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Upon arriving home, Emily tossed her bag into the corner and collapsed onto her couch. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Instinctively, she brought her fingers to her mouth, but caught herself before she started biting. She had her final therapy session tomorrow, and if she was going to convince Dr. Merrill that she was coping well, she was going to have to at least appear that her anxiety level was down.

Dropping her hands, Emily sighed loudly and closed her eyes. Immediately, a million thoughts consumed her mind. JJ, the conversation she'd had with Reid in San Francisco, wondering how Reid was feeling towards her now, JJ, last night's nightmare of Doyle, how she felt about being back at work, how her team felt about her being back at work, her mother, Declan, JJ,..

"Sergio," Emily's eyes flew open as she felt the cat jump up beside her on the couch. "How's my handsome man doing today?" she smiled as he made himself comfortable in her lap. Scratching behind Sergio's ears reminded Emily of the lie she had told Dr. Merrill in one of their earlier sessions:

"How about progress forming new relationships, Emily?" The doctor had inquired. "You have a whole new life here, in a sense. How are things going with friends, family, romantic relationships…?"

Oh actually," Emily had said, mustering up as much fake enthusiasm as she could, "I have started seeing someone. His name is Sergio."

Dr. Merrill had seemed genuinely impressed. "That's quite a step."

Emily smiled bitterly at the memory. She knew what strings to pull and exactly how to act to get people to think she was dealing well. However, remembering the invented relationship drew her thoughts eventually to JJ, which only exhausted her further and did nothing to improve her mood.

Emily hadn't planned on confronting JJ about her behavior in the parking lot. She actually just planned on letting things continue the way they were, as much as it frustrated her. But JJ's little "are we okay?" routine was getting really old. It was like she deliberately misled Emily with flirting and a seemingly genuine desire to be close to her, then pulled away, then acted all confused when Emily was distant.

The brunette drummed her fingers on the couch, absent-mindedly stroking Sergio with her other hand. All the bullshit with JJ stressed her out. She didn't know what consequences her directness would have with young blonde, and she didn't really have the energy to go through all the scenarios. But her mind still agonized over it anyway.

What if she completely ignores you again? She might react like that, be so scared by your assumption that she had feelings for you that she completely withdraws again...

Emily let out a heavy sigh, frustrated with her inability to shut the "JJ box" in her head.

"Who the hell cares how she reacts?" Emily said out loud, causing Sergio to look up at her. "Right, Serg? We don't care. She just needs to make up her mind." The cat seemed only to care about the attention he was getting, as he nudged her hand to continue petting his head.

"That's right," she smiled at him. "Less JJ, more scratching."

Emily chewed her bottom lip, wishing she could forget the blonde as easily as Sergio apparently could. As if she needed any more stress, with this stupid therapy session hanging over her head.

…

The next morning, Emily was sitting in that chair, counting the ways her life had changed since the whole ordeal with Ian Doyle.

"Emily." Dr. Merrill's voice broke through her parade of thoughts.

She looked up, slightly confused, not quite sure if she was supposed to be answering a question or not.

"I said, this is our last session," Dr. Merrill repeated. "It doesn't have to be goodbye though, my door is always open."

Emily tried to hide her smirk at the clichéd phrase.

"Thank you," she nodded at the doctor. "But, um…I feel good!" She made sure her body language was correctly corresponding to the words, and offered Dr. Merrill a smile. "You know? Ready."

The doctor smiled. "Good. How are your nails?" Emily knew the question was coming, and even though she hated feeling like a child, she held up her fingers for the therapist to see.

"Three days, no biting," she said making sure the pride was evident in her voice.

"Are you sleeping?"

No.

"I am," Emily said proudly again. "Uh…it's been two weeks since the last dream." The word dream was deliberate. "Nightmares" weren't normal, but dreams, everyone had dreams.

"They may not have gone away completely," Dr. Merrill said and Emily nodded, a pleasant smile still pasted across her face.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," the doctor continued, "but you never had the chance to mourn your own death, did you?"

The question was unexpected and caught the profiler off guard. "I…um…" Emily had no idea what to say. "Mourn my own death?" No, people don't "mourn their own deaths." They die, and that's it. So what the fuck does that even mean. She shook her head, frowning slightly, but not too much. "I'm sorry, I don't understand the question…"

"As part of protecting your identity, your team had to bury you. They lost someone they loved," Dr. Merrill explained. "Maybe you did too." She paused, cocking her head at Emily, as though she was trying to read her reaction. "Think about it."

"I will," Emily nodded as she deliberately disregarded what the doctor had just said, not allowing her thoughts to veer from the present moment and immediate goal: getting cleared by this shrink.

…

Fifteen relatively painless minutes later, Emily was seated in the conference room with the rest of the team, listening to Penelope brief them on a case in Houston.

She had missed the first part of what Garcia had said, her mind choosing to replay Dr. Merrill's words.

"Your team had to bury you. They lost someone they loved. Maybe you did too."

"So Houston PD needs our boots on the ground in the Piano Man case," Garcia was saying, and Emily looked up, trying very hard to stop dwelling on her therapy appointment.

"The serial rapist?" Morgan asked, looking somewhat confused.

"Yes. The case we consulted on about eight months ago," Hotch interjected. "Twelve victims over five years, crossing racial and social lines…ages too."

"He knocks them out with a date-rape drug, and binds them with piano wire," Rossi said, the disgust evident in his voice.

"They wake up with no memory of the assault," JJ spoke up and Emily glanced at her briefly from across the table. She hadn't really interacted with JJ since the previous day when she confronted her in the parking lot. Although there hadn't been a chance for the two of them to speak given Emily's morning, she was taking the fact that JJ hadn't tried to call her or contact her in any way as an answer in and of itself. Given the content of her morning though, Emily couldn't help but look at the blonde and wonder how JJ dealt with her "death." Did she feel like she lost someone she loved, even though she knew Emily was still alive?

"They don't remember how they got the permanent scar the wire leaves," the young woman was finishing her sentence and Emily looked back at the photos projected on the screen, pushing her questions about the blonde out of her head for now.

"So he's branding his victims," she commented, making a concerted effort to put all her attention onto analyzing the facts of the case. "How does he does them?"

Well," Garcia frowned, "Houston PD still isn't sure. Because date-rape drugs metabolize quickly, and he's keeping them for twelve hours."

"So why are they calling us in now?" Morgan asked the question that was on everyone's mind.

"Because with these latest attacks, this piece of work has elevated sick and twisted to a whole new dimension," Garcia answered as she projected new photos on the screen. It appeared that the unsub was going back and attacking his previous victims, with slight changes in M.O.

"Vanessa Campbell and her husband moved to a new address, they put locks on the door, she even knew what to do if she was dosed again, and it still wasn't enough," Emily said, seeing the photo evidence that one of the victims had drank a homemade emetic, vomited, and was still subdued and abducted from her own home. "That's what he gets out of it."

"Their fear," Hotch added. "He wants them to know that no matter what, he can still get to them." Everyone around the table nodded. Emily couldn't help but think that Hotch's words reminded her of Ian. The way that he had come back for her, infiltrated her life, flashing his power, making sure she knew that he was in control…

She blinked hard against the memories and tried to tell herself that she was nothing like these victims. This had nothing to do with her.

…

Emily boarded the jet, still exhausted from her early morning. She was really hoping to get a nap in on the flight to Houton.

"Oh!" She said, stopping when she realized that Hotch was the only member of the team present on the plane. "I'm sorry, I thought you said 10:30." She checked her watch to make sure she had the right time.

"I did," Hotch said, looking up from the case folder he was browsing. "For you. Have a seat."

Emily wasn't sure she liked where this was going. She knew Dr. Merrill had cleared her, and she wasn't sure what else Hotch could want to discuss. She reluctantly took a seat across from him and folded her hands in her lap.

"I received Dr. Merrill's assessment," he began. "I wanted to review it with you."

Emily toyed with her fingernails, fighting the urge to bring them to her mouth or pick at them.

"Here?" she asked, slightly confused as to why they were having this sort of meeting on the jet.

"Well," Hotch smiled slightly. "I get tired of being profiled through my office window." Emily didn't smile, even though it was humorously true that every time Hotch had a meeting with anyone, the rest of the team watched through the window and tried to assess what was happening.

"Well, what is there to discuss?" Emily asked, trying to keep her voice sounding light and casual. "She gave me a clean bill of health."

Hotch glanced down at the case folder in his hands that Emily then realized was not a case folder at all, but Dr. Merrill's assessment.

"The patient shows no hesitation tackling difficult goals as part of reintegrating into her life," Hotch read, glancing up at Emily, who merely nodded. Everything seems okay so far…

"She has reached out to her mother," He read emphatically, giving Emily a very pointed look, as he knew that to be lie.

"I'm going to," Emily interrupted hurriedly, realizing that she was about to hear all the falsities she'd told Dr. Merrill repeated back to her. It wasn't the Doctor's assessment she had to worry about – it was Hotch. Why did this not occur to me before?

"-and has started a romantic relationship with a man named 'Sergio,'" Hotch looked up at her, slight amusement in his eyes, but he wasn't smiling.

Emily looked down, clearing her throat. There was no explaining this one away.

"Now," Hotch said, drawing her attention back to him. "I don't care if you lie to your therapist. All I care about is how your behavior affects your job."

"I…don't think it has," Emily frowned, wondering what the man could possibly be talking about. She had made sure that her job performance was impeccable and that no one had any reason to think she wasn't doing well, or that she shouldn't be in the field.

Hotch looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "You've been overcompensating," he said, causing Emily to bristle. She had not been "overcompensating." She had had to lie to her closest friends and coworkers, and revealing that lie meant she needed to repair relationships and regain trust. She just wanted to get things back to normal, and had been making an extra effort to do that.

"How have I – "

"You rushed to repair your relationship with Morgan," Hotch interjected. "You've become an emotional sounding board for Reid and Rossi."

"That's being a good friend," Emily defended herself, not appreciating the fact that Hotch was including all of this as part of her job performance. If he had to "die" and then come back, he might understand the need to prove yourself to your friends, to prove that you're there for them and care about them.

"You offered me parenting advice," he finished, causing Emily to pause.

Well…he kind of has me there. Maybe that was a little bit much.

"Okay, okay…So maybe I have been working a little bit harder to regain people's trust," she conceded. "But is that such a bad thing?"

"No," Hotch said, looking at her sincerely. "it only is if you use it to avoid dealing with what you went through."

Oh so that is what this is about, Emily thought.

"But I'm not," she said sincerely, shaking her head. "I chose to come back here. Why? Because I care about the people I work with? Yes. But also because it's clean. I know who the good guys and the bad guys are…I don't have to worry about, screwing someone over to make a case." She finished, and Hotch remained silent.

"Ok," He said after a moment, still eying her. "I want you to make me a deal. You're going to go weeks, months even, feeling fine. Then, you're going to have a bad day." He held her gaze. "Just let me know when you do."

"And that's it?" Emily asked, expecting to hear something much more involved.

"That's it."

"Deal," Emily said and Hotch nodded, handing her the folder containing the assessment.

"Sergio?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and giving her a half smile.

Emily sighed and leaned back in her seat. "He is the perfect man. He doesn't hog the covers and he poops in a box." She looked up at Hotch who was genuinely smiling at her.

"Good to know you've found someone special," he joked. At that moment, JJ appeared in the doorway, along with the rest of the team, laughing at something Reid was saying.

"Yeah," she said softly, quickly looked away from the blonde and glancing down to play with the folder on the table. "He's a keeper."

Hotch nodded at her, giving her one last smile before he moved over to make room for Rossi and Morgan in the seats next to them.

…

Arriving in Houston, the team found out that since the press had broken the story, three more women had come forward and admitted that they had been re-assaulted. The only evidence they had was a partial fingerprint from the very first victim's glasses. There was nothing to match it to, however, since the other women had waited so long any evidence from their cases was considered contaminated.

Apparently, Emily's luck at avoiding JJ had come to an end, because Hotch paired them up to interview the victims. She had to sit next to the blonde and her perfect hair, and stay focused on the task at hand. JJ still hadn't said a word to her directly, and it was really starting to piss Emily off.

She could at least apologize for her fucking mixed signals. Or for being an ass whenever she got uncomfortable, Emily fumed during one particularly long break between interviews.

It wasn't until the third interview when the woman asked to take a smoke break, when the two profilers finally turned to look at each other. As the woman went outside to smoke, JJ turned to Emily.

"It can't be a coincidence that they all smoke, right?"

Emily shook her head. "I don't think so…" She paused. That's it. "JJ," she said, not realizing she'd used the blonde's name until JJ turned, looking slightly startled. Brushing off the inadvertent intimacy, Emily continued, "I think that's how he's drugging them. Rossi said it couldn't be through their stomachs because the CSI's didn't find any traces of date-rape drugs in Vanessa Campbell's vomit. But if they were inhaling it…"

"It would be absorbed right into their bloodstream through their lungs," JJ finished her sentence. "And it would metabolize even faster than if they swallowed a pill."

"Exactly," Emily concluded. "We need to start asking these women when they started smoking." JJ nodded enthusiastically at her, and the women sat there, staring at each other for a moment before they remembered their current position. They both quickly looked away, JJ busying herself flipping through her notes and Emily toying with her phone.

This is so stupid, she thought. Why does she have to make everything so fucking difficult?

They managed to finish the interviews without much more interaction. They realized that all the women were smokers before they were assaulted the first time, which seemed to confirm their theory about the drugs. Emily called to inform Reid who was at Vanessa Campbell's house with Morgan examining the crime scene and interviewing her husband.

…

Later that night, the police found Vanessa Campbell's body dumped on the side of the road. The M.E. found a piece of neoprene glove in her throat, which indicated that at some point, she had regained consciousness and fought back against the Piano Man.

The next morning, while Emily was reviewing some of the facts with Hotch, one of the women she had interviewed, Diane Mitchell, showed up at the station.

"I heard he killed Vanessa," Diane explained when Emily was quite surprised to see her there. "He could be after any one of us now." The woman looked terrified, and Emily didn't quite know what to say, but Diane continued. "I wasn't completely honest before. I did regain some consciousness during the second assault."

"Okay," Emily nodded. "Let's go somewhere else to talk." She led Diane back to the interview room, where she began to tell her story.

"There were a couple things different than what you said though," Diane explained. "He didn't tie me up. And there wasn't a song. He talked to me, but there wasn't a song."

"Do you remember what he said?" Emily asked gently, not wanting to upset the clearly on edge woman.

"No," Diane shook her head. "When he was done, he bashed my head into the floor of his van." She paused, obviously lost in thought. Emily waited a moment, not wanting to push.

"Sometimes in my dreams," Diane finally spoke, "I can still hear his voice." Again, Emily's brain was trigged and flooded with memories of her own nightmares, Doyle whispering in her ear, telling her he was going to take her life. She tried to hide her shudder by shifting in her seat, but it appeared Diane was too absorbed in her own memories to notice Emily's behavior.

This has nothing to do with you, she tried to remind herself sternly. You're fine, you're not letting this affect your job. Get it together.

Thankfully, the interview was ended by Hotch knocking on the door. The rest of the team had arrested Herman Scobie, a hospital orderly who rotated shifts at all the hospitals the victims used, and who happened to be allergic to latex, providing an explanation for the piece of neoprene glove found in Vanessa Campbell's throat.

…

JJ was standing next to Diane, watching as Emily went in to question Herman Scobie. Hotch was allowing Diane to observe, with JJ's supervision, in case anything triggered her memory.

"Where's my lawyer?" JJ watched Scobie demand immediately when Emily entered the room.

"Oh, we called him. He's on his way," Emily lied convincingly. "I'll tell you what, I'll let him fill you in on the Piano Man investigation." She turned to leave the room, and JJ knew she was baiting him.

"Uh, the what?" Scobie bit.

"The Piano Man," Prentiss called, pausing with the door slightly open. "You might have read about him."

"A little," Scobie replied, his eyes still on Emily. "What, you think I'm him?"

As she watched, JJ couldn't help but be thoroughly impressed by the brunette's interrogation skills. She could manipulate an unsub almost as good as Rossi.

"No." Emily said, shutting the door and turning back into the room. "At least, I don't." She took a seat across from Scobie, and placed her hands on the table. JJ could only see the back of her, but she knew very well that the way Emily was leaning forward on the table and the way her shirt was cut, was revealing quite the view for Herman.

"The problem is," Emily was saying, "the way you treat some of your dates is a little similar to this guy." Scobie just raised his eyebrows.

"Now, I'm not judging," Emily assured him. "Some guys like it rough. In fact," she paused. "Well, never mind."

JJ heard her tone of voice, watched her body language, and she knew Emily was flirting with this guy. Obviously, it was to manipulate him to talk, but JJ couldn't help but be slightly aroused watching Emily. The thing was, she knew Emily had a wild side – "Sin to Win" weekends in Atlantic City and the like – and she had often wondered what Emily would be like in bed.

You have not often wondered. Stop it. Focus goddamn it. And NOT on her ass.

Emily had stood up, feigning like she was about to leave the room again, and of course, JJ's eyes had been drawn to certain parts of the brunette's anatomy.

"No, go ahead," Scobie took the bait again, not that JJ could blame him. With Emily talking like that, if she was on the other side of that table, she would start singing to keep the dark-haired woman in the room.

"Um, no," Emily tossed her hair and looked down at the man. "I can't."

My god her voice. JJ smiled, very much enjoying watching her coworker work her magic.

"Maybe you already did," Scobie said, leaning forward across the table, giving Emily a meaningful look. The profiler seemed to decide this was enough, because she sat back down.

"Most of the people here aren't as," she paused and JJ could only imagine the look on her face at that moment, "as understanding as I am," Emily finished. "So, between us…did you ever get a little too rough?"

"Never," Scobie answered, although the way he was looking at Emily made JJ extremely uncomfortable. Suddenly, JJ wanted very much for Emily to drop the whole flirting act. Jealousy, rage, protection, disgust, the overwhelming desire to go in there and beat that perv's head in for eyeing Emily like that, consumed JJ. She stiffened, crossing her arms and drawing in a sharp breath as she watched Emily continue.

"What about those naughty girls who came back for seconds?"

"What about them?"

"They're the ones screeching the loudest," Emily answered. "What I need from you is a reason to kick them to the curb."

"Look at the notches on their bedpost," Scobie answered and JJ felt Diane shift slightly next to her. "You think they're innocent?" he continued and Emily laughed, although JJ knew her well enough to know the laugh was one of disbelieving disgust at this guy's attitude.

"Besides," Scobie said, leaning in towards Emily. "Nobody believes a slut who cries wolf."

Diane gasped. The sentence was the exact same wording she had used in her interview with JJ and Emily, and JJ immediately knew where it had come from, even if Diane hadn't known herself.

"Huh," Emily let out a scoffing laugh. "I'm going to quote you on that." She stood up and turned to look at JJ through the glass. Emily's face was a look of fury, a far cry from the flirtatious smile that had been there seconds before.

As Emily came out into the observation area, she exchanged a look with JJ, who was putting her arm around Diane. The woman was struggling not to completely break down.

"That was just something I told myself after the second time," she cried. "How did he know…"

"Your brain remembers details no matter how hard you try to forget," JJ said slowly. "It's just like the song."

"It's him," Diane said, staring at the man through the glass, and JJ watched Emily go inform the rest of the team.

…

It was while searching Herman Scobie's house to build evidence for the case that Reid's genius realized the man was too young to be the Piano Man. He may have attacked Diane the second time, but he didn't kill Vanessa Campbell, and wasn't the original rapist.

Armed with that information, and the fact that the real Piano Man was trying to frame him for the murder of Vanessa Campbell, Hotch and Emily went back to talk to Scobie.

Due to Hotch's intimidating scowl, it didn't take long for Scobie to start explaining that he was choosing his victims based on their hospital records, and that's how he knew who had been attacked by the Piano Man. He said that he had figured no one would believe their claims a second time. The story was disgusting, but Scobie didn't have any information on who the actual Piano Man was. He did say, however, that he had been deciding between two women for his next victim and had chosen Vanessa Campbell, but the Piano Man got to her first. The other woman was Regina Lampert, the Piano Man's first victim.

Hotch and Emily left the interrogation room and Hotch immediately called Garcia and told her to get in touch with Regina Lampert. Garcia's calls went unanswered, but she found a surveillance video from the bar where Regina worked. On the video, Regina was talking to the man playing the piano, with whom she appeared to leave from the footage at closing time. Garcia added that the man's name was Hamilton Bartholemew, and that his wife had filed a missing person's report on him that morning.

Hotch immediately ordered the team to head to Regina Lampert's house, and for Garcia to run the partial fingerprint from Regina's glasses from the first attack, against Bartholemew's.

On their way to the Lampert residence, Emily got a call.

"It's a match," she told Hotch who was driving the SUV. "Hamilton Bartholemew is the Piano Man."

"She's going to kill him, if he's not already dead," Hotch commented, speeding up.

Emily felt her body tense. She understood the desire to get revenge, to torture someone to make up for the suffering they'd caused, but she hated to see a victim end up behind bars because they took justice into their own hands.

Pulling up to the house and hearing a gunshot, the team sprang from their cars and burst through the front door, guns drawn. Emily was first, and saw Regina with a gun pointed at Bartholemew's head. It was pretty much exactly what she feared they would find.

"Regina," Emily started, trying to calm the woman. "This man is not who you think he is."

Regina didn't back down. "I have waited five years for this," she said, tightening her grip on the gun.

"We ran the rape kit, Regina," Emily said, inching forward. "The fingerprint the police got off your glasses, do you remember?" She could tell that Regina was listening to her now. "We compared it to Hamilton's. It didn't match." Regina looked at her with a pained look on her face. She shook her head, and looked from Emily to Hotch, who stayed silent.

"That's impossible," she breathed, looking back to the man lying on the ground. "That's him. It's him."

"If you pull that trigger," Emily continued, "You're going to kill an innocent man." She didn't like lying to this woman at all, but she couldn't think of another way to prevent her from making a terrible mistake.

That did the trick. Regina, still shaking her head, crying in disbelief, lowered her weapon and Emily moved in. She had to cuff Regina because of the abduction circumstances, and it turned out to be a good thing because as they were exiting the house, Regina saw Morgan putting handcuffs on Hamilton.

"Hamilton Bartholemew, you're under arrest for the rape of 12 women and the murder of Vanessa Campbell," Emily heard Morgan saying and her heart sank. She knew Regina had seen. She would have found out anyway, but Emily had hoped they'd at least be able to get back to the police station first. Regina turned and looked at Emily with a look of horrified fury. Tears fell down her cheeks as she began to protest.

"You should've let me…why didn't you let me kill him! He would be dead! He would be…" her voice trailed off into tears, and Emily had to exert significant strength to steer her away from Hamilton and into one of the vehicles.

You made the right choice, Emily told herself as she climbed into the front seat, her heart breaking for the woman who was still crying in protest. She would be going to jail right now if you hadn't stopped her.

…

Back at the police station, Hotch told Emily that Regina insisted that she be the one to take her statement.

The brunette nodded, exhausted, but she felt a sort of obligation as she still identified with this case more than she cared to admit.

She walked into the interrogation room and took the seat opposite Regina.

"I was told that you would only give your statement to me," Emily said, setting her pad and pen down on the table between them.

"Why didn't you let me pull the trigger?" Regina asked immediately, looking at Emily with an empty expression. She looked empty, devastated.

"Because you would be in prison," Emily answered, still convincing herself that it was the right decision.

"As opposed to where I am right now?" The red haired woman sat back in her chair, staring at Emily, daring her to answer. "I mean, while he gets a lawyer. And a fair trial…"

"He will never see the light of day," Emily said, trying to reassure her. "Ever."

"Can you guarantee that?" Regina challenged, and Emily just blinked. The honest answer was no, she couldn't. And for once she didn't know what to say.

"You know," Regina broke the silence. "When they talk about victims getting revictimized by the system, they mean you."

The statement jabbed Emily. She was supposed to be one of the good guys, but she couldn't help wondering if Regina was right. She hesitated again, not knowing how to make the woman feel better. "I know it's hard, but-"

"No, you don't," Regina interrupted. "You have no idea what it's like when the monster from your nightmares comes back for you."

"The monster from your nightmares." Ian Doyle's face flashed in Emily's mind. His voice. His fists against her ribs; the burn of his brand on her chest; his face, laughing down at her as she lay bleeding on the floor of that warehouse.

Emily looked down at the table, trying to push the horrific memories out of her head. Nervously, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and could no longer meet the woman's gaze.

"Wait…" Regina paused, obviously noticing the shift in Emily's behavior.

"Look," Emily said, trying to recover before Regina could get any further. "I'm here as a courtesy…" she fumbled for words, still unable to meet the other woman's eye.

"Something happened to you," Regina continued as she studied Emily's face.

Emily shook her head, as if that could make the subject go away. "So, do you want to give me your statement or not?"

"What'd you do," Regina leaned across the table, looking directly into the profiler's eyes. "Did you arrest him, like a good FBI agent? Or did you kill him." It was a statement more than a question.

Emily closed her eyes, willing to be anywhere else, anyone else. She couldn't stop the reel of memories though: from when she got the call that Ian was back in the States, to when she realized he knew who and where she was, to her first sight of him, packing her bag and getting out of her apartment, going after him, with the full intention of killing him…

"I didn't pull the trigger," she said finally, opening her eyes and looking at the broken woman in front of her.

"Still." Regina didn't back away. "You're monster's dead."

Emily just stared. She suddenly felt as though everything were wrong. She had told Hotch that this job was clean, but she was wrong. There was nothing clean about this. There were no clear lines between good guys and bad guys. Where did Regina fit in those categories? Where did she fit?

All the stability Emily had relied on suddenly collapsed. She didn't know who she was, or what she was doing, sitting here telling this woman that she "saved her from a life in prison" when in reality, her whole life was still going to be a prison as long as that man was still alive. Even if he was dead. Doyle was dead, but he was still seemed to run Emily's life.

"I have to live with mine," Regina said, still staring at Emily. She tapped the legal pad sitting between them. "That's my statement."

…

JJ hadn't seen Emily taking down Regina Lampert's statement, but she didn't imagine it could have gone well. The red-haired woman had been screaming and crying, hurling insults and fury at Emily as she walked her into the station. From all the yelling and a brief conversation with Morgan, JJ had gathered that Emily talked Regina out of shooting the Piano Man by lying to her.

Needless to say, JJ was significantly surprised when she walked past the front of the police station and noticed Emily standing outside, talking with Regina. The woman was being allowed to go home, no charges were to be filed against her.

JJ watched as the two conversed. Neither looked angry, in fact JJ could tell that they were both being especially gentle with each other. At one point, Emily hugged Regina, her hand lingering on the woman's arm as she pulled away to say something else to her. A harsh jealousy immediately sprang up inside JJ as she watched the scene.

Okay, I get comforting the victim, but seriously. Now she's just flirting.

Frowning, JJ shifted and continued to watch as Emily handed Regina her card. She could see Emily clearly saying "Call me if you need anything. Anytime."

And Regina was just eating it all up. She leaned in and embraced Emily again.

Thirty minutes ago she was furious at Emily, now she can't keep her damn hands off her, JJ thought angrily as she turned away from the window, unable to watch any more, and went to go gather her things.

Stalking down the hall, trying to push the image of Emily lingering on Regina's arm out of her mind, JJ almost walked headlong into the brunette.

"Oh! Sorry," Emily said, reaching out to steady JJ. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"Trying to get ready to leave," JJ said shortly, moving herself away from the older woman's touch and completely avoiding her eyes.

"Oh, right. Wheel's up soon, yeah? I better get my stuff too," Emily offered a small smile and moved to continue on her way.

"How was Regina?" JJ said before she could stop herself. She couldn't help it. She didn't get why, but seeing the two of them so friendly had really set her on edge.

Emily looked slightly taken aback at the blunt question. "Um, she was pretty shaken up, and angry at me..." the brunette trailed off, shrugging slightly and looked as though she was about to walk away.

"Didn't look like she was too angry," JJ muttered, rolling her eyes.

Emily immediately stopped, turning to face JJ. "What is that supposed to mean?"

JJ let herself become indignant at Emily's angry tone. "Just that you guys looked awful friendly in the parking lot, that's all," she said, meeting Emily's eyes with equal intensity.

"You have got to be kidding me," Emily scoffed. She shook her head at the blonde.

"You were – she was flirting with you!" JJ blurted out, flushing. "And you weren't exactly not encouraging her!"

Emily's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "I cannot believe..." She shook her head again, obviously growing increasingly angry. "No. You know what, JJ, I don't have the time or the energy for your crap right now," she snapped, pushing past the blonde. She only took a few steps before she stopped and turned back. "And why are you even acting like you have some right to care?" she yelled. "It's not like you...you don't even..." Unable to finish her sentence, Emily just threw up her hands and strode angrily away down the hall.

JJ was left standing there, trembling from her own frustration. Well...she was flirting, JJ attempted to justify herself. It was unprofessional. That's why I care. Obviously.

Despite her reasoning, Emily's words, the ones that JJ had been avoiding for days, echoed in her head. "JJ, what is it that you want?"

...

JJ was still maintaining her irritation at Emily when she boarded the jet half an hour later. She was slightly early, but she just wanted to be alone and really wasn't in the mood for Morgan and Reid's joking. She had a right to be angry at Emily. She was flirting with a victim! And…it was…Even more infuriating that she was right about you sending her completely contradictory signals? Yeah, I can see why that would make you angry.

JJ bit her lip, not appreciating the voice of reason choosing that moment to speak up.

Walking into the cabin, she saw Hotch sitting facing the door, talking to someone she quickly realized to be Emily.

JJ saw the brunette follow Hotch's gaze, turning to look over her shoulder. JJ could immediately tell that she had been crying.

"I…" Words caught in her throat as her eyes met Emily's. She wasn't sure if she should stay or go, as worry about Emily flooded her gut, combined with guilt about the fact that she had just yelled at the woman not thirty minutes ago.

"I'm so sorry," JJ managed, finally finding her voice and Emily looked away, turning back towards Hotch. "I didn't think…I didn't know you guys were meeting…"

Hotch nodded at her. "It's okay, JJ," he said before she could say anything else. "Can you give us a minute?" His tone communicated clearly that it wasn't really a request. JJ nodded silently and hurried off the plane. Out on the tarmac, she stood, feeling like a complete ass.

Oh god. I hope everything is okay…I can't believe I was such a jerk to her. JJ ran her fingers through her hair and glanced back up at the plane. It wasn't often that she had witness Emily crying, and seeing her face…it broke JJ's heart. She wanted to go to Emily, to hold her, to tell her she was sorry…

"Hey JJ, is everything ok?" Reid, Morgan and Rossi were approaching from the hangar laden with their bags.

"Oh! Um, yeah," JJ rearranged her face into a friendly smile. "I was just waiting to get on the plane. You know, enjoying the fresh air before the long flight…"

Rossi smiled. "It's certainly going to be colder when we get back. Better enjoy the warm air while you can."

JJ nodded and flashed him a quick grin. She couldn't think of anything else to say to stall them as they began to pass her and climb the stairs onto the jet. She just hoped Hotch and Emily had taken note of the time.

When they all entered the cabin, Hotch was pouring himself a glass of water and Emily was reading a book. Both of them looked like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. JJ watched Emily apprehensively, wanting very much to go sit by the brunette and take her hand, to apologize, to make sure everything was okay…But she was too afraid that might just make things worse. Instead, JJ took a seat next to Reid, and spent the flight watching the young man beat the pants off of Morgan at chess.

...

That night, Emily arrived home with too many emotions gathered over the lst two days. She slammed the door behind her as she entered her condo and threw her purse onto the counter. She went immediately to the cupboard, and grabbed a glass with the complete intention of filling it full of whiskey. Staring at the liquor bottle in her right hand and the empty glass in her left, unbridled rage filled her body. Ian Doyle had stolen her life from her. He was dead, and he STILL had the power to fill her with fear.

"Sometimes in my dreams, I can still hear his voice."

Emily's grip on the glass tightened at the memory of Diane's words.

" Your monster is dead."

"Your team buried you. They lost someone they loved. Maybe you did too."

"FUCK!" Emily screamed, unable to silence the echoes in her head. She turned, hurling the empty glass against the far wall, watching it shatter as shards of glass scattered all over the kitchen. She sank to the floor, the unopened bottle falling beside her.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! She repeated silently, her eyes shut tight.

Tears stung her cheeks, despite her clenched jaw holding back sobs. Emily Prentiss was dead. Her life was over. Ian Doyle hadn't succeeded in killing her, but he had somehow managed to end her life.

The thought wasn't comforting at all, but for some reason it quelled the flow of tears. Wiping her eyes, Emily slowly looked around her silent kitchen. This wasn't working. This place belonged to a dead woman. She needed to get out of here. Needed a new life. That was the answer.

Suddenly strangely calm, Emily stood up and walked numbly upstairs to her room. She pulled a suitcase out of her closet, and throwing it open on her bed, she began to pack.

...~...