Author's Note: There are no words to describe my love for this episode. It was absolutely perfect. Paget's acting...good God, where is her Emmy? The emotion she put into every single word, the tears...everything. It shattered my heart into millions of tiny pieces. Oh yes, and Timothy V. Murphy was simply amazing. And my God, the directing! Matthew Gray Gubler is sheer genius. And to have had Paget request him as the director of her last (and 101st) episode...that's just special. Not only the acting and directing, but the music in the background...every single element of the episode made it STELLAR. I could go on and on forever. The entire cast - Shemar, AJ, Thomas, Matthew, Joe, Kirsten, Rachel and all the guest stars, too - was perfect. All of them. The magic of "Lauren" couldn't have happened without all the actors, because, just like in the BAU, every single member is integral.

If only CBS would see that.

Disclaimer: If I owned Criminal Minds, Paget (and AJ, for that matter) would stay on the show forever.

Emily Prentiss woke slowly, her eyes fluttering open from the sunlight peeping through the blinds. Still tired, she burrowed further into the sheets, covering her face with the pillow to block out noises coming from the downstairs living room. It was when she breathed in deeply, a strangely alluring masculine scent mixed with sweat and sex flooding her senses, that she realized something wasn't normal.

She sat up abruptly in bed, her gaze immediately falling on the peacefully sleeping form of Ian Doyle. Forcing herself to steady her erratically beating heart, it took her a split second to realize that nothingwas wrong. After all, she wasn't Emily Prentiss anymore.

She was Lauren Reynolds, arms dealer and lover of none other than Valhalla himself, the freelancing IRA captain who the team of her alter persona was itching to get their hands on. This was her 'normal' now.

Running her hands over her face, Emily let out a heavy sigh as she heard loud peals of laughter coming from a young child downstairs.

Oh, Declan…

Emily couldn't help but smile as she thought of the adorable little boy. She loved him so much. Genuinely loved him. And even though she knew that Ian was a decent father who cared immensely for his son, she wasn't just going to sit there and watch Ian shape Declan into a 'warrior,' when he had a chance for a safer, better life.

The rest of her thoughts were interrupted as she heard footsteps racing up the stairs, the boy on her mind entering the bedroom with a huge grin plastered on his face. "Hi," he murmured almost shyly.

"Hey, sweetheart," Emily – no, Lauren – grinned back, taking Declan into her arms and seating him on the bed beside her and his sleeping father. "You okay?"

He nodded, then looked at his father quizzically. "Daddy's still asleep?"

"Mm-hmm, so we have to be quiet or else he'll wake up. And he might even bring the tickle monster with him," she added playfully, lowering her voice dramatically.

Declan giggled. "Daddy's not the tickle monster."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot…I am!" And at that, she launched her assault, in love with the sound of his gleeful laughter.

"Stop!" he squealed, trying in vain to shield himself from the onslaught.

Finally, she relented. "I'm not through with you, young man," she teased. "However, I guess I'll stop before your father actually does wake up."

"It's a bit late for that, love."

Emily spun towards his voice, her curls spilling off her shoulders and down her back in the process. "I'm sorry," she said, taking the corner of her lip in between her teeth.

He let out a chuckle as his darkened eyes met hers. "Don't be. I'll just let you make it up to me later today," he added huskily, his Irish accent adding to the quality of seduction.

An involuntary shiver ran down her spine, and she thanked her lucky stars that Ian hadn't seen; he had been busy with Declan.

"Go on and ask Louise for some breakfast," Ian told him, idly running his fingers through Emily's hair. "Lauren and I will be down there in a minute."

After the boy left, Ian brought Emily up for a long, passionate kiss. "Good morning, beautiful."

She shot him a smile. "Good morning, handsome." Why was this so easy?

…Maybe because she wanted it so badly. She wanted a family, she wanted children of her own – not with Doyle, no, certainly not – but when he and Declan were right there…it was impossible to resist.

"You hungry?" he asked, his lips hunting across her jaw.

"Yes. But not in the way you are," she said knowingly, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Hmm…are you sure?"

"One hundred percent."

"It's probably because I wore you out last night," he said, a cocky look on his face. "I didn't work you up too hard, did I?"

"Oh, Ian…you worked me up just right," she answered, her voice breathy. Almost…seductive.

Who was she becoming?

Right as he was about to move in for another breathtaking kiss, Emily playfully shoved him aside. "Now go. I need a shower."

"Want company?" he asked slyly.

She answered him with a slight roll of her eyes and a look that visibly said, "Leave."

Laughing quietly, he made his way to the door. "Alright, alright. I'll go." He shot her a roguishly handsome grin. "I love you, Lauren."

"And I love you, Ian," she responded without thought, the words leaving her lips at their own volition.

As soon as he left her alone in the room, Emily let her head fall back onto the pillow. Releasing a sigh of defeat, she covered her face with her hands as she felt tears clawing at her eyes.

How the hell was she getting out of this one?

~.~.~

Hearing his footsteps approaching behind her, Emily braced herself for the torture that was sure to happen. Instead, she felt Ian's hands weave through her hair slowly, the action so familiar that it tore her heart to pieces.

"I hate you, Ian," she choked out, blinking rapidly to clear her suddenly cloudy vision.

He snorted humorlessly. "Sure you do, love. Sure you do." It was silent for a while before he asked, "Where's my ring?"

Nervous laughter spilled from her lips. "I flushed it."

He chuckled wryly along with her, stroking the skin at the base of neck unconsciously. "I spent seven years in hell because of that ring." Emily shut her eyes as she felt his hands creeping down the front of her shirt, undoing the top two buttons at an almost leisurely pace. Unwillingly, thousands of memories flooded her thoughts. Memories of times that began with that same touch…

Yet it was different now. She hadn't been tied to a chair with no ability to move eight years ago. She had been free. She had been…in love…

"So now," he continued, his rough, wandering hands caressing her satin-cased breasts, "I'm going to give you another gift. One you won't get rid of so easily."

Bile rose in her throat as cool, damp air hit her almost bare chest. As Ian walked away from her, her breathing began to become shallow, trepidation washing over her as she heard his voice yet again, this time from the corner of the room.

"A four-leaf clover should be a nice addition to your other tattoos," he continued, rolling over a cart on which an old, rusty looking machine sat. "You still have two, right?"

"Yup," she answered concisely, her breathing hard. "And that's enough ink, thanks."

He laughed, flipping a switch to turn on the machine. "Ink? North Koreans can't afford ink," he informed her, shooting her a smugly arrogant smile. "No, no…they brand themselves."

Emily could do nothing but watch as Doyle turned the heat higher, bringing the singing-hot metal 'pen' too close for her liking. She yelled in protest as he pulled her head back by her hair, exposing her whole, heaving chest to his gaze.

Holding her back as she tried to struggle, Ian said, "The more you fight, the more this'll hurt," and Emily could hear the smile in his voice.

But that didn't matter, because soon, Emily was screaming in agony, the smell of burning flesh filling the room.

And all went black.