A/N: I know, this is the equivalent of an avalanche of updates from me, but I am declaring this Thanksgiving weekend, a no-work weekend so I can concentrate on fic writing, making Christmas presents, sleeping, etc. Plus I have a cold so I'm staying indoors. For those who actually started following me on Twitter when I mentioned last week that you might see some interesting tweets this past weekend, you know that I was at a special recording of Beyond Belief, the Thrilling Adventure Hour, and got to meet and talk with Paget Brewster in person. Yes, she's wonderful, gracious, funny and down to Earth. She was actually there EARLY helping them set up. I mean, helping them unpack and everything. Plus she's incredibly kind and generous with the fans and probably is the most adorable person you will ever meet. And if you think she looks gorgeous on TV, she's actually about a hundred times prettier and younger looking in person. Oh, and Criminal Minds' wardrobe lady needs to be shot. Paget is truly (and she wasn't wearing tight clothing) about half the size in real life than what they made her look like on the show. Anyway, on with the story!

His dark eyes always warmed with pleasure when he looked at her and when he smiled, she couldn't help but return it with one of her own. He held out his hand to her and she gave him hers. His much larger one engulfed hers in a warm, gentle grip. Her smile widened. Emily knew she was meant to be with this man. He loved her so completely, so totally, how could she have any doubts about his feelings for her or about them?

"Emily," he murmured softly as he pulled her into his embrace.

Her smaller body fit so perfectly against his tall, muscular frame, as though she was made to be tucked against him, to be a part of him. And when he held her, she knew there was no other place she would ever want to be than with him.

"Emily."

His warm breath tickled her ear and his deep baritone rumbled in his chest, sending pleasant vibrations through her body. She practically purred as she burrowed closer into him, inhaling his woodsy, masculine scent.

"You know what I need you to do, Emily."

She frowned, not liking his tone and she turned her head fully into his chest, hiding her face in the soft folds of his sweater as if hiding her head like an ostrich would make what she knew was something she did not want to hear go away.

"You'll be perfectly safe, but you're our only chance to catch him. I need you to do this, Emily."

She sighed and nodded, knowing she had to do this even though warning bells were ringing furiously in her head. This was a mistake, a part of her was screaming at her, a very bad mistake.

Suddenly, the warm arms were gone and she was back in that damp, dark Hell hole. She looked around wildly and screamed his name, but it wasn't the warm, baritone that called out comfortingly to her. It was the cold, metallic, lifeless voice she thought would never hear again.

"Did you think you could leave me so easily?" it hissed at her.

Emily woke up drenched in a cold sweat, a scream trapped in her throat. She fought with the tangled sheets and blankets and nearly fell off the bed in her struggle. Her heart pounding, she realized she wasn't back there. She was safe, here in Hotch's house.

Hotch.

Emily wanted to smack herself silly. How could she have been so stupid last night? How could she have been so vulnerable in front of him? She shouldn't have showed Hotch that weakness. She knew better, was taught better. Showing your vulnerabilities got you killed. Leaning too much on someone got you killed. Emily had learned the hard way that to survive she could only count on herself. The last time she had relied on someone else, she almost wound up dead.

Emily swore to herself she would not make that mistake again.

Hotch walked downstairs with a light heart and a spring in his step. After last night, holding Emily in his arms, he truly felt as if they were going closer, that she was beginning to trust him again and maybe, just maybe, she would open up to him soon and tell him about the demons plaguing her.

His euphoria disappeared the moment he hit the bottom of the stairs and saw Emily's things packed neatly by the door. Hotch frowned and looked from the bag to the woman herself who was putting a note on top of the television.

"You weren't even going to say goodbye to Jack?" he asked in a harsh voice.

"It's better this way."

"For who?"

"For everyone," she replied calmly. "We both knew this was a temporary arrangement. I got a call this morning that my aunt's house is ready for me to move into."

"I didn't hear the phone ring."

"Of course not. When my mother sent over some money she also provided a cell phone. She called me on that number."

It was as if she had been planning to escape some prison. Hotch couldn't help but feel some irritation. Did she find being here with him and Jack such an inconvenience? What else was she keeping from him?

"I appreciate you opening up your home to me, Hotch," she said in a soft voice. "But I need my own place, my own space. I-, I have a lot to think about, to decide and I need a quiet place to do it. A place with no distractions."

"Is that all Jack and I are to you? Distractions?" He couldn't keep the bitter tone out of his voice.

"You're both good people who deserve a good life. You deserve something better," she said in a quiet voice. She tried to hurry past him but Hotch reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"What if I've found that something better," he murmured, trying to get her to look at him, but she stubbornly refused.

"Then I can only tell you to keep looking, because you're wrong." Emily shrugged off his hand and moved towards her bag. She picked it up, opened the front door and hurried out to the taxi that was waiting in front of the house.

Hotch followed her out and watched as she got into the taxi. Once the door was closed behind her, the cab pulled away and made its way down the street until it turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Not once did Emily look back. It was a while before Hotch went back inside the house.

She wasn't answering his calls, his text messages or her front door. After Emily left his house last week, Hotch had to explain to Jack why she was suddenly gone. His son took it better than Aaron thought he would. Jack had looked at him with serious eyes and nodded his head.

"I think Emmy is looking for something," the little boy had replied.

"Looking for something?"

"That's why she ran away yesterday at the mall. I think she's lost something and is looking for it. It's why she had to leave, because she needs to go find it."

Hotch had his own ideas of why Emily left, but if his son believed Emily was on some search and he didn't feel abandoned, he wasn't about to correct the child. The man merely nodded and said that Emily's note indicated that she wanted Jack to continue taking care of Sergio. That had made the boy happy. The child and cat had become nearly inseparable.

"When can we visit Emmy?"

"I think we need to give her a few days to settle into her new house and then we'll give her a call."

Hotch lasted 24 hours before he was calling Emily. Elizabeth Prentiss had readily given him the number of the cell phone she had given to her daughter as well as the address of the house she moved into, but Emily was ignoring him. He had resorted to having Rossi and JJ try contacting her but she had not returned their calls either.

After a week had passed, Hotch finally found time to go over to the new house which was located on a leafy, quiet block in Georgetown. The house was a stately, three storied brownstone with perfectly manicured bushes and neat flower boxes adoring the front. The small wrought iron gate that surrounded the small front yard was there for decoration, but it was perfectly maintained, a matte black with each bar straight and symmetrical. When Hotch opened the gate door, it swung silently on well-oiled hinges and closed quietly behind him.

It was early evening and he would have thought Emily would be in, but he couldn't be certain. He didn't know what she was doing or who she was seeing. None of the team had heard from her since that Saturday he had assembled them to help him search for her at the mall. Hotch wasn't the only one miffed at her lack of communication.

Ambassador Prentiss, who was still pressing Hotch to maintain a close watch over her daughter, was also at a loss. The day after Emily had moved into the house she had phoned her mother to thank her for arranging everything and to discuss a few more details about her re-entry into the world, essentially the paperwork involved in making her "un-dead" in all official records. That had preoccupied Emily those first few days after her move, but by the third day, Hotch knew via the Ambassador that everything was completed. So what was Emily doing the last few days?

He held off as long as he could. Jack was at a sleep over and Hotch's evening was free. He drove to the brownstone and he found himself continuously knocking on a door that looked like it would never be answered.

"Agent Hotchner."

Hotch stiffened when he heard the familiar voice and slowly turned around to face Emily's father, Robert Jones of the CIA, the man who got Emily embroiled in the spy game in the first place.

"Director Jones," Hotch bit out, his dislike and distaste for the man making him barely civil.

"What are you doing here, Agent?"

"I'm looking for Emily, obviously," Hotch replied in a cool voice. He felt his heart beat faster. Was Jones the reason why Emily had been so quiet the last few days? Did the bastard drag his daughter back into the spy game?

"She's not here."

"I can see that. Where is she and is she okay?" Aaron was growing even more concerned with each passing second.

"Emily has been going through psych evaluations the last three days at the Agency."

"What?! Why the Hell is the Agency doing the psych eval? Who ordered it to be done so soon? Why wasn't I informed?" Hotch was livid. She was supposed to come back to the Bureau and not have anything to do with the Agency that left her to fend for herself as a madman stalked and nearly killed her.

"Calm down, Hotchner," sighed the older man. "It was a joint evaluation by the Bureau and the Agency. The Agency was merely involved in an observatory role. It's standard procedure given Emily's history with both agencies and her clearance. The CIA needed to make certain she didn't spill any of its secrets. Don't ask me why your own agency failed to inform you this was happening." He pulled out a key and unlocked the front door. "Come in and sit down. It's cold out tonight."

It bothered Hotch that this man had a key to Emily's home. He knew Jones was Emily's father, but he had allowed his daughter to go on a mission where she had to seduce a dangerous terrorist and be alone with that man for long periods of time. He also had allowed that same man to come after her and nearly kill her, twice. In Hotch's eyes, Jones was only another danger to Emily and he would be damned if he allowed the man, father or not, to put her in danger again.

Jones didn't wait to see if Hotch followed him inside, as he stepped into the house and crossed the small foyer to an opposite wall where he quickly punched in a code into the electronic security system. Hotch followed him, closing the door behind him. Jones still didn't bother to look at the younger man, but instead led the way to the living room that was at the front of the house and looked out into the street. He switched on some lights and before he sat down.

"Make yourself at home," Jones gestured towards a chair opposite from where he sat.

Warily, Hotch sat, suspicious of why Jones would want to talk to him and anxious to know where Emily was. "Where is she?"

"Today is her last day at evaluations. The psych portion at least. She's still going to need a few weeks before she's ready to tackle the physical. They've had her staying at the facility where the evaluation is being done which is why she isn't here."

"Then why are you here?"

"Just checking up on the place," Jones replied. He looked around. "This house actually used to belong to my family. I remember visiting here often as a boy. I just wanted to see what Emily might have done with the place."

"I highly doubt nostalgia brought you out tonight," Hotch said in a dry voice. "What's the real reason? Was there some issue with Emily's psych evaluation?"

"No, she passed with flying colors," Jones said slowly. He peered intently at Hotch. "Tell me what happened at the mall last week."

Hotch had perfected his poker face and not one ounce of surprise was shown on his features though his heart had begun to pound again. It wasn't Emily her father wanted to see tonight, it was Hotch. Jones knew he would be here and took advantage of this opportunity to talk to him. Why? Hotch's voice was level and even. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't play games with me, Hotchner!" Jones snapped. "I know Emily ran off, practically bolted away from you and you had to call your team out to find her. I want to know what happened."

"How do you know what happened?"

"I'm a spy. It's what I do."

Hotch started to rise from his chair and his voice was harsh and menacing, "You're spying on your own daughter?!"

"Sit down!" Jones ordered the other man. "I am not spying on her, but your friend LaMontagne wasn't as discreet as he thought when talking to his police officer friends. Fortunately, I think I stopped any potential gossip about that incident, but I need to know what frightened my daughter and if there is still a real threat against her out there."

Hotch settled slowly back into his chair and hesitated. Hotch disliked the man, but he was Emily's father and he could detect no duplicity from him, just genuine concern for her. Plus he knew the most damning thing already that Emily had had an episode that caused her to bolt in fear. Perhaps Jones could even shed some light on what was truly bothering her.

"She said it was a photo she saw that reminded her of her time in Europe when she was hiding from Doyle. It brought back unpleasant memories."

"A photo?" Jones repeated in a dumbfounded voice. "What photo?"

"She said it was of a door. We were having lunch at TGI Friday's. I don't know if you've ever been in one, but it's a chain restaurant that's overloaded with knickknacks, pictures, a motley collection of items. She had gone to the ladies' room and was on her way back to the table when she saw the photo."

"Did you ever go back to see what it looked like?"

Hotch nodded. "Of course I did. I retraced her steps to and from the restrooms. I only found one photo of a door along that route." He fished his cell phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the photos on it before pulling up one. He showed Jones the picture.

Hotch watched the man closely as his lips tightened ever so slightly. His expression didn't change, but the older man could not control the loss of pallor in his face. He knew what the door meant to Emily and whatever it was, it worried and maybe even frightened him too.

"What is it?" Hotch asked in a quiet voice. "Why does this door trouble her so much?"

"It's not this exact door, but one similar to it," Jones murmured as he handed Hotch back his phone. He settled back into his chair and sighed. "It is an unpleasant memory and that's all it is."

"I need to know what it is if I'm going to help her."

"It's in the past. Irrelevant," Jones said in a dismissive tone as he suddenly stood up.

"It's not irrelevant if it's still haunting her!"

"Aren't you being a tad melodramatic, Agent Hotchner?" Jones said as he started to walk towards the front door. "Emily just had a reminder of an unpleasant time. She's completely fine now. It was a momentary incident."

"She bolted out of that restaurant and mall in fear. Her flight instinct kicked into high gear." Hotch blocked Jones' path. "I have never seen Emily run from anything. She faced Doyle head on each time, she's looked into the face of horror and mayhem and never flinched. Whatever frightened her is serious and I want to know what it is."

"Leave it alone, Hotchner. I can assure you that it's in the past, long dead and buried. Emily just needs to concentrate on her future."

"Like she did after, Doyle? We know how that turned out."

Jones had just opened the door to usher Hotch out so he could re-set the alarm. He paused and sighed. "My daughter is very private, you know that. If she wishes to give you more details, that's her decision. I will say this, that if it is what I suspect, then there's no chance of Emily being in any physical danger like she was with Doyle. It's just unpleasant memories. She's dealt with them in the past and she'll deal with them again. My daughter is strong, Agent Hotchner, and she knows how to protect herself."

"She's doing that by isolating and cutting herself off from everyone," Hotch spat out bitterly.

"She's trying to find her footing." Jones sighed. "She needs to rebuild her life now and she needs to do it in her own way. Whether you approve of how she's doing it is irrelevant." He peered closely at Hotch. "After all, you are only her former supervisor."

"And a friend," Hotch added quickly, though he did feel the sting that he didn't have more standing to insist that Jones tell him more. He wasn't married to Emily or engaged or even dating her.

Jones eyes narrowed as he examined Hotch's face closely. "But you want something more with her."

It wasn't a question and Hotch wasn't going to explain himself to Jones of all people.

The CIA man took a step closer to Hotch and lowered his voice. "You're ambitious Aaron Hotchner. I know all about you. Strauss may have thrown a few blocks into your path, but I know that drive is still inside of you. Emily doesn't need that kind of man."

"You don't know me and you don't know you're daughter. I believe whatever we decide our relationship is going to be is our business." Hotch's temper was on edge, but he was also curious about Jones' reaction. Something else was plaguing the man and it was more than just a protective father warning off his daughter's potential suitors.

"I know enough," Jones growled. "Believe me, you hurt my daughter and I will crush you!"

"Well, we see how effective you were in doing that to the man who almost killed her twice." With that parting shot, Hotch spun around and sent out the open front door and walked swiftly towards his car, leaving a fuming Robert Jones in his wake.

A/N 2: For those who are looking for the Profiler's Choice nominees and how to vote, you can find it at:

topic/ 74868/73609377/1/ 2012-Profiler-s-Choice-CM-Awards-FINAL-VOTING-BALLOT-HERE

Just remove the spaces. There are a lot of very good authors/stories nominated so show your support by voting!