Hello everyone. I'm back. It took me a little longer than normal because things have been a bit hectic and they still are. That is going to have an impact on my posting. Unfortunately I'm going to have to go to an every two-week posting schedule for the time being. Hopefully things will settle down and I will be able to go back to the once a week posting schedule. Fingers crossed, so please bear with me. Now lets get the traditional disclaimer out of the way. I do not own Criminal Minds or any of their characters; I just borrow them to play with.

This story takes place after "Back in the Saddle." Now go read and enjoy.

Emily's body cut through the water like a knife. She focused on keeping her breathing even, coming up for a breath of air with every fourth stroke. Swimming was not her favorite form of exercise, running was, but it had been part of her physical therapy program. Now that she had finished it and finally gotten rid of her perpetually over enthusiastic therapist, she found that it had become a habit. Instead of trying to break it, she decided to keep coming to the pool twice a week. Between the swimming and running, her body was almost back to its before Doyle level of fitness. Of course, she wasn't going to break any world or Olympic records with her freestyle, but her aim was to keep her pace steady and her strokes smooth.

After thirty laps, Emily climbed out of the water tired, but pleased with her progress. Removing her goggles, she grabbed her towel and headed for the locker room to wash the chlorine from her hair and body. A half hour later, Emily stepped out into the afternoon sun and headed for her car. Halfway there, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Someone was watching her. As she walked, she casually scanned the parking lot but no one stood out.

She unlocked the car with the remote. Before climbing in, Emily paused and looked around one more time. Spotting nothing out of the ordinary, she shrugged and chalked it off to the remnants of the paranoia that still haunted her. Emily slid behind the steering wheel and reverently ran her hands over it. It felt good to be driving again. No longer did she have to rely upon others to drive her to work, to her doctor appointments, or any errands she might have had. As soon as she had been cleared to drive, she had made JJ take her to the storage unit to fetch her car. Now she had her independence back. Well, most of it, she amended. She was still living in Dave's guest room but that would soon be changing.

Smiling, Emily started the car and shifted into first. She still couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that she was now a homeowner. Before Doyle, she had never considered owning any real estate, preferring to rent. When she thought about it, she had come to the realization that in the back of her mind was the worry that Doyle would find her and force her to flee at any moment. So she had remained unencumbered of large personal property. Anything of importance was small and easily portable. But now that Doyle was dead, she wanted to put down roots and have a permanent home. Thanks to Derek, she was now the proud owner of a row house in Dupont Circle. After consulting with her accountant, Emily ended up taking out a mortgage to pay Derek back because she could deduct it on her taxes.

As she drove, Emily thought back to when the two had sat down to discuss the improvements Derek wanted to do to the row house.

"Well? What do you think?" Derek asked, opening his beer as he watched Emily intently study the blueprints of the house.

The two friends were sitting out on the patio, eating pizza and drinking beer while looking over the plans he had drawn up. They had come directly from the BAU to Rossi's where Emily had been staying and recuperating since her return to the states. Dave's dog, Mudgie, was under the table lying on top of her feet.

Emily looked up with a smile on her face. "I like it, but…" she trailed off.

He arched an eyebrow. "But what?"

"I was wondering…." Again she stopped and bit her lip. "Never mind," she said with a wave of her hand.

He set his beer down and rested both elbows on the table. "Say what is on your mind, Emily. This is going to be your house."

"I don't want to offend you. I know you worked hard on these plans."

"You won't. Like I said, it's going to be your place and it should be fixed up the way you want it. These plans are just tentative," Derek said, tapping the blueprint with one finger.

Emily nodded and pointed to the interior walls. "Are any of these load-bearing walls?"

He frowned, looking at where she was pointing. "I don't believe so. What are you thinking?"

Seeing that he was open to her suggestions, she pushed on. "I prefer an open room concept, much like my old apartment." She ran her finger over the plans. "A breakfast bar could separate the kitchen from the rest of the living space and, if you can, I would love to keep the beautiful crown molding."

Derek nodded thoughtfully. "I believe I can do both," he said and she smiled in relief.

"Now upstairs there are three bedrooms with one bathroom. I was thinking of combining the two small bedrooms into a larger one and a bathroom. That way the master bedroom will have its own." Derek turned the page and showed her the layout of the second floor. "What do you think of that?"

"I like it."

Derek grinned at her obvious delight. It was nice to see her excited about something. "Now on to the big decision," he said, taking a sip of his beer.

"And what is that?" she asked, slipping a piece of crust to her furry companion.

"Currently the basement is set up as a separate apartment. Do you want to keep it that way?"

Mudgie let out a pitiful whine and Emily fed him another piece. "I'm not around enough to be a landlord nor do I have any desire to be one. It's too much of a headache and I get enough of those from work," she admitted. "I'm picturing the space as my study with lots of shelves for my books."

"I can picture that. I'll draw up a new layout. Then we can go over it and you can tweak it to your liking. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

Mudgie whined again and Emily showed him that her hands were empty. He sighed and dejectedly dropped his head onto his paws.

"You've spoiled him rotten," Derek said, chuckling.

"Yup," she said with a grin. "Mudgie and I are the best of buds now."

"He's going to miss you when you leave."

"I know. I'll miss him too." She pulled the foot that hadn't fallen asleep from out under the dog and rubbed it along his back. "But I think Dave would like to have his dog back."

"Probably. Any other changes you would like to make?"

Emily picked up her beer and took a long drink before answering. "There is one more thing and I don't know if you can do it." Setting the bottle down, she flipped through the blueprint pages until she found the one she wanted. "Could part of the attic space be converted into another bedroom?"

He bent forward and studied the plans. "I think so. Building codes require that a bedroom must have a window and there is one at the back. May I ask why?"

Emily turned her attention to her beer bottle; slowing turning it with her good hand since her other arm was still in the sling until she saw her regular doctor tomorrow. "Russ' aunt has pretty much washed her hands of him when he turned eighteen," she said quickly.

Derek nodded in understanding. "And you want to give him a place to crash during breaks or when his roommate is entertaining." He said the last while waggling his eyebrows.

She groaned and made a face. "I don't even want to think of Russ doing that."

He roared with laughter much to her chagrin. "Emily, he's a grown man," he said when he had caught his breath.

"I know but still ugh," she retorted, repressing a shudder.

"I think it's a good idea," he agreed with another chuckle. He was amused at how motherly his best friend had sounded. He thought it was funny how Emily groused about Dave occasionally going parental on her and here she was unintentionally doing it to Russ.

She looked up at him and smiled in relief. "You do?"

"Yup. It's good to have a place to call home."

Emily pulled up in front of her new house. She wanted to take one last look around to see if there was anything else she wanted to salvage before Derek gutted the place. It had taken two months to reach this point after she had said that she wanted the row house. Between the appointments with the accountant, mortgage advisor, physical therapist, and the heavy caseload at the BAU, the two friends were left with little time to start the makeover. Now that their hectic schedule had eased up, Derek had said he could get to the remodel sometime this week. She was looking forward to watching her place transform from a dump to the place of her dreams. Emily had planned on helping him but she wasn't sure if he would let her. Derek was still overly concerned about her shoulder even though she had assured him many times that she was back to one hundred percent good health. He still had his doubts even after she had scored high marks when she had re-certified shooting with her right hand.

He'll just have to deal with it, she thought as she exited the car. She walked around the front of it and had just reached the wrought iron gate when the hairs on the back of her neck stood in alarm for the second time in one day. Her watcher was back. Not wanting whoever was tailing her to know that this was her house, Emily kept on walking down the block. She casually glanced around and caught a glimpse of her shadow not far behind her.

When Emily reached the corner, she turned to the right and put on a burst of speed once she knew she was temporarily out of her stalker's sight. She ducked into the nearest doorway and pressed her back against the brick wall. She drew her weapon and held it ready, for once thankful for the lingering paranoia that made her carry her gun on her twenty-four hours a day. With eyes glued to the street, Emily took slow deep breaths to center her mind and calm her nerves. She listened intently for any sounds of pursuit.

Emily thought she had shaken her tail after a few minutes of silence. Then came the sound of footsteps approaching the corner. Straining her ears, she heard them pause and then turn in the direction she had gone. She automatically tightened her grip on the gun as the footsteps drew nearer. Emily blew out a sharp breath and leapt from concealment.

"FBI! Do. Not. Move!" she ordered, shoving the Glock in her shadow's face.

"Hello, Prentiss."

Her eyes widened in shock and she instinctively took a step back. Lowering the gun, she gaped at the apparition standing before her.

"Gideon?" she breathed in disbelief, staring at the man who had disappeared off the face of the earth five years ago.

Emily almost didn't recognize him. He was heavier and had let his hair grow out into an unruly mess. He sported a thick, scruffy beard that was liberally streaked with gray. But it was his voice that gave him away; that condescending tone of his. Her incredulity melted into anger. He had scared the crap out of her.

"Why the hell were you following me?" Emily demanded, shoving her weapon back into its holster.

He gave her a crooked smile. "I wanted to speak to you," he said reasonably.

Her eyes narrowed. "There are better ways to do that than by stalking me," she retorted.

Gideon held his up his hands. "I apologize, Prentiss." He smiled again. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

Emily stared at him fuming. She wanted to blow him off like he did to everybody five years ago, but her curiosity wouldn't let her. She blew out a breath of frustration and ran a hand through her hair.

"Fine," she said in resignation. "Come with me." She almost said follow me, but she already had enough of that today.

Gideon fell into step with her as Emily retraced her steps to her house. She unlocked the front door and ushered her old boss inside. With his hand clasped casually behind his back, he peered up the stairs and peeked into the front parlor all the while nodding appreciatively.

"This building has character," he observed, turning to her. "Are you planning on leaving it the way it is or completely gutting it?"

"Gut it. I prefer an open room layout," she said.

"I can see that," he said with another nod and looked around.

Emily bit back an angry retort and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Gideon, what do you want?" she asked, cutting to the chase.

"I need your help," he said, turning back to her.

She frowned at that. "My help? With what?"

"After his college graduation, my nephew, Noah, decided to take a year to hike through Europe. The other day my sister was notified that he had been killed in Paris."

All the anger Emily had felt for him dropping unwanted backed into her life evaporated. "Gideon, I'm so sorry for your loss," she said in sympathy. "But what does that have to do with me?"

He waved off her condolences. "I volunteered to go identify the body and I would like you to come along as my translator. You are fluent in French?" he asked.

"I am," she confirmed, a bit baffled by the conversation. "But there are translators just as qualified there."

"They aren't you."

Emily didn't know what to say. Compliments from Gideon had always been few and far between.

He continued. "There still is corruption with the police forces. I believe they will only tell me what they think I want to hear. With you at my side, you will be able to tell what they actually said. Just like what we did at Gitmo."

She sat down on the stairs. "I don't know," she said with some hesitancy.

He locked eyes with her. "Prentiss, you're the only one I can trust," he said frankly.

Now she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He wanted her help, but at the same time, she had no desire to return to Paris now or anytime in the near future. The place held too many bad memories. And why was he turning to her in his time of need? They weren't friends; they were far from it. She knew very little about him and he knew nothing about her. It would have been more logical for him to approach Hotch. He continued to look at her expectedly.

"I would have to clear it with Hotch first," she said, stalling for time.

"Understood."

Emily bit her lip and sighed, making up her mind. "I'll do it on one condition."

"Name it," he said with a nod.

"You need to talk to Reid," she said.

It was Gideon's turn to frown. "Why?"

She searched his face for any sign that he knew what she was referring to and found none. He seemed genuinely clueless. She stood up.

"He was hurt and confused when you left," she said, remembering the abandoned look in his eyes.

Gideon was still confused. "I left him a letter."

Emily shook her head as she repressed a sigh. "He deserves to hear the reasons directly from you."

He took a moment to consider her words then nodded. "I will when we get back."

She shook her head. "No. Before," she said emphatically.

Emily was afraid Gideon would disappear the moment they got back stateside. All she wanted to do was to give Reid some closure. Every now and then over the years, she had caught a glimpse of the hurt in his eyes from the abandonment he still felt. And her actions over the past year had only made that feeling worse. Reid's sense of loss and abandonment had deepened with her death. With her miraculous return, the feeling had lessened for him but their relationship wasn't at the same level it had been before Doyle. Back then she was the only one he had confided in about his headaches. Now if anything was troubling him, he kept it to himself or told someone else but not her. Emily hoped this would be another step in mending their now fragile friendship.

"Okay," he agreed.

She nodded, relieved that he had assented. "Uh…do you have a number I can reach you at? It will probably be a few days before I'm free to go." In the back of her mind, she was hoping that Hotch would deny the request and get her off the hook.

Gideon reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper with a phone number scrawled over it.

"You can reach me here any time of the day," he said, handing it to her. "Does Reid still have the same number?"

"He does," she answered, taking the paper from him.

"Good," he said with a nod. "I should be going."

He went to the door and Emily followed him out. Gideon waited on the steps while she locked the door. When she turned around, he said, "I want to thank you for what you are doing."

Emily shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "Don't thank me yet. I'm not sure I will be of much help."

"You already have," he said with a small smile.

Gideon gave her a nod then turned and headed down the rest of the stairs and out through the wrought iron gate. Emily remained standing where she was and watched her old boss head off down the street. When she could no longer see him, she looked down at the slip of paper that was still clutched in her hand. Slowly, Emily crumpled it into a ball, unable to shake the feeling that this trip wasn't going to go well.

Hope you all enjoyed the first chapter. Please let me know what you thought about it. It will be much appreciated.

Before I go, I want to thank everyone who nominated my last story for the Profiler Choice Awards. I was tickled pink when I got the notice. Thank you. Don't forget to the check out all the nominations and vote for your favorite stories. There are a lot of good stories there. See everyone in two weeks. Until then.