A/N: This chapter has been updated as I noticed a slight inconsistency and couldn't let it go!

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The car ride from the airport was uneventful. JJ drove, Derek sat in the passenger seat, and Emily stared quietly out the window from the back. It only took half of the journey for JJ to bring the others up to speed on what had happened. The bottom line was that Connor Brennan was slowly working his way up the bureau's wanted list and their priority was finding him before he crossed paths with anyone else who might disagree with him. The remainder of the discussion focussed on tactics and profiles, but oddly, Emily was reluctant to take part and found she felt only a strange sense of disinterest to what was being said.

"You okay back there?" Derek asked, when she inadvertently ignored a question JJ had directed straight at her.

"Fine," she responded. "Sorry."

Her eyes momentarily met Derek's in the rear view mirror, before her attention returned to the orange glow of light pollution which eclipsed all stars from the sky.

Connor was most likely somewhere beneath the hazy light of the city, planning or running or cowering. She thought of the photographs Garcia had found of him – a police mugshot and a portrait from his high school year book. He looked just as terrified in each. A damaged kid who Doyle had manipulated for his own gain. A nobody who had found a purpose running drugs and guns for a big time criminal. His story wasn't unique, but it just so happened that he was the right kind of messed up to break. And now he looked set to end his life at the hands of a desperate set of law enforcement agents.

"Emily?" Derek called her name, as he and JJ exchanged a worried glance.

"What?" she asked, her mind remaining focussed on the tragic tale unfolding around her.

"Do you want to stop and get something to eat?"

She became aware of the looming neon sign which indicated there was a gas station at the next turnoff.

"Sure," she answered. "If you want to."

Before his sigh, or JJ's sympathetic smile, could register, Emily was preoccupied all over again.

Marissa was even more the victim than Connor, yet she too was left alone and afraid. There was no convincing the DA – not that much effort was made – to offer her sanctuary. Like the other associates of the Pearsons, she awaited trial for her involvement in the attempted murder of federal agents and for any other charge which had a chance of sticking. She was in protective custody, but Emily knew it would never be enough to keep her safe. Whatever her true involvement or intentions, the girl had crossed too many dangerous people.

Just as the car turned off towards the gas station, Emily caught sight of a sign which displayed the rapidly diminishing distance to Quantico. For some reason it only caused a claustrophobic sensation to bloom in her chest. Being back at Quantico meant being under the watchful eye of Strauss and the concerned scrutiny of Hotch. It meant rules and regulations and slotting back into the machinery which seemed to be working towards everything she feared.

She cracked the window slightly, to let in a cool rush of air. Breathing deeply, her thoughts drifted to Lucy. New-borns changed so much in such a short space of time. She'd probably be a different baby to the one Derek had strapped into the car seat in the hospital room. The little girl, who had started life at the centre of it all, was now being cared for by an unknown person in an unknown facility. She was secure in the sense that no one could physically harm her, but she'd know nothing of the mother who had spent her dying moments seeking refuge at a stranger's door.

Three lives ruined because of a dead man who had barely known any of them. Chaos theory in action. Ian Doyle flaps his wings like a sick, twisted butterfly and the lives of anyone touched by the breeze start to decay.

It had to end somewhere – that was the one small comfort – but the rot had already set in with her own family. The anger and fear had seeped into her relationship with Derek and the tension crept around the bonds between the team. The harm was visible in the way JJ winced if she turned too quickly and in the worried eyes watching the back seat of the car from the rear view mirror.

It was going to end. And it had to be soon.

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The garish, neon glow of the signs grew brighter as they pulled into the forecourt of the gas station.

"Hot Food 24HRS a Day"

The pull of hotdogs, burritos and stale nachos only worked on those with the misfortune to be speeding down the highways at irregular hours. Truckers and weary travellers. Law enforcement agents and hospital workers.

"Emily, what do you want to eat?"

They'd stopped now and both Derek and JJ awaited her answer with far greater anticipation than the question demanded.

"Nothing," was what she wanted to say. Despite its grumbles, her stomach was knotted far too tightly to receive any food. But she knew that wasn't what they wanted to hear.

"A hotdog," she responded, still staring at the bright sign and its unappetizing menu.

Derek looked puzzled by her choice, having seen her turn her nose up at the same more times than he could remember, but quickly determined anything other than more coffee would do her good.

"With ketchup and mustard?" he asked, recalling her preferences from a barbeque that seemed a lifetime ago.

The corners of her lips hinted an unwelcome smile as she nodded. Her mind had momentarily let in the same memory, but she'd quickly pushed it away.

"I'll get it," JJ offered, unclipping her seatbelt and opening the door. "Derek, what do you want?"

As the blonde moved, and Derek responded that he'd have the same, Emily unfastened her own seatbelt and made a break for the night beyond the confines of their vehicle. Even if only for a few minutes, she needed to be elsewhere.

"Where are you going?" Derek questioned, before her hand had even reached the door handle. "JJ said she'd go in for us."

"I'm going to the restroom," she responded, her frustration rearing its head once again. She just wanted a moment to think.

"Do you want me to come with you?" JJ offered, pausing at the side of the car.

"I think I can manage by myself," the brunette snapped, launching out of the vehicle and slamming the door behind her. They hadn't even made it back yet and she already felt like she couldn't breathe.

Derek gave JJ a look which told her to leave it, but Emily was oblivious to the exchange as she stormed towards the shack like building to the side of the gas station, with a renewed determination battling through her anger. She was going to fix things; she was going to put an end to her family's need to wrap her in cotton wool. It was the only way the urge to scream and the twisting sensation in her chest would ever really go away.

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Predictably, the "ladies' room" was disgusting. A single cubicle, with a flickering light above the sink played host to a variety of stains and smells she'd rather not identify. She stared at her reflection in the scratched and smeared mirror, her eyes lingering on the fresh scar at her hairline. Derek had assured her it was barely visible, but she could see it. It was red and angry, marring the divide between her pale skin and dark hair. Her fingers traced its length as she thought.

Where did she go from here? What possible progress could she make from standing in a grimy gas station restroom, examining her latest disfigurement?

A slight breeze rattled the loose pane of the frosted glass window, carrying the same enticing promise of solitude which had taunted her in the car. And she suddenly knew what to do. He'd hate her, but if he felt one tenth of what she did it would only be temporary. Nothing was going to work out as it should if she was restrained by protocol and overprotectiveness.

Carefully, she hoisted herself onto the window ledge and took hold of the fragile frame. Flakes of paint stuck to her clammy hands as she rattled the pane, feeling it start to come free.

She almost had it when she heard the noise at the door.

The footsteps came to a halt as she held her breath, but were quickly followed by a knock and a shout.

"Emily, are you okay in there?"

She froze, midway between being free and returning like nothing had happened. If she ran she'd have the element of surprise. She was sure she could make it. But even the thought made her feel physically sick. It wasn't an acquaintance or a captor on the other side of the door. It wasn't even a concerned colleague. It was Derek, and she wouldn't do that to him. She couldn't do that to him. Not this time.

"Just a second," she called, jumping down from the ledge as quickly but as quietly as possible.

She opened the door to where her partner stood, just a couple of feet away. It only took him a single glance at her expression before he spoke.

"You're not coming back to Quantico, are you?"

"Derek, I…"

There were no explanations or excuses to contradict his perception, and she slowly and sadly shook her head. In the second of silence, she prepared for the torrent of accusations and protests to leave his mouth, but they never came. He was too busy thinking and formulating a plot which wasn't too different to that which had sprung to life in her mind just minutes before.

"You need to get a new cell," he instructed. "As soon as you can. And call me. Dammit, Emily, you'd better stay in touch."

Emily was in shock, watching as he effortlessly wound his way into her solo mission. She opened her mouth to speak but the overwhelming gratitude caused words to fail her.

"I understand," he told her, though he couldn't be certain he did. All he knew was that when it came to taking on his monster – to facing Carl Buford – no one and nothing could have stopped him going his own way. If Emily needed the same then he wouldn't deny her that chance.

"But you need to stay alive," he continued. " Mama Morgan has a space for you at her Thanksgiving table. Don't make me tell her you're not coming."

They shared a breathless laugh, as they fought back the sort of emotion they each liked to avoid, and his hand came to rest on her arm. The brief smile slipped from his face as he spoke again.

"Seriously, Emily, we've got so much to talk about. I'm in. I want it all with you. The house, the kids, the wedding…"

He paused as, despite everything, a smirk crossed her lips.

"Was that a proposal? In a gas station restroom?" she grinned, biting back the hot rush of tears.

He snorted, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head.

"We have so much to talk about," he repeated, breathing her scent so deeply that he wondered if he'd be able to hold onto it long after she disappeared into the night.

His words were quickly extinguished by a passionate kiss. This wasn't a goodbye and neither of them would say anything to suggest otherwise. But while no "I love you's" were exchanged, their kiss had the sense of sending a soldier off to war.

"Call me as soon as you can," he made her promise, when they finally broke apart. He was reluctant to let go but JJ would get suspicious if he was much longer in returning.

She nodded, releasing his hand in a signal that he should head back to the car.

And then she was gone, into the shadows and without a further sound.

After taking a moment to compose himself, Derek took a deep breath and rounded the corner, back towards the forecourt to face his colleague. He fixed his expression into one of concern. Emily was nowhere to be found.

The lying sat uneasily with his conscience but it was all he could think to do. He could only hope he'd done the right thing. He'd never forgive her if she didn't come home and he certainly wouldn't forgive himself.