PART 48

Saturday was sunny, and just as if the Powers that Be had decided to smile down on them, there was no case. The BAU family gathered as usual in the Prentiss back yard.

"Yum, Uncle Brian's chicken bobs," Harrison yelped as Anderson arrived. He ran to help the young agent, carefully and proudly carrying one of the smaller trays inside. Emily watched as she sat on the picnic blanket, cradling baby Phoebe in her arms and crooning down at her. The infant was awake and alert, taking in her surroundings as best she could.

"She's so pretty!" Reid said, reaching out to let Phoebe grab his finger. "And she's strong, too."

"She's my sister," Jack informed him proudly. "Pen lets me give her bottles sometimes. I hold the bottle real careful, so that she only gets milk and no air."

Reid nodded seriously. "That sounds like you're being a big help, Jack. Well done."

With a grin Jack stood up and sped off to help Harrison and "Uncle Brian", who was starting up the barbecue for lunch.

"This really is the life, isn't it?" JJ asked. She took Phoebe as Strauss entered the back yard, looking a little uncertain and clutching a dish of potato salad as if it were a lifebelt. "Chief Strauss! Over here!"

Rossi inviting the woman had been met with a couple of raised eyebrows, but when he had explained his reasoning everyone had thought it was pretty sound. "After all," Hotch said, "it makes no sense to fight a war on two fronts, when we can make peace with Strauss and concentrate on making sure Bartlett can't do any damage?"

And so Strauss – Erin – was welcomed cheerfully. Phoebe was placed in her arms the moment she settled herself on the blanket, and Morgan brought her a glass of iced tea and a plate of food, featuring Anderson's chicken kebabs or "chicken bobs", as the boys called them. Almost overwhelmed, Erin sat cradling the infant and letting the chatter wash over her. Estranged from her own family, it had been a long time since she had felt like this. When Elizabeth Prentiss arrived, she made a beeline for Erin and settled next to her, taking the baby from her and striking up a conversation immediately.

Everyone present at the picnic was pleasantly engaged with someone else, chatting or eating or, in the case of the little boys, chasing each other around. Perhaps that was why, in a sea of profilers, no one noticed the dark sedan idling outside the gate.

Bartlett stepped out of the car and leaned on the gate. "Room for one more?" he called, his voice approaching pleasant.

Emily was about to respond when Hotch held up a hand, signaling for her to let him handle it. "This is a private party, Bartlett, on private property. Move along."

"Who's going to make me?" he said, becoming belligerent. "You gonna get physical with me in front of your boss and your kids?"

"Mama, who is that man?" Harrison asked, but JJ just scooped him up and grabbed Jack's hand, taking both boys inside. Garcia took Phoebe from Elizabeth and followed her in. Whatever was about to happen, she did not want to be there for it.

"This is bullshit," Bartlett went on, opening the gate but not stepping inside just yet. "You can't honestly tell me this isn't a work party when everyone from work is here. You invited Strauss, for fuck's sake."

"But not, as you seem to believe, in an official capacity," Rossi drawled. "Erin is here as my date."

"And who invited you, old man?"

"Emily did. After all, I'm like a father to her, which makes me like a grandfather to Harrison."

"Uncle," said Morgan, jerking a thumb at his chest to indicate himself.

"Uncle," agreed Reid, following suit, and Anderson did the same a moment later.

"Grandmother," Elizabeth said, her face stern but her eyes twinkling with barely suppressed amusement.

"Aunt," Hannah giggled as she leaned into Reid's side, missing the growing look of fury on Bartlett's face.

"And another aunt," Emily said, indicating Strauss, whose cheeks went pink with pleasure in spite of the tense situation. "So as you can see, this is not a work party. It's very much a family picnic, and you were not invited because you are not part of this family. Your choices at this point are, leave now under your own steam, or leave with the assistance of some of the many strong, gun-toting uncles dotting my back yard."

"Fuck you, dyke," Bartlett spat. "It's a free fucking country. If I want to stand on the sidewalk, I can stand on the sidewalk, and there's not a goddamn thing you or any of your goons can do about it."

Hotch gave the nod, and Rossi, Reid and Morgan stood and advanced on Bartlett. "Except," Hotch said mildly, "that you're causing a public disturbance, and the verge outside the gate is still Prentiss property. So you'll be leaving now, and we'll discuss this on Monday in my office."

"You can't do shit to me. I'm not on work property, not on the clock, not wearing FBI credentials. You can try to throw your authority around all you like, but you and that dyke bitch can't do shit to stop me."

By this time, Morgan and Rossi had reached the gate, and Bartlett, for all his bluster and bravado, wasn't quite brave enough to stand up to both of them. He got in his car and, after another moment's yelling obscenities, drove off.

"That is not the caliber of person we want or need working for the Federal Bureau of Investigation," Strauss remarked after a long period of shocked silence.

"For once in a way, Erin, we are in agreement," Hotch nodded. "Fargo, North Dakota?"

"Fargo is still staffed by people who deserve to be agents. For the last two days I have listened to that man spewing hate and accusations for no reason that I can understand. We as an organization need to be seen by the public as efficient and goal oriented, but also as human, as respectful and tolerant. There is no place in the Bureau for a man like Bartlett. On Monday morning, I will process his instant dismissal."

"That," Emily said, still a little shocked, "calls for dessert. One banana split for Chief Strauss, coming right up!"

Seeing that the confrontation was over, JJ and Penelope brought the kids back out. "Daddy, who was that man?" Jack wanted to know.

Hotch glanced at Emily, then took Jack's hand and walked him away from the group before crouching down beside his son. "That was a bad man who said some very bad things about our friend Emily," he said finally.

"It's not nice to say bad things!" Jack exclaimed. "What did he say?"

"You understand that some people have a mommy and a daddy who love each other, and some people like Harrison have two mommies who love each other?"

"Yeah?" Jack replied.

"Some people don't think it's a very good thing for a lady to love a lady. That man called Emily a very bad word, just because she loves JJ. But Jack, love is never, ever wrong, no matter who you love." Tactfully, Hotch left out mentions of stalking or pedophilia, knowing those discussions could come when Jack was a little older. "It's never okay to say bad things about someone, but especially when it's about something they can't help, like the color of their skin or how much they weigh, or who they love. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Daddy." With that, the little talk was over, and Jack ran back over to the main group and threw his arms around Emily's waist. She picked him up and hugged him. "I love you Emily," Jack told her seriously, and kissed her cheek.

The picnic might have broken up then if not for Jack's simple act of love and acceptance. Gradually the good mood that had dissipated at Bartlett's entrance crept back in until it was as if he had never been there.

One beer took the edge off. Three beers made things look a little better, and the sixth beer brought with it inspiration. Grabbing a duffel bag from under his bed, Bartlett looked through the contents, his fury rising.

How dare they speak to him that way? How DARE they?

They would learn. They would all learn. If anyone got to have the last word, it would not be those stuck up assholes at the BAU, or that wrinkled old crone Strauss. It certainly wouldn't be Hotch the Statue, or Prentiss the Dyke, or Jareau the Cock Tease. No, the last word would be had by Dennison Grant Bartlett.