Jet Lag

Chapter 1: Poker

Normally the deck of cards is only pulled out for the rides back but with this particular case, they had come right out of one rough case and are now being thrown right into another, a decent game of Poker seems to be the only way to compensate for the damage inflicted.

As to be expected, the best poker face is Hotch's. God knows what they would do if they ever had to really profile the man. The player with the most experience is Rossi, with over forty years tucked under his belt he can outplay even Hotch's best poker face. However, professional card counter Spencer Reid gives both men a good run for their money. What all three lack is the combination of all three and is where none other than Emily Prentiss comes in. She can profile through Hotch's best iron curtains, she can count the cards, and she has played against America's, the UK's, and Asia's best poker players at her mother's dinners.

"Isn't so bizarre to think that over 7 billion people had a different day than us?" They are waiting for Reid to dig the cards out from inside the kitchen, he'd yelled something about coffee the last time had shouted for him to hurry along.

Hotch, the only person who seemed to hear her, nods in his silent agreement. "Maybe it's better that way."

She looks up at him, funny how he always seems to throw her off with the way he says things. "Why do you say that?"

If Rossi is interested in their conversation he doesn't let it show. Instead, he cast his gaze to his lap where his hands lie folded together.

Hotch intices her by answering," well it would make life very dull if you and I shared the same exact details of every day together. You'd be taking to individuality out of everyone's day."

Emily can't help but imagine the way it would have felt to live in his life. To feel the pain that she only saw.

He knows she's thinking it too.

"Yeah well if we all had the same kinda days as Morgan, I figure some of us would be doing quite well." Dave swoops in for the save all the while making their conversation about Derek's sex life.

"I will have to pass on that one," Emily says shaking her head at the mere thought.

Reid finally makes his entrance with the cards.

"What the hell took you so long son," Rossi asks shuffling the cards.

"I spilled some coffee."

Hotch looks up," I better not have to go in there and clean that up."

Reid shakes his head," no. No! Of course not. I got it all."

Hotch nods, excepting his agent's rushed answer and accepts his cards.

After looking over his cards Hotch decides now's a better time than ever to check in with the pilots.

Pulling himself from his warm, soft leather chair Hotch warns them all with a crooked finger not to look at his cards. He knows very well that they will anyways but his hand is not something to marvel at, yet.

"Yikes," Rossi breathes, peaking at Hotch's hand over Reid's shoulder.

Prentiss, already seeing the hand, shrugs. "Don't count him out yet." The two brunettes had become closer since Foyett broke into Hotch's house and then, later, killed his ex-wife. Several pizza nights with high-risk poker games have left her with the knowledge that Aaron Hotchner always has a plan. "He has a plan and if you're not careful he'll suck you right into it."

A quick jerk from the jet, shrugged off as nothing more than turbulence, has Morgan jerking up out of his seat and snaking wildly at the Dr. Dres covering his ears and supplying a loud beat from his music.

"You good Derek?" Rossi asks sarcasm dripping from his tongue like syrup," looked like you'd seen a ghost."

The jet shakes again and the cards in their hands are dropped so that they can grab the seat rest.

"Hotch?" Morgan calls once he sees his boss' empty chair.

The jet takes a dip and now it's Rossi's turn to appear to have seen a ghost.

The Unit Cheif stumbles out from where he had gone back in to check in with the pilots. "Buckle yourselves in."

No one dares to argue or even hesitate to follow their leader's order.

"Oh Lord," Rossi mumbles kissing his knuckles to mumble a prayer under his breath.

"Statistics say that we only have a one in 29.9 million chance of dying in a plane crash but there are 12 million deaths per on airlanes. That's not attributing-"

"Spencer," Emily warns taking in the looks of fear that are written on each of the men's faces around her.

The only thing worse than Reid's statistics is the silence.

"Somebody say something dammit!"

Hotch takes it upon himself to keep his team calm. "The black box will have Garcia here in no time. She'll see that we haven't checked in."

The jet shakes furiously and Hotch can't force the words out of his mouth.

Emily opens her tightly shut eyes to peer around the shaking jet. She can see the sweat pouring down Morgan's head.

The lights are shaken out and Emily's head connecting with the window has the same effect.

Reid makes it until just before impact, it's is the sudden drop in pressure in the cabin.

For the first time since she left, Reid is glad JJ isn't with them.

Well let's see how this goes... I suppose the team aren't the only people that could use a good luck wish...
-SH