's apartment, and they kissed some more.

"You are gone as soon as we're done. Clear?" Emily more ordered than asked in a raspy, breathless voice as they fumbled into her apartment's hallway entrance.

"Bed?"

"It's…um…here," Emily answered between kisses and guided them to her room. On the way, both of them had stripped off their clothes so when they found themselves in the quiet bedroom they were both in their underwear only.

"You're so bloody hot," Mick groaned when Emily took off her bra and fell back on to the bed, allowing him to hover over her.

"You're okay."

"Okay?"

"You're like a 5'10" Englishman," She insulted while she fumbled to push his boxer briefs down.

"I'm 5'11" and Welsh," He corrected before he went back to pressing kisses from her neck down to the top of her chest. He was careful to avoid the brand and scar on her abdomen. His fingers drifted around the scar and further down, into her, earning a quick gasp as he dragged them over her clit. "You like that?"

"No," She lied. She was unable to suppress a moan when his fingers moved back to the spot that had elicited that first gasp. "This is terrible," She was barely able to get out over a moan as that perfect tension began to build in her stomach. Her complaints couldn't help but make him chuckle against her breast. She was just so difficult, always. "Right there…that's... fucking…awful," She protested before she came. He knew she was lying though. He could tell by the way her body tensed and, as he sucked on her pulse point, how her heart rate sped up. It took a few seconds before she found her hands running over his body again, pulling him closer so she could kiss him.

"Do you have a…condom?" He had tried to ask. The way she had moved one of her hands closer to his groin made him incredibly unfocused.

"...I don't think so. Why? Don't you?"

Mick found himself groaning for the exact wrong reason. "I didn't expect—" He was cut off by a laugh that was a mix between mockery and disappointment. "I keep them in my flat! Shouldn't you have your own stash? Equal rights and all."

Emily rolled her eyes at the statement. She was so frustrated with him. What the fuck was wrong with him? First of all, she had been on antibiotics. Her pill was useless. They really needed a condom, and he couldn't even get that right. Second of all, it was Mick Rawson. She had gone through over forty years of her life without getting crabs, and she certainly wasn't going to get them then from Mick Rawson, of all people. Of all the man-whores out there she had to pick the worst one. "If I have one it'll be in that drawer," She pointed to her bedside table. If he said one word about her vibrator she would kill him.

"One?"

"One," She ordered with finality. "Then you're thrown out."

"I'm under the wire," He murmured as he was frantically shuffling around the bedside drawer, and just as she was about to conclude the moment had ended, he had found one. "Is this from the 90's?" He teased as he took out the battered, sad looking condom. He quickly ripped the package and put it on.

"Just hurry up before I change my mind."

And then he had asked it of her. It was respectful, and appropriate, and made her sick, because then she had to admit it.

"Have you changed your mind then?"

"No," She huffed, frustrated that he knew she wanted this as much as he did. "Fuck…" Emily drawled out after he finally entered her. Okay, the moment hadn't completely ended.

"You are so bloody gorgeous, Emily," Was all he could get out, or think of, over a grunt. He had been into her forever. He couldn't believe it was finally happening. "Fucking hell, you feel amazing."

"Can you-" She didn't even have to ask before he dropped his hand down again, both sensations making her come again. Mick Rawson had made her come twice. He was never going to let her live this down. His strokes had been purposeful and drawn out at first, but his movements were quickly becoming more and more rapid. It was a only little while longer before he finished and ever carefully, slightly, collapsed on her. She had said it as soon as he pulled out of her, his head resting on her chest.

"I'm never calling you."

And she kept her promise. She didn't call him….She had texted him two nights later.

Please comment if you're interested in reading this because it's going to take a lot of work to set it up right, and I don't want to invest a lot of time if no one is interested!

Otherwise I'll just delete and see if another idea hits eventually. Thanks!