A/N: Sorry for taking so long…my novel loves me!

But a review at last! Thank you, Jennifer, for leaving a remark…the last few chapters have been a little rough to write, so your encouragement was a welcome sight.

Five

Almost a month passed before Emily Prentiss was allowed to return to work. When questioned, she could only vaguely remember what had transpired, and often found that she couldn't recall how long it had been before she was rescued…or whether she had simply been ejected from captivity, much in the manner of Special Agent Morgan.

Now, Prentiss was only assigned to desk duty, shuffling paperwork and organizing reports like clockwork. Occasionally, one or more of her former teammates would drop by, but their answers were always the same—the attacks had yet to present any predictable pattern and clues indicating Thomas Benton's whereabouts had yet to be found. Against both Hotchner and Rossi's wishes, Emily had visited Andrea Benton twice; but the poor woman had already titled herself a widow.

Nine days after Emily returned to work, however, she discovered that things weren't quite as they seemed.

It all started with an afternoon walk.

Usually, Special Agent Prentiss kept to the grounds of FBI headquarters, preferring to avail herself of the complex's many sidewalks for fifteen or twenty minutes in the middle of the afternoon before making that last stretch until five-thirty. Today, however, there were errands to run and Emily quickly found herself in the heart of Quantico.

oOoOoOo

She nearly missed him. Even when she looked again, she almost took him for someone else.

He'd been dressed in dark blue denims and a royal blue polo shirt; his sandy brown hair feathered over his right eye like a rebellious teenager. Perhaps the most striking difference were his glasses—gone were the horn-rims that made him look like a shop teacher from the sixties, replaced by a pair of gold wire-rims that made him look adorably intellectual. Those changes, combined with the well-defined arms peeking out of his sleeves, made Emily wonder if she wasn't looking at another man entirely.

"Tom?" Prentiss asked incredulously.

The light changed and the gentleman crossed the street.

"Mr. Benton?" she called again.

The gentleman sped up and Emily nearly had to jog to follow.

I have to get him to safety! she thought.

The mysterious stranger strode on for two more blocks before slipping into a Catholic church Prentiss had never noticed before. Quickening her pace, Emily was relieved to see her quarry slide into the confessional. Saying a little prayer for forgiveness, she looked both ways before stepping into the box reserved for the priest.

"You shouldn't be here," he said in a voice nearly unrecognizable.

"I had to know if you were okay."

"She has spies everywhere."

"I'll make it quick."

"If you want to know where I've been, I can't tell you." There was a noise as he slid back to lean against the wall. "She releases me in various places, leaves and has one of her allies tie me up and take me back a few hours later. This is the first I've seen Quantico in weeks."

"You look good," Emily said idly, thinking back to her time in captivity.

"If you're thinking of the video, that wasn't me."

She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Ananke had me locked up in another location, watching a secure feed as it happened." Tom paused. When he spoke again, there was a note of amusement in his voice. "She left me conscious for the whole thing, then performed Tantric massage afterward."

"I think you're coming down with Stockholm syndrome."

There was a sober silence.

"I still love Andrea. I think about her every day; wish I could call her," he said. "But when I think about what happened to you, to your friend, to so many others, I consider myself lucky."

"You can go home. Right now. I can call for backup and have you in Mrs. Benton's arms in hours."

"Don't get yourself killed!" Tom snapped. "They're all watching. If they see me with you or with anyone who works in law enforcement, that will be the end. She'll stop torturing and start killing—and you'll be the first!"

Prentiss seriously doubted that anyone as clever as Ananke would be dumb enough to try to kill an FBI agent, but she held her tongue.

"What are you going to do?"

"Wait her out," he said simply. "She's bound to get bored sometime. One day, I'll escape and she'll never make me come back."

Quiet lingered for a moment.

"It's time for me to go." Tom got to his feet. "Promise me one thing, Emily. Don't do anything rash. I can take care of myself."

Prentiss opened the door, intending to hug him, but Tom was already gone. The agent hurried toward the main doors, arriving on the steps just in time to see a black Lincoln stop beside her friend's father, half a block away. A statuesque woman slipped out and Tom obediently turned around, presenting his wrists for cuffing. Once bound, the woman removed his glasses and helped him into the car. Emily was tempted to call out, but found her tongue frozen as the woman dropped into the left side and the car glided away from the curb.

Author's Notes

1. Tom desperately needed a makeover, so I gave it to him. ^_^ | He has one more coming by the end of the story, but it's not as drastic.

2. That "shop teacher from the sixties" comment isn't mine—it's how Jack Coleman feels about Noah Bennett's glasses (aka HRG on Heroes).