A/N:

So again it's business as usual - sorry for the delay, I've been busy and still don't own this show and so on... okay, I'm glad we talked about that. :D

Chapter 24 has been beta-readed (just in case you want to read it without as many typos & some changes concerning the choice of words). And since I scored a glorious 7.5 at the IELTS I officially wanna say: Hey, my english skills aren't all that bad. Enjoy the intelligence of a super-human wannabe-author (not to brag but... the super-human is me, got it? ;D)!

Thanks a lot to elodie84, sarahb2007, crazyobsession101 and Khaida21 for your nice comments on chapter 25. I apprechiate them very much and get really excited whenever I see that I got a new review. So pleeeeeease, make me happy, everybody! I'm a touchy kind of person so take note of my "other authors don't need to beg for their reviews" kind of comment. jk, jk...

Btw, I have finally made up my mind on who will live and who will die, hehe. And I actually wanted to bring this story forward by having Hotch, Ashley and Reid enter the warehouse but I kinda hate writing scenes that consist of nothing but three people entering a building so I'll either describe this in the next chapter or find a nice way to skip this part. Just sayin'...

So anyway, I hope you'll enjoy.

Please review...

~ AJ

Sending Hotch, Reid and Ashley to the pertaining building had left them waiting at the hospital, merely enduring the inability to influence the situation's outcome. Morgan, Garcia and Rossi had powerlessly sunken down to the floor in front of the room JJ and Henry were in, and Garcia had grabbed the hands of both men sitting to her left and right. She hadn't noticed it and neither had they.

Lightly colored trainers, transitioning into the blue, green and purple clad legs of nurses and doctors who were bustling through the hallways without visibly taking note of the bitter fate they were passing, constantly crossed their field of vision. A clock, which hung over the door to the ICU unit, was steadily ticking. A man carried a little girl in his arms. Her head rested on his shoulder, her eyes were peacefully closed but were puffy and traces of dried tears remained on her pale cheeks. They stepped out of an unkown, unlabeled room and into another one, crossing their lifes for the timespan of only seconds.

The realization of the fate they were surrounded by hit Garcia hard. People were dying in here. Hell, this was the pedeatric station! This was the section where the Children died, this was the place where parents lost their sons and daughters while others were saved and still others arrived too late to receive as much as the try of being saved at all.

Minding this... could JJ and Henry possibly be considered some of the lucky ones? She frowned at the thought, disgusted by her own deliberation for this did certainly not apply. But maybe them -Morgan, Rossi, those who were out to get Emily, herself and Will, who still was on his way- were the lucky ones. They wouldn't lose a son and they wouldn't lose a wife. They were luckier than many of the people around.

"They can do this", she eventually stated and looked at the others, hoping to find confirmation in their faces. They couldn't give it to her. "They are genius, a dark knight and some sort of a natural. And Emily is Emily, so why shouldn't they be able to save her and why shouldn't she be able to stay alive long enough to be saved?"

"Yes... yes, you're probably right", Morgan mumbled but her words, as much as he would have loved to believe them, could not convince him of a happy end.

"I am right." She gulped back some tears, and added in a whisper: "I must be."

Rossi hadn't said anything. He kept staring through the glass door behind which JJ was still sitting next to Henry's bed. She had caressed his hand until he had fallen asleep but still clung to it. He couldn't see her face but didn't had to to know what it looked like.

Garcia eventually followed his stare. "They are going to be okay."

"You really think so?"

"I know it. JJ's strong. Will is a good man and Henry is a wonderful boy. They are good at heart and they are warriors, all of them."

"Being good doesn't guarantee perpetual healing." He sighted and suddenly felt the urge to embrace someone. Garcia would have most likely welcomed it. He didn't move though.

"Do you really think I will allow them to not heal?" She smiled until Rossi's labial angels fluttered and started to resemble a smile, too. "They are safe now. Nobody will ever take them from us again." She let go of their hands, stood up and playfully kicked their legs. "Now get up. Let's be with who will make this a happy end."

She woke up with a particularily frantic gasp for air. Her head soared up high, as she was in shock and without any memory for a moment, and fell down, her chin resting against her chest, just as quick as pain and dizziness disabled her to keep it up and the recurrence of her memory made the attempt unnecessary.

Cold streams of sweat covered her entire body, caused her clothes to be stuck to her skin, which seemed to be set on fire by the icy air. Though Emily could tell there was faint light she couldn't make out anything else around her. The throbbing pain in her head was screaming Deklan in a steady rhythm. A flimsy twine of saliva began to drip down from the corner of her mouth.

The punch to her jaw came unexpected. A sharp but still gratefully distant pain flashed through her head, which was thrown back by the immense force of the hit. An agonized moan escaped her lips before she gained enough perception to realize what was happening to her - and to remind herself of what her only purpose was.

Deklan.

"I will make you talk to me, Emily", Doyle said in a calm voice, which caused Emily to hazily raise her head in curiousity until a second punch followed the first one.

The rememberance of how the touch of Cullin's broken nasal bone had felt against her knuckles was, for a moment, more present than the pain she was in now and even though it most likely wouldn't matter whether her nose would break as well or not, she desperately wished that this would not happen. It would be bloody and the minor injury would distort her entire face. Worse than what currently was the case.

And the feeling of it... Breaking one's nose was, first of all, a symbol. One didn't die of it and it wasn't an obstacle to pull one hell of a fight to those who were able to overcome the pain. But it meant that you could not protect your head. That the opponent had hit you in the face, that you had let it happen and that it could have been a quick stab in the eyes just as well.

It had felt incredibly good to maul the face of the man who had raped her.

Doyle wasn't supposed to experience this, too. Not with her, not as he could kill her in so many other ways...

"You won't."

"I wasn't trying to start a debate. You should be realistic enough to realize I merely stated the obvious."

Another punch, straight against her mouth this time. Emily felt how the soft, tender inside of her lips was cut open as they were pressed thightly against the sharp edges of her teeth while their outside burst open unter the collision of his fist. The feeling of warm blood and its iron taste filled her mouth and she resisted the urge to simply swallow it.

As she opened her lips to grin at Doyle her teeth were outlined one by one as the dark red claret filled the spaces between them and a sip of blood disgorged from her mouth, running over her chin and down her throat like a red wave of painful scorn until it disappeared in the tissue of her blouse and left nothing but another cold, wet stain, which was barely visible in the crepuscular light.

"You could press almost everything out of me, really. Hidden secrets about god and the world, Area 51, my deepest fears,conspirational theories, the FBI, secret codes... every other bad guy would try to take some advantage of that. Some would torture me for a living and they would have a great life as soon as they'd be done." Emily uttered a snigger and shook her head. "But you can try for as long as you want to get after those who matter to me... eventually you will have to give up. Never will I tell you anything about them. Break me if you can't live without trying but not a single crack will go deep enough as it would eventually lead you to Deklan. You are doomed to fail, Ian."

He raised an eyebrow. "You are not weak. Not that I'm surprised by this, though."

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

He turned around and grabbed the tablet of syringes again. Emily frowned inwardly but took a deep breath and blanked the urge to say anything just to keep him from giving her another injection. She tried to convince herself of that it hadn't been that bad. He could have cut off her fingers, for instance, which would have been worse. He could have let Blaine rape her as well. He could have broken his promise to let Henry and JJ go. Then how bad could it be to endure a couple of pricks? She wasn't a child, for heaven's sake!

"I have been reading some books about the history of american serial killers", he began, one of his hands hovering about the range of helpful liquids, "and I stumbled over the three Highway Killers. Did you know that Kenneth Bianchi actually convinced a woman to try to commit another murder, following his pattern, and leave behind is DNA? She got caught, failed to murder and was sentenced to 13 years. It's rather interesting, huh?"

"Just say it - they tortured their victims. Raped them, too." She sighted vexedly, even though she was grateful for the short delay. "Veronica Lynn Compton became a couple with another criminal and Bianchi found another 'civilian' too." She shrugged slightly. "Just saying..."

"Exactly. It was quiete an inspiring article, really. While you rarely find many details about the actual torture I'm quiete certain I read that they injected some sort of a cleaning agent to at least one of these women."

Emily shrugged again and yawned ostentatiously while his words made her blood run cold.

"But I have a better idea", Doyle continued and grabbed two syringes both of which were filled with a transparent fluid, an acromatic and a yellow one, "what about I give you three options. One - you tell me everything. Two - well, I don't know what exactly it is. It looked all bright and beautiful so I guess it's effects are kinda fun too, no? Three, and I really like this one too - Dilaudid. I assume you know what it is."

She gasped at the last word, unable to hide her dismay.

"Your choice, Emily?"

"How did you find out?", she asked under her breath, unable to hide her curiousity. And her fear.

Doyle grinned at her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You were at his apartment? How... when?"

"Back in the days when you were alive. Everything's useful. It was rather interesting, by the way. Did you know that your friend Spencer actually owns a bottle of Eau de Cologne? I didn't think he was the type for that but I was prooved wrong. And while Aaron Hotchner seems to be reading classics his son owns a couple of child detective books. Like father like son, huh? And Derek Morgan... his dog seems to like me. A lovable one, really. I bet he would like to hang out with this cat of yours too, even though I doubt that your friend Penelope would like to have a rather big dog skylark through her apartment. Did you know she took your cat?"

"It's a tomcat."

"Yeah, whatever. It seems to has it's own scratcher ever since it started to abuse the wallpapers."

All she felt was a deep, harrowing nausea. Her stomach felt like it was about to turn every moment and desperation began to spread out through her mind until it stung even in the back of beyond in her brain. The realization that she would betray them again if she put them in this kind of danger hit her right before the truth did - that the danger they had been in was over now. They hadn't known about the connection between her and Doyle back then but they did now and they knew he was back.

They wouldn't let him hurt one of them now.

"You won't go after them."

"I know. They can't tell me anything. If they could I would know by now."

"Then why were you there?"

He smiled again, deathly scornful this time. "For you, Emily. As I said - this happened some time ago. I only want you to know that I might have been closer to them than you knew and that I will find my son, by all means. You won't escape me. Make a choice, now!"

She took a deep breath. "No."

"Alright. If this is what you want..."

He made a wide step towards her and stabbed the syringe with the yellow substance, presumably the cleaning agent, in her arm. Emily struggeled to break free from her bonds. The chair fell back and once again the ground hit her head with no mercy. Doyle hadn't had enough time to pull down the plunger yet and the needle was teared out of her arm. She sighted inwardly but silent tears flooded her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. It didn't matter at all. All she had done was to successfully bring herself in the only position in which she was even more vulnerable than before.

Doyle came closer and kneeled down next to her.

"Don't do this."

"You are willing to go through everything possible for your family, you told me?" His voice was calm, almost gentle as he tied an elastic strap tightly around her upper arm and let his finger wander over the crook of her arm until it found one of her venes. He pattet it lightly, waiting for it to gain thikness. "Why, I am willing to do everything to get back what you took from me."

"No..."

Emily held back a sob as she felt the long, thin needle break through her skin. The particular intrusion didn't hurt her any worse than any other blood taking or TB test did, cold, almost smooth, but she didn't dare to look at Doyle's hands, didn't want to know whether he had already injected the torturous substance or not or which of the two it was. Before she actually took note of it there was the second needle entering her bloodstream. All smoothness was gone. The pull onto the plunger was rather harsh.

No more than a few seconds, a couple of blinks, tremulous heartbeats and biding breaths could have passed until she was inwardly set on fire, too hazy to opress her screams and yet to conscious to fade down her agony.

Gastric acid spout off her mouth. She chocked on it and turned her head to the side in order to breath again, even though the pain from the inside of everywhere seemed to be more breathtaking. The blood in her veins was literally boiling, browsing through her body like liquified ordeal.

"I said I'd take you with me, Emily... Welcome to hell."

Emily fought for air. It's only purpose was that she could scream out louder than before.

another A/N: (might contain a spoiler)

Concerning the beginning: I was having long debates with myself whether I should include Rossi's son in this or not. I would have fit in there very well and given me some opportunities to involve more emotions and everything but I eventually decided to leave him out.

But wasn't this an awesome scene? I was totally stunned. And I watched that whole episode about three times in a row. It was really cool.