A/N back again, apologies for the delay. Mostly a setup chapter for getting into the rest of the plot but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Thank you so much to AWChic, reidfan1971, Casie01, Guest, Cupcake, Guest, Patricia, rmpcmfan, Jareau37, Lktwh13 and Leslet for reviewing the previous chapter :D

italics is flashback and any speech in the flashback is in Russian, the flashback itself leads on from the one in the previous chapter

Everyone on the team had a key to the storage unit in which all of JJ's possessions were kept. Reid wasn't sure if anyone else had actually used theirs though. It was something they never talked about. Perhaps Garcia had, she seemed to know exactly which boxes contained JJ's clothes. Reid didn't know anything about women's clothing, so he let her do her thing, picking out the comfiest sweats and most colourful pyjamas. He had come along with Garcia for emotional support; he wasn't sure who needed that support more.

Either way, he was now doing what he had done every month since they had cleared her apartment: he went through another box, just 'exploring'. He supposed now that maybe it was an invasion of privacy, just combing through someone else's things. Yes it probably was, given that everything of JJ's had been boxed up. And he meant everything.

About eleven months in, he had opened a box to find a wash bag full of feminine hygiene products. He had blushed the deepest shade of scarlet imaginable and beat a hasty retreat but it hadn't stopped him. Because everything in this room was JJ. It was all he had left of her. And while his chest ached with longing and loss every time he visited, he was grateful for it: he dreaded the day when he opened that door and felt nothing. He dreaded the day when he moved on or let go, because that would be a betrayal.

So he clung to his grief, and to JJ, and worked his way through the boxes as a promise to himself and to her that he would never forget her, or the bond they had shared. Even now he felt that sense of loss, not because she was gone, but because she hadn't really come back. The woman in the Boston hospital bed wasn't the compassionate, understanding woman who had gone missing three years ago. That woman was not the friend he had refused to believe was dead.

The box Reid was currently going through contained a lot of books. You can tell a lot about a person by the books they read. Everyone reads to escape, that's a well-known fact. What everyone wants to know is where you decide to escape to. Or what you're trying to escape from.

He couldn't help but smile as he came across one of Rossi's books, Frenzy: America's Worst Spree Killers, the book that had inspired JJ to become an agent. His smile faded somewhat as he imagined how different everything would be if she had chosen a different path for herself, hadn't read that book. Then he sobered; no matter what had happened in the last three years, he was still grateful for their friendship, a friendship that would never have come about had she not been an agent.

When the world turns rough, it's easy to regret the choices we made to lead us on such a dark path. The hard part is remembering the rays of light that made the darkness worthwhile, no matter how distant they may seem.

Feeling curiosity stir within him, he opened the book to read the inscription Rossi had written all those years ago, wandering what he had said. But as he turned the first page he frowned. There was nothing there. Surely if JJ had met Rossi at a book signing, she would have asked him to sign hers? Yes, she had, he remembered her saying it.

Suddenly something caught his eye. The title on another book, the same title already staring back at him, Frenzy: America's Worst Spree Killers. He quickly flicked forward a couple of pages. Staring back at him were a few words that only deepened his confusion. 'Second Edition, published 2010.' He dug the other book out from the bottom of the box. 'First Edition, published 1997.'

Why would JJ buy a second copy of Rossi's book? An edition that had been released just months before her disappearance?

"Reid, are you ready? I've got everything I think she might need." Garcia said, clutching a bag bursting at the seams with clothing.

But Reid was hunched over closely examining the spine of the book, using two fingers to feel along its length, as though palpating the chest to locate the ribs. Garcia watched as his eyes widened. "Reid, are you okay?"

"Garcia, do you have a knife?" He asked absently, entirely focused on the book.

"No, Reid, why would I have a knife?"

"I don't know, just find me a knife, or scissors, anything sharp!" Reid said quickly, raising his voice in excitement and no small amount of dread. There was something hidden in this book. How had they not found it when they were packing up JJ's things? She had hidden something in this book and if it was something to do with her disappearance then he would never forgive himself for not finding it sooner.

After some rummaging, Garcia returned with a knife. A bread knife. "Sorry, it was all I could find…" She said apologetically but Reid had already snatched it off her and was using it to cut away the spine.

When he finally tore it off, something glinted as it fell to the floor. Garcia quickly picked it up, staring at it in bewilderment. It was a key. "Reid? What the hell is going on?" She asked in a shaking voice.

"We need to phone Hotch."

Crow felt very groggy when he came to again, his eyelids felt lead-lined. He could feel someone stroking the back of his hand gently. Jay. Of course it was her. He couldn't help but panic as he tried to breathe but found there was a tube jammed in his throat. Thankfully, just as he thought his heart would burst out of his chest, cool air filled his lungs. Jay was there, she wouldn't let anything happen to him. It was just like with Socrates, but with a machine instead of Jay breathing for him. Get a hold of yourself, Crow. Panic never helped anyone.

He brushed the backs of his fingertips over her palm to let her know he was awake but she was in a daze, her gaze rested blankly on the wall in front of her. He knew that look on her face though; it was there whenever she thought about Washington, and Jason.

At the moment she didn't look afraid, so he let her continue in a world of her own.

It was pitch black when Mutt woke. Was she dead? No, the pain in her abdomen and the collar around her neck told her she hadn't been so lucky. Then how was she alive? She'd never seen a Ghost survive a wound like that. Then again, she'd never seen Washington stop an execution before either.

She used her fingers to gently probe along her stomach, then hissed to herself and grit her teeth as she brushed the torn flesh. The wound itself was covered in gauze but that didn't make it hurt any less. The gauze was damp, likely soaked with blood, but not bad enough for one of the Watchers to bother changing the dressing yet.

She hated lying down. It made her feel vulnerable. Even though she knew the door into her cell being opened would give her time to defend herself, she couldn't stand to feel so weak. It was unusual for a Ghost to be attacked in Medical but right now her instincts were overwhelming her. She felt around her neck, to the leather collar and felt relieved to find a chain attached to it. She traced the chain back to a ring embedded in the wall. She had about 2 and a half feet of chain to work with.

Hauling herself up the chain, she manoeuvred herself into a slumped sitting position, biting back a moan of pain.

Suddenly the door burst open and she used her heels to kick herself backwards as close into the corner of the cell as she could. But the Watcher who entered the room didn't shout at her. Instead he hung his torch on the hook in the ceiling and shut the door behind him, before crouching down in front of her.

She automatically shrank away from him, pressing her body against the wall in an effort to protect herself.

"Calm down, I'm not here to hurt you, I brought you some food." He held his hand out, on which was a plate of food. As he did so, she noticed the bluejays on his arm. It was the same man who had convinced Washington not to execute her.

Mutt examined the food suspiciously; there was more of it than usual- two whole spoonfulls of instant mash and an extra slice of spam. Her stomach growled at her but she didn't move a muscle, not daring to trust the Watcher. When she didn't take it, he set it down to the side.

"At least let me check the wound and change the dressing." He said gently.

Very reluctantly, she lifted the hem of her top up until the dressing was exposed. Fear welled inside her as he reached toward her to peel the dressing away from the wound. Her breath was shaky as he examined the stitches critically, but she was relieved that his eyes did not linger over the rest of her body.

He reached into the med-kit and began to prepare a fresh dressing. "You were lucky," he said, not looking at her, "had that knife gone a half a centimetre deeper, you'd have bled out before I could help you."

Mutt's lip curled in contempt. "Lucky." She repeated in quiet anger. She had said it louder than she had meant to and could only pray that he hadn't heard.

He had, but when he turned to look at her there was no anger in his eyes, only wry regret. "Sorry, that was a poor choice of words. All I meant was… Well I don't know. You're alive and that's what matters."

"Alive so that you can patch me up and put me back in that cage." She said bitterly. Damn, what the hell was she thinking, speaking to a Watcher like that? She was just so angry.

If she had angered him, he didn't show it, just continued applying the gauze. "What's your name?" he asked softly.

"One zero five eight." She replied automatically.

The Watcher shook his head, "No, your real name."

Mutt frowned. "My name is Mutt." And she was telling the truth, it was a name that suited her, even if it had taken a while to get used to it, now it felt like her.

The Watcher shook his head again, looking almost sad. "I don't think so. I know who you are, Jennifer Jareau, and I'm going to get you out of here."

As Crow watched, he saw terror flit across Jay's face. He squeezed her hand gently, to bring her back to the present. She looked around blindly, slowly remembering where she was. He just waited whilst she regained her bearings, fighting his own discomfort at his inability to breathe when he wanted to.

After a moment or two Jay smiled at him, although grief lingered in her eyes as he ghosted his fingers over her bluejay tattoo. Jason? He was asking, although he already knew the answer. She simply nodded in response.

Both Ghosts jumped as the door to the room opened, Jay instinctively placing herself in front of Crow. It was Hotch. Jay very carefully traced a circle on the back of Crow's hand, then tapped his knuckles. He won't hurt us. Nevertheless, she kept her eyes trained on Hotch.

"JJ, we need to talk." Hotch said slowly, wishing she didn't look so uneasy whenever she heard English. "I've just spoken to Reid. He found Rossi's book, the one you kept in your apartment. There was a key in it, and something written in the spine: Rosaline 18128147. You bought that book just six weeks before you went missing, so I need to know: was there more to your disappearance than Ian Doyle and Chief Morris?"

A/N warning to everyone, this fic will eventually have a happy/satisfying ending, but that may well be delayed until the second half. Sorry :) but enjoy the rest in the meantime