Disclaimer: I own nothing.

I apologize for the delay in releasing this. I'm super busy with school right now. Sorry about the cliffhanger from the last chapter. Thank you so much for the reviews on it, and I hope you'll like this one, too!

While Penelope sat at Derek's bedside, she continued checking the clock. Sam should have arrived with Fran by now. Not that she wanted Sam to return. As soon as she saw him, she would have to break their engagement.

Even if she had no future with Derek, she certainly had no future with Sam. Not with a baby on the way.

She breathed a shaky sigh, her fingers tracing the back of Derek's hand. Nothing felt right at that moment. Emily's decision to dash off after Noah had Penelope's stomach in knots. She wished desperately she would have been able to stop her, to force her to wait for help. The look in Emily's eyes, that glint of fierce determination, told Penelope that Hell itself would not have been able to keep Emily from her mission.

"Who is this?"

Looking up, Penelope found Declan standing next to her. Louise had fallen asleep in the corner of the room, and Declan still appeared to be wide awake. Penelope sat up straighter and cleared her throat. "Umm, his name is Derek," she croaked.

"Is he your husband?" Declan asked.

Swallowing past the iron lump in her throat, she shook her head. This question got asked a lot whenever she and Derek had gone out as friends, but somehow now it felt different.

"No," she replied. "He's…he's just a really good friend."

He can't ever be anything else, she added silently. Her heart began to ache in her chest.

Before Declan could say anything more, footsteps sounded from the doorway. Penelope turned and found Sam and Fran standing in the door. She rose to her feet, her eyes meeting Fran's. Derek's mother rushed to her and threw her arms around her. Penelope hugged her back just as tight.

"How is he?" Fran asked, going to sit on the edge of her son's bed.

"He's still gonna be out for a while," Penelope replied, trying to keep her gaze trained away from Sam at all costs. "But the surgery went well."

Fran looked back at her. "Where's Savannah?" she asked, looking around. "And who are these two?"

Placing her hands on Declan's shoulders, Penelope said, "This is Declan and his guardian, Louise. And, uh…Savannah…" Finally, her eyes strayed to Sam, almost cracking her composure. Unable to answer Fran, Penelope looked at Sam and motioned for him to follow her out of the room. Confused, he followed her and shrugged when she stopped them in the hall.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked.

She shook her head with vigor. "No," she whispered. "Don't call me that. You won't want to after what I'm about to tell you."

His brows rose. "Umm, I'm not sure I understand," he said. "What is it?"

Wringing her hands together, Penelope looked him in the eye. She owed him that much. "Sam, I…" She sighed with a shaky breath and slid her engagement ring off her finger. Holding her hand out, she opened her hand to reveal the ring. Her voice grew quiet. "I can't marry you."

Sam stared at her hand in shock. "I — I —" he stammered. "I don't understand. What happened?"

No tears came this time. She had cried everything out. Guilt still coursed through her, but she managed to maintain her composure. "While you were gone in Europe, I…" No. These were not the words she wanted. This had started before he went to Europe. She started over. "I've been feeling this way for a long time, and I've never been able to find a way to say this before. I'm not in love with you. I don't know if I ever have been."

He blinked at her.

"I fell in love with someone else," she went on. Her mouth went dry, and her tongue felt so sandpapery she couldn't find any more words.

Sam ran one hand through his hair and took the ring in his other. Sputtering, he stared at the ring before looking back up at her. "You fell in love with someone else," he repeated. "Did —" He swallowed hard. "Did you cheat on me?"

"You know I wouldn't be telling you this if I hadn't," she murmured.

He closed his hand around the ring. His fist squeezed around it. "What's his name?" he growled.

She shook her head. "Does it mat—"

"Garcia!"

Penelope's head whirled in the direction of the voice. Hotch and Rossi came striding down the hall toward her and Sam. The looks on their faces told her they had not had luck with Ian Doyle's Washington DC associates. Penelope hoped they would have found something to lead them to Emily.

Evidently not.

Her thoughts jumped from everything — Derek, Sam, Savannah — and darted to Emily. She went off on her own to target Doyle with only one person as her backup. Penelope had no idea where she was, but she was damned if she was not telling Hotch now. Emily had no way to stop her now.

"How is Morgan?" Rossi asked, stopping in front of Penelope and Sam.

Penelope bit her lip. "He's okay," she murmured. "Sam picked up Fran from the airport." She glanced at Sam and saw the heartbreak in his eyes. His eyes rested on the ring in his hand. She could not focus on Sam right then though. Looking away, she met Hotch's eyes. "We need to talk."

Hotch's face grew darker than it already was. "What is it?" he demanded. "Something about Doyle's associates?"

She shook her head. "No…it's about Emily."

His face paled. "She's back?"

Penelope opened her mouth to speak, but Hotch had already started striding toward Derek's room. She dashed off after him. "Sir! Sir, wait!" Hotch didn't slow down, and she huffed as she was forced to run after him in her high pink heels. "Hotch, she's not —"

But Hotch entered the room before she could finish. A wave of nausea crashed over her. This could very well send him into a shock he might not recover from. With Rossi close behind her, Penelope got to the door and found Hotch standing before Declan. Fran looked utterly bewildered at the scene that had come storming into her son's hospital room.

"What's going on?" Fran asked, standing straight up. Across the room, Louise sat up with a start, fully awake.

Penelope ignored them both and went to stand by Declan's side. She put a hand on his shoulder. Studying Hotch's face, she waited for some reaction, any sign of emotion. He stared at Declan though, unmoving.

"This is Declan?" he asked finally, his eyes finding Penelope's. "The boy Emily went to find?"

Just when Penelope thought things could not get any worse, Declan spoke up. "You know my mom?" he asked.

Hotch's usual composure broke. His mouth dropped, and his eyes grew wider than Penelope had ever seen them. Instantly, his gaze shot back to Declan. "Your…" His voice trailed off as he lost the power of speech. After several minutes of choking on his voice, he managed to ask, "Where is Emily?"

Penelope gulped. "She went after Ian Doyle," she said.

"Alone?" Rossi asked in disbelief.

Nodding, Penelope pointed to the door. "I'll tell you about it out there," she ordered. No one seemed to mind, seeing as both of them were so shocked. Giving Declan's shoulder a squeeze, she pointed to the door. "I'll be right back." Declan nodded to her, and she hurried out into the hall to talk to Hotch and Rossi.

"Why didn't you stop her?" Hotch growled, crossing his arms over his chest. "And why didn't you tell me that boy is Emily's son?"

Penelope glared at him. "That second part is Emily's place to tell you," she said. "And I tried to stop her, but…" Her voice trailed off. In her grief over Derek, she didn't even think to call Hotch.

"Why didn't you call me immediately?" Hotch demanded.

Shaking her head while she silently cursed herself, Penelope rubbed her forehead. She bit her lip and looked up at her boss. "I — I forgot," she mumbled. When she saw the look of pure rage on Hotch's face, she added hurriedly, "I know that's no excuse. I know. With Derek like this, I just…" She shook her head. "I'm so sorry."

Hotch visibly shook with rage, but took a deep, cleansing breath to stay calm. "We need to find her," he growled. "Did she say anything that would give us a hint of where she went?"

Penelope wracked her brain. Almost immediately, Emily's voice broke through in her head. Snapping her fingers, she straightened as rigid as an oak tree.

"Her last Interpol partner is alive!" she cried with a voice shaking as much as her hands. "He's helping her. It's all I have. But I can use it I think. Maybe I can find somewhere he's been staying close by, or —"

"Just do it!" he hissed. "Find them."

She nodded once, not interested in Hotch's scathing looks anymore. She would find Emily. At this point, she was the only one who might be able to.

XXXXX

Emily awoke with a fierce pounding in her head. Her eyes began to flutter open. Blurred images filtered into her vision, and she blinked several times to try and clear it. She tried moving her arms to rub her forehead, but found she was tied up. All her limbs were completely immobile. When she wriggled her hands, her wrists tingled with the scratchy feeling of rope.

Then she remembered how this happened.

"Clyde," she hissed, rage flaring up her spine. When she got her hands on him, she would rip him limb from limb.

"And the diabla awakens."

Her head snapped in the direction the voice came from. She instantly knew the owner of that voice. Ian Doyle sauntered toward her as she sat tied to the chair.

She glared at him. "Where's my son?" she snarled, ignoring his comment.

"He's around," Doyle said, not tearing his eyes from her. "He's scared to death, your little boy. He's been screaming quite a bit since he got here." He blinked with false innocence. "If we're really quiet for a moment you'll be able to hear him." He craned his neck toward a door on the other side of the room.

Sure enough, a faint scream could be heard.

The sound made Emily shake against her bonds. Panic filled her heart. Directing her attention back to Doyle, she shook her head. One tear fell from each eye, and she knew at this point her only slim chance of saving her son meant she needed to beg. If she were not tied to a chair, she would have fallen to her knees before Doyle to plead that he spare him.

"Ian, please!" she murmured. "Please, just let my son go. He's just a little boy."

"We've been over this," he replied. "You're going to suffer. What will destroy you is me killing him. You have to live with the knowledge that your son's life ended because of your actions."

Emily saw the sincerity in Doyle's eyes, and a shiver shot up her spine. She refused to cry in front of him, but the fear of losing Noah started to eat away at her. Tears prickled at the back of her eyes.

"When I get out of these ropes, I'm going to kill you," she hissed. "And if I don't, Aaron will kill you."

Doyle laughed and shook his head. "You will never see that," he replied. Going around behind her, he leaned down to her ear. His breath burned her skin. "Your son will die, your lover will die, your friend will die. Their only sin? Being your loved ones."

"You've sunk to a new low," she growled. "Killing innocent people because they know me."

He touched her hair, running his fingers through the ends of it. His touch radiated malice. She could not suppress the shiver that ran through her. He merely laughed before placing his hands on her shoulders. Squeezing so hard her neck began to ache, he moved to her other ear.

"Revenge does that to a person," he said, moving to stand in front of her. "You're intelligent; you should know to never underestimate such a strong emotion."

Emily stared at him without a word before spitting in his face. Doyle's eyes closed as the spittle hit his cheek. Using his jacket sleeve, he wiped his cheek and chuckled. He turned his back to her, but before she could see anything coming, he shot around and backhanded her across the face.

Stars and rainbows filled her vision. She swore her brain was rattling around within the confines of her skull. Blinking several times, she willed her vision to return to her so she could see once more.

"Screw you," she growled.

"Tell me where Declan is," Doyle hissed before hitting her again. This time his fist struck her nose. Warm blood gushed from her nostrils, and she knew he had broken her nose.

She looked up at him, wishing she could wipe the blood from her face. "I'm not telling you where he is," she hissed. "I won't let you destroy his life."

Doyle struck her across the face a third time. "If you tell me, I'll make sure I kill the lovely Miss Penelope quickly," he growled. "I promise."

"You'll never get your hands on her," Emily hissed, trying to regain her vision.

"And who will stop me?" Doyle said, grabbing her chin. "You? Aaron? Her lover?" He laughed wickedly. "No, you've seen what I can do. You know that no one will keep her or your family safe. You know it, you just don't want to accept it."

Before Emily could respond through sore lips, the sound of a door opening on the other side of the warehouse room interrupted her. She caught sight of Clyde and immediately her blood boiled. She wanted to send him to the very last circle of hell for betraying her. But then she saw he was not alone as he crossed the room. As he strode forward, he pushed a much shorter figure along in front of him.

It was Noah.

"Mom!" he cried as Clyde dragged him through the room. Tears streaked down his cheeks as he fought against Clyde's grip.

Despite its uselessness, Emily fought against her bonds. She wanted to go to her son, to comfort him. Biting her lip, she forced herself not to cry so she could show Noah some form of strength. She did not know how much help she would be with her face all bloodied up.

"Noah!" she gasped. "Noah, just –"

She could not get the rest of the words out before Doyle hit her across the back of her skull. Her head lolled forward, aching even more with each hit. She needed to speak, to find her way out of the ropes binding her. With the amount of injury her head was taking, she hoped she would be able to see straight.

"Careful now, Doyle," Clyde said. "We're supposed to be keeping her alive. It's the boy we're killing right now."

Turning her attention to Clyde, Emily narrowed her eyes at him. "Why did you turn, Clyde?" she asked, spitting blood onto her shirt. "You helped put him away, he killed our friends! Why are you doing this?"

Clyde snorted. "Darling, you should know by now that I am a complicated man," he said. "There are many things about me that will not make sense to you. You should also know by now though, that I'm not a man you want to cross."

"How did I cross you?" she spat. "What have I ever done to you that would make you help Doyle?"

"You and Sean," Clyde answered. "I've gotten my revenge on him, though. He and his family are dead. But why I'm doing this, I haven't answered yet. I'm doing this, my dear, because you made a fool of me all those years ago when we first tried to handle this case. You hid a pregnancy from me, you dragged the investigation out for three damn years."

Emily gaped at him. "You're doing this because of a case that took too long and the fact Sean and I didn't tell you a small detail?" she screeched. Fury blazed through her, and she fought against the hold of the ropes again.

"My life didn't remain the same after that," he snapped. "Do you really think Interpol would allow me to keep my position after that debacle?" He shook his head. "My career could never go anywhere after that. So when Doyle offered me money for information on all of you, I gave it."

Shaking her head, Emily hissed, "And you would kill my son because of something stupid like your damn pride?"

Clyde shrugged. "Revenge acts in the most vicious of ways," he replied simply.

"You'll find that mothers protecting their sons do, too," Emily spat back.

Doyle yanked Noah from Clyde's grip and held him by the hair. Noah whimpered In fright, trying to escape Doyle's grasp. "Please let me go!" he begged.

Leaning down to Noah's height, Doyle hissed in his ear, "Do you understand what is about to happen to you, boy?" Noah did not respond, too shocked with fear. To get an answer, Doyle shook the little boy. "Do you hear me, boy?"

"Y-yes!" Noah wept.

Doyle gave Noah's head another yank. "You're about to die because of your mommy's mistakes, that's what's about to happen to you."

Emily fought even harder against the chair, yielding the same results as the previous times she had tried to escape.

"Get your hands off him!" she snarled. "I'll kill you, I swear I will!"

"Not with your hands tied behind your back you won't," Clyde commented in a low voice.

As she opened her mouth to scream at Doyle, the sound of a thunderous crash followed by gunshots came from behind the giant double doors. Doyle and Clyde's attention shot to the doors as more gunshots fired off.

Aaron? she thought.

"Take the boy out the back," Clyde said to Doyle. The sounds of footsteps grew louder. He pointed to the back door. "Get him out now."

Shoving the gun further into Noah's temple, Doyle gritted his teeth. "Not until I know where Declan is!" he hissed.

"We need to leave now, otherwise you won't get your revenge nor will you find your son," Clyde shot back. "If you have the boy, you've got the upper hand still. Now, go!"

Doyle shook his head angrily, but nodded in agreement. Emily struggled against her chair as he started to take off across the room with her son in tow. Noah could do nothing but sob.

"Let him go!" she cried, tears melding together with the blood dripping from her nose. "Noah!"

But no matter how hard she fought, she could not get free. Doyle had taken her son out the door, and she could not longer see him. Frustration poured down her face in salty tears as she shook in her chair.

Clyde came over to her side and patted her shoulder. "Don't struggle so hard, darling," he said, condescendingly. "You'll see him again. Our mutual friend, Doyle will want you to see what he does to him."

"You're lucky I'm tied up right now, Clyde, because I would snap your neck if I wasn't!" she shouted.

He laughed as he slipped a new clip into his gun. "I'll see you later, Emily," he said before walking toward the emergency exit.