A/N: First of all, thank you so much for the amazing response to the last chapter! Sorry it took so long for me to update. I left for a music festival for a week and then once I got back I was super-busy with work. Anyways, here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it! If you do, please leave me a review and let me know what you think. I know it's cliched, but it really does mean a lot.

Chapter Fourteen

The bullpen was surprisingly quiet the next morning, but with a sense of expectancy hanging in the air. JJ yawned into her coffee, and everyone who had been at the airport earlier in the morning looked tired but happier than they had in a long time. Years, maybe.

Hotch breezed in right on time, looking as if he'd never left. His suit was impeccable and he carried his briefcase as always. "Morning, JJ," he said, walking past her office. "I'm already briefed on the case, so can you call the team?"

"Sure thing," she said, with a smile, looking up from her notepad.

Five minutes later, everybody sat in the conference room. Reid was studying his hands intently, and Morgan fiddled with his pen, flicking it absently back and forth between his fingers. Garcia sat uneasily, crossing and uncrossing her legs, and she kept tossing glances at the door. JJ sat, trying to be calm, but the nervous clicking of her heels against the floor gave her away. Hotch paced the front of the room. Only Rossi sat still and stoic, an almost-smile on his face.

"As you all know by now, Emily is alive," Hotch began, looking anxiously through the glass door, "and she's back. We're still working on the paperwork to get her reinstated into the team. I'm not sure if she'll be coming to Ohio tomorrow, but she should be rejoining us all within the next few weeks. I expect you all to be mature about these recent developments –" He broke off as the door opened slowly, and she stepped cautiously into the room, dark eyes wide, as if she were approaching a ticking time bomb.

"Hi."

Her bag hit the floor with a thud, and she cast Hotch an appealing look, ignoring his open appraisal of her appearance. After all, she had spent some extra time getting ready this morning. She wore her long, dark hair in loose curls, ending just above the small of her back. She had on a classic Emily outfit: a rose-coloured turtleneck, black slim-fit slacks, and black boots.

"I'm done here." Reid pushed back his chair with a piercing screech and stormed past her, out of the room.

"Reid!" Emily cried out, quickly bending to grab a clean envelope from her bag and rushing into the hall after him. "Look, I understand if you don't want to talk to me. But, at least read this." She thrust the envelope into his hands, and he caught a glimpse of 'Spencer' written on the front in her neat hand, almost perfectly centered.

"Sorry," she said softly, re-entering the room. She took the seat next to Morgan, who stood up without so much as a look in her direction, and followed Reid's footsteps out of the room.

This time, she was ready. Envelope in hand, she pursued him relentlessly through the BAU. She bit her lip as he disappeared into the men's bathroom, no doubt thinking he was safe from her. Without a backward look, she took a deep breath and pushed open the door, praying they were alone. She cornered him in the last stall. "Derek, I know you must hate me, but please read this." She slid the envelope under the stall door, and clicked to the door, and then paused. She heard him rip the envelope open, and then a few seconds later, she heard a ragged sob.

Tears sprung to her eyes at the broken sound. Part of her wanted to run back and comfort him. Heart breaking, she turned and forced herself to walk out the door and back to the conference room, where the four remaining heads swiveled at her entrance.

"Are you done?" asked Hotch, eyeing her with concern.

Cheeks flaming, she nodded, resuming her position next to Morgan's empty chair.

He cleared his throat, and continued, "So, as I was saying, we're leaving for Iowa tomorrow. Wheels up is at 8:00 sharp. Please pass the word along. Emily, we can't take you because your re-instatement papers haven't been cleared yet, but this will give you a few days to get settled. That's everything for now."

Emily sat in the guest bedroom, twirling the cordless phone aimlessly in her hands. She was trying to muster the courage to call Louise.

The device in her hands beeped, and her head snapped up. Taking a deep breath, she slowly pressed the numbers in again. Hands shaking, she punched the talk button and held the phone to her ear. It rung once, twice, echoing in the silence. Each ring jarred her already frazzled nerves.

Don't pick up, don't pick up.

"Hello?"

Emily closed her eyes against the sudden rush of tears.

"Hello?"

"Louise?" Her voice cracked, and she shook her head violently. Get it together, Emily.

There was a pregnant pause, and then a sharp intake of breath that crackled loudly in her ear. "Emily, is that you?"

"It's me, Louise," she replied, as evenly as possible. "I guess we have a lot of catching up to do."

Emily waited until exactly 8:05 before pulling out of the driveway. Humming absently, she guided the car out onto the interstate a few minutes later.

She turned on the radio to a random Top 40 station, nodding her head along to the beat. It was a welcome distraction, but the driving guitars only served to intensify her nerves. She reached out and snapped the radio off, eyeing the signs on the side of the road. With a jolt, she realized that she only had half an hour left to figure out how she was going to talk to Declan.

The adoption papers glared up at her from the passenger seat, and she reached out to flip them over so she couldn't catch glimpses of the tiny print. Just seeing them lying there made her stomach turn over. Was this really right for Declan, or was she being selfish in believing that she was saving him?

Focus, Emily, she told herself as calmly as possible, you can do this.

She kept on repeating that over and over again, like a mantra, until she turned a corner and found herself staring at a campus that looked like it came right out of a glossy brochure from 'All-American Boarding Schools' or something like that. She didn't have to stretch her imagination very far to envision pastel polos and Ralph Lauren. After all, she'd been strictly private school educated, and had grown up in institutions like this. They didn't exactly bring back good memories.

Guiding the car up the front hill, Emily pulled into the parking lot outside the main buildings. She stepped out into the bright sunlight, pulling on one of her FBI-era blazers, and scanned the area.

He was sitting quietly on one of the benches outside the boys' dorms, hands folded in his lap. His blonde hair, once long and curly, was a few shades darker and cut short, and his skin was pale and free of any acne. When he looked up, their eyes met. Emily stood rooted to the ground, as an electric shock radiated through her entire body. He had his father's eyes.

She forced herself to take in a deep, shuddering breath, and walk towards him. "Hi, Declan," she said softly, unsure whether to hug him or hang back.

"Miss Emily," he replied, only the slightest trace of a lilting accent left. He extended his hand, and she shook it firmly. "I take it you're here about my father."

"How did you know?" Emily asked, eyes widening.

"My dad was involved in illegal, dangerous things. I barely knew him, but I've been expecting to hear that he was shot, or stabbed, or blown up for years," Declan said gravely, meeting her gaze squarely.

Emily closed her eyes for a few seconds to gather her thoughts. She'd always hated breaking the news to a family that one of their loved ones was dead, but this was a million times harder than any of the other times she'd had to tell anybody that somebody close to them was dead. The fact that she was at least partially responsible didn't make this any easier. The truth would eventually come out. "I'm really sorry to tell you this, Declan, but your father is dead," she replied bitterly, trying to keep the tears in.

"How?" he asked, blue eyes steely.

"It's a long story," Emily started, but Declan cut her off.

"I have time."

"Five years ago, your father broke out of prison. He wanted to find you, and he knew I knew where you were. He came after me, and almost killed me. I was put into witness protection and sent to the Shetlands with a new identity. He was eventually caught and sent back to jail, but released earlier this year. He was dying, Declan. He had an inoperable brain tumour, and he only had a month left, at most. He wanted to find you and make amends, but I suspect he would have made you promise to take over the gang after he left," Emily explained, running her fingers through her straight dark hair.

"And?" Declan pressed, leaning forward and staring up at her with his father's eyes.

"He tracked me down in the Shetlands, and tried to make me tell him where you were. I refused, and he shot me. We scuffled, and I got the upper hand and got him off me. The earth cracked and he fell over the edge of the cliff. I tried to pull him up but our hands slipped," she continued, drawing breath with difficulty. "I'm so sorry, Declan." A lone tear overflowed her dark eyes and streaked down her cheek. Dragging bone-white teeth over her red lower lip, she wiped it away.

"Me too. He never was much of a father, but I wish I'd known him more," he said, twisting the hem of his blazer in his sweating fingers.

"He had his good points. He loved you very much," Emily replied, reaching out and pulling the blond into her arms for a hug. "That's all you need to know." Her hands found his back, and stroked soft circles through the thick material of his blazer.

When they broke apart, Declan scrubbed his hands across his eyes and faced her resolutely. "I'm glad you told me. Does Louise know?"

"I called her last night," Emily said. "I only just got back early this morning."

"There's some other reason you're here, isn't there?" he asked, scanning her face intently. He reached up to push his hair out of his face and smiled nervously.

Emily matched his with a tentative smile. "I don't know how to put this, so I'm just going to say it, okay? I'd like to adopt you. You don't have to say yes. If not, you can stay with Louise until you turn 18. We'll do everything to make sure that you don't go into foster care," she said quietly.

"Um, I'd like some time to think about it. Can you give me a few days?" asked Declan, eyes pleading.

"Of course," she replied, checking her watch. "Please give me a call when you decide, all right?"

"I will. Look, I should get back to class, but it's good to see you again, Miss Emily," Declan said, standing up.

"You too," Emily trailed off, as he shrugged on his backpack and headed off in the direction of the academic buildings. At the door, he turned, and gave Emily a small smile and a wave, before disappearing into the building.

Feeling considerably lighter, she walked back to the car and got in, heading for home. As she pulled onto the interstate again, she began to mull the events of the past 45 minutes over. Declan had taken it so calmly. He was a polite boy, and Louise had done a good job of raising him. However, he was old beyond his years, which broke Emily's heart. He'd never had a childhood, and she just wanted to give him back the remainder of his teenagerhood. It was the very least she could do.