I decided to try my hand at this... I may continue it depending on how its recieved and how the storline goes (And even then, I may just make it AU).

I don't own Criminal Minds! :D

Courage is found in unlikely places. ~J.R.R. Tolkien

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"...Am I in danger?"

"We all are..."

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"We all are… We all are… We all are…"

Sean's words still echoed in my head. They haunted my dreams, lingering in every dark cranny within my mind. They whispered the promise of a confrontation during the day; I was haunted by the images of the members of my team, my friends, co-workers and family, dead. The people that I cared about and worked with everyday, sprawled on the floor, their blood pooling around their bodies; it was an image that stalked me, branding itself onto my eyelids.

I didn't say anything to them. What would I say? What could I say? I couldn't just go up to Hotch and Rossi and say, there's something that wasn't mentioned in my file. I did some work for Interpol and my former boss there just informed me that a dangerous man from my past has escaped from prison and is coming after me, which means that there's a possibility that all of you could die because of it…

Yeah, they would all take it really well.

A week after their initial meeting, I got a call from Sean. There was no greeting, and no pleasantries; Sean got straight to the point.

"Doyle's been spotted in the country," he said. "Tipping and his team are going to try and waylay him, but you may want to keep your eyes open, Emily. In the meantime, I'll send a man to watch you, but until he gets there, you're on your own."

After I had hung up with Sean, I began walking. I had to get away, go somewhere. I found myself at a small bookstore/coffee shop populated mainly by an older woman and a Georgetown student with an iPod blaring what sounded like some rock band. I ducked into the SciFi section to get away from the stares of the clerk/barista, a teenager with three piercings on her ear, two more on each of her eyebrows and one on her nose and lip. My nose was assaulted with the scent of printed pages and coffee, and I immediately relaxed.

I remembered afternoons as a child, when I'd sit in the library of one on the many houses I lived in as a child, or when I'd sneak into my father's study, how I would just sit at the foot of one of the numerous bookshelves that housed the countless books, and I would relax and take in that same scent that filled my nostrils now. As I got older, I began taking down the books on those shelves opening and reading them, usually finishing them in the span of an afternoon or two. Those books, those rooms… they were my sanctuary. But that was so long ago, back when I hadn't had to worry about Ian Doyle, back when I was innocent….

"Do you need help finding something?"

I jumped, my reverie broken; I knew that voice.

"Reid?" I asked, turning toward the speaker.

Indeed, there was my young genius co-worker. Today he was wearing a casual white collared shirt, minus the tie, jeans (I had never seen him in jeans before), as well as his usual Converse with a tan leather jacket that seemed likely to match his tan leather messenger bag, usually considered a third arm. His hair was unruly, like it had been for the last couple weeks, and the ever-present dark circles under his eyes seemed even darker than normal, making him look paler than he usually did. Under his arms he carried a stack of thick books.

He smiled slightly at me, setting his load on an empty shelf where I assumed that the books in his hands were supposed to go.

"I volunteer here when we aren't on a case," he explained in response to my unasked question, gesturing around the aisle they stood in. "I come here sometimes, when a case gets to me. I find it quiet here; it's a sanctuary for me when I need to… get away."

I nodded in understanding; I knew what it was like to want to get away, to go somewhere safe. I was feeling it now. The overwhelming fear, the need to be somewhere safe...

"Emily, are you alright?" he asked suddenly. Concern was etched into every facet of his skin. I felt his hand on my shoulder, and I gazed into his concerned eyes. I had never realized how soft they were. My heart suddenly flipped in my chest and my stomach bottomed out somewhere around my navel; the next thing I knew my eyesight was blurry as tears collected in my eyes and fell down my cheeks.

The walls I had so carefully constructed as a child were coming down faster than Morgan could kick down a door, faster than Reid could shoot off a statistic, faster than Garcia could find an UnSub….

Before I could stop myself I had buried my face into Reid's chest. He stiffened for a moment before I wrapped my arms around his thin shoulders and a moment later I felt his arms complete the embrace. His hands flowed along my heaving shoulders, running up and down my back, rubbing, patting, comforting.

"It's alright, Emily," he whispered. "It's alright… I'm right here… I'm here…"

I wanted to cry. Usually I'd be angry at myself for showing this kind of emotion in a public place, but once I started crying, I couldn't stop. I cried for my lost childhood, the baby I had aborted at fifteen. I cried for my friend Matthew, for John, for my mother and father. I cried for Gideon, for JJ, for Garcia, Hotch, and Morgan. I cried for Reid, and for Sean. And I cried for me. For what was waiting for me outside the doors of this corner bookstore/café, for whatever torture Ian Doyle had in store for me.

I heard him whisper something to someone outside our bubble and a moment later I was being led to a corner table in the café portion of the store. The backs of my legs hit the edge of a chair and I sat; his body followed mine into a chair that had been placed next to mine seconds later. A cup filled with a hot liquid was placed into my hands, with a whisper of "On the house."

I wanted them all to go away, to just leave me alone with Reid. I wanted the world to disappear so that it was just us, so I wouldn't have to feel like a victim. Tears still ran down my face, but the sobs had turned into hiccups, the heaving breaths to little gasps. I still felt his hands on my shoulders. And then, his voice spoke to me, quiet, soothing, helpful and caring.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?"

I was almost tempted to not tell him.

Almost.

As I told my tale he listened. I stared into his eyes, and he looked back into mine. I told him about my work with Interpol, how Sean and I trained together. How I caught Doyle the first time and put him away. How after that case I quit, went to the FBI. How I still kept in touch with Sean. And then, how Sean had contacted me about Ian Doyle's disappearance. How I knew Doyle was coming for me, and that he was within the area and how I felt that I may not have much time left.

By the time I was done, he was watching me. His eyes watched me, explored my face as I dried the streaked makeup from my face, and wiped the tear tracts from my eyes. His hands grabbed mine, rubbing soothing patterns into the skin of my wrists.

"We can help you, Emily," he insisted. "We won't let him near you."

"You can't tell the others," I whispered, a stray hiccup escaping from my throat. "They must never know! You shouldn't even know."

"But I do," he said fiercely. "And I promise that if you only want me to know, I can keep it to myself. I will do everything in my power to protect you, Emily."

You don't have to-"

"But I want to," he insisted. "And I will."

And he said it with such finality that I just closed my mouth and ended the discussion.

I remembered what he had said, about coming to this place when a case had hit him hard. His sanctuary, he had called it.

What it possible, perhaps, that I had found mine in him?

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Friendship is the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weight thoughts nor measure words. ~George Eliot

A/N: I hope you liked it! Wish me luck! :D

And please review! ;)

*~N_CBAU~*