This story was nominated for 2 Profiler's Choice Awards, Best Unusual Pairing and Best Characterization of Erin Strauss.

Thanks for sticking with this story despite the ridiculously long hiatus.

Her mother, John Cooley, Father Gamino. When Emily was fifteen she learned the meaning of the word betrayal. The three pillars in her life crumbled simultaneously: family, friends, church. Left on her own, Emily lacked the materials to rebuild those pillars. And she had learned that pillars collapse. What she needed was a fort. Because if you never let people in, if you never trust them, they could never betray you. While Lauren Reynolds betrayed Ian Doyle, Emily Prentiss has never betrayed anyone. She knew how it felt and she never wanted to make anyone feel that way. She felt that an international terrorist with the blood of hundreds of people on his hands was worth making an exception. But she would not betray her team; she would not betray her Unit Chief.

It's not that Chief Strauss was happy that a co-ed and released suspect had been involved in a murder-suicide not more than twenty feet away from two of Agent Hotchner's agents. She wasn't happy that they were dead. But it pleased her to no end that if something tragic like this had to happen, it did so in a manner that allowed her to justifiably suspend both Agents Hotchner and Gideon. Once this kind of disciplinary action is taken, an agent's future is put into permanent pause. No one advances to Director with a suspension on his record. Now that the first steps had been taken, Strauss was confident that with Agent Prentiss on her side the BAU would be dismantled. Strauss sat back in her chair and smiled as she thought about the opportunity to rebuild it. Her way.

Emily signed her name and added a fuck you flourish with a big loop on the y. She curled her hair, applied mascara, and set off for Quantico. JJ had left a message on her voicemail saying that the team had a case in Milwaukee. The briefing was scheduled for 10:00 am and the jet was set to take off at 11:00. She glanced at her watch, 10:45. Perfect, they'd already be gone by time she got there; emotional good-byes weren't really her thing. That was how the armor worked: nothing got in, nothing got out. She paused only briefly to look out at the bullpen as she stalked over to Strauss's office. Get in, get out, and get back home to the plate of fudge brownies and bottle of red wine she left on the coffee table.

When Agent Prentiss walked through the door, Strauss couldn't help the narrowing of her eyes and puff of angry air that escaped her nostrils. You're not fooling anyone, she thought when Prentiss turned to her and with only saccharine in her voice said, I'm sorry to interrupt. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and plastered on a tolerant smile, which was thankfully in place as the agent announced, Sir, I've decided to resign from the FBI, effective immediately. Strauss was almost ready to go on the offensive until she realized that perhaps she didn't actually need Emily Prentiss to be her stool pigeon. After all, she was sitting in Agent Hotchner's office offering him a bogus position on some non-existent white-collar task force. Agent Gideon still hadn't shown up to work. She allowed herself a self-satisfied smile as she realized that with very little effort on her part the BAU was down to two profilers, one of whom was a disaster in the field; a communications liaison; and a technical analyst. It appeared as though the BAU was going to dismantle itself. And she had a front row seat.

I told you, I hate politics. Emily immediately regretted the catch in her voice. When Hotch first acknowledged why Emily was put on the team it was as though she unbuttoned her shirt and let it fall to the floor. Now that her voice had betrayed her it felt like her pants were suddenly pooled at her feet. There she was, standing metaphorically naked in front of Hotch in her own living room. I want you on that plane with me. Emily couldn't believe what she was hearing, why would he want her on the plane when she was assigned to the BAU as simply a stool pigeon disguised as a profiler. She was upstairs changing her clothes, now standing literally naked in front of her closet. She needed something to protect her. She grabbed her cargo pants and combat boots. She felt like she was going into battle so she may as well dress the part. She added a pink t-shirt to soften the look; it was her own personal camouflage.

As Section Chief Strauss watched the BAU (dys)function, she couldn't help but be both appalled by and pleased with their behavior. Appalled because this unit is supposed to be one of the most respected and prestigious one in the FBI. Pleased because their level of dysfunction would only make it easier to scatter these agents across the country. First Agent Morgan mouthed off to her on the plane, then Agent Jareau had the nerve to redress her in front of the local yokels, and their technical analyst answered the phone like she was working a sex hotline. Their lack of decorum and respect for the chain of command was astounding and further proof that Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner had no capability to supervise anyone, let alone be in charge. You need to present these counselors with the profile of a troubled kid. She showed the team she could take charge and steer this investigation in the right direction. Agent Hotchner won't be able to question her abilities in the field again.

Confident. Happy. That's how Emily decided to approach her entry into the conference room. She would just stroll in, sit down, and grab some case files like she belonged there. Her dauntless and unflappable armor would provide absolute coverage for her insecurity. She hoped. The smile JJ shot in her direction had the immediate effect of slowing the thumping in her chest, allowing her to take a deep breath and smile back. She could do this. Because she was a profiler, after all. While she may not have earned her spot in the BAU, she was a profiler. It was a fact that that had been overshadowed by Strauss's admission. For the last two months Emily had only seen herself as a stool pigeon, a political pawn who was given preferential treatment because she was a Prentiss. We're only here to help, she said when Strauss entered the room. The team, she added silently.

She stepped on her hair. When she approached the crime scene, Chief Strauss accidentally stepped on the blond hair splayed around the dead woman's head. You can't let the public see you break down. The absurdity of Agent Hotchner's advice snapped Erin back to reality. She never let anyone see her break down. She simply raised her quills, forcing everyone around her to keep a wide berth. She told herself that the burning in her chest and cheeks was simply the determination to take charge and catch the man responsible for doing these heinous crimes, and not from the embarrassment of allowing herself to be rattled by the crime scene.

Then you have no authority over me. It took all of Emily's self-control to not douse that phrase in the contempt and hatred she felt towards Strauss. No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. Emily just rescinded Strauss's power to make her feel like a political pawn. Resigning from the FBI reminded Emily that her integrity and fidelity had not been broken. Chief Strauss had no idea who she was dealing with and had obviously made a miscalculation assuming that Emily had inherited her mother's propensity for selling out her convictions to the highest, most attractive bidder. Strauss, despite her position of power over the BAU, clearly had no insight into human relationships and reaction formations. You have no authority over me. Emily repeated the line over and over in her head to confirm its veracity.

Nothing rankled Chief Strauss more than being questioned in public. First Agent Morgan directly contradicted her plan, then that damn detective took his side and to make things worse. And now Emily Prentiss tried to do an end-run around her plan. No, she said firmly, trying to shut down their insubordination. She outranked everyone on the street, this conversation should never even have happened. Because when she gives an order, they should follow it without question. Her quills were raised and she was ready to strike back. Technically you're not even in the FBI. That should shut them all up. Then you have no authority over me. What irritated her more than Prentiss's continued insubordination was the fact that it wasn't actually insubordination. She had lost control of Prentiss and watched as the former agent attempted to take away her control over the remainder of the team.

This is it, Emily thought. I'm going to be shot and killed by a seven-year-old holding Morgan's backup piece. Her head was pounding, her vision was blurry, and she was trying desperately to ignore the nausea that had suddenly hit her with the same force of the two-by-four. Even with all that going on, the most prominent thought that ran though her head was how badly she screwed up. Here was her chance to prove herself, to erase any doubts about her qualifications and show everyone that she belonged in the BAU even if all other evidence was to the contrary. She heard the team enter the house and after what seemed like hours, she saw Mr. Smith being led out of the basement. Are you okay? JJ asked her. No. Emily ran through her potential responses and realized they were going to either exacerbate her headache and nausea or expose a crack in her stoic façade. None of those options were acceptable. I'll call an ambulance. Her silence must have sufficiently answered JJ's question. No matter what she did, the cracks were starting to show.

As Chief Strauss watched the post-arrest activity on the street, she couldn't help but marvel that this case arrived at the best resolution possible, despite the collective ineptitude of the BAU profilers. You know I can't officially approve of how this went down. She was playing both offense and defense in this game and had no intention of losing at either one. She saw the detective putting Mr. Smith into the back of his cruiser and couldn't understand Agent Hotchner's insistence that the locals make the arrest. They were the ones who endangered these women's lives by not calling sooner. They weren't the ones who tracked down the son. But here they were, collaring the suspect as though they'd done all the work. As she looked around at the members of this BAU team, she realized that if she were to get rid of Agent Hotchner, she'd have to take charge of this insubordinate group until she could convince the Director to replace the team entirely. After careful consideration, she decided to back off her plan to oust Agent Hotchner; the last thing she needed was to be weighed down by a fractious team.

Emily blinked and concentrated on the Capitol Building. It was one of the symbols from her childhood; it represented home and familiarity, but it was also a reminder of her mother's duplicity. She remembered the first night she spent in her apartment; she had promised herself things would be different. She was going to be Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss. Not oh, Emily Prentiss, you must be the Ambassador's daughter! Of course, that resolution went out the window in her first five minutes talking to Hotch. Perhaps you think that my parents pulled some strings, which they haven't by the way. As it turned out the strings were actually being pulled by another politician who just happened to masquerade as an FBI Section Chief. The last nine months have been spent as Strauss's marionette.

Emily blinked again and the bandage on her forehead came into focus. I want you on that plane with me, Hotch had said. Is it weird that I'm glad to be back? She had asked, afraid to come out and ask for her job back; she couldn't bear the idea of Hotch saying no to an outright request like that. I'll make sure it stays official. On the plane ride home, Hotch sat across from her and told her, I don't care about the circumstances of how you were assigned to the team in the first place; you're on the team now because I want you here. You deserve to be here and don't believe for a second that you didn't earn your spot on this team. You belong here as much as Morgan and Reid do.

Emily blinked again as the city lights began to blur. Her head was pounding and she was ready to collapse from exhaustion. And it was perhaps in this somewhat mentally weakened state that she believed Hotch's words as they replayed in her head. You deserve to be here. You earned your spot on the team. Emily hugged herself as she continued to look out the window. It was time to shed her Gore-tex shield and let the mutual trust and respect she had with her teammates in the field evolve into something that covers her in all aspects of her life.