The time frame for this story is 5th season.

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds

He slowly opened his eyes and grimaced at the pain coursing through his body. "Wha-What the…" With an effort he pushed himself upright, wrinkling his nose as he surveyed the garbage strewn alley around him. "How the hell…" Confusion clouded his eyes and he rubbed a hand over his head as if that action could clear his foggy mind. He made a feeble attempt to get to his feet causing his legs to brush against a pair of badges on the ground next to him. He grasped at them desperately and dropped them onto his lap. Opening the first badge, he was greeted by his own face staring back at him. Tentatively he reached for the second badge and flipped it open to see the smiling face of his partner.

"Prentiss!" Panic gripped him as clarity slammed into Morgan's mind like a sledgehammer.

"Tony Michaels? I'm Agent Prentiss and this is Agent Morgan, we were wondering if you would go over your statement with us." Emily slightly inclined her head towards her partner as she flashed her badge to the witness.

"But I-I don't understand." Confusion marred the man's face as he looked between the two agents. "I already told Agent Ortiz everything I know."

"We know." Morgan nodded. "We're actually from the Behavior Analysis Unit. The Oklahoma City field office called us in to help them out. We just want to hear your statement in your own words, everything you saw. Maybe going over it again will help you remember other details."

"But there are no other details. Like I told Agent Ortiz, I was on my morning run, taking my usual route when a dark van suddenly pulled out of an alley right in front of me."

"Mr. Michaels, right now you're our only lead. We promise we won't take up too much of your time." Emily gave him her best reassuring smile as she reached out to touch the man lightly on the forearm. .

"Of course, I'm sorry. Anything to help." The man returned her smile, gestured the agents inside and followed them into the living room. "I had actually forgotten about that van cutting me off until I saw the evening news that night. Some reporter was filming live near the dumpsite and I recognized it from my morning route. Then I remembered the van."

Turning to face the witness, Morgan gave a slight start to find Tony standing directly behind him. "Whoa, I didn't realize you were…" His sentence was cut short as the man brought his arm swiftly from behind his back and shoved a taser against the agent's neck.

Morgan crashed to the floor as muscle contractions wracked his large body. He was dimly aware of the sounds of a scuffle in his peripheral and knew his partner was grappling with their attacker. Suddenly Emily's body thudded to the ground in his line of vision. Her eyes were closed and blood flowed from a gash on her forehead. The agent gave a groan of pain and frustration as he tried to force his limbs to reach for her. "Prentiss."

"Oh, I don't think so Agent Morgan. Now, you are going to know how it feels." The last thing Morgan saw was Tony's cocky smirk, then pain seized his body and darkness enveloped him.

As she clawed her way into consciousness, the first thing she noticed was the smell of old wood and mildew, followed immediately by a pounding in her head and the feel of cold metal around both wrists. Carefully she pried her blood-crusted eyelids open and blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to her surroundings.

The building was small. Probably an old out-building in the middle of fucking nowhere, Emily concluded. Chains restrained her by both wrists to the wall behind her and the mattress she was sitting on was dirty and stained. She tried not to think about what those stains might be as she continued her scan of the room. To her right, more restraints dangled ominously from the ceiling. Her blazer was draped across a saw-horse near the opposite wall and a video camera on a tripod was aimed in her direction. A large light hung from the ceiling and the only two windows she could see were completely blacked out. She wondered how much time had passed since she was at Tony Michael's house with Morgan.

Morgan… Concern for her partner and friend flooded her mind. Where is he; is he here? No, the unsub has no use for him. She refused to think that Morgan could be dead, to do so would break her and she needed to stay strong.

With each hand gripping the chain that bound her wrists, Emily strained as hard as she could in an attempt to pull them from the wall. She estimated the chains at three feet in length and they refused to budge. Even if she hadn't been sore and fatigued from her fight with Tony Michaels, she realized she still wouldn't have had any effect on her bindings. Finally, lightheaded from her efforts and the head wound, she leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes.

"I can't believe we walked right into the unsub's house" Emily croaked.

Fighting the despair that tried to consume her; Emily's mind, almost against her own will, latched onto a memory from her past. A long ago mission that had also delivered her into the hands of the enemy.

Moscow, July 1998

"I'll give Nick the signal once Tom has tapped into the surveillance system. Emily, I don't have to remind you that time will be of the essence. Get to Alkaev's office, photograph any evidence you find of this new weapon and then get the hell out of there." The Team Leader looked from Nick to Emily as he barked out his instructions. "You do have the route memorized, right?"

With an eye roll, she pinched Nick as he snickered at her. "Not my first day on the playground Dean. I have the entire floor plan memorized."

She knew she shouldn't be snarky to her team leader, but the stuffy air and the smell of sweat in the close quarters of the service van had her a little on edge. Of course the fact that she couldn't shake the horrible feeling of foreboding wasn't helping matters either. This should be a no-brainer; Tom would gain control of the surveillance system, he and Dean would be monitoring the audio feed and Nick would be with her. But that's just it, Nick won't be with her the entire time; Tom and Dean might be able to hear her, but they won't be able to communicate to her; and although she would not be picked up on surveillance, she still might have to contend with the guards.

"Good." Unfazed by Emily's attitude, Dean's voice snapped her back into focus. She flushed slightly then cursed herself for her momentary distraction. Appearance was everything; that had been engrained into her psyche since she was a child, and today, sitting in the back of a crowded van with her alpha male colleagues, she had never been more grateful for that upbringing. Maybe I should give Mother a call after this is over. She nearly chuckled at the thought.

Tom, the team's tech expert, was in the process of securing a tiny microphone to the pendant Emily would be wearing, when a sudden shadow obstructed his view. "Bambi, you're in my light."

"Are you almost done?" She took a step back and tried not to fidget while she watched him work.

"So you're really that anxious for dancing and drinking with Russia's most wanted?"

"I never could pass up free booze."

He chuckled at her quip and held up the necklace for her inspection. "Well, what do you think?"

"Not bad. Hey, maybe you should go into the jewelry making business." A mocking smile graced her features as she scrutinized the pendant.

"What and leave this glamorous life." Tom gestured at the crowded, stuffy van as Dean and Nick smirked at his response. "Besides, who would watch your ass if I left?"

"I'm always willing to watch Emily's ass." Nick happily replied.

"He said watch my ass, not check out my ass." Emily countered, giving Nick a flat glare as he shrugged at her distinction.

"Nick is wired and his earpiece is in. I've checked the frequency and we're good. How are you two doing?" Dean directed his question at Tom in an attempt to reign in his team's focus.

"About there; turn around Bambi, let's get this on you."

"I wish you'd quit calling me that." She grumbled as she turned her back to him.

Tom smiled to himself as he fastened the necklace around her neck. "Now remember, we will hear you but you won't hear us, so try to stay out of trouble."

Looking back at the tech expert with mock shock that turned to a toothy grin Emily exclaimed, "Why Tom Kohler, when have I ever given you guys trouble?" Humor was her camouflage; her wall. There was nothing she couldn't deflect with humor.

He gave a snort at her cheeky question and nodded to their leader. "Okay Boss, let's try it out."

Dean took a seat at the instrument panel and placed a set of headphones over his ears. After making a few adjustments, he turned and gave them an expectant look. "Okay Emily."

"It stinks in here." She stated as Nick laughed out loud.

"Well, I heard that loud and clear." Removing his headphones, Dean turned to his team. "It's time to do this." He gave Nick and Emily a fierce stare. "Be careful you two, and come back safe."

With one last look at her team, Emily made her exit with her partner following close behind.

The Mercedes waiting to take them to their destination was parked close by and the pair climbed in to begin their short drive to Taras Alkaev's mansion.

"Did I mention you look stunning?" Nick winked at Emily as he admired how her low-cut, black-sequin gown hugged the curves of her body. Flirting between the two of them came easy; it had since the day they first met. That the other two members of the team were usually listening never really fazed them.

"And you look like a blonde James Bond." The brunette retorted with a smirk.

Shooting her a frown the Nick fidgeted slightly in his tuxedo. Emily's amusement was short-lived; however, and soon she was unconsciously picking her thumbnail as her gaze seemed to watch the city go by her window. Nick was not fooled. He knew her focus was internal and not on the buildings whizzing by.

"You're going to be fine. We're going to be fine." He gave his partner a reassuring smile, in hopes that easing her tension would help ease his own.

Emily's gaze returned to her partner's and she smiled back at him, grateful for his presence. That was the problem with Nick; she had never been able to fool him as easily as the others on her team. An occupational hazard no doubt caused by working so closely together. In the two years she had been with the team, he had always had her back, and she his. Maybe that occupational hazard wasn't so bad after all.

The rest of the drive was spent in silence, and as their vehicle came to a stop in the circular drive of the imposing mansion, they both shared a glance with raised eyebrows. Taking a calming breath, the brunette smiled at the valet, who assisted her from the vehicle, "спасибо." (Thank you)

The valet acknowledged Emily with a polite nod as Nick tucked her arm under his own. Arm in arm they made their way towards the mansion's entrance, smiles plastered on their faces and nerves bundled in their stomachs.

"Time to swim with the sharks." Emily whispered softly under her breath.

The attendant at the main entrance of the mansion was nearly as wide as he was tall and he regarded the couple with a cold, blue-eyed glare. Of course "attendant" was using the term loosely, the man was obviously a guard and Emily hoped any others she might encounter inside were not also built like King Kong.

"Имена"(Name) The man grunted to Nick.

"Petr и Kira Ivanov." He gave Emily a brilliant smile as he brought her fingers to his lips for a quick kiss before turning back to the attendant.

As the gruff man found their names on the guest list and waved them through, Emily allowed a fleeting thought to the real Petr and Kira Ivanov: current "guests" at CIA headquarters in London. All thoughts of that nefarious couple quickly vanished; however, as the pair entered the lavish ballroom, filled with beautifully clothed criminals, gathered on the guise of a private art showing. The true purpose of this invitation only soirée was to make contacts and conduct business, the kind of business that had attracted the CIA's interest.

Placing his right hand in the small of her back, Nick guided his partner around the large ballroom. They both nodded politely to the other party-goers, but refrained from engaging in any conversation. Rich music from a string quartet filled the room and a few brave couples wandered onto the dance floor; however, most of the occupants stood in clusters, sipping expensive champagne and speaking in low under-tones. Everyone seemed to be anticipating the arrival of their host: Taras Alkaev. A rich and charming business man, Alkaev had strong ties to the Russian Mafia. Nick and Emily were also anticipating the arrival of their host. According to rumors, Alkaev was funding the design and development of a new weapon that would revolutionize modern weaponry - which had several western countries very anxious. The NOC officers were here to substantiate that rumor.

Drawing the brunette's lithe body against his own, Nick leaned in and softly nuzzled her ear. "Target at 2 o' clock."

As she snaked her arm around his waist, Emily turned slightly to her right, allowing her gaze to sweep subtly past Taras Alkaev as he walked amongst his guests. He was average height with a wiry build, and his dancing eyes surveyed the crowded room with great interest. As he sipped his champagne, he stopped to converse with a few of his guests. Laughter erupted from the group as their target's infamous charm worked its magic.

"Well, we've found our shark. I guess now we wait."

"Not for long." Nick gestured slightly with his head at the young server who had just approached Alkaev with a tray of fresh drinks. After Alkaev exchanged his used flute for a full one, Nick broke away from Emily on an intercept course with the server - never taking his eyes from the nearly empty glass.

Advancing on the slightly distracted server, Nick quickly plucked the discarded flute by the stem, along with a full glass of champagne. With a polite "Спасибо" he turned subtly from the young man, attempting to keep the empty glass from the server's sight, but the man was already focused on the next cluster of guests.

Nick found Emily in a secluded corner behind a particularly hideous sculpture, and handed her the full glass of champagne. She raised the flute to her lips for a sip and studied the room over the rim of the glass. Confident they were not on anyone's radar; the brunette placed the glass on the base of the sculpture and opened her clutch, retrieving a small package of breath strips.

"Хотели бы Вы один?" (Would you like one?)

"Вы говорите мне, что я нужен?" (Are you telling me I need one?)

Emily gave him a throaty chuckle and pulled two strips from the packet: one breath strip and one cellophane tape strip. The breath strip she placed immediately on her tongue, the other strip she palmed as she watched her partner bring the empty flute towards his mouth as if to take a drink. He expelled hot, moist air onto the surface of the glass, exposing a perfect thumb print.

"You have the devil's own luck." She murmured as she quickly pressed her adhesive strip against the print and lifted it from the glass.

Setting his flute down next to hers, Nick pulled her body towards him and ran his hands gently up and down both arms from her shoulders to her elbows. To a casual observer they looked like a couple sharing an intimate moment, but he was shielding Emily from any curious eyes as he watched her carefully cover the print with a thin clear plastic before she attached it to her left thumb.

"Are we good?" He pulled back slightly and looked into her dark eyes. Their actions had taken less than a few minutes and no one seemed to care about the couple who had stolen a few moments alone in the corner.

She gave him a wink and a sly smile as they turned to walk back into the crowd. "What the hell is that thing supposed to be anyway?" Emily angled her head towards the statue.

Answering with a laugh he pulled her by the wrist and guided her towards the dance floor. "А как насчет танцев?" (How about a dance?)

All thoughts of dancing; however, came to an abrupt halt when Dean's voice interrupted through Nick' earpiece. "Tom's in…go now."

Noticing the slight change in his demeanor she raised an eyebrow at her partner. Her question was answered in his gray-eyed gaze and a brief nod.

"Позвольте мне освежить любовь, прежде чем мы будем танцевать." (Let me freshen up love before we dance) She gave Nick' hand a final squeeze, and then she turned and maneuvered through the crowd as she made her way towards the ballroom exit.

Emily sauntered out of the ballroom like she owned the place, heading in the direction she knew held Alkaev's secure office. The noise of the ballroom grew quieter as her steps guided her deeper into the mansion. With her senses on full alert, she silently approached an intersection and stopped suddenly at the voices coming from around the corner.

Frozen and wide-eyed, she tried to decipher the conversation, but promptly realized the voices were fading. She flicked her tongue over her lower lip and stole a cursory look around before she edged closer to the intersection.

Okay, you can do this. If they ask, you're just looking for the bathroom, no big deal.

Pressed against the wall, the young operative peered around the corner to her right, finding only the broad backs of two large men as they walked away from her. Once the men disappeared around the next corner, she made her move.

Soundlessly, Emily slipped down the hall to her left. Her eyes never strayed from her destination: the last door at the end of the hall. At her arrival, she pressed an ear to the door, but was only greeted with silence. Releasing her held breath, she stretched her hand forward to touch her left thumb to the scanner and opened the door.

The office was large and softly lit by the lamp sitting on the impressive mahogany desk, which occupied a large space in the middle of the room. Exquisite art decorated the walls and leather bound books lined the shelves.

Come on Em, focus

"Guys, I'm in." She laid down her clutch as she approached the desk, and shuffled through what little paperwork had been left unattended. "Damn it, why can't it ever be easy?"

Mmm… what have we here? Emily grasped the handle of the top drawer and pulled it open, only to find assorted office accessories. The second larger drawer was locked.

"This has to be it." Holding the desk with her left hand for support, Emily bent her right leg at the knee, arched her back slightly and grasped the end of her stiletto. Giving it a sharp twist, she easily slid the lock pick from the heel and crouched before the drawer. She made fast work of the lock and replaced the pick back into her heel.

The drawer was a small filing cabinet and she quickly began her search. "Come on, come on. I know you're in here." Biting her lip, she thumbed through the files, scanning each page that went by.

With a triumphant grin Emily snatched a folder and dropped it on the desk. Her excitement turned to relief when she got her first look as the content. "I've got it guys."

Opening her clutch she removed a tube of lipstick and positioned it above the documents she had spread across the desk. She gave the bottom of the lipstick tube a firm squeeze and a soft clicking sound emitted from the tube as she quickly photographed the research and schematics of the weapon. "Shit, you're not going to believe this."

Confident she had all the evidence she needed Emily scooped up the file and returned it to the bottom drawer. With a quick glance around the room to make sure nothing looked amiss, she cautiously cracked the door and found the hallway was still empty.

With her clutch in her right hand and the lipstick held firmly in her left, she retraced her steps to make her way back to Nick in the ballroom.

"Стоп!" (Stop!)

She had only gone a short distance when that command halted her in her tracks. Fuck! Where the hell did he come from? She swallowed a gulp and turned slowly as a large man moved rapidly towards her, his face flushed with rage.

With an unfocused gaze, Emily staggered slightly and grabbed onto the wall. "Могу ли я закрыть в ванной? Я не могу его найти. Я мог бы поклясться, что хороший человек сказал, что по этому залу. Может быть, я слишком много пить." (Am I close to the bathroom? I can't seem to find it; I could have sworn that nice man said it was down this hall. Perhaps I've had too much to drink.) She gave him a small giggle that ended in a hiccup.

Emily evaded his grasp by stumbling to her left, crashing into a large potted plant, and dropping the lipstick into the pot. "The tube is in the plant in the hall leading to his office." She whispered desperately before a large hand clamped around her right arm, jerked her to her feet and dragged her deeper into the mansion.

"Я нашел эту женщину, скрывающихся в прихожей, ведущей к Вам в офис. Она говорит, что ищет для ванной комнаты, что вы хотите, чтобы я с ней делать?"(I've found a woman lurking in the hall near your office. She says she's looking for the bathroom, what do you want me to do with her?) The large Russian snarled into a hand-held radio as he forced Emily into the clutches of another guard who had just joined them.

"Я не понимаю! Что происходит?"(I don't understand! What is going on?)She exclaimed indignantly as she unsuccessfully tried to wrench free from the second guard.

Emily's blood froze in her veins at the response she heard from the radio. "Возьмите ее в моей мастерской" (Take her to my workroom.)

A/N: First of all, if you made it this far, thank you for reading.

I do not speak Russian and all Russian text in this story is from Google Translator.

NOC stands for nonofficial cover and falls under the NCS (National Clandestine Service) of the CIA structure

Never fear, the rest of the team will make their entrance in chapter two.

The rating is T for now, but expect Prentiss whump in the upcoming chapters, so the rating may change.