A/N: Can you believe it? This story is almost done. Just maybe one or two more parts after this one (depending on how long I want to make the chapter(s)). Thank you for those who have stuck around and I hope you enjoyed the ride. It's not quite over and by that I mean not only the fact that there remain a part or two to "Reckoning", but I do have a sequel planned. I do know that this is in no way anything similar to what they have planned for the show, so we're definitely in an alternate universe from the show itself. I guess the only similarity is Emily's photo on the wall of fallen agents. But I hope folks enjoy this part, and as always, I love hearing feedback. And just a reminder, the nomination ballot for the Second Criminal Minds Profiler Fan Fic Awards is up in the "Discussion Forum". Enjoy!

Dave Rossi was trying to work on his next book, but had been doodling for the last hour when he heard the newscast. Derek Morgan was working out at the gym and nearly fell off the treadmill as he watched CNN and saw the announcement. Penelope Garcia had to call Spencer Reid who was playing chess in the park, but as soon as he heard the news, he, like the others, called Hotch.

For several hours, Hotch had to field calls not only from his team, but from the Bureau chiefs who were getting pressure from both the CIA and Interpol demanding answers that the FBI did not have. And neither did Hotch. Fortunately, Hotch could honestly say that he and his team had absolutely nothing to do with the news story and they were as surprised as everyone else.

But even worse for Hotch, was explaining to Jack, who wandered into the living room and saw a picture of his "Emmy" on the television, why the woman he had grown close to two years ago and still remembered was on their TV.

Hotch had never told Jack about Emily's 'death', just hoping the memory of the brunette would fade for the boy, but Jack had shown a resilience where Emily Prentiss was concerned. So Hotch had simply said Emily was 'away' fighting the bad guys. Now, it appeared to Jack she was back and from what little he heard of the news, which Hotch quickly switched off, she had accomplished her mission of catching a pretty bad guy.

"So does that mean Emmy will be visiting me soon, Daddy?" he asked in excitement.

How was he going to answer that? Hotch had wondered. He simply wasn't sure. Earlier that day, he expected Emily Prentiss to simply slip out of his life, likely never to be heard from again, but now?

As he gazed into his son's excited and hopeful face, that same excitement and hope began to seep into him. He felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, a reaction his son could always easily pull out of him. Hotch knelt down and placed his hands on his boy's small shoulders.

"You know what, buddy?" he said. "I think there's a good possibility you'll see Emmy real soon."

As JJ predicted, the FBI hated looking like idiots, so they quickly confirmed that Agent Prentiss had been a member of a top secret plan to bring down Ian Doyle that was put into place two years ago. They had wanted to try to protect Agent Prentiss' cover and privacy as much as possible, but other factors have forced their hand. The plan was a drastic one, but such measures needed to be taken to ensure the downfall of Ian Doyle, who had been one of the world's most wanted men. The Bureau was proud of the sacrifices and work Agent Prentiss had done in service of her country.

And just like that, Emily Prentiss had an engraved invitation back into the Bureau because they weren't about to give their own hero the boot?

The news outlets ran with the story and it quickly caught fire. Add to it the almost Hollywood-esque storyline, Emily's prominent and wealthy family and her own beautiful looks, and she became a ready-made American heroine, defeating a deadly terrorist who had no qualms about killing anyone, including children, and all the while, still looking gorgeous. She was a real action heroine, ready to protect God, America, Mom and Apple Pie.

The media loved it. The FBI fed it.

Relatives of some of Doyle's victims were interviewed thanking the Bureau and Agent Prentiss' work in getting justice for their loved ones. Representatives from different nations emphasized how much of a danger Ian Doyle had been to their countries, and reinforced the idea that he was a man who needed to be taken out. Pictures of the devastation the terrorist activities Doyle had been linked to were constantly flashed on millions of screens and as the news went global, billions of screens. And through it all, the Bureau received some of the best publicity it had ever gotten in the past ten years. It was almost as if this storybook ending was planned.

But it wasn't.

And what of the woman at the center of the biggest news story of the night? Emily was sitting quietly in her hospital bed, knowing in a few hours she would board a plane for San Francisco and her new life. She had been absently flipping through channels and decided to watch the news.

The remote control fell from her hand when she saw what the top news story was.

Two hours later, Marina Saville paid her a visit.

"Well, this is an interesting turn of events," Saville exclaimed. She sat down on Emily's bed.

"How the Hell did this happen?" Emily yelled at her. In the two hours since she had been watching the news, seeing the images of devastation Doyle had wrought, pictures of herself, JJ reading the official Bureau announcement, everything, she had grown more and more panicked by what all this could possibly mean. "I'm plastered all over the news!"

"Yes," Saville remarked quietly as she studied Emily. "Yes, you are." She regarded the younger woman for several more seconds and finally nodded her head gently. "It appears someone leaked that information."

"But who? Why?"

Saville sighed and rolled her eyes. "Oh please, Emily, you're not stupid. Obviously to make sure you didn't come and work for me. It's the only explanation."

Prentiss shot Saville a hard look. "That may be the reason, but who would do it?"

"I can think of several people," Saville said evenly. "Agent Hotchner for instance."

"Hotch never would," Emily replied quickly. She shook her head in a definite manner. "No. I don't think he could even think of something like this. He just doesn't play the game in this way."

A ghost of a smile appeared on Saville's face that made Emily's antennae go up rapidly. "Perhaps," she murmured, though the tone she said it in clearly implied she thought Emily was being naïve in her thinking. She stood and smoothed down her skirt. "Well, as you know, you've become less…viable for the Agency, though you are America's new favorite heroine." She said the last part with an ironic twist of her mouth. "At least until a new one comes along or something else captures the public's interest like a cat playing piano or some other mindless distraction on the Internet."

Saville started leave, but Emily stopped her.

"What happens now?"

Saville turned and looked at her in surprise. "Why, my dear, you get to do what you want. I'm naturally rescinding my job offer. It would be inappropriate for you to work for the Agency after all this…publicity."

"And Hotch-, Agent Hotchner?" Emily couldn't quell the feeling of anxiety.

Saville almost snorted but settled for waving a dismissive hand. "No use for him either. You know I never break my word, Emily, so I will say that I will not go after Agent Hotchner or make things difficult for him in any way. Really, I think he accomplishes that on his own quite well without me doing anything."

"Then I just have one more question," Emily persisted.

Saville let out a small sigh this time and looked expectantly at the brunette. "Yes?"

"Why did you tell Hotch-, Agent Hotchner, about the deal we made? You didn't have to, but you did. What purpose did that serve you?"

Saville sighed loudly and in disappointment. "Oh, Emily, Emily, Emily, that one is so simple." She stepped closer to Prentiss and stared kindly into the younger woman's face. "It was because I knew Agent Hotchner would tell you and refuse to allow you to make such a sacrifice for him and that you would do or say the one thing that would permanently drive him away from you. You see Emily, I needed you to be the one to look in Aaron Hotchner's face and break his heart, shatter his trust, whatever it took to break off relations with you in every possible way because that man was determined not to let you out of his sight again. So you needed to be the one to tell him to leave you alone. I knew that you would worry and wonder what I had planned and will do whatever you had to, to make sure Agent Hotchner was safe even it that meant breaking his heart and trust. And I was right, wasn't I, my dear?"

Emily stared at the other woman in revulsion and hatred at how easily she manipulated people and lives as they were no more than figurines displayed on a shelf that she rearranged every now and then to her please any sudden whim she might have.

"You see, Emily, you forget, like most people, that I know and understand people. I'm a profiler too. Oh, I don't use the label and that's all it is. Profiling isn't something Jason Gideon, David Rossi and Aaron Hotchner created or even named. It's existed ever since there was an observant man or woman. And people like your Aaron Hotchner and you too, my dear, forget that sometimes, the best 'profilers' might not have that title at all."

"You are one cold-hearted, vicious bitch," Emily whispered.

"Yes, dear, but you've always known that. But I'm an honest one too." She patted Emily's arm gently and then turned to leave. She paused in the door way, half-way out of the room before she turned around to look at Emily one last time. "But just think, Emily, how much scarier it would be if I wasn't working for our side."

With those last words and a small smile, she was gone.

Emily sat down on her bed with a thump, too stunned by the turn of events in the past few hours. Finally, the stupor she was in began to wear off and she realized, she had nowhere to go. She couldn't stay in the Naval Hospital, she no longer had a job with the CIA or the FBI, Hell, she was still legally dead. Where would she go for tonight? What was she going to do?

She figured she could stay with her mother or her father for at least a few nights, but how to get to either place? Or to call them? She had no money, no phone. Maybe as a national heroine she could bum a cab ride?

The room suddenly seemed too closed in for her and she had this overwhelming urge to just bolt, forget Emily Prentiss was ever alive again and go someplace quiet to get her bearings and figure out what to do with the rest of her life, such as it was. The one thing she knew she had to do was leave this small hospital room and begin to put this entire nightmare behind her.

The hospital had provided her with a duffle bag to pack her few belongings, mainly the clothes and toiletries Garcia and JJ had brought for her. The bag wasn't heavy, but her ribs still bothered her and she sucked in her breath at the sharp stab of pain caused by swinging the bag onto her shoulder. She ignored the pain and walked to the door.

She had just pulled the door open and found Hotch on the other side, his hand raised as if to knock.

He took one look at her, the bag slung on her shoulder and his eyes darkened and his mouth twisted into a cool smile.

"Running, Prentiss?"