AN: Hey all. I'm getting to work on some of my older stuff at the moment. "Indefinable" muse hasn't woken up yet. I've taken some creative license in this chapter, but I hope you enjoy. I feel like an old spy novelist... hehe. Anyway... The Gina character I'm referring to in this chapter was the CIA agent from 1.21 "Secrets and Lies".

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Criminal Minds.

Emily looked into the mirror, a pale, exhausted version of her former self reflected back. She sighed, running her fingers through her wet hair, and wondering what the hell her life had become. She couldn't help the path her mind wandered down… memories.

Emily sat on the vanity in her parent's bathroom, grinning back at her father. He always looked handsome in a tuxedo, and tonight was no exception. Reaching up she took the two ends of the bowtie, her father looking on in the mirror. It was a ritual… something that only the two of them shared, from when she was old enough to follow instructions. And now, at 10 years old, it was one of her favourite parts of the day.

When she was finished, Emily ran her hand over the tie and looked up at her father. He smiled at his reflection, before looking at his daughter and winking, "Good job, pretty girl."

Emily beamed back at him, a slight blush touching her cheeks. As soon as her smile had appeared, it had disappeared again. "Do you have to go tonight, Daddy?" she asked softly, "Can't you and Mother just skip one of these events?"

Simon smiled sadly and leant over, placing a gentle kiss on his daughter's forehead. He lifted her from the vanity and placed her on the ground, shaking his head, "I'm sorry sweetheart, but you know we have to go tonight…" Simon paused, looking at the forlorn look on his little girl's face, "But I'll make you a deal… Mom and I got tonight, then in a couple of weeks when I can get some time off, I'll take you to visit your Pappy."

Emily's face lit up at the prospect of sharing some time with her two favourite Prentiss gentlemen. Nodding eagerly at her father's offer, she threw her arms around his waist, grinning further when she felt his arms wrap around her.

Patting his little girl on the back, Simon drew back to look at her, "Ok… now go brush your teeth and get ready for bed. I'll check on your mother and we'll come say goodnight." Simon simply watched as Emily let go, and walked away, turning back to wave at him.

"Je t'adore, Papa!" she cried out, before exiting into the hallway.

Emily looked down at the toothbrush in her hand, feeling the grief start to rise again. She threw the brush at the wall across from her, watching as it hit the floor beside the toilet as she ran her hands through her hair. I will not break down, I will not break down, I will not…

"Emily"

Her mantra was interrupted when Hotch knocked on the door, calling out her name. She'd gone to have a shower and freshen up about thirty minutes earlier. And when she hadn't returned to the room in that time, Hotch had gone searching for her. He had thought maybe she'd gone to sleep, or had gone for a walk around the floor they were currently occupying. But she had been in that bathroom the whole time.

"Emily," Hotch gently called again, "Can I get you anything?"

Emily wiped her hands over her face before she went to the bathroom door and slowly pulled it open. She immediately felt guilty about the worried face standing before her. Grabbing her ready bag from the small seat in the corner, Emily offered Hotch an attempt at a smile, knowing she had failed but surprised when he said nothing in reply. He simply passed by, squeezing her shoulder as he entered the bathroom, the worried look on his face remaining as she closed the door behind him. A few moments later, she heard the sound of the shower running, and without looking back she made her way back down the hall.

Rossi walked through Garcia's door just minutes after entering. After confirming that Hotch and Emily were still at the hospital, Rossi didn't wish to stand around listening to Garcia and JJ hypothesizing the cause for their friend's disappearance.

Instead, Rossi figured, his time could be spent finding out facts. He quickly made his way back through the bullpen, past Reid gesticulating wildly while telling a story to Anderson, and up to his office. Closing the door gently behind him, Rossi made his way to his desk chair and picked up his phone. This time he didn't need a book telling him the digits.

"Hello?"

Rossi felt a small smile grow at the sound of her voice, and the memories the sound invoked. "It's Dave," he said simply, inwardly chuckling at the exasperated sigh that transmitted into his ear, "I need a favour."

On the other end of the line, in her office at Langley, Gina couldn't help the smile that grew on her face. She had never imagined hearing that voice again, and was even more surprised at the words it was speaking. "What can I do for you, Sergeant Major Rossi?"

Rossi chuckled and shook his head, "Never thought I'd hear that title ever again," he joked. No one ever called him that anymore, even those who had served with him all the way from basic training. Granted, none of those men had shared quite the same experiences with him as Gina Sanchez.

Immediately sobering up when he reminded himself of the purpose of the call, Rossi cleared his throat, "I have a friend… and I think she might be in trouble."

Gina wrinkled her brow and sat up at her desk, "Who is this friend?"

Rossi swallowed hard, knowing that Gina would likely be aware of Simon Prentiss, and therefore aware of his daughter.

"Emily Prentiss."

With those two words, Gina had no choice. And all Dave heard in response was a dial tone.

Hotch exited the bathroom, the steam following him into the main room as he walked through the door. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed, looking down at the small brush in his hand. He tossed it into the trash can by the bed and tightened his grip on his ready bag as he left the room.

It took him seconds to reach Simon's room again, and in that time, Hotch was wondering to himself how he was going to support Emily through this ordeal. Judging by the toothbrush that lay on the floor of the bathroom, and the trail of blue and white toothpaste that ran down the wall, Hotch had assumed that Emily's emotions had started to make their way out of the carefully defined boxes she normally stored them in.

He pushed his way through the door and found her sitting in the armchair, her head resting on her arm as it stretched out to her father's side. Her eyes were closed and watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, Hotch could see that her exhaustion had finally won.

Gently placing his ready bag on the floor next to Emily's, and smiling at the pairing, Hotch reached down and picked up the blanket from the floor. He lay it over Emily's tired body and ran his hand down her shoulder. He couldn't help the superficial path his mind went down, thinking how beautiful and peaceful she looked as she slept. Clearing his mind of any regrets, he reminded himself that it was simply a fact… that most, if not all, people thought Emily Prentiss was beautiful. And therefore he would not feel guilty thinking it himself.

Hotch turned and made his way outside, tipping his head to Hampton and meeting him halfway.

"Emily's asleep at the moment, but I'm wondering… is there a chemist or store I could run to quickly?" Hotch asked.

Hampton nodded, "There's a small 24 hour convenience store two doors down," he replied, "I'll get one of the guys to go with you."

Hotch almost dismissed the offer, before realizing that it was no such thing. This wasn't his ballgame… he was just an unfortunate spectator. And God help him if something happened to him on the likely ten minute journey. So instead of insisting that he was fine on his own, Hotch simply nodded and thanked Hampton for his help.

As Hotch expected, the journey to the store took only about ten minutes. Armed with his purchases and personal guard, Hotch exited the elevator on the all-too-familiar floor.

Nearing the door, Hotch looked up to see Hampton coming to meet him. Pulling him to the side, Hampton lowered his voice and sighed.

"I just got word from a friend at Langley," he started, "Someone has been going over the tapes from the Ambassador's residence and spotted the same car driving past on six separate occasions in the past four weeks." Hampton paused and shook his head, "They dug a little deeper and it led them to James Creek Marina." Pausing again, Hampton looked up at Simon's door and wrinkled his brow, "What do you know about the Rozhin organization out of Samara?"

Hotch wrinkled his brow, "Branch of the Russian Mafia that specializes in human trafficking all across Eastern Europe."

Hampton nodded, "The yacht that the two men in the car returned to after each occasion… belonged to Oleg Vidov… son of the boss of the Rozhin organization."

Hotch's eyes closed gently, fear running through his veins as he contemplated what this news meant. He sighed and nodded, "Leave it with me… I'll…" he paused and shook his head, "I'll talk to her."

Hampton nodded in reply, and stood back to watch Hotch make his way back to the room. Turning back to the other agents standing guard, he offered them a sad smile.

Emily looked up when she heard the door open. As Hotch made his way into the room, she closed her book and bit her lip. He did not look good. She stood from her seat and met him halfway, reaching for his arm, "What is it?"

Hotch sighed inwardly. He had foolishly hoped that he would be able to school his features before Emily saw him. But apparently God was busy elsewhere. He reached around her to drop the small paper bag on his ready bag, before taking her elbow and leading her back to her seat.

Dragging the other chair to sit in front of Emily, Hotch took both of her hands in his own and looked up.

"Hampton just spoke to me in the hall… about your dad," Hotch started. He paused as Emily's eyes quickly darted over to where her father lay, still sleeping soundly. When she turned back to Hotch, he continued. "The Rozhin organization is involved in this… do you know who they are?"

Emily's eyes grew wide and she nodded, her heart beating wildly, "Russian mob."

Hotch nodded, taking a deep breath before he continued, "Emily, it's not safe here… for you or your dad."

Emily looked up, a frown on her face, and Hotch's heart broke a little.

"We need to get you and your mother somewhere safe, and find another hospital for your father."

Emily immediately started to shake her head, but Hotch spoke before she could get a word in.

"It's too dangerous Emily," he said frantically, "I can't protect you here… with them knowing where you are. The only way I know you will be safe is if we go somewhere they can't find you."

Emily felt a tear fall down her cheek, and closed her eyes when Hotch reached up to wipe it away, "He can't be moved… the surgeon said there's a bullet pressing on his spinal cord." Emily took a deep breath, letting the air out in a shuddering sigh, "I can't lose my Dad, Hotch," she looked up at him, her pathetic face making his chest ache, "I can't leave him."

Hotch stood up, pulling Emily up with him and holding her to his chest. Kissing the top of her head, he nodded, "I know you don't want to, Em… but you have to." Hotch paused, running his hands over her back, before he stepped back and offered her a small smile, "I can't lose you… and the only way I can stop that from happening is if I take you somewhere else. Your dad will be taken care of… CIA and Secret Service are making sure of that. Your mom will stay in her house, with her guards there 24/7. So I need you to trust me and let me take care of you."

Emily sighed against Hotch's chest. Intellectually, she knew he was right. There was no way that the CIA was going to spend money and resources on keeping an FBI agent safe. And her mother would be safer at home, with the Secret Service to watch over her. But Emily wasn't thinking with her head, she was thinking with her heart. And her heart told her that she wasn't ready to say goodbye to her dad.

Eventually, though, Emily's heart gave up the fight and she stood back from Hotch. Keeping her hands around his waist, she looked up into his eyes, cataloguing the fear she saw, and nodded. "What's the plan?"

Hotch wrinkled his brow, wondering if it was really that easy, that Emily Prentiss (stubborn as a mule) would actually fold so quickly. But instead of analyzing the situation further, Hotch wrinkled his brow, massaging Emily's tense shoulders as he thought over their options.

Rossi couldn't stop his heart from beating frantically, wondering if he'd just make a colossal mistake. He had been hoping that Gina would be able to pass on some information, but now he was wondering if maybe…

He shook his head and huffed. Too many spy movies Dave, he teased himself. Gina Sanchez was not a mole. Gina Sanchez was an intelligent, patriotic, talented… beautiful… American. With all of her credentials and experience, and having served with her in the Gulf, Rossi knew that he could trust her.

He shook his head and turned back to his computer, wondering if maybe he was overreacting about the whole thing. Hotch had said that he would take care of Emily, and that all he needed was for Rossi to take care of business. Nodding to himself and sighing deeply, Rossi clicked on the little envelope in the corner of the screen and started to scan through the countless emails that had accumulated while he'd been in New York.

He found himself immersed in the work, and was surprised when an hour quickly passed by. Looking at the half-empty coffee mug on his desk, Rossi sighed and stood, grabbing the mug and heading for the door. He almost jumped out of his skin when he saw her in the doorway.

"SCIF… now."