"Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit on his hands, hoist the black flags, and begin to slit throats."

-H.L. Mencken-

EMILY'S POV

Whatever haze of depression and fear that has hung over me the last three months instantly vanishes. Now I have a goal, a plan. As soon as I heard Derek say it was Hotch I knew that my nightmares had come true: Jacob had decided to make his move. But I also knew Hotch and Derek's plan. It was all to evident in Derek's voice.

You haven't seen her, Hotch. If this isn't over soon...she won't come out of it.

I'm not angry that Derek thinks that way. I've given nothing to believe the contrary, but that ends now. I bound silently back up the stairs and retrieve the two black duffel bags under the bed. I exchange the blanket I have wrapped around me for khaki pants and a white three-quarter sleeve shirt. I go into our closest and have just laced up my second boot when I hear him enter the room with a long sigh.

In the next second, he's in the doorway of the closet looking at me with an unreadable expression. "Emily, what are you doing?"

I scoff. "What does it look like I'm doing? I know you know where he is." I move passed him back into the bedroom. I start going through our go-bags making sure everything is ready. I don't hear him approach, but his hands slide gently over mine stopping my action.

I look up at him again, and this time I can see the protective glint in his eyes. But I can also read his anger. He wants to end this just as badly as I do. "Who did he find?" I don't mean for my voice to crack. There's not much Derek can do to stop me, but I need him to have confidence in me.

Derek's face hardens. "Reid," he says quietly.

I catch the scream in my throat, and it comes out as a shocked gasp. "He didn't hurt him, did he?"

Derek shakes his head. "No, no, Reid is still being guarded day and night. He's safe. Emily," I started checking through his bag again. "we have to stay here." His voice is flat, like he's reading from a queue card.

I ignore him and zip the bag back closed.

"Dammit, Emily! Listen to me!"

His sudden dire, panicked tone draws my eyes to meet his. His face is contorted in worry and, what? Guilt? His hands reach out and grasp my arms; his fingers latching onto the areas where Jacob's blade dug into my skin. "I'm not letting you near him. I won't let him hurt you again."

"He won't," I say reacting to the expression on his face. It's only after I say the words that I truly believe them. In my mind, every scenario I've ever played out has always ended with the death of the people I care about and then myself. Now, I see me standing over Jacob's empty body. Lauren has decided to take an interest in me again, and while she still hates me, I think she's grown to hate Jacob more. Or perhaps she just hasn't figured out how to kill me yet.

"Derek," I take hold of his wrists, "this nightmare has to end. If Jacob has found Reid..." I choke again on the words and have to pause to collect myself before I can continue. "then it's only a matter of time before he finds the rest of us. You know that. You know he'll take them out one my one until we're the only ones left." I'm surprised at how even I can keep my voice when talking about the deaths of my family, but I've imagined it so many times in my head saying it aloud feels almost like a natural extension. "until we're all that's left.

"He wants me to suffer," at that, he scowls, but I continue, "we have to end this. You said it yourself. We will kill him...together." I say the lie without difficulty. I have no intention of Derek being there when I face Jacob. Without variance, these monsters will make it as personal as possible. I know how to find Jacob, and as the plan begins to take form in my head, I realize I always have.

Derek's hand reaches up and brushes against my right cheek, his flesh leaving a trail of fire over my scarred skin. I'm scared he's going to argue, but after his fingers have traced my cheek several times, he gives a small nod.

I can see it in his eyes that his thoughts have run perfectly in line with mine. He has already thought of a way to get to Jacob without me. We're both trying to save the other, but I know that I will win. I have to.

It was almost ten o'clock in the morning, but our street was empty. We lived at the end of a cul desac, so there was no traffic, wouldn't be for hours until many of the owners came home for lunch. The Missouri humidity clung to our skin, leaving us coated in a thin layer of sweat after only seconds of exposure. We crossed the circle into the driveway of another house whose car rarely left its spot in the garage.

Derek knocked on the door, and almost instantly Calvin answered with a large black duffel bag hung over his shoulders. "It's about freaking time," he grinned hauntedly. "Where's the rat bastard?"

I smirk at him, and Derek chuckles darkly. "Bethesda. He was spotted at the hospital."

Calvin nods. "Does your team know?" He shuts the door behind him and we make our way back to our driveway where our car is waiting.

"They know about Doyle, but..." I answer letting my voice trail off.

"Ah, breakin' the rules," but he leaves it at that. He throws his bag into the trunk and slams it shut. I slide into the backseat before Calvin can. I'm going to need to fine tune my plan before we reach the airport at St. Louis in a couple of hours, and I don't want Derek to be able to read my expression.

Calvin doesn't say anything and takes the passenger seat while Derek takes the driver seat. "I can't say I'm going to be sad to say good-bye. The place never really felt like home, you know?"

"Yeah," I murmur and nod. I know exactly what he means. As I watch our house fade from the back window, I feel no attachment to the place where Derek and I lived for three months. In fact, I feel lighter when it disappears for the first time, as if the house had been weighing on my shoulders. There are good memories there, like last night, but mostly it is a place of nightmares. In many ways it was a prison. I know that one way or another, the nightmare is almost over. I thought when I had to face Jacob again, I would be terrified, but I only feel relieved that it will finally be over.

Derek begins to fill Calvin in on what's going on, but I quickly tune them out and start to formulate the details of my own plan. I will have to deceive Derek for as long as I can once we land in Virginia. While he may have guessed that I wouldn't want him to be with me when I face Jacob, I can't give him reason to believe I have a working plan. No doubt he will be keenly watching me for any sign that I'm going to run.

We've just landed in D.C. and are waiting for our bags to come through when the televisions placed around the terminal flash red. Derek is off somewhere talking with Garcia. I didn't want to involve her, the less people that knew what we were doing the better, but Derek made the point that Hotch probably already knew what had happened and had Garcia following our paper trails anyway. Calvin had already found his bag and was probably smoking somewhere close by.

I continue waiting for my bags until I hear the news story. I quickly snap my head and push my way through the growing crowds under the television until I'm standing right in front of it.

A blond news anchor's face is pallid. Her shoulders are tense, and even through the screen you can see she's holding the papers a little too tight. "This morning at 9:07 AM the bodies of Stan Goldstein, 56, Mary Goldstein, 55, Brian Goldstein, 24, and T-trisha Goldstein, 12, were found in their homes brutally murdered." Four faces flash on the screen then the anchor woman's face reappears.

"Stan and Mary were found in their bedroom each with multiple stab and gunshot wounds. Brian was in the basement which served as his bedroom-" her ashen face drains of color again. A familiar hand slides into mine and I don't have to look around to know it's Derek. She collects herself, straightening the papers in her hands. "The earliest reports say he was stabbed over fifty times then hung post mortem with wires from one of his computers. Trisha was fataly shot once in the chest."

Then the screen goes back to a talk show. The people around us start to disperse. Some shaking their heads at the 'crazy people', and some are already demanding the heads of those responsible. "It's him, isn't it, Baby Girl?"

I finally acknowledge Derek next to me. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes are still staring angrily at the screen. He's holding his phone to his ear. I can just barely hear Penelope's shrill voice over the speaker. "We think so," she says. It's such a relief to hear her. "Brian hacked into Homeland Security earlier that morning..."

"Garcia..." Derek's tone is serious, something that hardly ever happens when he's talking to her.

"He went directly, well, as directly as you can, to our information. If it was Doyle, he knows everything."

"He's baiting us," I say.

"Is that Emily?" Penelope's voice raises several octaves. "Emily, it's so good to hear you say something. I wanted to call every day, but-" Derek presses a button on his phone, and her voice instantly stops.

"You didn't have to hang up on her."

Derek finally takes his eyes off the television screen and looks at me. "We need to find our things, get Calvin, and figure out what our next move is. Hotch and Rossi are on their way here."

I scowl. "I didn't want to involve them."

Lauren purposefully draws images of their faces mutilated and lifeless to our mind, but I've learned to maneuver around her attacks. I picture them as they were the first day I met each of them, and her horrific images fade.

He sighs and takes both his hands in mine. I'm surprised by the intensity in his eyes. "Emily, listen to me, Hotch and Rossi are on their way, and JJ and Garcia have been in D.C. this whole time."

Lining up like lambs to the slaughter...Lauren laughs.

I shake my head. Not if I can help it.

I can tell Derek is measuring my reaction to this news. I put on a look of anger and worry. "We can do this by ourselves. Why are you willing to put them in danger?" I growl. Derek's face contorts in his own anger.

"What?" He hisses. "Emily, what are you-"

I thrust my hands from his and stalk away. "I'm going to the bathroom," I yell behind me, "don't follow me." I don't know if he's listened to me or not, but he doesn't try to stop me. The bathroom wasn't too far, and as I swing the door open, I peak over my back.

Derek's nowhere to be seen.

I close the door and walk in the opposite direction I just came from, away from Derek. It would be nice to have my go-bag, but there was enough cash in my pockets to get me what and where I needed. I call for a Taxi, give him the address to one of my 'associates' in D.C. and in seconds I'm gone.

It won't take them long to find out where I went and what I'm doing with me using a Taxi, but I won't need long. One way or another, this would end today.

"These violent delights will have violent ends."

-William Shakespeare-