A/N Thanks for your patience and support of this story. I hope everyone had a Happy Thanksgiving. No beta, all mistakes are mine.

Andy paced slowly just outside the breakroom door, his hands clinched tightly in to fists. He knew he needed to calm down before he spoke with his partner, but he wasn't having much luck with that. Quietly, he opened the door. Louie Provenza sat on the opposite side of the room, his back facing Andy. He stirred his piping hot mug of coffee with a deliberate ease despite the irritation growing inside of him. Refusing to acknowledge Andy's presence, Provenza's focus remained glued to the dark sludge swirling before him. "Hey." Andy spoke finally. "Mind if I join you for a few minutes."

"Suit yourself." Louie mumbled without looking up. The chair gave a grating squeak against the tile floor as Andy sat down on the opposite side of the small table. Provenza couldn't help but study his friend over the rim of his coffee cup. Honestly, he couldn't remember the last time he had seen Andy looking so beaten down. He wanted to stay irritated at his friend but that was proving more difficult than he thought.

Andy met his gaze, their eyes locking for a brief moment, "You think I made a mistake…bringing her here." The sound of defeat in Flynn's voice told him it wasn't a question, so he waited for his friend to continue. "You don't know what it was like…watching her slowly slip into herself today. She didn't speak; after a couple of hours of waiting on news of Emily, she would barely even make eye contact…I felt like I was losing her... even though she was right in front of me." He stood quickly, the chair making that terrible noise for the second time in a matter of minutes. "I thought the crying…the screaming was bad, but the silence…" running both hands through his hair, he began to pace. "I needed to find a way to reach her, to get her out of her head, I needed…"

"You needed her to be the Captain…" Provenza's voice was low.

"Yeah, exactly." Andy stopped to stare at his friend, a small glimmer of hope was barely visible in his dark eyes. "I knew you would understand."

Leaning back in his chair, Louie Provenza crossed his arms over his chest, "You…needed…her to be the Captain, but what does Sharon need?" His question hung in the air between them, "I can't say that I understand… I can't say that you did the right thing bringing her here, because honestly, I don't know." Andy's shoulders sagged as he took in Provenza's words. "What I do know is that we have to find Emily and sitting here is not going to accomplish that." With a slight groan, Provenza stood. Coffee in hand, he slowly made his way to the breakroom door, "And a word of advice…" he turned back to look at Andy, "Steer clear of Julio, he's having a tough…well, just steer clear for now."

Nodding his head slightly, Andy let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding as he watched his partner and best friend walk away from him. His phone vibrated in his pocket, drawing his attention. "Hey John, I only have a few minutes..."

~~~~~~MC~~~~~

Emily stood atop the old wooden crate for perhaps the fifth time in the last few hours. She stretched to her left, her eyes finally making contact with the soft glow of the street lamp across the over grown yard. The window was small, she might could have fit through if it wasn't for the metal bars blocking her way. It was dark out now, nonetheless just being able to see outside quietened Emily's mind somehow. Jumping from the edge of the crate to the basement floor, Emily ran her hands up and down her arms in an effort to bring some warmth to her shivering body. The temperature in the damp basement had fallen considerably once the sun went down, leaving her thin long sleeve t-shirt the source of little comfort. Today would go down as the most terrifying day of her life, but also the strangest. Picking up Mickie's tattered notebook, Emily leafed through the worn pages until she found her favorite drawing near the back. While most of the sketches had a childlike quality to them, the one that captured her attention and her heart was of her mother's eyes. It was so perfect in its detail and simplicity, leaving no room to ponder whose eyes were staring back from the page.

The longer she stared at the detailed drawing the more confused Emily became. She was having a hard time reconciling the young man, boy really, with whom she had spent the afternoon playing board games while sharing peanut butter and banana sandwiches to the man who had kidnapped and so brutally injured her mother. Mickie had been very quiet at first, sharing a single one-word response to any of her questions. But gradually as the day had worn on, he let his guard down and began speaking in short sentences. It didn't take Emily long to learn quite a bit of information, including confirmation of her suspicion that there were indeed two men upstairs; the dark headed man who took her from the small park across from the hospital and per Mickie, a nice older man he referred to as Cam.

There had only been one brief moment during her time in the basement that Emily had felt remotely scared of Mickie. Hugging the small notebook to her chest, Emily's mind wandered back to their conversation not even a short hour before.

"Why did you hurt her?" Her question to him was barely a whisper, but she knew he had heard her. The small pencil in his hand suddenly stopped all movement, yet he did not look up from the notebook in his lap. "You keep drawing her...I just wondered...why..." He stood quickly from his place on the mattress, the notebook falling next to where Emily sat, resting against the wall. His hands were suddenly balled into tight fists, causing her to scoot quickly away from him. "I'm sorry, forget I said anything. You've been nothing but nice to me," Emily voice was soft, yet the tone did not hide her fear. He slowly backed away from her, his face a mask of anger and...regret.

"She...she..." He stammered, "Kkkilled. my father."

"No." Emily shook her head in protest, "you're wrong. I don't know who told you that, but my mother did not kill your father. I may not know much about her job, but I do know for a fact that she did not kill him. She was there, she tried to help him but it was too late." Mickie moved farther way from her, slowly shaking his head.

"No. No... you lie." He pointed angrily at her.

Carefully getting to her feet, Emily's eyes remained glued on him. "Mickie, look at me. I'm not lying and I think you already know that." His gaze dropped to his tightly fisted hands as he took another step back. "Mickie, I said look at me. Sharon Raydor did not kill your father." She waited a few beats until his eyes finally met hers again. "Phillip Stroh killed your father, not my...Mother." His vibrant blue eyes suddenly grew dark.

"Phil...lip, Phil...lip," he drew the name out again. "You know Phil...lip?"

"No, only what my brothers have told me about him. I've never even spoken to my Mom about him." Emily slowly stepped closer, "Have you heard that name before?"

"Phil...lip," he slowly mumbled again. Emily now was standing less than a foot from him. His face finally softening, he looked intently at her, "Sorry...I scared you."

She smiled softly at him, "I know. Come..." with a small tilt of her head, "sit back down. I want you to finish what you were drawing."

It wasn't long after they got settled back on the old mattress that Mickie had been called upstairs. That had been over an hour ago now. Emily could hear voices above her, but she couldn't make out the words. The sound of foot steps drawing near to the basement door caught her attention and her breath caught in her chest until she saw Mickie coming back down the steps. "We go." He stepped toward her.

"Go?" She questioned. "Go where?"

He slowly shrugged his shoulders, "We go." He repeated, holding up a dark green scarf, "No seeing. Safe."

"You want to blindfold me?" The panic grew in Emily's voice. "Please, I can keep my eyes closed...please."

"Em...ily." It was the first time he had actually said her name. In that instant she felt certain that he would protect her no matter what. "No seeing, please." He carefully held the cloth out to her, "Em...ily safe."

Taking the dark green fabric from him, Emily carefully tied it around her eyes. She waited, focusing on the sound of him moving around the basement behind her. She could make out the sound of paper being torn, but not much more. She jumped slightly at the feel of his hand against her forearm, she then felt another hand on her hip. It almost felt like he slipped something into her pocket, yet she was sure it was just her imagination. "We go," his voice was low against her ear. "Safe, I.I.I promise."

Carefully, one step at a time he lead her out of the basement. She could hear movement around her but no other voices. Her heart began to race and for a moment she thought that panic would overcome her. She knew the second they were outside, the night air cool against her face. The sound of a car door opening to her right startled her, gently he helped into the vehicle, moving to sit beside her on the back seat. She had no idea what was happening or where they were going. He could feel her tremble beside him, "Safe, Em...ily, safe," he quietly reassured her as the old van began to move.

~~~~~~~MC~~~~~~~

The hallway was long and narrow. Despite the single red light bulb positioned over half way down the hall, she could make out at least six doorways. She tried the first door, but found it to be locked. "Momma...Momma?" Emily's voice sound as if she was right next to her.

"Emily...Emily!" She called as she moved down the hall to the next door. She pulled on the knob but it refused to budge. A phone ringing in the distance caught her attention. Maybe she could get to the phone, call for backup. She hurried past the next door as the phone continued to ring.

"Momma...Momma...Please help me." Stopping in her tracks at the sound of Emily's voice, she moved back to the door she had just passed. She tried in vain to turn the knob but it would not move. Leaning heavily against the door, she struggled to catch her breath. Closing her eyes for the briefest of seconds, the phone began to ring again.

She hurried down the hall, running this time. The soft glow of the single bulb catching her attention as she passed by it. 'Wasn't that light red just a few minutes ago?' She silently questioned. She was almost to the end when the phone stopped ringing yet again. She turned back, bathed in the soothing glow of the green opaque light. She leaned forward resting her hands against her knees. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest. "Damn it." She muttered under her breath. Slowly she started back down the hall, retracing her steps as her fingers moved along the edge of the wall. She listened intently for any sound that might lead her to Emily.

"Mom?" She stopped, frozen in place. Turning slowly, she expected to find Emily directly behind her. She took one small step forward, hands shielding her eyes, the green light from the single overhead bulb growing brighter and brighter still, blinding her from from the sights before her.

"Emily!" She called one last time as the bulb shattered above her head raining shards of glass down as the darkness enveloped her.

Sharon Raydor sat straight up, bathed in cool sweat from the nightmare that seemed so real. She moved to hold one hand to her side, the pain there threatening to take her breath away. Her eyes took a few moments to focus on her surroundings. Her office, yes; now she remembered. The blinds were still tightly closed, yet she could tell that it was now dark outside. She had no concept of time or how long she had been asleep.

Closing her eyes, she cradled her head in one hand. The ringing of a phone startled her, causing her to glance about the room. The sound was familiar but she knew it couldn't be her phone; Andy had said her phone was at home. Suddenly she realized it was the same ringtone from her dream. She stood too quickly, a wave of dizziness causing her to sway. She stumbled toward the sound of the phone. Nearing her small conference table, she eyed the plant suspiciously. Pulling the plant to the edge of the table she looked through the stalks but found nothing. Afraid that the ringing would stop she took the plant in both hands, shaking it has hard as she could, dumping the contents of the pot across the table. Dirt slid over the slick wooden table on to the near by chair, but it was the thud of the phone incased in a plastic ziplock bag against the floor that caught her attention. Reaching down, she ripped at the bag, finally fingering the small black flip phone. "Hello?" The phone was warm against her ear.

"Captain, so good to finally hear your voice. Although you sound...a bit under the weather." Her eyes closed as the voice registered in her mind. She gripped the back of the closest chair in an attempt to stay upright. "Captain? Captain...what's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

"If you hurt Emily..." She started.

"Emily...very sweet girl. Takes after her mother in many, many ways." His soft chuckle threatened to turn her stomach. "Listen...Captain, we both know this isn't about Emily. Emily is just...well the means to an end I guess you could say."

"What do you want?"

"That's easy...you."

"And Emily comes home...safe?"

"Absolutely. You have my word."

"Your word!" She scoffed.

"It's all about trust, my dear Captain. I trust you to come alone, unarmed with out telling your team or your charming boyfriend and you trust me to let Emily go. You and I both know the original plan never involved Emily."

"How?" Her breath caught in her throat.

"In ten minutes there will be a car waiting for you downstairs. And don't get any ideas, it will just be a random Uber. He will bring you to a location where Emily will be waiting. You get out of the car, she gets in and he brings her back to PAB. Just a simple round trip fare as far as he knows."

"Only if I can speak to her...make sure she is okay."

"I'll let you have that, but only a brief minute. I will have people watching, Captain. One false move and..."

"Ten minutes..." She interrupted, "I need to get going."

"Safe travels...Oh, and Captain, bring the phone with you."

The line went dead before she could respond. "Oh dear God..." she cried softly. Running her hands over her face, she moved to her desk, fumbling with the top drawer, she wished for her extra pair of glasses. She pulled a pair of scissors from the tray on the side of the drawer, slipping them into the side of her right boot. Next she searched for her letter opener before she realized it was in the pen holder next to her laptop. In her rush, the holder toppled over sending pens rolling across her desk to the floor below. She paused, hand to her chest, praying that no one in the murder room heard the commotion. Slipping the letter opener into her left boot, she focused next on finding the Dodgers cap and scarf in her back credenza.

Less than three minutes later she was in the elevator, having left her office through the adjacent conference room. Much to her surprise and luck, the elevator remained empty until it stopped on the second floor. Slipping out past the plain clothed officer stepping on to elevator, Captain Sharon Raydor looked down, avoiding eye contact as she made her way across the hall to the ladies room. After quickly using the bathroom, she wrapped the scarf around her neck before arranging her hair under the ball cap. Just raising her arms above her head made her feel sick to her stomach but she had no choice but to ignore the discomfort. Taking the stairs to the first floor was almost her undoing, but she felt it was safer than the elevator. She really wasn't sure how much time had passed as she sat on the bottom step struggling to catch her breath. "Come on...you can do this for Emily. You can do anything for Emily," she repeated over and over in her mind.

Holding tightly to the railing, she pulled herself slowly to her feet. A minute or so later she was outside, the cool night air startling yet some how soothing. A small grey Prius waited on the corner of First Street. As she neared, the young man let the window down, "Are you Sharon?"

"Yes." Settling herself in the back seat, she prayed she was doing the right thing.

The normally ten minute drive to Lincoln Park was now on minute eighteen and Sharon felt as if she was on the verge of loosing her mind. Her fingers moved over the edge of the cellphone resting in her sweater pocket, begging it not to ring. Finally, they turned into the parking area just to the north of the park. The area was relatively empty, in a matter of seconds she spotted Emily sitting on a bench next to Michael Schaeffer. The car had barely come to a complete stop before Sharon was out the door, running toward Emily. Mother and daughter clung to each other as both were overcome with tears.

Stepping slightly back, Sharon carefully surveyed Emily's face in the dim light of the street lamp. "Are you okay, did he hurt you?"

Pulling her mother back into her embrace, "I'm fine. Mickie was really nice to me. He...Oh, Mom...he tried to make me feel safe, he took good care of me." Lifting her head over Emily's shoulder, Sharon's eyes met the crystal blue eyes of her attacker standing only a few feet away and she knew immediately that Emily was telling the truth.

Shivering in the cool night air, Emily burrowed closer to her mother. Sharon ran her hand up and down her daughter's arms. "You're freezing, sweetheart." Wincing in pain, she shrugged out of her sweater, carefully placing it around Emily's shoulders before wrapping the scarf around her neck. "Come on." Hand in hand, she led Emily to the awaiting car. Holding the back door open, Emily scooted in, expecting her mother to move in beside her. In one swift move the back door slammed shut, leaving Emily in shock. "Remember what I told you." Sharon leaned into the front passenger window, her eyes focused on the driver.

"Lieutenants Provenza and Flynn." The young man stated as he put the car in drive, thus locking the doors. Stepping back, Sharon watched as the Prius sped off, her daughter's tear stained face disappearing into the LA night.

Her knees buckled before she even realized she was going down. The firm hands that caught her were gentle this time. Carefully, he carried her to the park bench, occupied by her daughter only minutes before. He would do what he was told to do for now and they would wait for the dark green van. But he had questions, and he only trusted her to tell him the truth.