Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or its characters.

AN: So I'm rather pleased with myself for getting this one done in a more timely manner lol. I'm having a little bit too much fun with this. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!

A quick side note: I have not watched any episodes since Shemar Moore left (save for the scenes between him and Kirsten on Youtube!), so I do apologize if the characterization of Luke does not reflect who he is on the show. At some point I'm sure I'll get around to watching seasons 12 and 13 in their entirety, but today is not that day.

"Luke, I need to talk to you."

Penelope walked into Luke Alvez's office, the one that once belonged to Derek Morgan. She closed the door behind her, giving him a pointed look. Under one arm she clutched the binder from Derek. Luke looked up and away from his computer. He arched a brow at her. Leaning back in his chair, he said, "Yeah? What's going on? You look a little off."

Truthfully, she felt more than just a little off. She felt rattled, like she would burst into flame at any moment. "I need your help," she said.

He smiled. "Oh? What can I do to help you out, Garcia?" He glanced around her to look through the blinds on his window. Outside the office, staring at a wall of photos of FBI agents from years past was Hank. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his sweatshirt, his shoulders slumped as he tried shrinking himself away from anyone that went through the hall. "Anything that has to do with that kid standing around out there looking nervous?"

"Yeah, actually," she said. "That's…that's Hank, my godson. And, actually, it's the two of us need your help."

Luke's eyebrows shot up. "Hank? As in Hank Morgan, Derek Morgan's son?"

Penelope pursed her lips. "Yeah, that's who he is," she said, tip-toeing around saying Derek's name.

"And, uh, what is he doing here?" Luke asked. "Didn't you lose contact with them all years ago?"

"Yeah, yeah I did," she said in a small voice. "But listen, how long it's been since I've seen them isn't the point." She went on to fill him in on everything Hank had told her. She set the binder down in front of him on the desk.

"I think Der – " She stopped right in the middle of saying his name. "I think Hank's dad was on to something. I looked at some of the articles he put in this and he made notes. He found a pattern." She flipped to one of the articles about a man found in an abandoned mechanics shop on the east side of Chicago. "See, this man had significant signs of torture and had been missing for two months. But he was homeless, so it took longer for someone to go to the cops to say he was missing." She flipped the page to another story, this one with even more notes. "But her, Molly Clark? She was only gone for a week. There were signs of torture, but nowhere near as severe as the John Doe found."

Luke frowned at her. "Umm, Garcia I don't think I'm seeing what you're seeing. Or what Morgan is seeing for that matter."

She shook her head vigorously. "Look at his notes! He wrote that the difference between these two particular cases is that the signs of torture were similar, but the bodies were found almost immediately after the police were called in. So someone is taking people, and they're torturing them for as long as they can until the cops begin looking for the victims. It's the same with the other three cases he's found. But no one is noticing because the time is so spread out between when they're reported missing."

"Garcia, he hasn't profiled in years," he said, skeptical. "Being a PI isn't exactly the same thing."

A streak of defensiveness reared its head inside her. "He was one of the best profilers we had, Alvez," she snapped. "Profiling isn't just something you lose the ability to do."

He rubbed his face. "So…what? You think he got taken by an unsub when he started getting on the trail?"

"I don't know for sure, but I heard the voicemail he left for Hank," she pleaded. "His most recent case was a man who came to him to find his sister, but he didn't trust the police. So he hired a PI. An unsub wouldn't notice someone privately seeking him out. But if he found him, he could make him the new victim. Someone has him and we need to get him back." Her voice grew even quieter. She felt weary after reciting everything back to Luke. But she had to keep going. "He's all Hank has left now. We can't leave a boy without his dad, not when we can do something."

She felt like she'd just run a marathon as she waited with bated breath for what Luke would say. At first she couldn't read his face. His expression was clouded with neutrality. She'd gone to Luke before anyone else because she believed their previous romantic relationship might soften him to the possibility of helping her with her wild goose chase for a man none of them had spoken with in over a decade. When she lost contact with Derek, so had the rest of the BAU. Distance and work schedules and life in general was too much for them to want to speak to their old friend. Penelope often thought, sardonically, how even the bond forged through being through multiple life threatening situations together wasn't even enough to survive trivial matters.

"Penelope," he said, finally blinking and breaking eye contact. "You do know we can't go in on this right? It's a local gig. And if Hank already went to them and they said they found his car, then they clearly know about it."

"But they haven't gotten back to him about anything else!" she protested. "It's like they're not even doing a damn thing to look for him! And I have the phone number of a detective that he was talking to. I think we might be able to find out more if we talk to him."

He rose to his feet from behind the desk and went to stand in front of her. Placing both hands on her shoulders, he said, "Doesn't matter. We have no jurisdiction there and they haven't given us a call. You know that."

Cursing, she averted her eyes. Of course she knew there was no way the BAU could go in. The fact she was even trying to convince Luke that they should try to get the rest of the team on board was ludicrous in and of itself. That didn't mean she wasn't going to try, though.

"Luke?" she murmured, looking back at him. Tears floated on the surface of her eyes.

"Hmm?" he asked.

She sniffled. "Will you come with me and Hank to Chicago?" she asked. "I know it's a lot to ask, I know it! But we could use your help. I could use your help." It wasn't fair that she was laying the pitiful act on thick, but she needed a profiler with her. With Hotch and Rossi retired, JJ with her children still living at home, and Reid out of the country on a teaching sabbatical, she only had Luke as a potential ally. It would be much harder for her to be useful to Hank – or Derek, for that matter – if she was going alone.

Luke studied her face a long moment. He moved his hands from her shoulders to take both her hands. He gave one a gentle squeeze. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. "You haven't talked to the guy in ten years. You'd never tell me what happened between you two, even when we were together. So why are you ready to jump on the next flight to Chicago to go find him?"

"Are you saying no?" she asked, ignoring his questions about her motives. Hell, she didn't even know the answers to those questions. But he didn't say anything. Pulling her hands from his grasp, she turned for the door and didn't spare a look back at him. Before leaving the office, she muttered, "I'll call you if I need to."

She left before he could reply, shutting the door firmly. The tears dried from her eyes as soon as she stepped out into the hall.

Hank's face shot to her, a hopeful look on his face. "Is your friend going to help us?" he asked, desperate.

Clearing her throat, she said, "No, he isn't. He'll probably answer if I call. But for right now, we're on our own." She met Hank's eyes, Derek's eyes. She could feel the blood fleeing her face. Nausea rolled through her gut and she swallowed hard. She wasn't entirely sure she could take this mystery on by herself, but she was damned if she didn't give it a try.

Desperation turned to concern. "Aunt Penelope, are you okay?" he asked. "You look really...sick?"

Was she? Penelope couldn't quite answer it. Luke's refusal to help was logical. She couldn't really fault him for it. She didn't think it was that that made her feel ill. Luke wasn't the man making her feel the way she did.

"I'm fine," she lied. She forced a smile. "C'mon. We've got to grab some things from my office and buy plane tickets. We'll get a cab to Dulles soon as we can."

XXXXX

15 Years Ago

When Derek got the call from JJ, he'd gotten on the first plane he could. He remembered the unsub the team was hunting like a monster in a nightmare. And if he was seeing a monster, he could only imagine what Penelope was seeing when she closed her eyes.

Now, as they sat in his old office, he watched her face light up in childlike delight as she viewed the short video of Hank saying "hello" to her.

"Thank you for this," she murmured, putting her phone down in her lap. "I really needed it."

He nodded. "Of course," he said. He watched her face carefully. Since the last time he'd seen her there had been nothing said about their kiss. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. But her silence spoke louder than anything, so he didn't bother bringing it up. That didn't stop him from wondering about it, though. Every single day he wondered about it. Part of him thought maybe she moved on to someone else.

Maybe his replacement. Alvez had a look in his eye when he teased Penelope. Derek despised that look.

Penelope stared at her hands. Her breath sounded shaky, like it was teetering on a balance beam. She held something back. He knew her well enough to see she wanted to hide something.

"I – I know you said you couldn't stay," she whispered. "But…" She choked on her voice. "Frack, I don't even know how I can ask for this. Especially when you have to get back to that sweet baby boy and – "

He cut her off. "Spit it out, Baby Girl." He knew what she was going to say. And he couldn't believe it, but he was going to say yes in a heartbeat.

"Stay. Please." She lifted her head and met his eyes. Those whisky colored eyes shimmered behind her tears. He had his answer for what she felt right then and there, just by looking at her. "Just a little bit longer. Not even for the night."

Moments later they were in her office. He hated himself for staying, but he loved having her in his arms. Her skin was soft in his hands, especially her thighs he stroked under her skirt. She was ravenous, linking one of her legs around his waist. She tasted like tangerines and green tea. Keeping one hand on her thighs, he brought the other up to stroke her cheek. It came away wet, stained with tears.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

She choked on a sob. "Do you ever hate yourself for something you've done? But it's something you've always wanted?"

She meant right now, his body pinning her against the wall. She meant what they were doing when he had a wife and child back home waiting for him. He knew exactly what she meant.

"When I'm with you, I don't," he murmured, feeling that same flash of self-loathing creep up his spine.

Wiping her tears, she shook her head and wrapped her arms around his neck. She captured his lips again. Her fingers trailed underneath his shirt, tracing circles on his abdomen that sent small electric shocks through his whole body. Those deft fingers went for his belt buckle next, hastily undoing it so she could release him from the confines of his jeans. He sucked in a breath, pushing her up against the wall so her legs snaked around his waist. He thrust her panties out of the way, then thrust into her. They melded together and he didn't think he'd ever fit with someone who made him feel so complete.

"Derek," she whispered in his ear. Her teeth scraped against his earlobe. And then he forgot everything else.

Everything but Penelope.