A/N: Two in one day. Miraculous. Haha. This was HARD. But I think it turned out all right.

Enjoy!


Chapter 3

Hotch sat behind his desk, waiting. Watching the clock. When he'd spoken to Elizabeth Prentiss, she had said she and her husband would be there at around 3 o'clock. It was 2:50. He'd spent the past six hours deciding what he was going to say. How was he going to tell these people their only daughter was dead? That he hadn't been watching her closely enough to see that she'd wandered off on her own, to face what she had to have known was certain death. How he had been far too busy profiling Ian Doyle to notice how she was doing.

Looking back on the situation, it was so obvious that something had been wrong with her. She'd been acting strange for weeks, and he'd been to blind to see. He should have been able to prevent all of this. He was the leader of the team. He was supposed to protect the others. Reid had noticed. Morgan had noticed. Hell, even Seaver had noticed. How hadn't he?

"Agent Hotchner?" Anderson said, poking his head in the door. "The Prentiss' are here,"

"Thank you, Anderson. Send them in, please," Hotch replied. He was out of time. The knot that had been in his stomach since late last night, tightened. He stood up, and walked to the door of his office to greet the confused looking couple.

"Thank you for coming," he told them, shaking Mr. Prentiss' hand, then the Ambassador's.

"What's going on, Agent Hotchner?" Elizabeth demanded immediately. "You said it was urgent..."

"Yes, it is, and thank you for coming this quickly. I know both of you are extremely busy, but this is important. Would you please take a seat?" Hotch asked, moving to his own seat. They both knew something was wrong already. He could tell. As soon as both of them had seated themselves, he proceeded. He took a deep breath, and met the eyes of both his agents' parents in turn.

"Are you aware of Emily's work with Interpol? JTF-12?" he asked, realizing he probably needed to start at the beginning.

"We're aware she was working for Interpol, but we were never given details. For her saftey," David Prentiss replied, nodding non-commitally.

"All right. Then I suppose it's imperative I start at the beginning." he sighed, this was going to make things more difficult. "Seven years ago, a group of elite profilers were compiled under the lead of Clyde Easter. Emily was one of them. She went undercover as Lauren Reynolds, a weapons specialist from Belgium. She eventually was able to infiltrate a breakaway IRA faction headed by a man named Ian Doyle. Not long before she had him arrested, he discovered she was a mole. Luckily, she was saved by the men who came to arrest Doyle, and her. Doyle was sent to a North Korean political prison. As you know, not long after that Emily relocated back to the States," Hotch began.

"Yes... we're aware of that," Elizabeth nodded.

"All right. Well, JTF-12 had disbanded at this point. Emily joined the BAU. Things were going well. Until several months ago. Emily began acting strangely. It was only recently that we discovered that Ian Doyle had escaped from prison for one reason. To hunt her down. Emily left the rest of the team after Doyle threatened to harm us. She was taken hostage, and we continued work on our profile. It didn't take us long to discover the motive." he took a deep breath. This was much more difficult than he'd anticipated, or ever imagined. David and Elizabeth were sitting with bated breath, both had gone pale. "She had supposedly killed his son Declan. We, however, found this wasn't true. She'd pretended to kill him to keep him safe from Doyle. Last night we found Emily and Doyle's location. We rushed there and took out the guards. Agent Morgan entered the building with several local SWAT members. Doyle heard us coming, and fled. Emily was on the ground, with a broken table leg protruding from her chest..." Hotch closed his eyes, emotion swelling through him as he reached the conclusion. He could hear the quiet, worried breathing of both of Emily's parents. He knew what they were thinking. They were both hoping for the best. Hoping he was telling them Emily was in the hospital, recovering. He also knew that they both knew exactly where he was going with this. Emily wasn't coming home for another Christmas. No more birthdays. No more dinners with her parents, awkward as they may be. Emily was gone.

"She was rushed to a hospital, and immediately was sent into surgery. Early this morning we were informed by Jennifer Jareau, the liaison for the Department of Defense, and a former member of our team, that Emily had passed away on the operating table. She'd lost too much blood. Th...there was nothing that could be done. I'm so sorry,"

A strangled sob emitted from the Ambassador, and tears were silently sliding down her husband's face.

"I'm so so sorry," he repeated. It was only a whisper. He couldn't bring himself to say more.

"When is the funeral?" David finally brought himself to ask, his hand remained comfortingly on his wife's back.

"Nothing's been decided yet," Hotch replied, so far he was doing an excellent job of keeping the emotion from escaping into his voice.

"Can we see her?" Elizabeth asked, stifling a sob.

"I don't think that would be a good idea." he shook his head. "It's best to keep the memories you have of her."

He braced himself for an argument, but, surprisingly none came.

"He's right, Liz. Emily wouldn't want us to remember her battered and... and..." David shook his head and began sobbing himself.

"If there's anything I can do... anything at all, please, let me know," Hotch offered. He still felt overwhelming guilt. He still felt it was all his fault.

"Thank you," Elizabeth nodded, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief she had pulled from her pocket.

"We'll let you know." David replied, regaining composure.

It took several more minutes for the two of them to calm down enough for Hotch to be able to get the information he needed for the funeral. Next Friday. The kind of coffin they wanted. The headstone. Flowers. Speakers. Everything. Every detail. He would take care of it for them. They exchanged goodbyes, and the grieving parents slowly exited the room.

Hotch had finished all the paperwork pertaining to the case, he was ready to go home. He needed to go home. He needed to see Jack. He needed this day to be over.