I own Amelia, Joe, Kathleen, Irene, Adam, Ryan, and any other characters that aren't in the series normally. Everything else belongs to it's respective owners.

I don't remember falling asleep, or even getting into bed. When I woke up, I was confused for a few minutes as I took in my surroundings. Then, everything hit me with a wave of fear, depression, and anger. I half expected to start crying, but the tears didn't come.

"Glad to see you're awake," said a quiet male voice. Looking over at the window, I saw Derek sitting where Spencer had been sitting the night before.

"Where is everyone?" I asked.

"At the police station. They all left as soon as you passed out," he replied, getting up and handing me a glass of water. I took it and gently took a few sips. Going by the horrible taste in my mouth, and my sore throat, I had been a mess last night. Derek sat down on the edge of my bed and waited for me to finish.

"Why didn't they leave sooner?" I asked.

"You wouldn't let pretty boy go," Derek said, grinning sadly. "You kept on hanging on to him and begging for him not to go, even after we managed to get you in bed." I blushed and looked down. "Hey, don't beat yourself up, kid. You two are a lot alike. It's no surprise that you two got attached to each other. Besides, not too many people can take what you're going through that well." I slowly sat up and looked at him.

"Hotch probably wants me back in Quantico, huh?" I said, ready to hear the order. The shame of being sent home on my first case would be almost unbearable. I felt like I would be shaming my mother.

"Actually, Hotch wants you down there as soon as you feel able," Derek replied, although his tone was stern when he said the phrase 'as soon as you feel able'. "Listen to me: that means that if you don't feel like you can stomach today, then you need to stay here. I'll stay with you since you can't be alone, but that still means you have to feel ready. It's up to you, Bay." I closed my eyes and did a quick scan of my body. Physically, my stomach felt a little weak, but besides that, I was fine. Mentally, I was more determined than ever. If my father was still alive, then dammit, I was going to find him. I opened my eyes and locked my gaze with Derek.

"I'm getting dressed. Let's get this son of a bitch," I said. Derek merely nodded, seeing the determination in my eyes.

We got to the station an hour later, and found a crew for every news station in the tri-state area. I groaned. I knew a lot of those reporters, so they probably would recognize me. Without another word, Derek got out of the car, walked over to my door, and opened it a bit, holding out his hand. I sighed, and put my game face on. Sure enough, as soon as I got out of the car, I was spotted and bombarded with questions. As I reached the steps of the police station, I turned to the reporters, who fell silent.

"At this point in time, I cannot comment any further on the investigation. All I can say is that I still plan on participating, and on behalf of my family, and the families of those we've lost, my team and I will find the person behind this and ensure that they are brought to justice." Leaving it at that, I turned around and walked inside with Derek as two armed officers shut the doors behind me and stood there, keeping the reporters at bay. As we walked through the bullpen, several officers either smiled at me, or made promises that we would catch this person, describing him or her with varied words ranging from 'bastard' to 'motherfucker'. All I could do was nod my thanks and smile, wanting instead to focus on the task at hand. When I got to the office, everyone immediately got up and looked at me.

"How are you feeling?" Hotch asked.

"Better," I replied, looking at the rest of the team. "I appreciate everyone worrying about me, but Dad and Mom would want me to do my job, especially to protect my family and the rest of the city." Then, I walked over to Spencer. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Sure," he replied, and followed me into my dad's office. I shut the door, and stayed facing it. The windows were all covered with blinds, so no one could see us. It was rough being in there, but it was the most private place I could think of. With a sigh, I began a prepared speech.

"Spencer, I don't know what happened last night," I said, still facing the door. "I don't remember what I did or said, so if I said anything inappropriate to you, I want apologize." I turned around to look at him, and found him inches from me. My breath hitched in my chest and my heart rate escalated.

"I wanted to ask you about that," he said, his voice low. "I know you blacked out last night, and I don't blame you. Before I left, you said that you cared about me. Is that true?" He kept eye contact with me the whole time. What the hell am I supposed to say? I thought. Honesty was the best policy, my mom always taught me. I took a breath...

"Yes," I said. "I do care about you." Spencer stepped back and leaned against the desk, seeming to take it all in. I immediately regretted what I said, and walked over to him. "Spencer, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." and he cut me off with a kiss. It was innocent, soft, and very kind, but full of emotion I now know that we both shared. I leaned in just slightly, returning the gesture. Something about it felt so right that I just let it happen. All of the rules and regulations just flew out the window, and for a few blissful moments, it was just us. When we broke apart, we just looked at each other. There was a complete, unspoken conversation between us, understanding what being together would mean for us. So, we would keep it a secret, at least until the case was over, and we would give proper notice and deal with the bridges later.

"I'll keep you safe," I promised him, placing my hand on the side of his jaw, gently cupping his face. He mimicked my action, just looking at me, a small smile on his face..

"We'll keep each other safe," he said quietly. I grinned, and leaned my face into his hand gently, savoring the feel of his skin on mine. "It'll be okay," he promised. We straightened up and walked out of the office, keeping our own emotions in check. As we walked back into the back room, everyone looked us over, profiling us both. I wondered if anyone would pick it up, but if they did, then no one let on. Hotch, Derek, and Rossi were working on retracing my dad's steps, JJ was preparing a press release, Prentiss was on the phone with Garcia, and Spencer busied himself with the whiteboard that held pictures and evidence. I sat down and started reviewing the files on all of the victims. The only thing that they had in common was me. Irene and Ryan didn't know the first two victims, so that ruled them out. Adam had evidence from where he was for the first two victims...but not my dad.

"Did anyone call Adam Herrera?" I asked out loud. Everyone looked at each other. Prentiss got Garcia on speaker.

"Bay, are you alright honey?" was the first question I heard from the bubbly tech on the other line, although she didn't sound as bubbly as normal.

"Yes, Garcia, I'm okay. Listen, I need you to track Adam Herrera's cell phone. I want to know where he is," I said, and gave her the number. There was a few seconds of typing as Garcia started searching for the number.

"It's either dead or turned off. There's no signal," she replied. Damn, I cursed internally, wishing she hadn't said that.

"Get someone down to his house now. We need to know where he was last night," Hotch said, calling for another officer. One nodded, grabbed his partner, and took off out the door. I got worried, so I pulled out my cell and called Adam myself. It went straight to voicemail. Please, Adam. Please don't be involved. I can't stand to lose anyone else, I prayed. A small part of me knew that I didn't know that my father was dead, but I always prepared myself for the worst and hoped for the best. As I sat there, hoping. The sound of the door caught my attention. A sudden sense of fear and sorrow overwhelmed me. I stood up and saw Adam Herrera walking in, wearing a coat that I didn't recognize.

"Adam?" I called to him. When he saw me, he started to cry.

"I'm sorry, Amelia. I didn't have a choice! She would have killed me if she didn't," he said through the tears, and opened his jacket to reveal a bomb. Every officer present pulled out his or her gun, including me. I saw the detonator in his left hand and trained my gun on that wrist.

"Adam, please don't do this," I said, trying to reason with him. "I know you miss your brother, but this isn't the way to do this."

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I don't want to see him or your mom this way. They would never forgive me. But she said she would frame you for all of the murders if I didn't do this."

"Who said that?" I asked. Suddenly, there was a shout from behind me. I whipped around to see someone holding a hand gun and pointing it at me. I didn't know how much more of this I could take. The face was one that I somehow knew I would see, but was hoping that I didn't. I sighed and felt so defeated.

"Kathleen?"