I'm sorry, to be honest, I meant to post this earlier, but I kind of forgot about this story for a bit. I already have papers due (well, one's a pointless little essay), and that kind of stole my focus. Anyway, here is the update, be aware there's more naughty language than usual in the second part. And, right now I'm rethinking my plan for the ending, so that may delay things in the future (not for the next few chapters I think, but a bit later on).

Thank you for reading, and thank you for everyone who reviewed the last chapter, it's much appreciated. I will try to be better with posting this.

And an FYI, for anyone who reads it, I'm in the process of working on a new Addy story, so that series will be resurrected soon.

One other FYI, I will not be writing the case file/Emily's return fic that I promised months ago for obvious reasons (ie the fast approaching season premiere). Sorry about that. But, I think I've decided my next chaptered project is going to be a very dark AU story, provided grad school doesn't make my head explode before I get to it.

Update: I am fucking space cadet today. I got this all ready in the Doc Manager, and then what did I do? I forgot to post it. FAIL.

Emily poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot in the police station, coffee that looked more like engine oil. JJ appeared, and she held it up in offering. The blonde nodded, so she grabbed another cup, and poured more, before setting it back on the burner. The station was pretty quiet considering, only a handful of cops inside, and a dozen or so members of the press core outside.

JJ sniffed the coffee and wrinkled her nose. "Why is cop coffee always as appetizing as Listerine?"

She smiled. "If we enjoyed it, it might lull us into a sense of well-being, if you're gut is burning you're more focused on work."

The blonde smirked. "So...?"

Emily stared at her. "So, what?"

"Come on, talk to me, what's going on with you and Morgan?"

She sighed and shook her head. "It's not what you're thinking, Jayje."

JJ nodded. "So, he told me."

"What exactly did he tell you?"

"That it helps you sleep."

Emily bit her lip, and looked at her feet. In the quiet of the night, there was no shame in being afraid, and they didn't discuss it, at all really. Admitting it in the light of day to a third party that like a child she was scared of the night, it was very embarrassing. Finally, she sighed and looked up. "That's about it."

"Really? Because I don't think that's all it is for him."

She looked at JJ quickly, startled. "What? Did he say something else to you?"

JJ's eyebrows rose. "His lips don't have to be moving to tell me what's going on. And, neither do yours."

Emily snorted. "If you know so much why are you asking me?"

"To see if you know it yet."

She groaned. "JJ, you're talking in riddles. Spit it out, if you have something to say."

She sighed. "You and Morgan care far too much about each other to keep pretending you're just friends.

"Are you encouraging me to get involved with Morgan?"

"No. As your colleague I have to tell you that's a bad idea and you could both lose your jobs." JJ paused. "But as your friend, which I think is more important, you're already involved even if you refuse to see it, and maybe you should stop and think if maybe it would be worth the risks."

Emily stood rooted to the spot, staring at her friend, deepening frown on her face. "Do you realize you just blatantly contradicted yourself?"

"Yep." JJ nodded.

"Uh, Agent Prentiss?" An officer appeared beside him, looking awkwardly around the large vase of flowers he was carrying.

It was an expensive-looking arrangement of roses, calla lilies, and snapdragons, all brilliant red, with tiny sparkling rhinestones dotted throughout. The vase was red too, with a small white card sticking up in the center.

"Officer Tanner?" She asked, eyeing the bouquet with suspicion.

"These just came for you, ma'am; you seem to have a secret admirer." He held them out to her, but Emily didn't move to take them.

Instead JJ, after glancing at her friend several times, snatched the card. That seemed to knock Emily out of her stupor.

"Does it say who they're from?"

JJ frowned. "Not really, but it sounds like he expects you to know."

"Well, he expects wrong," she said. "What does it say?"

"You want me to read it aloud?" The liaison seemed surprised, like she wouldn't have.

Emily nodded. "Only one guy has the right to send me flowers like that, and he didn't send them."

It was definitely a bouquet that spoke of love and romance, and only Morgan was in a position to believe she might respond positively to that. And, she knew he didn't send them. First of all, they weren't at that place, and second, he wouldn't send her flowers where the whole team could see, not to mention their boss.

JJ shrugged. "My Love, I hope with these you'll forgive my absence in your time of need. XXX."

"Does that list the company name?"

She glanced at the top. "Floral Fantasies, number is here too."

Emily pulled out her phone, and quickly punched in the appropriate numbers. "Floral Fantasies, where your sweetheart's fantasies become a reality, how may I assist you?"

"Emily Prentiss, I'm with the FBI. You just had a bouquet delivered to me at the Ryeburg police station, I need the name on the order."

"Oh...uh, well okay, just give me a minute to look...was there a problem with the flowers, Agent?" She asked.

"Yeah, I didn't ask for them," Emily said.

"Oh well, then you must have a secret admirer, isn't that exciting?"

Her jaw tensed in annoyance. "Not really, my last secret admirer broke into my hotel room in the middle of the night, and I had to shoot him."

"Excuse me?"

"The name, please," Emily said.

"Uh, well the order addressed to a Miss Emily Prentiss doesn't have a name listed, but the credit card information lists...a Mr. George Liberman."

She sighed. "Please don't accept anymore orders from George Liberman to myself. In fact, don't accept any orders that are addressed to me."

"Uh, well I'm not sure we can-"

"Thank you," Emily cut her off and hung up.

"They're from Liberman?" JJ asked, cringing just asking it.

"Yep, Prince Charming himself."

"Um, Agent Prentiss, what do you want me to do with...?" The young officer held up the flowers.

"Do you have a wife or a girlfriend?" She asked, to which he nodded. "Good, give them to her."

He frowned. "Oh-okay, thanks I guess."

Emily nodded, and then headed back to the conference room, JJ right behind her. Morgan noticed the stressed look on her face almost immediately, and it seemed most of the guys noticed her change in demeanor as they were suddenly watching the two women enter.

"What's wrong?" Hotch asked. Emily handed him the love note, which he read, frowned deeply, and then looked at her in utter confusion. "What's this?"

"It was with an expensive bouquet of flowers, addressed to me, paid for with Liberman's credit card."

"I'll contact the prison and have them revoke his phone and internet privileges," Rossi said, already moving to do just that.

Hotch nodded at him, and then turned back to Prentiss. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She wasn't but that didn't really matter.

He stared, seemingly trying to read her face for several minutes, before inhaling, and turning back to the team as a whole. "I know we have a lot of distractions right now, but I need everyone's heads focused on this case right now. I just asked the Lieutenant to pick up all the remaining names on the list. We don't have the time to visit all of them. So, get ready to do interviews all day."

That thought just about deflated all of them.

An hour later the police station was filled with a low roar, and brimming with complete chaos. There were thirty men, ages 20 to 43 that were being dragged away from whatever they were doing to come and answer questions. Currently, the team was in the conference room, insulated from the circus in the bullpen. Hotch looked stressed, everyone else just looked apprehensive. Morgan didn't know what to think.

He sighed, and finally pushed the door open, internally cringing at the sudden cacophony of noise. Men objecting to being brought in for questioning, men from all different walks of life. Some hadn't gotten past their rotten upbringing, and wore the worn out look of drug and alcohol abusers. One kid had a large hoops in his ear lobes, so that they formed holes you could see through-like a piercing on steroids. Two men were in suits, a few were in uniforms, one was in a sweat-stained wife beater and hollering about the first amendment, which wasn't actually relevant at the moment.

Morgan put his thumb and pointer finger against his lips and blew a shrill, piercing whistle that brought the room to silence. He looked at the mess in the wife beater. "What's your name?"

"Harold Flotnick. What the hell am I doing here? I was minding my own damn business, you people have no right to-"

"Shut up," Morgan hissed at him. He looked at the officer with him, an older guy with a little pudge around his middle, and a look of utter distain on his face. "Toss him in Interrogation 2, I'll deal with him."

The cop nodded, and then escorted Flotnick out of the bullpen. Morgan shook his head, and turned to find the rest of the team behind him, surveying the crowd with very little enthusiasm. He shrugged. "I guess we're going one at a time."

Hotch nodded at him, so Morgan proceeded into the conference room, dug through the folders until he found the one for Flotnick, and then strode over to Interrogation. He noted the rest of his team picking people, and instructing officers as he had. This was not going to be a fun exercise.

When he sat across from Flotnick, he felt an immediate gut instinct-this was not the guy. He was too sloppy, too stupid, and too outspoken, but still, he was obligated to at least question the man. "So, Mr. Flotnick, do you remember DFS visiting your home when you were seven, and then nine, when they removed you?"

"What the fuck is this about?"

Morgan nearly winced, this close to him, the man's breath smelled worse than a decaying body. At least underneath the stench of old booze. He couldn't believe he had reasonably clean-looking teeth in a mouth that appallingly rank. "Just answer the question, please."

"I ain't saying shit without a lawyer." He crossed his arms over his chest, and scowled underneath his baseball cap.

"You aren't under arrest, Mr. Flotnick. I just want to ask you a few questions to confirm you aren't the guy I'm looking for."

"If you don't think I'm him, why'd you drag me in here?"

Morgan sighed. "Just answer my questions and you can go. Do you remember the DFS visits?"

"Yeah, yeah. Aunt Shirley didn't do anything wrong, nosey parkers should have stayed out of our business," Flotnick said.

"Really?" Morgan asked opening the folder. "Because it says here in your DFS file that she took money from grown men and let them come into the house and touch you."

"We needed money, and it's not like they were harming me. They just got their feel, jacked-off and left."

"That's all it ever was, none of them ever wanted a little more?"

Flotnick drew back. "I'm not a goddamn faggot!"

"Calm down," Morgan said. "You were close to your aunt then?"

He settled back. "Only person I had after my parents died. She took me in, even though she didn't have much to give."

"They removed you from her custody when you were nine though."

"And, I hated them for it. They placed me with a couple of religious freaks, and that son of a bitch liked to take a paddle to me. My aunt never hit me."

"So you have no hard feelings toward your aunt, even though, for three years, she made you strip down and sit still while grown men put their hands all over you?" He asked.

"No. Man, why are you so hung up on that? It wasn't a big deal."

"It's illegal, and traumatizing for the children abused."

Flotnick scoffed. "You want trauma? I'll show you trauma." He suddenly stood, simultaneously unzipping his pants, and pulling his penis out, directing a stream of urine across the table.

Morgan jumped away, but not before receiving an unwanted shower. He ducked away from the stream and yelled at the door. "I need handcuffs in here!"

Instead of the locals he was hoping for, JJ opened the door, starting first at the smell, then at the scene.

"Hey sweetheart, how about a ride?" Flotnick asked, stroking himself as he grinned at her.

"Put it away, Flotnick. You're already looking at assault, I can easily add indecent exposure," Morgan threatened. "JJ, get a couple cops in here."

She nodded, wide-eyed and turned away from the door.

"Assault? There was no damn assault," Flotnick argued.

"Oh, believe me, between your piss and your nasty breath, it was assault."

Flotnick scoffed again. "Candy ass."

Morgan didn't get the chance to retort or physically attack, which he was sorely tempted to do. Two uniformed RPD cops came in one with handcuffs ready, the other with his nightstick out. They dragged Flotnick out, cursing and giggling his drunken head off.

"You alright," JJ asked.

He grimaced. "I'll live, but I'm going back to the hotel to shower...and burn these clothes." There was piss all over his shirt and pants, and even the side of his head, which he managed to turn to protect his face.

"I'll let Hotch know."

JJ disappeared then, and Morgan trudged out of interrogation, cursing colorfully.