As promised, here is Chapter 11. This is the second to last chapter and wraps up the bulk of the story. Thanks so much for reading. I am again deeply grateful for the wonderful response. I hope you enjoy!

With Victor at last reluctantly on board, Emily, Victor, and Perry returned to the rendezvous point to chart out a course for Emily to walk around the campus. Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan were still there when they returned. Hotch and Rossi must have said something to calm Morgan down. Emily feared that as soon as Morgan found out they were going through with the plan, he would lash out. He did brood a bit, firmly setting his jaw and not speaking to anybody, and Emily swore she caught him shooting a couple of death glares at Victor when he thought nobody was looking. Yet he didn't argue. He remained silent while Hotch and Rossi added a helpful comment or two, aiding Emily, Victor, and Perry in fine-tuning their plan.

By nearly eight o'clock, with the sun now set and the sky dotted by orange and white balls of city lights, Emily was ready to go. All of the bodies had been found near the outskirts of campus. Three behind buildings on the north or west sides of campus and one in the park to the southeast. Emily would start her route to the north where she and Derek had searched earlier and would cover the isolated areas around the perimeter of campus before working her way inward. Victor would track her at a moderate distance. Perry and an additional officer would follow behind Victor to provide any needed support. The plainclothes officers on sight established a loose perimeter around the campus to watch in case Meyers either didn't see or didn't take the bait and attempted to leave. Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan would join them.

Barely a word was spoken that didn't pertain directly to the plan. Heavy tension permeated the air as the officers and agents split up to take their respective positions. Just before departing to help the officers at the perimeter of campus, Rossi pulled Emily aside.

"I know you don't need any lectures from an old fart like me," Rossi started. He was smiling weakly, failing to hide the worry in his eyes. "But take care of yourself kiddo. I know your instinct is to fight, but if you go down, just worry about defending yourself. Buy Victor enough time to get to you. Remember, Meyers always goes for the heart. Don't give him a clean shot at it."

"You mean a clean stab?" she quipped. With the possible exception of Hotch, any other member of the BAU team would have raked her over the coals for such a joke at such a time, but Rossi actually chuckled.

"Seriously, Rossi," she continued. "Don't worry about me. I'll be alright."

"I know you will. But I always worry," he answered, setting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "See you in a little bit."

…

Less than ten minutes later, Emily, Victor, Perry, and an officer named Rhodes proceeded towards the northern end of the campus. A few packs of straggling students passed by here or there, but otherwise the area was fairly quiet. Perry and Rhodes splintered off to take up position from which to start trailing Victor. After several more paces, it was time for Emily and Victor to split up as well.

"You ready?" Emily sighed tensely.

"No," he said, lifting his hand and placing it gently on her cheek. She sensed a slight trembling in him. Suddenly, he leaned in and locked his lips with hers. For a second, she thought he was never going to pull away and she didn't think she wanted him to.

"Now I'm ready," he said at last. But that wasn't quite true. She saw the fear in his eyes. A fear mixed with a little bit of guilt. And he was still caressing her face with his hand. She placed her own hand reassuringly on top of his.

"It's going to be alright," she promised. "I love you."

"Not as much as I love you," he quipped, smiling with great effort.

"Let's get this guy and go home," she said.

With heavy hesitation, they finally parted, and Emily started down the path she'd charted. She banished the goodbye to the corner of her mind where she locked away the things she couldn't think about while working. The things that could be a deadly distraction if she let them.

Soon, Emily had another distraction to try and lock away. She was nearly numb with cold. She'd had to forego an umbrella so Meyers could see what she looked like. While the rain was still coming down lightly, the temperature was only just above freezing. The effectiveness of her warm, sturdy jacket could only do so much when her head and face were wet and frigid. At least her feet were dry, Emily thought. Things would have been so much worse if she had been sloshing through some of the gathering puddles in anything less than boots.

Her discomfort only intensified the longer she wandered. She'd covered all the areas of the north end of campus without incident and was proceeding to a dark, isolated alley between two brick maintenance buildings on the western end of the campus. She was tempted to pick up her pace, if for no other reason than to keep her body warmer, but she didn't want to make it harder for Victor follow her. She assumed he was still behind her, but never looked back so as not to give away his presence. Although she wasn't exactly hoping for an encounter, she somewhat hoped that if Meyers was going to show himself at all, he would do it soon and get this all over with. At this point, it was all she could do to keep her teeth from chattering violently.

The hope that this ordeal might soon be over with had barely crossed her mind when she felt herself violently thrown against the wall of an adjoining building. Emily only got a glance at her attacker's face through the thing stream of light emanating from a small fixture above the back door of one of the buildings. A glance was all she needed. Paul Meyers had been loitering behind a rusted green dumpster.

Suddenly, Emily's entire body was seized with a jolting, searing pain. She felt her legs give out from under her, useless as jelly. She collapsed into a puddle, face colliding painfully with the pavement. If the Kevlar had diluted the impact of the taser at all, Emily thought it couldn't have been by much. She tried to will herself to move but found that she was unable. Her muscles seemed completely locked.

The collision of her head with the ground rendered her vision hazy, but out of the corner of her eye, Emily thought she caught a glint of silver. Despite the near nauseating pain in her forehead and cheek, she was thankful she had fallen face first. Her chest wasn't exposed. Meyers would have to flip her over before trying to plunge the knife into her heart. This would buy her a few seconds.

But the few seconds dissipated quickly. Almost instantaneously, she felt a rough hand on her shoulder, trying to turn her. She tried yelling out—anything to distract Meyers for another second or two—but all she managed was a rough grunt. Where the hell was Victor?

The sudden thud of a body slamming into the steel dumpster to her left answered her question.

"Metro Police," she heard Victor yell. "Drop the knife."

"Get off me," Meyers growled. "You're hurting me."

"Then drop the damn knife," Victor repeated.

Emily was still a bit dazed, but she realized she was regaining normal sensation in and control of her limbs. She only partially appreciated the return of sensation, as she was now absolutely soaked and even colder than before. Slowly, she forced herself into a sitting position up against the outer wall of the building opposite the dumpster. The metallic taste of blood was on the tip of her tongue. Emily couldn't tell if it was coming from her nose, her lip, or both.

Even though the alleyway poorly-lit, she could see that Victor had Meyers pinned up against the dumpster with one hand and was pointing his Glock with the other. Meyers still had a knife clutched tightly in his gloved right hand. He saw Emily re-position herself against the wall and tried to free himself, but Victor easily shoved him back up against the dumpster.

"Don't even think about it," Victor growled. "You make one more move towards her and I will put a bullet through your head."

"Victor, don't," Emily warned. Her breath was a bit labored and her voice strained, but she was now strong enough to be heard. "He's sick."

"Emily, if he doesn't drop the knife he's not giving me much of a choice," Victor pointed out, without turning around to look at her.

"Paul, listen to me," Emily said, addressing Meyers. "You probably don't remember me, but my name is Emily Prentiss. I was part of the FBI team that investigated the campus killings in Flagstaff when you represented Nathan Tubbs."

Meyers didn't respond, but Emily noticed that he cocked his head towards her a bit, as if to hear her better. She knew she had his attention.

"Paul, you know you're sick," she continued, struggling to keep her voice steady as possible despite her shivering body. "What you don't know is that your illness has combined with your memory of that case to turn yourself into something you're not. I know you're not a killer. I also know you have a wife who you love very much and who is down the street worried sick about you. Is this how you want things to end, Paul? Do you want to leave Margaret without saying goodbye?"

"No," Meyers answered her at last. Emily heard the tremors in his voice. "No, I want to see her."

"Then drop the knife," Victor commanded again, this time with a much more even tone.

The sound of metal clattering on pavement signaled Meyers' compliance with the request. Victor quickly kicked the knife down the alley and well out of reach.

"Slowly put your hands on your head," he ordered, holstering his gun and pulling out his cuffs as Meyers complied.

The sounds of splashing and footsteps coming down the alley trumpeted the late arrival of Perry and Rhodes, who kept their weapons drawn and fixed on Meyers.

"Emily, are you okay?" Perry asked, taking a quick glance at her slumped figure before returning his focus to Meyers.

"Peachy" she grunted.

"Rhoades, radio this in and call a medic. You got him, Vic?"

"Yeah," Victor confirmed, quickly securing Meyers' wrists behind his back and patting down his grey overcoat to check for any additional weapons. "Paul Meyers, you're under arrest for the murders of Sarah Wellesley, Rachel Watson, Emma Chesser, and Carla Phillips."

"I want to see my wife," Meyers insisted.

"We'll call her and you'll get to see her later," Victor replied roughly. "Right now you're going to the station."

"Vic, I'll take him, go to Emily," Perry insisted.

Victor didn't wait to be told twice. Within a few seconds he'd handed Meyers off to Perry and was kneeling beside Emily.

"Em, Emily," he said hurriedly. Emily's field of vision was still too blurred to quite make out his expression, but his voice betrayed his worry. "Jesus, you're freezing."

Quickly, he threw off his heavy jacket and slung it over her shoulders.

"You sure you're alright? Are you hurt anywhere?"

"Honestly, that taser thing made my whole body hurt, but I feel better now," she replied. "Face hurts though, and I'm going to have one bitch of a headache. Is my nose bleeding?"

"Let me see. Nope, you just split your upper lip," he returned the verdict and clicked off his light. She sensed the relief in his voice. No nosebleed meant a reduced chance of internal head injury. "You've got a nasty bruise on your face though. Medics should be here, let's go get you checked out."

"No. Seriously, I'm fine. I just want to go home," she protested. For the most part, she really did feel okay, given the circumstances. Her head still hurt, but her blurred vision was clearing and the rest of her body felt nearly back to normal. What she wanted more than anything was a hot tea and a change into dry clothes, but Victor wasn't going to let her off so easily.

"Emily, no," he said flatly. "You probably have a concussion. And those tasers can cause heart irregularities that people don't notice at first. I doubt your odds are improved by the fact that you were soaking wet when it happened. You're getting checked out."

"Victor, I'm fi…" she tried again to protest, but he cut her off.

"Look, because I'm a nice guy I'm going to give you a choice. Either you get up and walk over with me and get checked out, or I will physically pick you up and carry you over there to get checked out and then I'll call your mother."

"You wouldn't," she looked at him darkly.

"You're the one who said I'm a man of my word," he reminded her, recalling her taunt following their bet a few nights prior. A night that now seemed ages ago.

"Alright, you win," she relented. "Let's get this over with."

Cautiously, she rose to her feet. Grabbing her arm and shoulder, Victor helped her up but it turned out she didn't need it. Other than a brief wave of dizziness upon first arising, she was surprisingly steady. Still, he kept a firm grip on her arm as the couple made their way down to the end of the alleyway where an ambulance and a team of medics waited. Apparently Victor had worked with at least some of them before. He seemed to be on familiar terms with the lead medic. A blonde man in his forties named Graham.

Victor and Graham helped Emily mount the large step up the back of the ambulance. She removed her soaking jacket and sat herself on the edge of the gurney, allowed Graham to stick on a finger clip to check her vital signs, and prepared reluctantly to endure the annoyingly familiar battery of concussion tests. She was at least grateful for the heat in the ambulance and the thermal blanket Graham offered, which she wrapped tightly around herself.

"Has anybody called the victims' families yet to tell them it's over?" Emily asked Victor, who hunched his six foot frame onto a seat across from her in the ambulance.

"Perry can do that," Victor dismissed, clearly intent on staying with Emily.

"I think you should do it," she said. "This is going to take awhile anyway. I'll be alright. You deserve to make those calls."

"Are you sure?" he hesitated.

"Go," she insisted gently.

"Okay. I'll be right back," he said, leaning in to plant a light kiss on her cheek. "Graham, you better take damn good care of my wife."

"Only the best," Graham assured him.

"Emily, behave for him. Will you?"

"Yes. Just go," she pressed, rolling her eyes.

"Alright. Alright. Going. I'll be right back."

True to her word and despite her general irritability when it came to medical tests, Emily dutifully answered the boring litany of questions Graham put to her.

"What's your full name?"

"Emily Elizabeth Prentiss."

"Date of birth?"

"October 12, 1970."

"Today's date?"

"November 13, 2016."

"Do you know where you are?"

"University College, London."

After asking another dozen or so questions, Graham checked Emily's pupils with a flashlight and handed her an icepack for her throbbing head.

"Alright, passed with flying colors," he concluded. "Body temperature is a little low, but rising. I'd prefer it if you'd stay overnight for observation…"

"Not happening," she interrupted.

"Yeah, I figured," Graham smiled. "At least stay here and keep that blanket on until Vic comes back alright?"

"I think I can do that," Emily answered.

"Damn right you can," she heard Derek say. She glanced up at the back of the ambulance where Morgan, Hotch, and Rossi stood. Morgan looked downright relieved. Rossi was smiling at her, and Emily thought she might have detected the slightest of smiles on Hotch as well.

"Nicely done," Rossi remarked approvingly.

"I'm just glad it worked," Emily commented. "What's next for you guys?"

"We plan on staying for the next two days," Hotch answered. "I still want a few answers about Nathan Tubbs, and Scotland Yard has agreed to let us question Meyers tomorrow to see if he knows anything."

"Have they taken him down to the station yet?" Emily asked.

"Yeah, Perry got him out of here just before the media circus arrived," Morgan answered. "They're going to process and question him then let him see his wife."

"Speaking of," Rossi said, glancing over his shoulder, "I think there's someone here to see you Emily."

"Mrs. Meyers," Emily observed, as Margaret Meyers appeared from behind Rossi, dressed in a khaki rain jacket and clutching a navy blue umbrella.

"Agent Prentiss, Superintendent Polizzi said I could find you here," she said a bit hesitantly. "Did Paul hurt you?"

"I just fell during the arrest," Emily said quickly. She thought Mrs. Meyers could be spared the detail that Paul had been about three seconds away from sinking an eight-inch blade into Emily's heart. "What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to say thank you. Mr. Polizzi said you helped talk Paul down. While he didn't say it directly, I get the impression that if you hadn't, the police would've had to ki…" her voice trailed off as she took deep, gasping breaths.

"Mrs. Meyers, I just helped," Emily assured her. "Paul dropped that knife on his own."

Mrs. Meyers nodded rapidly, but Emily could tell she didn't quite believe her.

"Well, whatever the case, thank you," she insisted. "I needed Paul to be alive. I know most people won't sympathize or understand, but…"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," Emily assured her.

"You might be able to see Paul soon," Rossi interjected suddenly. "Why don't you let Agents Hotchner and Morgan and I escort you over to the station?"

But Morgan wasn't ready to leave Emily.

"Rossi, let me stay with Prentiss," he insisted. "Surely you don't need all three of us."

But Rossi simply cleared his throat and nodded his head in the direction behind Morgan. Victor was headed back towards the ambulance.

"Oh, right," Morgan observed. "See you tomorrow, Prentiss?"

"Wouldn't miss it," she agreed.

"Just give us a call in the morning," Hotch said. "Goodnight, Prentiss."

"G'night Hotch."

Emily watched her three friends walk off with Mrs. Meyers in tow. Rossi with a comforting hand on the woman's back. They stopped briefly as the crossed paths with Victor, exchanging a few words Emily couldn't quite make out before shaking hands and proceeding on their way.

"Did you get ahold of the families?" Emily asked as Victor approached.

"Yeah," he said. "Obviously nothing's going to bring their girls back, but it seemed some of them have some closure now."

"That's all you can do," Emily observed.

"True," he agreed, climbing back into the ambulance to sit beside her. "So, Graham. What's the diagnosis?"

"You need to warm that girl up, but otherwise she checks out," Graham answered. "Ideally we'd keep her overnight just to be sure, but she's good to go."

"Emily," Victor pleaded. "Why don't you stay, just to be safe…"

"No," she said matter-of-factly.

"Emily…"

"No," she repeated. "If it makes you feel better, I will take the day off and get re-checked tomorrow, but I'm not staying."

"Alright," he relented. "If you promise me."

"I do," she assured him. "I just want to sleep in my own bed tonight."

"That's funny," he grinned a bit mischievously. "I was thinking the same thing."

"Oh yeah?" she said, taking ahold of his hand.

"Yeah. But first I think I'm going to whip up a hot drink and some soup for my wife. I think I owe her some dinner," he teased. "You see, I've been gone the last few nights and I've missed her a lot."

"She's missed you too."

"So," he squeezed her hand a bit more tightly. "You ready to go home, Mrs. Polizzi?"

Emily couldn't resist cracking a smile at his reference to the nicknames they hadn't used for one another since a few months after they married.

"I think I am, Mr. Prentiss."

So, that wraps up our story for the most part. I plan on adding an epilogue to resolve a couple remaining threads in the story sometime this week. I hope you enjoyed. Feel free to leave comments/suggestions/reviews. They're always appreciated. Thanks again!