They were outside the large home Ian Doyle had rented for his family's stay in the States. It was in D.C., not far from downtown and part of an expensive housing development. Morgan knew the market well enough to know that the unit was costing the man a fortune, even just for a couple of weeks. Apparently, money was not something you worried about when you trafficked in illegal weapons. Ian Doyle probably had cash to burn.

Elle was beside him, slipping the soft, off-white earwig into her ear. Local PD was with them, SWAT armed to the gills, ready to take Doyle down if he put up a fight. They had all been shown a picture of Lauren, or rather Emily, and instructed that she was a UC and they were not to fire on her. Or manhandle her. Clyde Easter, the British Interpol agent had snapped that request at them, before they'd left. Morgan had shared at eye-roll with Elle at the man's expense.

Though Morgan would admit, he'd be pretty pissed if some SWAT unit got physical with Elle or Reid. Then again, if some unfortunate SWAT officer did try to manhandle Elle, he'd probably be lucky to escape with minor injuries.

"Ready?" Elle asked. Morgan nodded, and looked at the local detectives and SWAT commander. They nodded back.

SWAT poured around the perimeter of the house, while he, Elle and the two detectives moved up the path toward the front door. They moved with their weapons pointed downward, and Elle pushed the doorbell. All four of them tensed when they heard footsteps.

An older woman answered the door, her light hair pulled behind her head. She eyed them with curiosity, but not the fear most civilians would have worn. "Can I help you?"

The accent was thicker than Doyle's had been.

"Yes, we're looking for Ian Doyle. We have a warrant for his arrest, and another to search this house and any vehicles Mr. Doyle and his family are using." Elle handed the woman the paper, and they pushed their way inside.

Her eyes widened, and she struggled to keep them back and speak as they surged forward. "He's not home right now. You'd do best to come back in a couple of hours."

Morgan smirked. "Right, like he wouldn't be on a private jet outta here, by then."

"Who are you, Ms…?" Elle asked.

"Jones. Louise Jones. I keep the house for Mr. Doyle."

"Who else is in the house with you?" One of the detectives asked.

"Just Mr. Doyle's girlfriend and my son. They've done nothing wrong."

"His girlfriend, that would be Lauren Reynolds, yes?" Morgan asked.

Ms. Jones frowned. "Aye, that's her name."

"We've got a warrant for her too."

"What? Why are you arresting her? For what charge?"

"No charge. She's a material witness," Elle said.

Morgan froze. "You didn't ask why we were arresting Doyle."

The housekeeper's eyebrows rose. "I've been with Mr. Doyle for many years. Police come knocking isn't out of the ordinary."

"Where's Ms. Reynolds?" Elle asked, neck craning as she looked around the house.

"Why do you want to cause trouble for her? She's the one had wrong done to her."

Morgan nodded. "We know that, but right now, she's either an uncooperative witness or the victim of two abductions in as many days. Either way, she's coming with us."

"She's upstairs. Bedroom to the left of the stairs."

They charged up, leaving the detectives downstairs to let SWAT inside. They would probably be disappointed when they found out there would be no action.

Elle nodded toward the left, and Morgan followed her until they came upon a small bedroom that must have belonged to a child. There was a stuffed toy on the twin bed, but no people in sight.

Guns still drawn, they advanced slowly. Morgan walked around the bed and found a train set on the floor, most of the tracks set out and connected, but still no people. He looked at Elle, and then nodded toward the closed closet door. She stood back while Morgan advanced and quickly yanked the door open.

Lauren was inside, a small caliber gun in her hand, and the other arm behind her. She relaxed, but only slightly at seeing him. Her demeanor didn't change when she saw Elle.

"Agents." She began to lower her weapon, but stopped. Morgan began to lower his, and checked that Elle was lowering hers. Lauren finished lowering hers, and stepped out of the closest, a small, blond boy walking behind her.

"We're here to bring you in, and arrest your boyfriend for murder."

She bit her lip. "I'm fine now, you don't need to worry about me."

"Either way, we've been instructed to bring you back to Quantico." Morgan leaned close to her ear and whispered to her. "It's over, Emily."

She jerked back, eyes wide, mouth open. She glanced at Elle, her whole body tense and on the defensive. Morgan remembered that feeling well. It was the worst part of being undercover.

Everything and everyone was a threat.

"You can bring the boy to his mother downstairs, and then we've got to take you back," Elle said.

The boy tugged on Emily's sweater. "Are they taking you away?"

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Instead she crouched down, and smiled at the boy. "I have to go away, and you may not see me for a while, Declan."

"No!" The boy threw himself at her, wrapping his arms around her, and nearly knocking the Interpol operative off balance. Morgan could hear his tears start.

"I'm sorry, sweetie." She held him back, one hand gently stroking his golden curls.

Declan pulled away and looked at her, his bottom lip quivering. "Please, don't go."

Emily pulled him back against her body, and kissed the top of his head, only paying them the barest of glances. Then she sighed, pulled away and stood up, taking Declan's hand.

Morgan saw the moisture in her eyes and shot a look at Elle. Her eyes said she saw it too.

When they got downstairs and things were not exactly kosher. The MPD officers were all looking around for someone or something. "What's going on?" Morgan called.

"The housekeeper seems to have vanished," the lieutenant in charge said.

"Seriously?" Elle grunted.

"Yeah, don't ask me how the hell she got out of here with all this SWAT around."

"Great. She's probably reporting to Doyle or one of his guys right now," Elle said, throwing her arms up in the air.

"That might be good for us. He'll come after Lauren again, we'll just nab him then."

"And this time, he'll slaughter you," Emily said, hands over Declan's ears.

Morgan shrugged. "Then we'll just have to make sure we have a bigger army."


Emily was very conflicted. Half of her was rejoicing that her assignment was finally done, the other half wanted to cry. She was sending the father of her unborn child to a Russian prison for the rest of his life. That that knowledge bothered her was enough to tell her that she'd been under too long and had gotten far too close. All of her was exhausted.

Still she held Declan close to her body, her arms locked around him, holding the book they were reading so both of them could see it. The little boy was relaxed now, but his body had been filled with tension until they'd been left alone in the conference room ten minutes ago. He knew something was very wrong, but was afraid to ask.

The door opened, and Emily looked up from the book to see Clyde, Sean and Agent Morgan. This was the moment she'd been dreading since Morgan had said her real name. She turned back to Declan. "Hey sweetie, would you go with Derek for a minute, so I can talk to these men?"

Declan bit his bottom lip and gripped her arm tighter, but nodded anyway. The little boy leaned up and hugged her, his skinny arms wrapping around her neck. He stayed for several minutes, unmoving. Emily pressed a kiss to his blond curls, and pulled away. She smiled at him. "It won't take very long, okay?"

He nodded silently and slid off her lap. She took his hand and walked him the few feet to Agent Morgan. The FBI agent crouched down, a big smile on his face. "Hey little man, I've got this wacky friend named Penelope, she's got a bunch of fun stuff in her office. You want to meet her?"

Declan smiled and nodded, but wasn't very enthusiastic as he exchanged her hand for Morgan's. He waved goodbye, and the two disappeared from the room, leaving Emily alone with Clyde and Sean.

"So…" She said.

"Is it true?" Clyde asked.

"Is what true?"

"That you got yourself knocked-up by Doyle," Sean said.

Emily crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes, I'm pregnant." Can't trust the damn FBI with anything, she thought to herself.

"The agents you told, they were concerned about you, don't be angry with them for telling us," Clyde chided, reading her easily as always.

"Your assignment on Valhalla is over as of now."

She glanced at Sean. "Yeah, kind of figured that when you outted me to the FBI."

"Why didn't you call for extraction?" He asked.

"Didn't have much of a chance. Everything was fine until someone smashed something into my skull and locked me in a closet. Then everything happened sort of quickly."

"You should have called when you found out you were pregnant."

She shrugged. "Wasn't sure until the ER ran my blood. Besides, as long as Ian didn't find out, it wasn't an issue that couldn't wait until my next check-in." She paused. "By the way, what the hell happened to my surveillance while I was shopping?"

"Jeremy didn't want to lurk by the alley, so he drove around to meet you at other side. When you didn't show, he drove back around, and starting searching the shopping area to see if you changed your mind and continued shopping. When he found your bags in the alley, he reported in and said you were missing," Sean said.

Clyde's eyes blazed. "Idiot," he muttered.

Sean shot a look at him. "Clyde here very nearly tore the poor bastard's head off. Don't be surprised if he can't look you in the eye the next time you see him." He surveyed her face. "Especially when he gets a look at that."

Emily scoffed. "Please, I've had worse than this. And, it's not Jeremy's fault; he couldn't have known it was going to happen."

"Did they tell you what Keeling does to his victims?" Clyde asked. Rarely had Emily seen him so tense, or seen him struggle to control his anger. Clyde Easter was always as cool as a cucumber as the saying goes.

"That's the serial killer?" She asked. Both men nodded. "Nope, I could guess though. Doesn't matter now anyway. Doyle killed him, right?"

"Killed is an understatement. Doyle tortured him. Though I can't say I didn't appreciate his efforts."

Sean snorted, but nodded in agreement.

"What happens now?"

"FBI uses you as bait and arrests Doyle, and we take him into custody and back to Europe. You take some time off." Sean paused. "You get to be Emily again."

"That'll be…weird."

"What are you going to do about that baby?" Clyde asked.

She shrugged. "No idea."

"What? You're not having an abortion?" Sean asked, taken aback.

"I don't know."

"Have you lost your mind?" The Scotsman asked.

Emily thrust her hands onto her hips. "No, I have not."

"Then why not get rid of it?"

She summoned all her patience to keep from smacking him. "Because Sean, this may be Doyle's child, but he or she is my child too."

"Please tell me you aren't considering keeping it?" Sean's face scrunched up like the very idea was revolting.

"As I said, I don't know what I'm going to do, and frankly, it's not your damn business." With that, Emily turned, putting her back to her teammates, and busied herself with straightening the bag she'd packed for Declan.


Elle shot a look toward their charge, and then back at Derek. Lauren, or rather Emily, sat quietly on the sofa flipping through some coffee table book left by some prior occupant of the safe house with little interest. A psycho who was in love with her was due to burst into the place any minute to try and take her, and the Interpol agent looked almost bored. No, she actually did look bored. Then again, to do the sort of work she'd been doing, Elle imagined the woman must have nerves of steal.

She was also certain the undercover operative was a little pissed at them. Elle couldn't really blame her. She sighed and walked over to the sofa, sinking into the seat next to the other woman. "I know that you're pissed we told your people that you're pregnant, but we didn't have a choice."

Emily looked up from the book of flowers. "Of course you did. You could have kept your mouths shut."

"You were comprised. You needed to be removed from the field."

"Agent Greenway, have you ever worked UC?" Formal titles, yep, she was pissed.

"Not long-term."

"Ever think that maybe you didn't have the experience necessary to make that judgment?"

Elle shifted her body to more directly face the other woman. "I've been a cop a long-time, I can tell when someone's compromised, and in your case, it wasn't very hard."

Emily didn't comment, but her calm, appraising look said enough. She was not impressed or moved. And she was still pissed.

"You said you loved him. If that's not compromised, I don't know what is."

Finally, the tiniest shift in her features. "That hasn't stopped me from betraying him yet."

Elle watched her face carefully, and found herself wondering if the Interpol agent actually felt guilty about that. Not compromised, her ass.

"Hey," Morgan called. "I think I saw something move."

Elle hurried over to the window he was positioned by, and peered around the curtain blocking them from view. Something in the weeds definitely moved.

"Hotch, Doyle's here. You copy?" Morgan spoke into the receiver on his wrist.

"Copy, we'll start edging in quietly." Elle heard their boss respond in her ear. She glanced around the room. "You feel like playing poker, Lauren?"

"Sure." Emily grabbed the deck from the coffee table, playing along. If Doyle had eyes inside the house, they had to look like they were oblivious to his people attempting to break inside.

"Watch it, Greenway. I played with her earlier, and she kicked my ass."

Elle scoffed. "Yeah, like that's hard, Derek."

"Are you implying that I suck at poker?" He asked, mock offense coloring his words.

"Implying? No, I'm not implying anything," she smirked at him.

They settled down then, Elle sitting beside Emily as she dealt the cards. For the first time since arriving, Elle was struck by the exhaustion etched into her eyes. It was warring with the stubbornness.

"How many do you want?" Emily asked her, holding up the rest of the deck.

Elle cocked her head and studied her hand. "Give me two," she said, handing two back to the spy.

"We don't have any poker chips," Emily suddenly said.

The profiler pondered that, before walking toward the bookcase and grabbing a candy package there. She ripped it open and dumped skittles onto the coffee table. "Divide them up."

"Come on now, I know that wasn't my skittles you just dumped there," Morgan craned his neck, searching the bookcase.

"You didn't even want them, Derek. Don't whine."

"Not yet. I have to be in the mood for candy."

"You'll live without them," Elle called over her shoulder. She looked up from her hand to see Emily with a hand over her mouth. "Lauren?"

"The sweet smell, it's uh…these aren't going to work." She suddenly got up, and began walking away, taking deep breathes.

"Uh Derek, you may get to eat these –" She never got to finish, as the sounds of gunfire startled all of them.

Morgan leapt on top of Emily, and Elle hit the floor, yanking her Glock out. The flare from what had to be half a dozen weapons took turns lighting up the dark night. A bullet hit one window and it shattered on top of Morgan and Emily.

"Derek!" Elle called.

"We're good. Keep your head down!" Then she heard him speaking with a slightly quieter tone. "Hotch, what the Hell is gong on out there?"

When they received no response, Derek cursed. Elle did so in her head. "Alright," she head him say, "I'm going to keep you covered, Lauren, but we need to move away from the edge of the window toward the center of the house. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure." She didn't correct him or even seem to notice that he used the wrong name.

"Okay, crawl, I'll be right behind you."

"I'll meet you there," Elle said. First though, she shimmied toward the wall, jumped up quickly and slapped a hand over the light switch, sending the room into darkness.

While Doyle's people wouldn't shoot Emily, they would happily shoot her or Derek, and since they didn't know who was shooting or toward what, she figured it was better safe than sorry.

Elle started crawling back toward the center of the room when it became apparent that her valiant light-switch flicking was unnecessary. The rest of the house plunged into darkness.

"Well, that's never good," Derek mumbled toward her left.

"Doyle might already be in the basement, either that or he found the power lines and cut them."

Then the shooting stopped. The three of them went silent, glancing around at each other until they heard the sounds of boots pounding up the front steps. Elle found Morgan's eyes in the darkness, and they nodded at each other, prepared to take on whatever came through the doorway.


A/N: I'm sorry for the long wait for this chapter, but I've been dealing with a stomach ulcer that won't go away for the last four weeks, among other things, and guess I needed to check out for a little while. There's only a couple more chapters for this story, so barring some sort of catastrophe, they should go up in the next couple weeks. Thank you everyone for the reviews on the last chapter, and whoever reviews this one, and thank you all for sticking with the story!