Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, Criminal Minds.

I think I responded to everyone's comments this time. If not, THANK YOU! I tried to get this part done as quickly as possibly for you all!

Constant

Part 10

By
N. J. Borba

"It's not easy being the one left behind," Mick said as he joined Derek.

The two men stood in Tina Collins' back yard again; though it was several hours later and it had turned dark. Morgan no longer harbored any desire to fight Rawson, but he would've rather been left alone at the moment. He knew it was rude not to respond, but Derek had no idea what to say. Instead he looked upward, able to make out a few tiny sparks of starlight beyond the city's haze of artificial lights. His thoughts settled even heavier on Emily. He wished for the simplicity of their camping trip, holding her while they gazed at stars.

"We can't protect them. As much as we like to think we can," Rawson persisted.

Derek's head turned just a little to regard the man. "Look, I know I owe you an apology," he finally gave in. "Probably several…"

"Don't worry about it," Mick casually shrugged off the offer. "It was never part of the plan, was it?"

Morgan's brow furrowed. "What? Apologizing?"

"No, falling in love with your partner," the accented man continued. "It was never part of the plan to fall in love with one of your best friends. But you put your lives in each other's hands day after day, and then suddenly you realize you trust them implicitly. And then you realize how much love is really just a matter of mutual trust. No man or woman would give their heart fully to someone they didn't trust," Mick reasoned. "You and I are a lot more alike than you'd care to think, agent Morgan."

"Could be," Derek nodded, recalling how Jenny Clark and Mick Rawson had worked together before falling in love.

Regret seized Morgan like a pair of hands at his throat. He felt awful for thinking Emily would run to Rawson for anything more than help on the case. Derek wished, not for the first time in his life, that trust came easier for him. Rawson was right, though, he trusted Emily with his life and with his heart. He turned and extended his hand. "I'm sorry for the way I've behaved toward you lately, Mick," he used the man's first name, remembering how he'd intentionally botched the very same name months ago out of jealousy.

Mick took the offering and they shook. "Apology accepted."

Light from the house behind them streamed across the lawn and they both turned to find the back door hanging open. JJ stood on the porch, right hand on her hip as she regarded them with a critical eye. She looked ready to smack them both upside the head if necessary. "Garcia is online with Hotch right now. You'll both want to hear this," she waved them in.

They hustled into the house and followed JJ to the kitchen where Hotch, Rossi and Reid were huddled around a laptop. Penelope Garcia's shock of blonde hair was adorned by lime green and pink barrettes, whimsical as usual. But the woman's face was a mask of serious concentration as she relayed the important information she'd uncovered. "Tina Collins is the daughter of Patrick and Faith Mitchell. Faith Mitchell is the sister of Debra Harris, who is…"

"Rodney's mother," Derek finished. "I didn't even recognize Tina," he lamented. "Haven't seen her for years. The Mitchell's used to live in our neighborhood until Mr. Mitchell got a job offer in Milwaukee," he remembered. "I was about thirteen when they moved away."

"Yes, Patrick Mitchell took a manufacturing job back then," Garcia confirmed. "They stayed in the city until Faith Mitchell died five years ago, at which time Patrick Mitchell moved down to Miami. Their two children remained in the Milwaukee area. Tyler Mitchell owns a small brake repair service station, married with two kids. Tina and her husband, Mark Collins, divorced two years ago. They share custody of their twelve year old son, David, and the divorce seemed to be amicable."

"No divorce is ever entirely amicable," Rossi noted.

"We need to talk to more members of the Mitchell and Collins families," Derek suggested. "Maybe they can lead us to Jessie or Rodney. Both, preferably," he hoped.

"Agreed," Hotch concluded.

Twenty minutes later, JJ and Derek had broken the news to Mark Collins about the death of his ex-wife. The man had taken the news badly. Seated now on the sofa, he rested his head against one propped arm. "I never stopped loving her," Mark lamented. "We just couldn't make it work, you know? Sometimes as hard as you try…" his head shook. "Supposedly love is all you need, but that's a lie. There has to be trust, and a willingness to grow and change. I was too set in my ways, and Tina was such a free spirit."

Morgan nodded sympathetically, giving the man a brief moment to mourn his recent loss. But they also needed some answers, sooner rather than later. "Did Tina ever mention a woman named Jessie Tatenum to you?" he inquired.

"Yes," Mark sat up a little straighter. "The last time I picked up our son, just a few days ago, she mentioned that name to me. Tina claimed Jessie was her sister."

That answer caused Derek some confusion. "I thought Tina only had a brother, Tyler."

"Me too," the man responded. "I really don't know anything about this Jessie person, except that Tina told me she was going to meet her for the first time today." Mark's eyes grew large. "You don't think this woman claiming to be her sister had something to do with Tina's murder, do you?"

"We're not sure, sir," JJ replied, placing a hand against his shoulder. "Is there anything you need? Would you like us to stay while you tell your son what's happened?"

The man shook his head. "No, David is at a friend's place. I should go pick him up now," he stood on wobbly legs.

"At least let us have an officer drive you," Morgan insisted.

With a nod, Mark agreed. JJ led him out the front door and instructed an officer to help the man. Derek joined her on the front lawn a few minutes later. "So, if Jessie is Tina's sister that would make her Rodney's cousin," Morgan tried to line up all the random details in his head. "Maybe Rodney was using Jessie? He could've been blackmailing her, dangling the prospect of information about her birth family in exchange for her help with these murders."

"Maybe," JJ replied doubtfully.

"Why the hesitation?" he was curious.

"I don't know much about this Rodney guy, other than what we read in his police files, but he seems loyal. At least loyal to his group of thugs. Maybe that translates to family loyalty," JJ ventured. She was about to say more when her cell phone rang. "Hotch?" JJ answered. "No… okay, we'll be right there." With the very short call ended, JJ turned to Morgan. "Hotch and Rawson just found Rodney Harris prowling around outside Patrick and Faith Mitchell's old house across town. They're taking him to the local precinct."

Derek needed no further prodding.

They arrived twenty minutes later at the police station and Morgan charged straight toward Hotch. "Where's Rodney?"

Hotch nodded toward the interrogation room door behind them. "No one has questioned him yet. I figured you'd want that pleasure."

Morgan knew it was a privilege his superior was allowing. He wanted to find Tamara, Emily and his unborn child more than anything. But he also hoped to do it while keeping his career intact. And he had some making up to do in that department. Morgan entered the small room as calmly as possible. But Rodney's smug face made him want to punch it. "Well, if it isn't Mr. FBI," Harris reclined against his metal chair. "How'd I get so lucky?" the man taunted.

"Where is Jessica Tatenum?" Morgan asked, not about to get caught up in his old adversary's childish games.

Rodney's expression turned to genuine surprise. "How the hell do you know about Jessie?"

"I'm the one asking the questions here, Rodney," Derek growled. "And right now the lives of two women and a baby are on the line. I figured since your cousin Tina just died you'd be a little more willing to talk. Especially since Jessica Tatenum might've had something to do with Tina's death."

"You're talking crazy now, brother," Harris replied. "My cousin Tina ain't dead, man. She's…"

"We found her several hours ago at her house," Derek cut in. "Her throat had been slit. A colleague of mine and I just finished informing her ex-husband about her death." Morgan watched as Rodney's whole body sagged and his face paled. It was not the reaction he'd been expecting at all. "Do you know where Jessica Tatenum is?"

Harris shook his head. "No, I was supposed to meet her yesterday at my aunt and uncle's old place, but she never showed."

"Then you know who she is?" Morgan questioned.

"I think she's my cousin," Rodney replied. "My auntie Faith had an affair several years ago, in between having my other cousins. Family liked to keep it quiet, but we all heard things growing up," he revealed.

"What sort of things?" Derek persisted.

The man sighed. "Auntie Faith gave the baby up and claimed that it had died at birth."

"You don't believe that?" Morgan asked.

"I heard her and my mama talking once. They said something about making sure the adoption was closed; no contact with the baby," he explained. "Well… that baby, Jessie, she recently decided to get ahold of my family here in Milwaukee. Tina wanted me to talk to her, check her out. Jessie and I first talked a few months back. She started telling me about some guy who'd approached her in DC months ago. He'd claimed to be me; claimed he could help her find out about her birth family in return for some favors."

Derek wasn't sure what to make of Rodney's story. "Favors?"

"Not sure," Harris shrugged. "But I think it was pretty bad shit. Jessie said she was scared for her life and was moving up to Milwaukee. I wasn't sure what to think about this woman, but I agreed to meet her. Like I said before, she didn't show yesterday. I got another call a few hours ago to meet her again. That's why I was there when your FBI friends showed up a little while ago." he concluded.

"That's it?" Morgan asked. "End of your story? What about Tamara Barnes?"

"Don't know anyone by that name," Rodney replied without blinking. "You don't believe me?" he asked a second later. "My cousin is dead because of all this, man. Family means something to me. Everything. Have your FBI people look into the adoption. I'm telling you the truth, Derek. I don't like you, and I know you don't like me. But this has nothing to do with any of that old shit between us. You know I'm right."

Morgan quickly exited the room and approached Hotch in the hall. "We've got a big problem."

"What?" Hotch asked.

"I think he's telling the truth," Derek replied with great difficulty. He took a breath, trying not to think about Emily as the hours ticked by. He could only hope she was still alive somewhere. "He said some other guy approached Jessie in DC claiming to be Rodney Harris. I wanted to believe it was Rodney all this time, but it never made sense to me. Yes, we have a messy past and we hate each other's guts. But I think JJ was right, this doesn't fit Rodney Harris."

"How so?" the team leader pressed.

Morgan sighed. "He's a small time drug dealer and gang banger, but he was visibly upset about Tina's murder. The name Tamara Barnes didn't set off any alarm bells for him. And leaving the safety of his Chicago territory is a huge risk for a guy like Harris. I'm not convinced he had anything to do with these murders."

"You're right. That is a very big problem," Hotch replied, trusting Morgan's instincts. "If we believe his story, where do we go from here?"

"Get Garcia on it," Derek suggested.

A half hour later, the BAU's technical analyst smiled at Morgan through their computer connection. "How you holding up?" Garcia inquired while still sifting through mounds of red tape and data. Penelope was multitasking, one of her specialties. While she was busy breaking into the Chicago adoption database, she was also scanning hundreds of hours of airport surveillance footage from both Dulles and O'Hare.

"I'll be better when I see Emily again," he admitted.

Penelope's grin brightened. "Never thought to share that secret with me? Or the fact you're going to be a daddy?"

He allowed a small smile to grace his features. "I never wanted either one to be a secret. I'm sorry I didn't confide in you."

She nodded in understanding, but her computer beeped, which thrust her back into work mode. "It looks like the adoption story pans out. The birth certificate I found earlier had the mother's name blacked out, but digging a little deeper it appears that birth mother for Jessie Tatenum was, indeed, Faith Mitchell. Father never listed, but no biggy there," she dismissed as another alarm beeped in her lair. "And I've got a match!"

"Match for what?" Morgan asked as yet another alarm beeped.

"Two hits…" she was interrupted by a third beep and then a fourth. "Correction, make that four," Penelope amended. "I set my computer to match up the faces on airport surveillance tapes at the exact time Rodney Harris checked in for his flights," Garcia explained, typing quickly so she could send the information to her friend. "I have four confirmed hits on the same face," she explained while feeding the video links to him.

Derek watched the black and white images, four videos with different date and time stamps. But the same man in each video.

"That's not the Rodney Harris you know, is it?" Penelope asked.

"No, but there's something almost familiar about him," Morgan remarked as he stared at the frozen screen of the man's face. "Who the hell is he?"

"I'll start running facial recognition," she offered.

He nodded, still deep in thought. "Thanks, baby girl."

xxx

"Maybe I should've listened to my parents and gone to medical school," Emily whispered to herself through gritted teeth.

Thankfully her kitchen knife was sharp enough to break the skin, but Emily had no idea how deeply to cut. She didn't want to injure the unborn child. At the same time she could hear a ticking clock in her head, time running out. With a deep breath she cut deeper, no gloves to shield her from the blood. Emily wasn't squeamish about such things, but she felt sick to her stomach knowing the baby was about to be born into a house of horrors with two dead bodies and a bloody message on a door down the hall.

She pushed those thoughts from her mind, focusing again on saving the baby. Emily carefully ran her index finger along Tamara's stomach where she'd been cutting. It still felt like there was some sort of skin or membrane layer holding everything together. "Come on, Em," she gave herself a mini pep-talk. "It's all or nothing time here."

As she made another pass with the knife, Emily's thoughts slipped backward in time to the child who she'd decided not to carry at the tender age of fifteen. She still couldn't wrap her head around any answers to the difficult questions of faith; when a life actually became a life, when a soul entered a child, either at conception, birth or some point in between. Emily only knew that she'd done what she believed to be right for herself as a teenager.

"This isn't about the past anymore," Emily chastised herself. Looking back was worthless when faced with saving the precious life of another child.

Emily finally felt herself break through the last layer, causing the knife to jerk inward a little. She quickly pulled it out and buried all her fears once and for all as she slid her hand into the crevasse of Tamara's belly. Not knowing exactly what she was feeling, Emily did her best to determine the next move. She carefully grasped what she prayed was the baby's neck and gently pulled a mass of flesh free from the womb.

"Holy shit," she swore softly, heart thumping as the baby's head emerged along with a very messy tangle of arms, legs and umbilical cord.

Having guessed right about the baby's neck, Emily tucked her other hand beneath the baby's bottom and drew the child to her chest. She hadn't thought ahead to a blanket, towel or anything for warmth. Nor had she planned on how to cut the baby's cord. But all of that seemed irrelevant as she realized the baby hadn't made even the tiniest peep. Emily quickly used her pinky finger to clear the baby's mouth and nostrils the best she could, running on pure instinct.

Still there was no sound. No movement.

"Please don't do this, little one. Not after all we've already been through," Emily willed, but she knew it was going to take more than just the power of wishful thinking. Without hesitation she placed her lips against the baby's mouth and blew as softly as she could. Then she used the tips of her index and middle fingers to massage the baby's tiny chest.

The FBI had trained her in CPR, which she'd used numerous times in her career. But never had she tried to breathe life into such a small body. Emily repeated the process three times and feared the worse when the baby remained quiet. "Please, little one. Fight with me, okay?" she urged, continuing to massage the baby's chest.

Her eyes caught the glint of something through the window to her right. The large picture window revealed the same dark sky she'd briefly peered into minutes ago. Those same stars twinkled down on them. But one shone much brighter than the others. Emily actually smiled, though she wasn't sure why. The strangest feeling flooded her body at that moment, causing a shiver to tingle along her spine. Then she heard the most beautiful sound imaginable.

A sharp cry filled the room.

Emily looked down at the baby in her arms.

"You have no idea how good it is to hear you cry, little one. I think I might even join you," Emily sniffed. She stared at the scene before her, the bloody and wrinkled newborn, crying and still attached to a dead mother. It was a nightmare that Emily hoped the baby would never have to know about. "Your daddy should be here to cut the cord, and I have no idea what to use…" a sigh escaped.

She became torn between needing to find something to clamp the cord and not wanting to leave the baby for a single second. "Life has been rough these first few seconds," Emily spoke softly to the child. "No doubt it's going to be tough further down the line, especially with Derek as a single dad." She chuckled at the thought. "But I need you to be strong for just a few more seconds, okay?"

Carefully settling the baby onto the carpeted floor beside Tamara, Emily jumped to her feet and searched the darkened house for something useful. She returned moments later with a paperclip and a bath towel. Emily knew it was already too late to worry about things being sterile. She quickly pinched the paperclip around the cord about half an inch from the baby's belly then she used the paring knife to cut the cord.

The baby cried a little softer, seeming more curious than anything.

"This all must be confusing to you," Emily kept talking. She wasn't sure who needed more soothing, the baby or herself. "But trust me, being born in a hospital isn't much better. Being born is hard, and you won't know what life is really all about for many more years. Hell, I'm still not even sure about that one," she smiled, doing her best to swaddle the newborn in the dark blue towel. "At least you should stay warm in this."

A bright spray of light filled the room and Emily got to her feet. She looked out the window and spotted a set of headlights drawing near. They were accompanied by the sound of a vehicle approaching. Emily felt her stomach settle a little. "I think your daddy found us," she sighed with relief.

But her stomach knotted again the second the front door opened on creaky hinges.

Emily knew something wasn't right. There'd been no sirens, no cautious knock on the door. There was no sound of officers surrounding the house, no voice to identify themselves as FBI, local police or SWAT members. There was only the sound of that door opening and closing. Emily inched silently toward the revolver that had fallen from Tamara's hand after she'd shot herself. Even the baby seemed aware of what was going on; remaining still and quiet in Emily's arms.

"I don't think you want to do that," a man's voice called out.

Another light shone in her eyes, this time from a flashlight that Emily could see in the man's left hand. She could also see that he was over six feet tall, ebony skin and heavy set. And he held a gun in his right hand. "Who are you?" Emily inquired.

"Rodney Harris."

"No, you're not," she instantly responded, standing her ground. She'd just been through too much to back down from a fight now. "I've never had the pleasure of meeting Rodney Harris in person, but I've seen a few pictures. And I'm almost one hundred percent sure you're not him. Unless you had some plastic surgery recently."

"Aren't you the smart one," he replied, confirming her doubts. His emotionless dark eyes stared down at the dead figure of Tamara. "I managed to fool her all these months," the man sneered. "She came looking for someone to help her win Derek Morgan back. Naïve and gullible Tamara," he pronounced. "She was just a stepping stone for me, crossing my path at the perfect time. I have always been very good at making the most of an opportunity. Now you're the latest opportunity. So let's go, bring the child," he waved his gun at her.

Emily did her best to store everything he'd said for future reference. At the moment she had a bigger issue to deal with; her fear for the child's life. Again. "This baby was just cut from its mother by an unsterile kitchen knife." Emily gazed at the small life in her arms; squinted eyes and perfect little lips pursed. "It really needs medical treatment, a hospital."

The man took a step toward them and pressed his gun against Emily's side. "Women have been having babies for centuries and not always in hospitals. The child is breathing, isn't it?"

"But the poor thing really needs to be cleaned," Emily countered. "I used a paperclip to clamp the umbilical cord. It could get infected from that. Not to mention the fact that a baby needs diapers, food… a special seat for whatever car ride you probably have in mind."

"Maybe we can get those things later," he said, again shoving the gun into her side. This time he also pushed her toward the door. "Right now we need to leave before the sun rises and someone sees us here. I was going to use Tamara to complete my plan, because she wanted you dead. But I always knew you'd work much better for my plan. You have no choice in the matter. And, by my way of thinking, you are more important to my plan than the child. If you want it to live you'll do as I say. That choice is yours."

That choice was a no-brainer. Emily had already fought to save the baby's life. She'd continue to do so. "Okay, we'll both go with you, but I want to know one thing. Who are you?"

"You're not in any position to be making demands," he shoved her through the door and guided her down the porch steps. "Didn't I just make it clear to you I'm in charge?"

"Very clear," Emily treaded lightly as he manhandled her into a dark van. "I'd just like to know how I should address you."

The back of the van had one bench seat and no windows. He cuffed Emily's right wrist to the seat's armrest. "When I first agreed to help Tamara, I did some research. I know exactly who you are, Emily Prentiss," he positioned himself in the front seat, but turned to stare at her. "You're a profiler. You know how to get into people's heads, try to figure them out. Isn't that right? Isn't that what you're trying to do to me right now?"

"Yes," she nodded while making sure the baby was secure on her lap. "But I can tell you're not like anyone I've ever dealt with before. You're confident this'll all work out to your advantage, and you're probably right," she let him think he was in charge. "So what's the harm in telling me your name?"

He turned around and started the van. "All you need to know is that I'm the man who's going to make Derek Morgan suffer for what he did to me."

To Be Continued…