A/N Quick update – I'll post again on Wednesday. Thank you SO much for the reviews and your support for the last chapter. Nothing graphic in this one, and hints of what's to come. I haven't had chance o do review replies yet – I will definitely do so for this chapter.

The promised one shot for Angel N Darkness is now up. It's called 'You Dropped a Bomb On Me' and will have a second chapter at some point. Please read and leave a review if you haven't done so already :)

I will do another oneshot for review 150!

Please review – the more response you receive the more motivation it is to write!

Tread Softly

Chapter 8

"Confusion heard his voice, and wild uproar Stood ruled, stood vast infinitude confined; Till at his second bidding darkness fled, Light shone, and order from disorder sprung." – John Milton

Quantico, July 2011

It only took thirty seconds of observation for Morgan to deduce that Reid wasn't at home. The curtains of his apartment were closed and a soft light seeped through the crack in between, but had Reid been inside Morgan knew the light would have been different. So where next to look for him? It was too late for playing chess in the dark, and Reid had already lamented the lack of semi-decent movies to be seen, which left the coffee shop where he sometimes met his fellow geeks to discuss Star Trek and the number 42. Morgan left his car and walked the couple of blocks, using the time to think of exactly what he was going to say to the boy genius that wouldn't cause him to begin a three hour lecture before getting irate, upset and irritating.

Morgan figured he'd better brace himself.

Reid was sitting in his usual corner with the guy who looked too old to have so many piercings and still be cool, and the girl with the weird hair who glared at Morgan every time she saw him, even though he was pretty sure he'd never slept with her. There was that one time when he had been a little worse for wear, and so had she, but that was a long time ago, and he was convinced nothing had happened, but then, maybe that was why she always glared at him.

"Derek," Reid said, noticing him immediately. "Is something wrong? Did I miss a call?" Reid stood up, checking his phone in a panic.

"No, pretty boy," Morgan said. "Everything's kind of good."

"So why are you here?" Reid said. "You've met Denis and Amanda before, haven't you?" Morgan figured Reid was trying out his best social skills as Reid would remember the dates and times of all their meetings.

"We've met. Nice to see you again," he acknowledged the geeks. They were nice people, to be fair. "You finished your drink?"

Reid nodded, looking at an empty large mug of coffee. "I hope this is something good, you know..."

"Just walk with me, kid," Morgan said quietly.

Reid gave a slight nod to his friends, who were clearly used to his disappearances without explanation, then caught up with Morgan who was already at the door. "What's this all about? You know, everyone was acted weird today. I figured it was because of Seaver transferring to a different unit, but that doesn't explain why you're here now..."

"Cool it for a moment, Reid and listen." Morgan stopped, turning to Reid face who looked younger than his years in his confusion. "I need you to hear what I'm about to say, digest it, understand it and react without emotion, because the last thing we need you to do is to stress about this."

"This is going to be something I'm not going to like, isn't it. And it's not that I'm going to have to room with Rossi on the next away case because of budget cuts," Reid sounded almost hopeful that it would be. Morgan wished it was.

"It's something you'll be happy about when you've had the time to think about it, and when you understand why it was done," Morgan said. He knew from seven years of working with Reid that if he was told how he would feel then that would be one of his first emotions.

"It could be a multitude of things, but I don't want to guess. Just tell me." He sounded impatient. Morgan knew he had bigged it up enough.

"Emily is alive. She's in Europe and Hotch has gone to see her."

Morgan waited for the bomb to explode.

"Emily isn't alive. I carried her coffin. I saw her buried..."

Denial. "But you never saw her buried and you never saw her in hospital. Neither did Rossi, Garcia or me."

"But JJ and Hotch did. They knew and they didn't tell us." This was the reaction he was expecting. "They let us think that she was gone forever. She let us think..."

Morgan unlocked his car and pushed Reid towards the passenger seat. Contained in a moving vehicle would mean he couldn't do anything rash, and by the time they were at JJ's Reid would have talked himself down.

The tirade finished five minutes before they'd reached their destination.

"I can't forgive her. I can't trust her," Reid said, his face stony, expression hurt. "She could have told me..." Morgan heard the pain in his voice and understood it. He knew Emily had been protecting them, but she should've given them more credit. However, those sorts of thoughts were going to do anything to remedy her situation right now.

"Reid, you have to get over those feelings right now. They can be dealt with later, when Emily is home. Then you can talk with her and hear her side. But for now we have a job to do," Morgan said, swinging onto JJ's driveway.

"Why didn't Hotch and JJ tell us?" Reid said. "Why did they know and we didn't? Any why is Hotch in Europe?"

"Too many questions," Morgan said. "And we don't have all the answers yet."

Geneva, July 2011

Her stomach flipped like a tossed pancake, the coffee doing nothing to abate her inner storm. Hotch was sitting two tables to her right, seemingly oblivious to her as he read a newspaper he'd picked up. They'd said nothing to each other that morning; in fact, he hadn't even made eye contact with her. She'd caught him glancing at her once, a strange look in his eye that suggested hurt, that she had upset in somehow, but it was a brief look, covered all too quickly by his usual stoic mask.

She was tired, exhausted even, and the prospect of being in Italy, in a small village that was almost a retreat was the only thing that was motivating her to hold it together. Hotch's appearance was confusing her more than she'd anticipated it doing. For months she'd held herself together; looked after herself; not needed anyone – just as she had done as Lauren. But now, someone was here who she could rely on; who she could trust to help her and look after her best interests.

Emily gave him a fleeting look. She wished now that had taken on the appearance of a couple, rather than two individuals travelling alone. He would have told her about JJ and Reid and Henry; the colour of Garcia's hair and Kevin's latest escapades. She missed them dreadfully; tiredness combined with the knowledge that she didn't have to keep it together all by herself brought tears to her eyes. She tried to blink them away.

"JJ told the rest of the team last night."

Emily jumped. She hadn't even heard his footsteps. Her heart thudded and her defences were drawn. She needed to be more aware.

"I'm sorry..."

"No," she shook her head. "I'm letting things slip. I was daydreaming – I should keep my guard..."

Hotch sat down at her table. "As far as I'm aware there is no one here who looks in the least bit interested in us; not even mildly. And I know I'm not a trained spy as you are, but I am a pretty okay profiler."

She smiled, her eyes tearing again. She didn't want him to see her cry. "No, this – I'm sorry Hotch, but I don't think this is a good idea. Maybe you should switch flights and go home. You being here is making me feel relaxed and I shouldn't – it's only going to be a matter of days before Doyle catches up with me and I need to be ready."

He nodded, and for a moment her heart sank. Did she actually want him to go? "You've undergone months of upheaval. You will not be at your strongest even if I'm not with you. At least you can have a couple of days to try and relax. Garcia's planning to stall him to give us more time. You have to trust us."

She forced a nod. Last night, her encounter, was now playing on her mind. Afterwards, she'd slept fitfully, having dreams that were too rapid to make sense of them as they occurred. In them she was sharing a bed with Hotch, bearing his weight on top of her as they made love; however, the scene changed, and instead she was with Ian Doyle, walking hand in hand up the aisle of the church she'd entered as a teenager, after she had been through the abortion.

"Emily," Hotch said. She wondered why he hadn't used her surname. "I won't think any less of you if you need to be a little less strong than usual. You've been through more than most people could stand, including me."

"You've already been through this Hotch," Emily said, managing to look at him now. He was sitting close enough to her for it to feel intimate. She figured it was one way of keeping their conversation private.

"I didn't have to leave my home or pretend to be dead," he said. "I think we should see if we can arrange it so we sit together on the next flight. At least you could sleep, then you'll be recharged enough for whatever it is once we've reached Florence."

She felt bad now for not having included him in on her plans. In fact, she was still amazed that he'd gone along with everything, letting her keep control, but she supposed he knew that was what he had to do, that he'd already profiled her. "There's a priest in a village called Console D'Elsa who ran a small retreat for monks and nuns. I contacted him a couple of months ago to ask for sanctuary should I need it – I knew him of old – and he agreed. We also made plans should I need to reach it covertly I just needed to get in touch with an agreed phrase in our conversation and he'd arrange to have me collected from a hotel the day after my arrival. I need to buy a disposable phone and send him a message. We'll be collected tomorrow morning."

"You can trust him?"

The question annoyed her. She wasn't so tired to be completely dumb. "With my life. Father Orazio knows nothing about Doyle. He was the person I turned to when things were really bad. We kept in contact sporadically throughout my life, although we never really discussed my job and I never confessed. He's old now, in his eighties, and has been living just outside Console D'Elsa for at least 15 years. I think it's one of the safest places I could be. We could be." She added the last with a slight glance to Hotch.

"Then we have to think about where to let Doyle think you are. You won't want to put Father Orazio at risk. How did you and he communicate?" Hotch said. An announcement told them it was time to board their plane.

"Letter, so nothing could have been intercepted. Once we're at the retreat we could have Garcia bounce a phone call our way." She felt something slip inside her, pride maybe, and her stubbornness waivered. She felt as if she had scaffolding to keep her standing for the first time in what felt like months. "How is Garcia? And Reid?"

"You'll see for yourself soon," he said. She saw his features soften and she fought the urge to let him hold her up physically while she broke down. "They're good. They've missed you. Reid especially."

"It's going to be difficult if I get to see him again," she said, unable to be certain about it.

"It will be, at first. But no harder than what you're facing now." He stood up, picking up both his and her hand luggage. "Doyle's men will be looking for a single woman. They won't pay any attention to a couple."

"What if they've been tracking you?"

"Garcia would have told me by now if they were. Let's go catch this plane."

She stood up, letting him usher her across the departure lounge and trying to keep it together, but the thought of being able to sit down, lean against someone even if it was for less than an hour, and close her eyes without the fear of waking up looking at Doyle's face made her feel just a little bit lighter.