A/N back again, sorry for the delay. Hot damn this was really difficult to write so I hope it lives up to expectations. This chap starts off a few minutes before the end of the last chapter. Thanks for all the reviews (you blew me away with the response to chapter 10) favourites and follows, special thanks to Casie01, Guest, Guest, rmpcmfan, Leslet, HD, Jareau37, ismiseems, criminalprofiler and TeaOfTheMonth.
A final quick note, my sincerest apologies (especially to criminalprofiler and HD) to those of you who wanted Will and Henry in this fic. Due to the fact that I have no idea how I would react if I found out my spouse/mother had killed 19 people (and it would be unbelievably sad to write) Will and Henry will not be making an appearance in this story. Maybe another time :)
In the meantime please continue to read this fic and enjoy the chapter
"Chief Morris, what can I do for you?" asked Hotch, confused as to why an FBI Section Chief should feel the need to speak to him in person in the middle of a case.
"I'm going to get straight to the point here, Agent Hotchner. I need you and your team to stand down."
Hotch frowned. "Our request for a search warrant wasn't denied was it? It never made it to a judge in the first place." It was more of a statement than a question.
Morris pretended not to hear. "I have spoken with Chief Strauss. She is expecting your team back at Quantico in 4 hours. You leave in 30 minutes."
"With all due respect, Sir, we were invited onto this case by the Boston Homicide Department. Eight people are dead. We will not be returning to Headquarters until the killers are caught or until asked to by the BPD."
"There is more going on here than you realise, Agent. Yes, eight people are dead. But that is just the tip of the iceberg. Unless you cease your investigation, many more will die and months of careful planning and investigating will go to waste. So, I will say it once more: the BAU will drop this case. Immediately. Do I make myself understood?"
Hotch was about to protest, but was distracted by Morgan hurrying towards him from across the bullpen, carrying a laptop. The detectives he left in his wake stared after him with a variety of expressions; bemusement, concern, bewilderment. Morgan himself just looked panicked, not an expression that usually graced his features.
Morgan staggered to a halt in front of him and turned the screen around to face him. "Agent Morgan, what are you-" Hotch stopped himself as he actually looked at the screen in front of him. On it was a distraught, entirely hysterical Garcia.
Hotch was concerned but right now he had more pressing issues than an upset technical analyst. "Garcia, what's wrong?" he demanded.
With the amount she was sobbing, he was surprised she was able to speak at all. "The… the female… unsub…" Garcia managed to choke out.
Hotch felt a bizarre thrill of excitement and dread. "What about the female unsub?" He waited a moment whilst Garcia wheezed in a breath, although it did little good.
"It's…" She sobbed again, "It's JJ" She burst into tears all over again.
Hotch couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Apparently neither could Morgan; it was Chief Morris who caught the laptop as it fell from Derek's limp hands. They had finally found her, after all almost three years. Hotch felt elated, like he could dance from cloud to cloud and pluck a star from the sky. Because they'd found her.
But then he remembered why Garcia was crying, why his elation carried with it a sickening tinge of dread.
"Show me." He whispered. "Garcia, show me."
Garcia was still sobbing hysterically but had regained enough of herself to put two pictures up onto the screen. On the left hand side was the woman from the boat; the one with close cropped hair, dead eyes and a determined set to her mouth. The one with a terrifying scar that stretched around her eye and across her cheek. On the right was JJ's old FBI ID photo. She was smiling; her long blonde hair only outshone by the vibrancy in her cerulean blue eyes. Hotch had only a moment to feel that familiar pang of grief and guilt before the reality of the situation hit him like a brick wall. There could be no argument that they were one and the same.
He slumped against the desk behind him.
Morgan, realising that Hotch's reaction confirmed the terrible truth of Garcia's words, slid down the wall and sat with his head in his hands.
Hotch just looked around the room listlessly, trying to comprehend how this was even possible. Then his eyes settled on his team, who were still in the conference room, staring in shock and confusion. Oh God, they still didn't know. Prioritise, he told himself, trying to collect his thoughts.
"Garcia, I want you on the first flight out to Boston, understood?" Garcia was still sniffling but gave a small nod and started typing. Chief Morris had put the laptop down on the other desk. Something was off. Aside from slightly pursed lips and an almost unperceivable frown, he had not reacted. Hotch's face darkened in anger, but he had to maintain his control for a short while longer. Slowly, calmly, he shut the laptop and turned to Morgan.
"Morgan, go and call Kevin Lynch, tell him to go to Garcia. Explain to him what is going on. I don't want her alone right now"
Morgan nodded absently, got out his phone and walked away.
Now Hotch turned to Morris. He spoke quietly but his voice was laced with fury. "How long have you known?"
"Agent Hotchner, I know what you're thinking but this doesn't change anything. Your team-"
"This changes everything!" Hotch yelled, ignoring the stares it earned him from around the police station. "Agent Jareau has been missing for almost three years; if you think my team is going to turn tail and head on home now then I suggest you speak to Chief Strauss."
"As I said before Agent, I have spoken with Strauss. She and I are in agreement that you and your team should return to Quantico."
"I'm sure you are, however, when you spoke to Strauss I would imagine that you failed to mention that one of her missing agents had been found." Hotch felt the tiniest glimmer of satisfaction as Morris looked away, confirming his suspicions. "Now, answer the question. How long have you known?" He shouted again and stepped forward so that he was less than a hair's breadth from Morris's face.
Morris took an automatic step backwards but then held his ground and looked Hotch in the eye. "It came to my attention four months ago that former Agent Jareau was in Boston."
Hotch returned his gaze with a mixture of disgust and disbelief. "You've known the location of a missing agent for four months and done nothing? How did you even find out where she was? Why did you not do something to help her?!"
"The people holding Miss Jareau are the focus of a highly confidential and delicate investigation. Extracting Jareau would have undone the entire case." Morris's voice softened, "Agent, I understand how you feel, but she is not the woman you remember. She has killed people. The only thing waiting for her out here is a prison sentence."
"I don't care." Hotch said coldly, although inside that knowledge was tearing him apart, "My team and I are not leaving Boston. If you have a problem with that I suggest you talk to Strauss and actually tell her the truth this time. Whilst you're doing that, I need to go and deal with my team." And with that he walked away, desperately trying to keep a lid on his rage.
He almost had his mask back in place by the time he strode into the conference room but it wasn't good enough. His pain was clear for everyone to see, as was Morgan's as he slipped in behind Hotch.
"Everyone, please, take a seat"
All the team sat around the desk, waiting in trepidation. Hotch took a deep breath and tried to work out what to tell them, how to tell them. He bit his lip unconsciously.
"Garcia got a hit on facial rec on the footage from the Coastguard vessel." He paused again. This was it. "The female…" He stopped, 'unsub' didn't feel right anymore, not when he was talking about JJ. "The woman from the boat…" He trailed off. He couldn't say it. Saying it would make it undeniably and irrevocably true.
Morgan came to his aid, although his voice cracked as a he spoke. "It's JJ"
They sat in stunned silence for what felt like an eternity, a myriad of emotions running across their faces. It was a good minute before anyone spoke. The first one to say anything was Reid, his voice high and quiet.
"She's alive" he said softly. Then a grin spread across his face. "She's alive" He repeated to himself. Because she was, and to him that's all that mattered.
Blake laid her hand on Prentiss's shoulder; Emily was staring in to space, her hands pressed together as if in prayer against her lips. She hardly dared to believe it. She looked up at Hotch and his face told him everything she needed to know. In fact it told her too much. JJ was one of their… unsubs… possibly even a killer. Yes, the despair that lurked in Hotch's eyes confirmed that.
She thought to herself that maybe now she truly understood how the team had felt when they found out about the Doyle operation, and the relationship she had been required to develop with him. She put her head in her hands, trying to equate the JJ she had known with the killer from the boat.
"Oh Bella" Rossi breathed. He had known, they had all known, that after this length of time, if they were to find JJ, that she would have changed. But he had never imagined it could have been like this. True, they did not have absolute confirmation, but as he tracked back over the CODs of the bodies in the morgue, he knew. In a way though, it gave him hope. Fatal laceration of the neck from behind was not the MO of a willing killer.
"Where do we go from here?" asked Prentiss, she sounded exhausted.
Hotch sighed and rubbed his temples. "Honestly, I don't know. I need to negotiate with Morris and Strauss. Needless to say, we will not be going home until we can take JJ home with us."
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