A/N: So I picked up my Criminal Minds DVDs and decided to watch it a few nights ago. I forgot how much I used to love this show. When I was done, I turned on my television and Criminal Minds was on too, the "Lauren" episode. I had two emotions running through my veins, first: SERIOUSLY? They "killed" Emily! I really hope that she will come back, but still I can't help but be mad at the situation. And second: what the hell is going on with Criminal Minds cast? I have to admit, I wasn't a Prentiss fan in season two, mostly because I loved Elle until the end and it was hard for me to see someone replacing her. But then she won her place in the family and I started to like her. In fact, she is one of my favorite characters, and I really hope that Paget will agree to come back for season 7 or it will be the end of the world! Losing JJ was too much already!

Anyways, after I watched it, I decided to write a story about Emily. You have to remember that this is a story about one character and not a pairing. This is supposed to be a story with three parts, talking about her new life. I didn't have a lot of feedback on my others stories so I don't think that I will keep the chapters really long this time. Still, if you want me to develop the story into something bigger, let me know what you are thinking and maybe we can sort out that. I wouldn't mind to make a story about Emily's return and all of that. I would love to, but it's up to you guys.

I want to apologize for the spelling mistakes. I'm Portuguese, and I'm trying my best here. Google translate does not always help me with some words and drives me crazy. I want to say 'thank you' to my beta Steph for all help in this story.

Don't forget that you opinion is really important to me, so I'm open to suggestions for this story. After all, I don't build this alone…we build this together. SO READ AND REVIEW as a good reader.

INTRODUCTION: "The meaning of the time"

Dreams drift away like leaves on the water

They roll down the river and slip out of sight

Too many times we do what we ought to

Put off till tomorrow what we'd really rather do tonight

And later realize

Time passes by people pass on

"Time Passes by" by Kathy Mattea

The cold winter breeze surrounded her. It was like a demon brought back unwanted memories of her past.

It's been one year, nine months, three weeks, six hours and a mere twenty minutes, if she counted correctly, that she has lived in Paris. Two years ago, she would never imagine that her worst nightmare would happen and that her life would be turned upside down. Or maybe she was already feeling that something would change, but wouldn't believe in what she was feeling. It was too much right? After all those years, he couldn't be back, and he couldn't torment her in that way. He was in prison, the best place for him to be; she was a FBI agent with a stable life and her dream job. Well sometimes.

"Mademoiselle Moreau?" A male voice called to her; she looked over her shoulder at him.

A man with a strong upper body, olive black hair and deep green eyes was looking at her with a tender look in his eyes. He was holding a blank painting canvas and handed it to her. "I thought you were in the mood to have some inspiration for your art." He explained with a smile on his rosy lips.

She simply nodded her head and took the canvas from him and placed it on the sidewalk, so that it leaned against the antique stone pillar where she was a few minutes ago. The beautiful scenery of Seine was right in front of her and she couldn't ask for a better landscape to paint.

"Merci." She simply said as she turned her back slightly to rest her shoulder against the pillar, looking at the river. The river was undeniably beautiful, but in her heart, she would rather replace it with a sea of people-Quantico people. Virginia's population. It didn't matter, just people that she could call her own.

"A penny for your thoughts?" The man asked as he stepped closer to her, wrapping his strong arm around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder, looking at the river too.

The woman laughed at what he said and looked at him through the corner of her eyes. "Just one?" She asked, raising her eyebrow.

He laughed with her and nodded his head, kissing the side of her neck. He pulled away from her and turned slightly to be able to look at her face to face. "Oh come on Monique, a penny is all I can afford, but I can promise you that with every cent I give you, you will be rich in less than a year." He said with a playfully smirk on his lips.

Monique Moreau. She will never get use to that name. More than a year has passed, and she still isn't use to that name, or even her new life for that matter. It was all so surreal. This wasn't her anymore. Her friends and family think that she is dead and her teammates are still looking for that man that 'killed' her. And what was she doing? She was in Paris, pretending to be an artist with a small gallery, a perfect boyfriend and a fake identity. She just wished that she could tell this man who she really was. This was a lie, a lie that he was living too, but he didn't need to live this at all. Of course he didn't know any of this; he was a blind man in a world of blindness.

"I was just thinking." Emily finally said and shrugged her shoulders slightly, smiling softly at him.

The man right in front of her tilted his head slightly to the side. It was like he knew something was bothering her. In fact, she was sure he knew that something was going on with her, but she couldn't just tell him that her name wasn't Monique, but Emily. That she wasn't French and wasn't an orphan. He would be devastated, he has lived a lie for a year with someone that he believed was the right one. But was that fair for him? Well in part yes, because she knew that it was a way to save both of them from her mortal enemy, Ian Doyle. He hasn't searched for her, so she could only hope that he thought that she was dead, not hiding in the shadows.

"I don't like when you hide things, Monique." The man said once again, like he was reading her thoughts.

Emily looked up at him and smiled softly at him, shaking her head. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed the brown beret that he was wearing to his eyes, laughing when he lifted it from his eyes with his free hand. "You don't have to worry with me, Frédéric. I my head in the clouds like always. You know how distracted I get." She tried to convince him and she knew that he would believe in her words; after all, he didn't know her as well as he thought he did.

The dark haired man looked into her eyes and finally agreed with her, placing his brown beret on her head. He tugged her blond hair to the side and smiled softly at her. "Have I ever told you how much I love your hair?" He asked, stroking her rosy cheek with his thumb. "I always had a thing for blonds." Frédéric whispered in her ear and Emily laughed at that, shaking her head, too bad he didn't know that she wasn't actually blond.

"Well you have to say merci to ma mere." Emily said, looking up at him in his eyes, before she whispered softly. "Have I ever told you how much I love your eyes?" She asked using the same words as him, obviously teasing him.

Frédéric leaned his head back and laughed at what she asked. He wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up. "All the time, mon amour." He said that as he spun in circles carefully as to keep her from falling. Emily couldn't help but laugh at that as she tightened her grip around his neck to make sure that she would be safe, because yes, she never felt so safe in her entire life.

"I'm going to get a coffee. Do you want something?" Frédéric asked after they were painting for three hours. His black gloves were full of paint so he took them off carefully, placing them on the small box right beside his chair.

Emily, was still his beret, didn't take her eyes from the beautiful scenery and nodded her head. "Can you get me a latte?" She asked, looking up when he didn't answer her. His paint was still there, but Frédéric wasn't anywhere. Her heart started to speed up a little, thinking the worst. Obviously, nothing happened and they were safe, but she still couldn't help but worrying. This was her only feeling since the day that she faked her own death. The fear that Ian was back and her life was going to be turned upside down once again. Yes, she mostly feared for the ones she loved, especially Frédéric.

There was a little boy playing with a ball against the bridge's wall. Emily walked toward him and paid a few coins for him to look after her canvas for a few minutes. Even thinking that Frédéric went to get the coffees; she forgot to tell him about the chocolate muffin that she's been dying to eat since she woke up. She had yet to eat that day and she could already feel her stomach cramping with hunger.

"Fréd?" She called for his name as she opened the door of the café's store. The now blond woman moved a lock of her hair behind her ear as she walked in, looking around for a brunette man with green eyes. But he wasn't there. Maybe he went to another café. This wasn't the only one and if she remembered correctly, there was another one on the other side of the street, but this one was his favorite. So why did he go to the other one?

That thought was still in her head when something caught her attention. Le Parisien had a cover that she couldn't help but stare at. She noticed Hotch in the picture and a blond girl was right beside him. JJ? Yes that was JJ and it was Morgan right behind her. Her heart was in her throat when she read the name "Ian Doyle" in the caption. What was going on…?

"Emily!"

Her old name made her freeze in place. The newspaper, her teammates, the photo and now the name, it all looked so familiar to her. She was still trying to connect the dots when someone touched her shoulder.

Emily turned around and looked into the green eyes of her boyfriend.

"Monique? You are okay?" He asked, obviously worried with her as he placed down the two cups of coffee and rested both of his hands on her cheeks to make her look at him. There was no way that she could run away from this now.

"Emily!"

The name was called again; she could help but looked around the café like she was searching for something or for some familiar face. "I'm not feeling very well." She whispered as she looked back at Frédéric. The dark hair man hugged her and her close to him.

"Emily! There you are."

Emily closed her eyes for a moment before she opened them to look straight at some small brunette girl that was holding a chocolate croissant in her hands. Her father ran to her and picked her up, saying her name over and over again. It was like nails on a chalkboard because now she would have to deal with the fact that she wasn't Emily anymore. For a year she tried to remember that Emily was dead and that her name was Monique now. So many times she looked over her shoulder as she walked to make sure that people weren't calling to her. To make sure that those people weren't friends or enemies from her past. But now she would have to deal with the fact that this war would never end. Every time his name showed up in the newspaper, she would have to just pass by and ignore it; she wasn't Emily anymore, and she had no reason to care about who he was. Unfortunately, deep inside of her, she did care because she didn't want her friends to be hurt. They were playing with the fire to save innocent people and to save her memory without even knowing that they were in fact saving her.

And finally going back home.

Was that what she really wanted, to go home and forget that Monique existed? Of course, but what about Frédéric? How would he react with the truth? Or even her teammates? She closed her eyes as she thought about them. The last time that she saw them was on that fateful day. She saw JJ a few days later when she first moved to Paris, but since then they hadn't keep contact. It was better for both of them, so she agreed to forget about her past. It was incredibly hard.

"Do you want to go home?" Frédéric asked. Those words caught her attention.

Of course she wanted to go home, but what was home to her now? To be honest she didn't know, but she didn't care. She knew that for now her home was Frédéric. He was the man that was there with her all the time and even not knowing what was happening with her, he was there without a second thought or a second question.

So yes, Frédéric Blanc was Monique Moreau's home.

And who was Emily Prentiss' home?

It was with the demons she left behind in her empty tomb.

Emily Prentiss was dead and Monique Moreau was alive. They weren't the same person anymore; they were just the same soul.

A/N: I have to add that Frédéric was my character. I needed to make someone to be with Emily because I didn't feel like she could live without someone by her side. So I gave her a ooft french man. Anyway I wanted to make someone completely different. Remember that she is not Emily anymore and that she is hiding. So I thought maybe blond and a plastic artist. Completely different and retro, but I so love that to be honest.

Next chapter we will see her interior deal with the news on the newspaper. But that will depend if I will make a long story or just a small one. Don't forget to tell me what you would prefer by the way. I would love to hear your suggestions and opinions.

HAPPY REVIEWS ;)