"Morgan?" Methos asked into the receiver. When he'd asked to speak with the lead BAU agent the switchboard had transferred him to Morgan. Jarod and Prentiss stood a few feet behind him making small talk.

"Who is this?"

"Guess."

"I don't have time for your bullshit Ben." Morgan snapped. Methos let the agent's annoyance wash over him.

"I know but this can't wait, can you and the team meet me? That bar I met Hotchner at would be perfect."

Long silence."

"Hotch and Rossi aren't here and we're on standby."

"I don't think I can come to you, I'm bringing someone." Methos said levelly.

More silence.

"Half an hour."

"We'll be there, in the back."

"Better be." Morgan said shortly.

"One day you two are going to have to put your toys down and make friends." Prentiss said lightly as Methos turned away from the phone.

"She has a point, aren't you a little old for machismo?" Jarod asked with an arched eyebrow.

For a split second Methos almost said something venomous, something disproportionately cruel, instead he tossed his companions a sour halfhearted glare and muttered something about children before gently pushing past them wearing a small smile, inwardly bothered by the impulse to cruelty.

They were standing outside the bar in question. Methos directed them to the rear. It was early enough in the day that only the bar area was close to full. He'd been mildly surprised that it was open but assumed that Quantico was a 24 hour operation and anyone coming off shift had a right to a drink.

"They're coming?" Prentiss asked. She was tearing a napkin into pieces.

They had discussed how to approach the team but had finally decided that inviting them to neutral ground with Prentiss in plain sight would be best. Dramatic reveals would be too likely to incense and enflame already tender feelings.

After they'd sat for a few minutes, drinks untouched Prentiss rose and excused herself to the restroom. She was nauseas and felt flushed. Methos moved to follow her but Jarod gently convinced him to stay behind.

"She doesn't need you hovering." Jarod said with a smile. Methos grunted and sat only to rise again as Garcia entered the bar followed by Seaver, Reid, and Morgan. Morgan hesitated at the doorway and another blonde woman entered, J.J.

They spotted Methos' tall form and made their way to him.

"So much for no surprise reveal." Jarod sighed standing.

"What's this about?" Morgan said sharply then glanced at Jarod.

"Is this your big secret?" Morgan demanded. The team had spread around the large table, fanning out to either side of Morgan.

"Not exactly." Methos said stiffly. He could see Prentiss leaving the restroom, head down gaze focused on negotiating the tables and chairs between her and the group.

Morgan and the rest followed Methos' gaze and spotted Prentiss.

The room could have been muffled in cotton batting or the immortal suddenly struck deaf for all he could hear from them, no soft susurration of breath, rustle of clothing, creak of leather shoe, or gasp of surprise.

Then the moment passed and the team engulfed their friend. Hugs cries of surprise, tears, questions, overwhelmed Prentiss teared up herself. It was Morgan that fought for order finally. Methos watched detached and analytical as they settled and sat around the table. Prentiss sat between Garcia and Reid. Morgan across from Methos and the rest scattered.

"How?" Morgan asked delighted but stunned and suspicious.

"It wasn't her idea, or her choice." J.J. said quietly. Immediately the mood soured and grew cold.

"You knew?" Reid asked in a tiny aching voice. Even Garcia looked hurt.

"The State Department…" J.J. started to say then looked away from them.

"They wanted her to go after Doyle." Methos said casually. Morgan cut a glance at Methos. Methos was choosing to direct their angry questions, their hurt and outrage at himself rather than J.J. or Prentiss.

"Emily was the perfect weapon, she had leverage over him, knew him better than he knew himself, and she certainly had plenty of motivation to snuff him out." Methos said in a colder tone. Even Morgan flinched.

"You didn't –" Garcia muttered looking at Prentiss with an agony of sympathy in her face.

"No, she didn't. If she had it wouldn't have been so…thorough." Methos said in the same icily detached voice an almost sneer flickered over his lips. Jarod looked at his mentor with a tense expression.

"It's been almost three weeks Emily." Morgan said.

"We were laying low for a couple weeks." Prentiss admitted, then took a deep breath, "I … I was afraid you guys would be pissed. I wanted to contact you so badly but I knew if Doyle figured things out you'd be in danger again and he would be more prepared than ever. I'm so sorry you've been hurt."

"You told him?" Reid asked his tone even more hurt as he gestured at Methos.

"No. I found her, in Paris."

"You were hunting Doyle." Seaver said. He glanced at the pale blond with perfect coral lips and somehow still innocent eyes. Her gaze was steady.

"Yes I was, and I got him." No pride, no crowing or satisfaction in his voice just dull mindless certainty. Seaver licked her lips and looked at Morgan.

Jarod rose and when he returned it was with a tray of coffees – the agents were on call after all – and three beers. He set the beers in front of Prentiss, and Methos and kept one for himself. It was only as he sat that he realized what a further demarcation the drinks were. He licked his lips and thought about apologizing but let it go as the group slowly fell into a more natural conversation.

J.J. it turned out had returned to the BAU to replace Prentiss. Unsurprisingly most of the questions were directed at Prentiss a few at Jarod and after a half hour or so the group actually relaxed.

Methos rose to use the restroom. he noted Morgan at his heels as he left the group. but ignored the agent until he was washing his hands. Morgan stood by the bathroom exit, arms folded studying Methos. Methos carefully dried his hands and then faced Morgan.

"Do you have a problem agent Morgan?" He asked mildly. The big agent no longer made him nervous and he honestly felt no animosity toward the man.

Morgan studied him for a long moment. For the first time since Morgan had met Methos he looked healthy, skin flushed with color though still pale, frame weighted with lean muscle, cheekbones no longer knives pressed to pallid skin, eyes clear and glittering in the fluorescent light, no more bags looming. The immortal's stance was confident but not aggressive. The half grown beard and shaggy hair added age to him.

"You look good." Morgan said finally.

"Thanks?" Methos suggested, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smile.

"Can I ask you why you killed Doyle?"

Methos thought about that.

"It wasn't just for vengeance."

Morgan nodded encouragingly.

"I had Emily, she was safe, and I really honestly and truly could not give less of a fuck about Ian Doyle."

"But?" Morgan pressed.

"But Emily did, and she's tough, she's titanium hard and can be ruthless in defense of the innocent but I couldn't let her kill Doyle. Killing with calculation, in cold blood, and with forethought, that's not something that you shrug off with a few counseling sessions and a group hug. You don't come back from that. That was a price I wasn't willing to let her pay for her freedom, or her life."

"You paid it for her?"

"Don't be ridiculous I crossed that line eons ago." Methos sighed.

"You still let her see you execute Doyle, her former lover."

Methos licked his lips and met Morgan's warm brown eyes.

"Yes I did."

"Knowing she might leave you for it."

Silence, their eyes locked.

"Knowing she might think of you as a murderer and a monster, you still pulled that trigger, not once but multiple times."

Methos swallowed and nodded.

"Why?" Morgan asked, for once there was no accusation in his voice.

"Because I love her, whether she stays with me or leaves me and finds someone else, has children, wherever her life takes her I love her and I won't stand there and let her…", he closed his eyes, lowered his face for a moment and then continued with a choked voice, "won't let her become a murderer if I can stop it."

Morgan's face had softened, he raised a hand, it hovered hesitantly for a moment then gripped Methos' upper arm.

"I get it man."

Methos straightened, set his shoulders back and nodded.

"You aren't going to cuff me?" Methos asked only partially joking.

"Ian Doyle was a parasite but what you did was sanctioned by the State Department and I know better than to go head to head with them."

"You're okay with vigilante justice?"

"No, not really but I also don't want to lose my job or get Prentiss arrested and there's no damn point putting cuffs on you."

"Right. Well then. You said Hotch and Rossi were on a case?" Methos asked clearly and lamely changing the subject as they exited the restroom.

Reid stood immediately outside, brow furrowed as if in deep thought or a bout of solid constipation.

"You okay man?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah I'm fine." Reid said tetchily and slipped past them.

Reid slipped his cell from his pocket and dialed Hotchner.

"Hotch hey yeah. It is? I'll tell the team…Hotch something's come up about Prentiss."

Long pause followed by the distant distorted tone of a responding voice over a bad line.

"She's not dead."