Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or Criminal Minds: Suspect Behaviour.

Title: Crowns, Thorns, and Crowns of Thorns

Summary: "Someday you'll need someone like they do." Ever since San Francisco, he's been her rock. Mick/Emily

The first time she called him, it had been after the murders in Alaska. She just wanted to talk to somebody who hadn't been there; get the perspective of someone outside the investigation, but somebody who still would understand. It had been a month since San Francisco, but their shared moments there had encouraged her.

It was late on the second day of their investigation in San Fran. She'd shared a few beers with JJ, Morgan and Mick; they'd laughed, ribbed each other a bit, and it had been fine. When they got to the hotel that the two teams were sharing, Emily bade everybody good night and retreated to her room.

. . .

Emily sat on the edge of the bed and exhaled deeply. She shrugged off her jacket and stripped her burgundy top off, grabbing a tank top and shorts. She may not have been allergic to bureaucracy like Sam Cooper was, but after spending years of her life in the ambassadorial section of the world, she understood the need to dress down a bit.

Emily thought back to the events of the day – rather, the key event, the one where she had almost died because of her own stupidity and Mick had had to save her. Emily closed her eyes against the tears that burned. God, she needed air. Compartmentalizing only worked so well until she broke down, and Emily had to stop this attack before it started – she saved these forlorn evenings for her brownstone in DC when she had a nice 12-pack of beer or bottle of wine (depending on how classy she was feeling) to blur the edges, when she could collapse into bed without worrying about JJ or somebody walking in and questioning her strength. Emily Prentiss was not weak, did not rely on anybody, and she was not about to let a little emotional tug because of yet another near-death experience ruin her.

Emily pushed her feet into sandals and grabbed her room key, slipping quietly into the hallway. She shuffled to the end of the hallway where a large window displayed the lights of San Francisco at night. Having no desire to actually go anywhere, Emily pushed through the door leading to the staircase and climbed up to the roof.

After securing the door so that it wouldn't close behind her, Emily walked to the edge of the roof and leaned against the concrete barrier. She closed her eyes again as she remembered the last time she had looked over the edge of a roof. She saw only the unsub's face, the wicked look in his eyes and the small contorted grunt of effort as he leaned upwards with his gun pointed at her face. Emily again felt the stab of shock in her stomach. It was all over now. The tears spilled over. Fuck. She closed her eyes tightly, willing her emotions to quit working overtime.

Suddenly, Emily felt a hand on her left hip from behind and she just about jumped ten feet in the air. Whirling around, adrenaline pumping, she exhaled deeply with relief when she came face to face with Mick Rawson. He was still in his "uniform," the leather jacket and jeans. Emily leaned back against the wall. She was trying to avoid eye contact, because the way that he was staring at her was making her nervous.

"I'm sorry if I scared you." Mick broke the silence, his voice soft and his eyes dark. "It seems like I'm not the only one that likes to think on rooftops."

Emily nodded and tried to swallow the tears that she could feel brewing again. She moved to turn around again, but Mick caught her wrist. "Emily," he said, his voice cracking. His hand moved up and cupped her face, fingers swiping at the tears beneath her eyes. "What's the matter, love?"

Emily wrapped her arms around herself. She'd clearly underestimated how cold it could get at night, even in California. Mick noticed and began to shrug off his jacket. Emily met his eyes and shook her head, declining the offer. She turned back toward the city, rubbing her arms. Ignoring her independent streak, Mick replaced her hands on her arms with his hands, gently rubbing up and down. As an answer to her unspoken question, Mick just chuckled a bit. "You're so damn stubborn, woman. Now, I'd ask you again what's wrong, but I think I have an idea."

Emily didn't want to admit it, but his hands felt pretty damn good and she unconsciously leaned back against him a little bit. "I'm not weak," she said by way of response. "I'm not. I'm just human."

Mick gave a soft laugh. "Believe me, Agent Prentiss, the one thing that I know about you that's real is that you're definitely not weak."

Emily smiled a little. So it was working.

"But you're right," he continued, "you're human. And everybody has their days. Now, tell me about it."

Emily sighed. "I don't like confronting my own mortality more than twice a month." She gripped the edge of the concrete with her hands. "I know, I know, wrong career path. I'm very good at compartmentalizing. My skills are legendary, actually. I don't want anybody to think that I'm weak, or that I can't do the job, or that I can't deal with the fallout from what we see. But occasionally, it gets to me, and usually, when this happens, it all comes at once. I guess almost getting shot because of my own negligence sort of started another waterfall." Emily tightened her grip on the concrete. "God, I'm profiling myself in my head now. I know that emotions aren't a failure. But everybody has a front to maintain." She felt the waterworks pricking behind her eyes again. What was happening to her? "Fuck."

Mick slid his hands around her waist and waited for her to pistol-whip him. When it didn't happen, he decided to move forward. Gripping her hips firmly, he pulled her away from the edge and toward him. "Emily, look at me."

She turned reluctantly in his arms, not sure of why she was letting him touch her. She met his eyes. They were dark, smouldering, and flashed with mystery, but she found them comforting. He understood. Emily's tears spilled over again. She remembered the flash of her life before her eyes, the brief moments with her parents' faces appeared like 8x10 glossy photos. Matthew. John. Morgan, Hotch, JJ, Reid, Garcia, and Rossi. It happened too often for this to bother her, so Emily wasn't sure why it was all affecting her now. A sob caught in her throat and Emily turned away from Mick, embarrassed at her own weakness.

Mick ignored this move, wrapping his arms completely around her, holding her to his chest and burying his face in her hair. "I know, love," he murmured. "Trust me, we've all been there. We all have these moments. It doesn't make us weak. It doesn't mean that you're not still an amazing profiler, an incredible federal agent. Not to mention a gorgeous woman who's totally hot for me."

Emily laughed in spite of herself. She inhaled against his chest. He smelled ... manly. Her danger sensors went off and Emily pulled away regretfully. She swiped under her eyes. "So arrogant," she said in spite of the compliment. "Thank you, again, Agent Rawson."

Mick frowned at her. "Oh, I'm sure we're on a first name basis now, love."

"Hey, you started it." Emily pushed lightly against his chest. "And I'm serious. You saved my life."

"All in a day's work, saving the damsel in distress," he said, pulling her back to him and hugging her again. "Now come, I have beer in my room."

Emily raised an eyebrow. "Don't you also have Prophet in your room?"

Mick shook his head. "Prophet's got family in San Fran. So while Dad's away ..."

Emily laughed and pulled away from him, moving toward the door. She turned back to him. "Aren't you coming? You promised me alcohol."

Mick, who had been shamelessly admiring the view as she walked in front of him, winked. "Oh, honey, I'd follow you anywhere."

Somehow, as soon as they were inside Mick's hotel room, which was basically the same as Emily's, Emily became very aware of what she was – or rather, wasn't – wearing. When Mick turned back to her from closing the door, Emily blushed a little. "Maybe I should go change," she said.

By way of response, Mick stepped closer to her. It was a little unnerving and Emily's heart began to beat a little faster. What was happening to her? She never fell for charm. He made her feel so alive. Mick leaned down and brushed his lips against hers very lightly. "Whatever will make you more comfortable, love," he said, "but for the record, I think you look absolutely beautiful at this very moment, and I'm sure you'd look just as good wearing anything else. Or for that matter, nothing else." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Emily cocked an eyebrow. "You're such a tease, Mick Rawson." Before she knew what she was doing, she raised herself up on her toes to reach him. Her lips found his ear and she whispered in it, voice low. "Two can play at that game."

Mick grinned and let his arms encircle her more. "I think I'd like playing with you, love." He caught her mouth with his, this time with pressure, and kissed her deeply. Emily's toes practically curled. So the ego had some backing. Okay. She could handle this; he wasn't the first hot guy she'd shared great kisses with. Oh, fuck it, she thought. I'm not getting any younger. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. It was nice to know that somebody wanted her, and judging by his body's reaction when she slid a hand under his shirt, fingernails scraping lightly against his abs, he definitely wanted her.

She raised her right leg and brushed it against the back of his left leg. This obviously encouraged him, and Mick grabbed her ass fondly before she wrapped her leg fully around him. He reached around and brought her other leg up, hooking it behind his back. He led them to the bed and laid her back down it, taking a moment to stare at her in wonder.

"God, why are you single?" he wondered out loud.

Emily almost giggled. "What do you mean?"

Mick pulled his shirt off and knelt above her on the bed. He ran his hands up her legs, over her ass, and stopped at the bottom of her shirt. "Those amazing legs, that perfect ass." His hands slid beneath her tank top and he gave her an amused grin when he discovered she wasn't wearing a bra. "Oh God, Emily, and these breasts are perfect."

Suddenly, Emily flipped them so that she was on top. She pulled off her tank and kissed him deeply. "As much as I'm enjoying the banter, less talk," she said breathlessly, her hands working at his jeans furiously.

"I couldn't agree more."

The next morning came too soon, and it came with the ring of a cell phone in the otherwise peaceful silence. Emily tried to pull the pillow over her ears but realized that she didn't have a pillow – her head was resting on a very hard, very male chest. She had a flash of terror before she remembered the previous night. Emily glanced at Mick, who hadn't been woken by the ringing yet. So she had slept with Mick Rawson. Twice. And it had been incredible both times.

Emily tried to roll away to grab her ringing phone, but Mick's strong arms pulled her back. One of his hands grabbed at her breasts and caught a nipple in his fingers. Emily gasped as Mick pinched it. He rolled her back to him. "Good morning, sexy," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. Emily smiled up at him. "Good morning, Mick. I need to get the phone."

He sighed and let her go. She rolled over and grabbed the cell. "Prentiss," she muttered, shielding her eyes from the light.

"Oh, I must have the wrong number," came a male voice. "Sorry, I was trying to reach Mick Rawson."

Emily's eyes flew open. This wasn't her phone. She sat up violently. "Oh, hang on a moment please." She shoved the phone at Mick and mouthed, "It's yours."

Mick chuckled at the worried look at her face. "Ello," he said into the phone. "Mhm. Mhm. Okay. Thanks, Sam. No, it wasn't really – yeah, I'll tell her." He snapped the phone shut. "That was Sam. We're supposed to be at the airport in an hour. By the way, he says he won't rat you out to your team about this."

Prentiss meanwhile had her hands over her face. "Oh, god. I have to get back to my room before JJ notices anything." She moved to get out of bed and Mick grabbed her arm. "What?"'

Mick sat up. "I need my morning kiss first." He leaned in and kissed her tenderly. "Good morning, love." He then released her and watched her bustling around the hotel room, gathering up her clothes. As she began to put them back on, he groaned. "I was enjoying the view."

"Ha ha." Emily leaned in and kissed him quickly. "Thanks for last night, Mick, I really appreciate it. But I gotta go. See you on the plane."

Mick watched as she hurried out of the room. He fell back on his bed. What a woman.

When Emily quietly slid into her hotel room, she was met by JJ, hands on her hips. "And just where were you last night, young lady?" JJ's eyes twinkled. She knew the answer. Mick and Emily had been flirting for the past two days.

Emily looked guilty. "Well, I was feeling a little off about yesterday – you know, the whole gun thing – and I went to the roof to think and Mick was there and it sort of just ... happened."

JJ practically squealed. "That's so awesome! He's so sexy. You guys would definitely make beautiful children."

Emily held her hand up. "Hold on, Esmerelda. Don't go telling anybody about this. I don't even know if I'll see him again after this."

"What? Why not?"

Emily sighed. "Because. We have terrible work schedules. It wouldn't work."

"You don't know that." JJ was throwing things into her ready bag. "Come on, Em, you deserve to be happy. And Mick Rawson definitely is your type."

Emily nodded and pictured him in her head, naked and gloriously manly. "He's definitely something else." She sighed. "And he's quite easy to talk to. I'll have to see how things go once we're back in DC. But until then, I'm swearing you to secrecy."

JJ rolled her eyes. "Okay fine. But if the others notice, don't blame me."

When Emily and JJ got on the BAU jet, everybody else besides Morgan was already there. They got situated, Emily purposely avoiding Mick's lingering stare. She glanced at her watch. Just like always, Morgan hurried in just on time and plopped himself next to Emily.

She looked at him wickedly. "Late night, Morgan?"

"Hush," he grumbled. Glancing at her, he cocked his head a little. "Come to think of it, you look different today."

Mick coughed. Emily turned her head sharply to him.

Morgan gave a light chuckle. "Seems like I'm not the only one, eh, Prentiss?"

Now it was Mick's turn to look at him sharply. Morgan laughed outright. "Yeah, I'm so right."

Emily sighed and put her head in her hands. "For the love of God, don't say anything."

"Don't worry, Prentiss. Your secret is safe with me." He crossed his heart and grabbed his headphones. "Now to catch up on all of that sleep I missed last night." He winked at her and leaned back, closing his eyes.

Four hours later, they landed in DC. Waiting for the Bureau SUVs, Mick walked over and stood next to Emily. "Am I missing something here, Emily?"

Emily glanced at him. "I just want to keep this," she gestured between them quietly, "as much for me as I can. Which means keeping it from them –" she gestured at her teammates – "as much as possible."

Mick's eyes regained their mischievous twinkle. "So I'll come over tonight then?"

"Don't forget to bring that beer you promised me." The SUV pulled up in front of them and Emily hopped in after Reid. Mick could have sworn that she gave him a quick wink before closing the door and speeding off with Hotch and Reid.

Cooper came to stand next to Mick. "Have a good night, Rawson?"

Mick clapped him on the shoulder. "You have no idea."

A/N: A little drabble here. I loved the character of Mick Rawson, and as much as I like Hotch or Morgan, I just can't picture either of them with Emily. And I'm sure we can all agree, Prentiss needs some loving. If you want me to continue this story, let me know ... I have a sort of plan in my head, but if nobody's interested, I won't bother.