Hey guys!! Here's a nice loooong chapter for you... once I started, I just couldn't stop writing!!! =D

I just wanna say thanks to everyone who alerted, and favorited, and reviewed this story... its awesome to get feedback from my readers

Anyway... Disclaimer: not mine... Warning: character death... I have moved this story up to M, simply for language

Happy reading...


So They Run

-BEEP- "Unit Two checking in." -BEEP-

Good. Morgan.

Hotch is standing back where they started, at the edge of the clearing, waiting for each unit to send the 'okay'. Protocol requires the units to check back in order. So he waits for Unit Three, Rossi. Within seconds…

-BEEP- "Unit Three. Clear." -BEEP-

And Reid…

-BEEP- "Unit Four. Fine Sir." -BEEP-

He starts to relax, more and more each time he hears a member of his team check in.

One minute passes…

Emily is Unit Five, and he finds himself rather excited just to hear her voice.

Two…

He tries to imagine the cute little phrase she will use to tell him she is fine.

Three…

She knows just how to word it, so it's professional, yet not at all. Only he will know that what she says is meant specifically for him. And that makes him happy.

He glances at his watch. It's been almost four minutes since Reid checked in.

-BEEP- "Unit Five. Come in." -BEEP-

Static.

-BEEP- "I repeat Unit Five. I need verbal confirmation on your whereabouts." -BEEP-

Emily answer me.

Then the fear hits. It crushes him in an instant, the sensation so overwhelming, he can't breathe. It is the most suffocating feeling he has ever experienced.

He practically screams this time.

-BEEP- "Unit Five… EMILY answer me damn it!" -BEEP-

Silence.

So he runs.

---

Morgan is standing in a civilian's back yard. He is in the shadow of an enormous off-white house, possibly three stories high. He can see a woman absentmindedly moseying around her million-dollar kitchen, not a care in the world, except what to make for dinner this time. If only she felt the fear he feels right now; maybe she would be debating about something different, besides… chicken or turkey? Instead, maybe she would be debating on whether to follow protocol and stay put, or follow her heart and help a friend in need.

He heard Hotch yell for Emily over the walkie talkie. It's frightening to hear him scream at her like that.

But then he heard silence… utter silence. That frightens him even more.

And the debating is over. There never really was a debate to begin with, the heart always wins.

So he runs.

---

Rossi had been wandering, cautiously of course, back in the direction from which he came. It wasn't long before he stumbled upon Reid, who was doing precisely the same thing.

Now… they are both stopped dead in their tracks.

A few minutes have passed since Reid announced his well-being; a few minutes of silence. But there is definitely not supposed to be a few minutes of silence. Emily is Unit Five, but she is not responding. She should be responding right now… but she's not. And it's not like Emily to play games, not in a situation like this. They both know this, and yet, they are secretly hoping that this is some kind of sick joke.

And then Hotch booms over the walkie talkie. Three times he calls for her.

They knew better than to try and fool themselves, this is no joke.

So they run.

---

"I said drop your fucking gun."

His words are dripping with disdain and she can hear the hatred in his voice. It makes her sick to know that a human being is capable of such abhorrence.

She doesn't look up at him.

"Okay… okay, just… relax," Emily says as she places her gun next to the walkie talkie on the ground.

"Get up," he seethes.

She finally looks up at him, and is met with the sight of a 9 millimeter pointed directly between her eyes. She looks past the barrel of the gun. He's not a large man, but definitely strong. Dressed in an oversized flannel jacket and rugged blue jeans, he seems relatively short. Black hiking boots adorn his feet. She quickly wonders if they're steel-toed. Glancing back up at his face, she takes mental notes: green eyes, short brown hair, 5'9'' at the most…

"Now."

She slowly rises, but doesn't put her hands up. He didn't tell her to, but either way, she's not going to give him the satisfaction. If she does, he has all the power; she would be surrendering to him. And that is not about to happen.

"Back away from the gun," he demands.

She hesitates, and then takes the smallest step backwards. Maybe it's pride… maybe stupidity… but she is going to make their encounter very difficult for him. She is not about to let this unsub get away unscathed. Who knows, maybe agitating him just a little will buy her team enough time to get to her. Or maybe it'll just piss him off.

"Don't test me girl. I will kill you."

Emily is compartmentalizing… well, trying to. She doesn't care how brave anyone is, if there is a gun in your face, fear is inevitable. No amount of compartmentalizing will ever change that. Yet, her face does not falter; it does not show the fear she feels. It is far easier to convince others that her skills are flawless, than it is to convince herself.

The unsub seems to find her audacity amusing. He gives her a malicious grin as he takes a step forward. He is testing her.

As an involuntary reflex, she takes a step back.

He laughs.

"I knew it. You're scared, just like them. You can't fool me. You women are all the same… pathetic. I guess the F.B.I. doesn't provide courage to go along with that gun of yours, hmm?" he mocks her, glancing down at her chest, reading the white letters printed on her vest.

He licks his lips.

A few seconds pass and she can't tell if he's still looking at the letters, or if he's imagining her naked. She really doesn't want to know.

Sick son of a bitch.

"So where are your F.B.I. friends?" he asks her, stepping closer still. So close, she can smell him. He smells like death.

It takes all she has not to cower away.

"I don't know," she plays dumb. She doesn't want him rushing out of here, with or without her.

"Well, I'm sure glad you're here. You're my ticket out of this damn place. So let's go."

He goes to grab her by the wrist, but she quickly retracts her arm.

"Don't touch me," she snaps.

But he's quick to react. She can see it happening, almost like he's in slow motion, but still she is powerless to stop what is about to occur. Before she even thinks about trying to get out of the way, he lifts his arm and swings at her. Gun still in hand, he backhands her hard; square across her right cheek. The force of the blow sends her sprawling to the ground.

Oww… shit…

Pain is radiating through her entire face and down her neck. Vision blurred, her eyes are watering from the deep stinging sensation in her cheekbone. It might be broken. Laying, practically on her side, she pushes her upper body off the ground, leaning all her weight on her hands.

"Ughhh," the groan escapes her lips before she has the chance to stop it.

She tenderly touches where he hit her, hissing at the contact. Her mouth is beginning to water severely. Spitting on the ground she discovers the liquid not to be saliva, but blood.

The unsub has taken another step closer and is now looming over her.

"Feisty bitch… You know how long it took each of them to quit fighting? One day. One damn day, and they were all begging me. 'I'll do anything' they'd cry. Shame… they were all weak. You're weak."

"Fuck you," the words are slurred slightly from the blood pooling out of her mouth.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him lift his boot to kick her. She can sense it. She knows it's coming, so she braces herself.

-BEEP-

The sound of the forgotten walkie talkie comes from behind the unsub. It has apparently averted his attention, because she does not receive a swift kick to the ribs. Whatever that person had to say over the radio, she does not hear it. She takes advantage of the unsub's loss of focus, springing at his legs as best she can from her position on the ground.

Taken by surprise, he falls backwards. Leaves crunching all around him.

Emily jumps on top of him and stuns him momentarily with a mean right hook. But he still has a gun. Her next move, however, is not for the gun in his hands, but her own gun which lies less than a foot from the unsubs head. She knows he is too strong, and she won't be able to wrestle his weapon out of his hands. Her next best option is to fight fire with fire.

While she's reaching out, the unsub takes advantage of her current position. He rolls them over easily and grabs her roughly around the neck. A drop of blood lands on the hand latched onto her throat; his nose is bleeding.

Clawing hopelessly at his hands and gasping for air, black dots dance across her eyes. The darkness is trying to consume her. But before it does, he grabs her up roughly, forcing her to stand on her feet. It takes a moment for her vision to clear. Then he lets go and steps back. She watches him raise the gun at her again.

"I don't have time for this, you little fu–"

And in one swift movement he turns to his left, gun still raised high. She has no idea what he is doing. Her mind is in a fog. She staggers for a second but quickly regains her composure. Watching him, she sees his lips are moving.

Focus Em. Who is he talking to?

Her eyes follow his line of sight and relief washes over her. There he is standing tall, gun ready, looking like a bronze god… ready for a fight.

Morgan!

"Drop the gun sir," Morgan's voice booms powerfully.

Emily watches the two of them in a standoff. Neither moving, neither looking like they are even breathing.

"Drop the weapon now. Nobody needs to get hurt. It doesn't have to end this way," Morgan continues.

He is trying to stay calm. He can see Emily in his peripheral vision, but he does not dare look away from this crazy bastard. One wrong move… and it's over for him… and Emily.

"Fuck off," the unsub speaks this time. "I… I'll kill her."

He refers to Emily, but does not look at her. He does not see her as an immediate threat. The man pointing the gun at him, however, is a huge threat. So he leaves his eyes trained on him instead.

"No, no you're going to leave her alone. Just put the gun down. We can work this out." Morgan is getting better at this negotiating business, Emily thinks absentmindedly; her eyes shifting between the two of them.

She settles her gaze on the unsub as he speaks.

"No we can't."

A malicious smirk is plastered on his face… and in that moment Emily knows. She knows what he is going to do. And she reacts.

"No!"

She leaps in the unsub's direction. She doesn't know what she's doing, she doesn't have a plan… it's all instincts. Adrenaline is kicking in; with all her might, she is struggling with this monster of a man. She has managed to get a hand on the gun, attempting to free it from his grasp.

"Emily!" Morgan keeps his gun trained on the unsub, waiting for a clear shot.

Morgan is shouting, the unsub is cursing, her adrenaline… fading.

'BANG.'

'BANG. BANG.'


Oh boy.... sorry bout another cliffhanger, but it just instisted on being left there... trust me I tried to continue, but I felt compelled to leave it.

So, the next chapter will be up soon b/c I can't leave you guys with this forever... and btw it will be a short one

So review please!! tell me what you like, what you dont... yell at me for leaving cliffy after cliffy... thanks 3