A/N: GUYS! I am SO sorry. Are you still here? Can you ever forgive me? These last few chapters took me FAR longer to write than I anticipated. I won't waste your time with honest excuses (though I have been crazy busy irl), but I know I have spent TOO MUCH time over these many weeks going back and forth with these chapters. I was tweaking trying to get the vibe and continuity right. I wanted them to be good for y'all and for me. But here they are. Finally. I'm so scared, BUT Let's get into it!

P.S. Near the very beginning of this chapter there is, what I would consider, a brief paragraph of M-ish rated content. I don't think it's long enough to warrant changing the whole rating of the story, but do please read at your own discretion.

Location Unknown

MM/DD/YYYY

00:00 AM

8 Hours Left

Emily groaned, long and loudly. She had a massive headache, and with her eyes still shut, she squeezed them closed even tighter, attempting to deal with the unrelenting, throbbing sensation. This was the third? forth? round of anesthesia she'd been subjected to that day, and gradually awaking from it this time proved no more difficult than the past times.

Despite feeling dazed and groggy, she forced her eyes open. Her vision blurry, she fought to analyze her surroundings. Nothing about where she was seemed familiar, but she could feel she was sitting on the ground, not strapped to a bed as before. This was good news… until it quickly soured when she tugged at her hands.

Handcuffed. At least partially. While her right arm and other limbs seemed to be free, her left wrist was attached to a metal bar, which spanned about 3 feet, and was evenly bolted to the wall. The metal of the cuffs rattled against the metal of the bar as she tried to pulled herself free to no avail. Emily shook her head. The cuffs were probably salvaged off her after she was abducted.

It would be a moment before full function of her eyes came back to her, but keeping them open, she looked beside her. An oblong white shape— a toilet bowl. Then, she looked up. A white ceiling, a clear curtain, a shower head, and glaring bright white lights stared back at her. She was in a bathroom. But it certainly was not the one she'd spent 30 minutes self-isolated in a few hours ago, and certainly not the one where she and Morgan —

Emily slammed her eyes shut. While she soothed her retinas, her memory of everything that had happened before she ended up here suddenly came rushing back to her, hitting her like an intense tidal wave. She clenched her teeth. And as she subsequently dissolved into a strange mess of stifled laughter and a groan, her head fell to her lap.

How did sitting with him at the edge of the tub, the safety of them holding each other, escalate to sleeping with him? It was real, but it felt unreal. The images flashed behind her eyes, the movement of every second of that moment on live replay in her brain.

A switch had flipped inside her. The desire suddenly un-squelched. It was something she couldn't control, and quite frankly, she didn't want to. She felt brave, convicted. Without hesitation, she came on to him and he was willing… so willing to accept her advances. The feeling of his hands all over her body, strong, possessive— the sensation of him inside her, it was nothing short of pleasurably amazing.

Her hands had gripped his back, her legs wrapped around his body to pull him in deeper. But he teased her, pulling out and kissing her neck and lips with hunger while withholding the pleasure. Her body aching for his, she whined, and he responded. Relenting, he plunged back into her and she immediately closed tight around his firmness. He moved, each stroke progressing in pace. Then, in a moment of heightened sensuality, they found themselves looking into each other's eyes. He grabbed her hand, their fingers intertwining, and with one final thrust, they both reached a climax.

Emily snatched herself from the thought of it, and exhaled sharply. She didn't regret it. Or at least— not yet anyway. After the number of times that she came, she had more cause to want to do it again than she had to regret it. However, it was utterly stupid. It was cataclysmically foolish for them to even engage, knowing that going to that bed would put them right back in harm's way.

Though… now that she was thinking about it, that was the plan. Provocation. Not necessarily of each other, but of the unsubs. With a clock actively counting down to their deaths, it was anything to draw them out. Because the closer in proximity she and Morgan were to the unsubs, the more opportunity they had to talk with them, to manipulate them with the profile— to survive.

So, if losing her control was gaining control, then that's the way it had to be. Fake intercourse or not, they were eventually going to end up in the line of fire. Like right now. Here she was handcuffed to a wall for some unknown purpose, and, Morgan was… he was…

Emily's head shot up. Only then did she realize that she actually had no idea where he was. Pushing off the the floor, the brunette stood up. She was wobbly on her feet, but the boost of panic-fueled adrenaline quickly rushed to steel her. With what vision she regained, she frantically rescanned the room for him. A sick, dark feeling churning in her stomach when she soon found he wasn't in there with her.

Negative thoughts, thoughts of him lying dead somewhere threatened to overwhelm her, and she opened her mouth to start calling out his name. But before the desperate sound of her voice could be expelled from her throat, the bathroom doorknob began to joggle. The sound of a key being twisted and a lock undoing grabbing her immediate attention.

Emily waited for the arrival of something sinister while simultaneously hoping the person she was searching for might somehow be on the other side. Much to her dismay, the door swung open to reveal the unsub woman. Chin high with some kind of sickening pride, Eve entered the room. She was unaccompanied, and methodically made her way over to where the agent was now standing, attached to the wall.

Once the two were face to face, the woman paused. She grinned widely as she scanned Prentiss up and down in a way that was almost reverential, like she was in awe and appreciation of a glowing deity just descended from the heavens. Then, without much regard for personal space, Eve reached towards the brunette, placed her open palms on her lower belly, and began to mumble a prayer.

Emily jerked back, instantly filled with disgust and bitter hatred. After using scripture to justify the drugs and the extortion and the psychological manipulation — after holding her captive — after killing 12 people, it came as no surprise that this woman thought she reserved the right to lay one single finger on her body. She didn't fully step away, but it was everything in her not to grip the woman's wrist and twist.

"Where is my partner?" Prentiss asked darkly.

Hearing the unequivocal mood in her tone of voice, Eve cocked her head, and searched her face. She seemed surprised that Emily was angry at all, that she didn't share in her elation.

"God has performed a great work in you!" She replied still grinning, completely disregarding the question.

"I'm not pregnant." The agent bit, tension constricting in her voice,"Where is my partner?"

Eve pulled back and glared at Emily disapprovingly. There was room in the air to ask the same question again until she received a definite answer, but just then, the woman reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a small rectangular box. As Prentiss' expression contorted with confusion, Eve held it out in front of her.

"Take this." The woman said casually.

Emily stared at the package blankly. It was a pregnancy test. And considering the look of determination and insistence the woman was offering it to her with, she now understood why she wasn't fully strapped down as she was before. Her captor needed her to have some kind of free range movement to be able to do what she was asking her to do now.

Prentiss' brain worked quickly, trying to calculate whether she should take it or not. Frankly: she wanted to smack it out of the woman's hands. Ultimately: there seemed to be too many variables against her if she did that— or even if she simply refused. And without concretely knowing whether Morgan was safe or not, whether Adam already had him strapped down to an operating table or not, she couldn't risk doing anything too sporadic.

"What if I don't?" Emily asked decidedly, exercising what ounce of control she had over the situation.

Eve narrowed her eyes, her lips curling up at the ends, "I thought you might ask that." She replied smugly,"Please. Let me show you 'what if you don't.'… Adam!"

The call of his name echoed through the room, out the door and down the hall. Only a few seconds had seemed to pass, when her husband unceremoniously entered through the door. And in a moment of both mild relief and absolute dread, the man didn't come alone. Bound at the wrists in another pair of handcuffs, clad in a hospital gown freshly decorated with blood stains, and being forcefully restrained with a knife tight at his throat, was Morgan.

He was sweaty, breathing heavy and by the looks of it, just as disoriented from the many round of drugs and anesthesia as she was. Emily looked at him and he back at her, and in that moment, a new kind of fear settled in— both perhaps realizing while observing each other's condition, just how deep in they were.

"Derek…" Emily breathed, taking a step towards him. Immediately, Adam pulled the knife in closer, Morgan grunted in discomfort.

"Emily." He warned, his voice hoarse, wavering as he struggled to keep a brave face.

Once again, they were using him as bait— as emotional leverage to manipulate her into doing what they needed her to do. She hated it, because it was working. And it would continue to work. It was a double-edge sword in the most candid way. He was alive. But as long as he still alive, they could use him against her.

"We can play this little game all over again," Eve drawled in her Georgian accent, "But I think you're smart enough to know that this time… I won't be as patient."

Re-offering her the box, the woman held the test out to her. Emily glared, but with her free hand she reached out and slowly took the box from Eve's hand. Then she paused, feeling entirely conflicted. As soon as the test came back negative, the unsubs would kill them both. Knowing what she knew about this case there felt like no way around it.

Of course, it didn't help to be defeatist so soon. Emily took a deep breath, consciously converting her inner turmoil into determination. She was going to do whatever she could to get out of here alive— whatever she needed to do to get Morgan out of here alive. And if having this test in her hand was the only thing she had control over, then, dammit, she was going to figure out a way to make this moment benefit them.

"Can I at least have some privacy?" Prentiss asked, drawing attention to the fact that all three of them were still hovering there.

The woman dipped her head slow and low, a suspicious, but menacing look lingering in her eyes,"Of course. Five minutes." She agreed, and then promptly turned around, ushering herself out of the room. Adam, with Morgan still at knife point, followed close behind.

Once the door slammed shut, Emily exhaled. She had no clue what was she going to do next, but she needed to come up with something fast. Every second counted.

Hastily, she looked at the box in her hand. Flipping it over, she scanned the information on the back. Nothing helpful. So, she tore the package open, the test and a folded piece of paper falling out in her hand. Letting the box fall to the ground, Emily unfolded the paper and skimmed the instructions.

It was a typical pee-on-a-stick for a few seconds, wait 3 minutes for the results kind of procedure. But she already knew what the results would be. And so, apparently, did the little piece of paper. Be sure that you are taking this test, at least two weeks after the presumed event of conception. Application of this test too soon could result in a false negative.

Emily scoffed. With an implanted contraceptive the negative wouldn't be false. And it wouldn't be positive either. Which is what she needed. With a positive test result, she could at least use it as a bargaining piece. Yet, there was no way to force the results to appear that way. Unless…

The brunette looked up from the instructions, and began to identify objects within her reach. Really, she needed chemicals— something to create an ambiguous result, something to tamper with the outcome. However, there was no sink in this bathroom like the one in the other room, so there was no cabinet to search under.

Next, her focus went to the shower. Through the clear curtain, she could see a few white cloths neatly rolled in the corner, along with a square bar of soap. It was like a hotel arrangement of amenities. Emily shook her head. Given the limited (nearly obsolete) nature of her resources, the soap was her only option.

Prentiss placed the test on the ground. Although she was still attached to the wall, she began to walk towards the shower. The cuffs clattered against the rail, and once she reached the end of the bar, they clinked, holding her from moving forward anymore. But she was close. Close enough to stretch out by the length of both her arms. Leaning away from bar and strenuously reaching with her right arm, she managed to snag the soap with her finger tips.

Contracting almost instantly, Emily pulled herself back together. Her arms gratefully returned to her sides as she collapsed onto the toilet seat. The way she was currently hooked to the bar made this an awkward and rather uncomfortable position to sit in. But, she was right where she needed to be for the next step.

The bowl was without a lid, open and ready for use. So, she pulled up her gown in the slightest, and let her body release. In a not so shocking revelation, this part proved easy given that she hadn't properly visited a restroom in at least 7 hours. As she did this, she took the bar of soap and with her nails, quickly began to peel and shred pieces of it off into the palm of her hand.

Taking a few squares of tissue from the roll right next to her, Emily brushed the shavings of soap into the center of the paper. After this, she gathered the ends of the paper together like a goodie bag. Holding the tissue paper, which was now a small sack filled with soap shreds, she passed it below herself, and then carefully dropped it into the bowl.

Rising from the toilet, Emily bent at the waist to scoop up the test from where she had placed it on the floor. Not wasting a second, she kneeled by the toilet, still filled with her fluid. There, the tissue paper sack had started to unfold, and shreds of soap had began rising to the top.

Test in hand, Emily dipped the correct end of it into her— concoction. She held it there for 10 seconds, making sure it was saturated in the dissolving soap more than anything else. When it was evenly coated, she removed it, and covered the test strip with its cap.

Assuming she only had a couple minutes of her five minutes left, Emily stood up and hurriedly placed the soap bar back in the shower, shredded side face down. She then turned back around to flush the toilet, but paused when she thought that the sound of it would likely be an alarm to Eve, serving almost as an invitation for her to return for the long awaited results.

Emily didn't want that. She wanted to be sure this worked first. There was no sense in calling back her captor sooner than she need to. So she waited, and watch the gray face of the pregnancy test intently. If she'd been quick enough, she figured she would be able to know the results just exactly before the unsubs returned. But apparently her minute keeping skills were not as accurate as she thought.

The door rattled open. This time, revealing both Adam and Eve. They entered together, and side by side they crossed over to where the agent stood with the test in hand. In one swooping motion, Eve reached out eagerly to grab the white and pink little object.

For a moment, Emily held onto it tight, nearly refusing to give it to the woman, but she soon released it. Less resistance was still key. With 24 hours not having fully passed yet, playing their game could bode well for her and Morgan. They might would be forced to go back into that room… especially, if the results of her tampering didn't pan out.

Eyes glued to the test and hands holding it like a delicate flower, the woman stood completely still and remained totally silent. Warily and nervously, Emily watched. She fought to keep her breathing even, and her thoughts objective. Anything not to panic—then it happened.

Eve drew in a sharp breath. But instead of being followed by a menacing, hateful look in her eyes, it was soon followed by her characteristic devilish grin. Emily released an anxious sigh as silently as she possibly could. The tampering worked.

The woman handed the test over her shoulder for Adam to see the results. After receiving it, a thin smile formed on his lips. He nodded, and, in a show of true affection, planted a kiss on his wife's cheek. Then, without prompting, he pivoted sharply and exited the room.

"Your womb is blessed." Eve spoke freely, "Behold children are a heritage of the Lord. In due time, you will bring us ours."

Every word the woman spoke instantly fell to the floor. Emily wasn't listening. She couldn't. Adam had briskly cut around the corner with such task-oriented intent, and she now feared very deeply that the positive result prompted him to enact the final stages of their ritual. She was too focused on where the man was going, too concerned about what step in their M.O. she'd just catalyzed to care about the script the woman was reciting to her.

"Where is he going?" Emily interjected, distress now rising in her voice.

"Now, now." Eve soothed as she approached her and placed her hands on her shoulders,"Don't get too worked up. Tumultuous energy is not good for the baby."

Right away, Emily tried to shake off her grip, shifting left and right to do so. But the woman wouldn't let go. Unlike a few minutes ago when she laid her hands on her, she was exerting a surprising amount of strength. Perhaps, even trying to hold her in place.

"Where— is he going?" Emily repeated herself, struggling against the woman's grasp.

"His purpose has been fulfilled." Eve answered calmly.

Emily opened her mouth to bellow a response, something filled with hatred. But a loud, sharp cry from Morgan's voice in the other room stopped her. She couldn't see what was happening, but the sound — the sound of metal objects scraping, clattering and the thunder of two bodies brawling cut through the atmosphere.

Adamant and aggressive, she heard her partner tell the man to get off of him. Which, by the sound of a further struggle, was a command that Adam did not heed. Emily felt helpless. With one arm cuffed to a wall, all she could do was stand there and listen to punches being landed, growling, grunting, the shattering of something made of glass. A loud, barbaric cry reverberated off the walls and then— silence.

A long, deafening silence.

Silence that shattered everything inside her.

Stunned, frozen, Emily tried in to inhale but she couldn't. A huge lump like a rock in her throat was blocking any and all air from coming in. Her mouth was agape, but no words came out. And as she stood there, still in the woman's grip, her chest feeling like it was ready to cave in, fat tears involuntarily began gushing from her eyes.

"What…did he just do?" She asked openly, unintentionally. It was a question she knew the answer to, but one which shock and denial prompted her to ask, in the hopes that she was wrong.

Eve sighed contentedly, relaxed and at peace with what had just occurred, "It is these sacrifices that are pleasing to God."

Emily lifted her eyes to meet the woman's. Glaring deep into them, she could tell she meant every word. And it was in that moment that the same rage Emily felt swelling inside her earlier, resurged with a new, heated vengeance. Her body felt like it was dipped in fire, her every extremity ignited with loathe and anger. There was no incentive to hold back, only to unleash the violent passion boiling over within her.

With her hands still firmly placed on her shoulders, Eve made the mistake of standing so close. Moreover, she made the mistake in thinking that her captive — a trained FBI agent, who, after being locked away for ungodly hours, who, after being isolated and drugged countless times — would be fully submissive enough to cooperate with her every evil whim.

Eve was smart, but she was also incurably delusional. This was the loophole, the moment Emily had been waiting for all along. This is where downplaying her resistance and emphasizing her compliance came back to bite. Because when she needed her display of strength, her combat training the most, she could employ it when the woman least expected it: now.

Raising her foot, Emily slammed a kick to the woman's thigh. Eve cried out and fell backward, landing on the ground. Her wrath set ablaze, Prentiss saw her captor on the ground and felt no pity. She had the upper hand— real control, and was not going to give it up easy.

Channeling the full weight of her body, she brought her heel down onto the unsub's ribs, kicking until she heard a crack. She drove her toes through her stomach. Kneeling down, she crushed her every finger under the bone of her elbow. A vicious, painful scream ripped through her lungs and her throat as the monster within her executed its rage.

"Adam!" The woman called, choking out his name, "Adam!" She pleaded.

But he couldn't come to her rescue— or come as quick. He was likely occupied with something far more criminal. That didn't prevent her from trying to save herself. Scrambling backward, Eve managed to drag her body away from the retaliatory abuse of her captive. Emily screamed, violently, reaching to snatch the woman back to towards her, but ultimately she caught hold of the air with a clawed fist.

Out of the agent's reach, Eve crawled out through the doorway like a smacked housefly, hanging on for dear life. Emily seethed, hurling curse words at her, at an unsub who'd very likely just authorized the execution of her partner. She wanted to fight more, physically, actually. She'd suffered too much and suppressed it for too many hours to let the energy cool off so quickly.

She wanted to take out both Adam and Eve. And no matter what condition he was in, she wanted to find Derek. The only thing holding her back was her left arm. Emily looked at her wrist, accessorized with that metal bracelet, still attached to the wall. She needed to get detached. After Eve exited, the door was left propped open. Freedom was so close.

Emily tugged at her wrist. Then she pulled at it. She pulled at it hard. Holding her arm close to her chest, she ran away from the wall. With hopes of disconnecting herself — of somehow dislodging the bolted metal bar from the wall with her own weight, she did this multiple times. But multiple times, it snapped her back in pain. The bar winning and her shoulder throbbing.

A few reckless and aggressive tries later, the cuffs left gashes on her skin. Blood slid down her arm, and dripped crimson droplets onto the bathroom tile. She didn't want to stop. But even in her blind desperation, she knew she needed to before she harmed herself anymore.

Eventually, Emily let her arm fall, wincing slightly as it retuned to her side. Then… she stood completely still. Was she giving up? Admitting defeat? Maybe not voluntarily, but having exhausted all her options, she felt hollow. All the anxiety and the malicious thoughts and the overwhelming sense of uncertainty were drowning her. Her hope and her sanity were diminishing to a point where she was almost numb, even unaware that she'd begun hyperventilating.

With seemingly nothing else left to do, she dropped onto the ground. She brought her knees to her chest, and there, soul-broken and in such a vulnerable state, she just… sobbed. Leaning into this emotional release of feeling hopeless, full of loss, and weighed down by defeat wasn't hard to entertain. It wasn't ideal, but she could've stayed like that for hours until the sound of her silent cries carried her over into a sleep of depression.

However, she had only been on the ground for a few minutes, when suddenly, everything around her went dark. Only it wasn't at all like before, like blacking out because of some drug-induced paralysis. She was very much alert and awake. It was the room that went dark. The power went out?

Emily slowly pushed off the floor, wiping tears from her eyes as they fought to adjust to the darkness. But once she was upright, the light of a bright red hazard alarm began to flash in the ceiling. It didn't sound off, screech or make any noise. It merely illuminated the room with an ominous strobe.

Movement in the hallway drew her thunderous sound of heavy boots filtering through the corridor outside of where she stood made her heart pound fast within her chest. She couldn't see much from where she stood, only the bulky shadows of men with guns quickly rushing by. The words to call for help formed on her lips, but she never spoke them.

The strong white beam of a flashlight shone brightly in her face. One of the figures had ducked into the room, and was now blinding her so she couldn't make out who this person was. But it was clear that they recognized her. The sound of her name was spoken slowly as the light was redirected to the floor. Her retinas bounced back quick. Emily blinked and saw, in the strobing red light, the unmistakable face of her friend approaching her.

"Emily…" Came her name again.

"Oh my god…" The brunette said, new tears choking her up,"JJ…"

It felt unreal. She'd been so discouraged that she barely allowed herself to imagine that anyone would find them. And she was now so stunned that she could barely believe someone from her team was there, hugging her first, then quickly moving to unclamp the handcuffs from her wrists. Time and space slowed, but it caught up to her when she heard the blonde speak once more.

"We're here, Em." JJ assured her as best she could. Though, it sounded as if she were assuring herself more than anyone else, "We're here to take you out of here."

Emily nodded vacantly, but didn't respond. She almost couldn't. At the onset of everything slowly becoming reality, she was beginning to ignore the fragile state she was in. Her impending liberty shifted her focus, her previous anger began to bubble back to the surface. She felt fueled by the need to join the task force in taking down the unsubs. After being trapped here, it was her right.

More than anything, she wanted to find Eve and see her suffer, to mimic her devilish smile as she watched her pay for every second she was held captive. And she wanted to find Adam because wherever he was, Derek was— that was her greatest concern. Over everything, over her own uncharacteristically evil desire for revenge, she needed to find him. And as she felt the relief of the metal finally being removed from her wrist, Emily instantly made a move for the door.

"Hey, whoa!" JJ exclaimed and caught her by the arm,"Where are you going?"

"Let go me Jayge," Emily pleaded, delirium coloring her voice, "I've— you've gotta find him, he— "

"Okay, okay." She allayed. She knew exactly who she was talking about, but Emily worried her deeply. Never had she ever seen her friend look so worn and frenzied. Hardly knowing the perfect way to respond, JJ simply pulled her close and put her arm around her,"The team is looking for him right now. Alright? Right now we need to get you medical attention."

"But—" Emily tried.

"The best thing you can do right now," JJ asserted,"Is make sure that you're safe."

Emily nodded slightly, knowing that she was right. Even though it was against her every instinct, she let her friend guide her out of the house. They walked through a long white hallway, passing by the room— the room where she and Morgan had previously spent hours contained in. It was also aglow with red lights, but as they passed, she could still see where the bed comforter was tossed from where they laid.

They soon entered the morgue room. While it was unsettling to her just how closely each of these rooms were connected, more ill feelings settled within her has she watched some agents flip over the hospital beds and pull open the morgue draws. The two women continued through, moving past the raid before either of them could definitively see if there were bodies found in that room.

Walking through the same doorway she saw Eve and Adam exit from much, much earlier, they came out on the other side of it, and met a concrete staircase. The steps lead to the ground floor of a southern style home: clean wood, floral, appropriate amounts of lace and bright colors. Emily clenched her jaw, the facade of normalcy that was the unsubs' home filling her with disgust. They had everything they could ever want— except the one thing they really desired.

Finally, after rounding a corner, the two glided through an open door frame— once the entry way to a modern mansion, now the busted in entrance to a slaughter house. They arrived outside. Emily immediately inhaled the open air. She had no idea what time it was, but the sky narrated a sunrise. The soft glowing colors of dawn and the crisp morning air excited every single one of her senses.

Refusing to stop at the threshold of the house, JJ lead Emily across the front yard. Before long they reached the ambulance, where a paramedic was prepped and ready to look her over. Left and right, the medic began to ask her questions about where she was injured and where she might feel pain. He asked how old all her bruises were, asked if they were painful when he pressed on them. All questions which Emily vaguely and hollowly answered, until she couldn't answer them at all.

JJ sat next to her on the back of the bus as the medic took care of her wrist. Injured with deep cuts and abrasions, they doused that area with antiseptic. Emily's face twisted in slight pain, but her attention was too fixed on that wide open door frame to process any of the real discomfort that accompanied physical pain.

Despite her best effort, which was minimal at that, her focus was trained on the very spot she expected to see his face, to see his distinct figure come through that door. She hoped for the best, but expected the worst. It felt like eternity. Every passing second her chest grew heavier and heavier. The taste of salt filled her mouth.

And then… a group of men rolled out a black body bag on a stretcher.

Emily's hope maxed out. There was no way for her to know right then whether it was him or not, but the sight of it alone fully disintegrated the last optimistic aspect of her spirit. Emily let her gaze fall to her lap. She swallowed hard, and bit down on her lip to keep it from quivering anymore as she forced back tears.

Crying was exhausting, but so was being strong for herself. Vacillating between which emotion to give into she soon opted for neither. She simply didn't want to feel anything. Amidst her mind involuntarily self-critiquing every choice she had made, and how it was shaming her for how awful and selfish — how it was all her fault, and how he should be alive, Emily just wanted to quit the day, lay down and rest for a very long time.

After a moment, she felt JJ's hand patting her on the thigh. It would have been a comforting gesture had she not quickly realized that the pat felt more urgent— like a tap to get her attention rather than an extension of consolation. Emily looked over to her friend with confusion, but instead of verbally responding, JJ pointed in the direction of the house. Emily took one reluctant glance, and what she saw might as well have stopped her heart completely.

There, walking out of the house, standing right next to Hotch, was Derek. Certainly, he wasn't unharmed, but he was there. And he wore a deep frown as he surveyed the messy exhibit of S.W.A.T, police and ambulance vehicles before him. His eyes still searching, his mouth moved as he seemed to ask a question. The unit chief gestured in her direction, and immediately his expression softened with thankfulness and relief.

He saw her, and she saw him. From a distance, they locked eyes, offering each other nothing but weak, grateful and triumphant smiles. He started towards her, nearly racing to the ambulance. But it was a run that slowed into a walk and he stopped just short of standing right in front of her. Why? She didn't know, but she couldn't let him get so close and yet stay so far away.

Drawn to him, Emily mindlessly pulled herself from what the medics were doing. She strode towards him and met him where he landed. And then they both just stood there, taking each other in. Some kind of awe or shock covering them both as they viewed each other in the dreamlike atmosphere of a rising sun.

They were both here. Beaten, bruised, perhaps emotionally unstable, but here. Alive. Together. Emily didn't know what to think, or how to feel. He looked very much himself, but her brain was still fearful. She thought he was dead. And she thought it for much, much longer than she ever would have wanted to. Emily opened her mouth to say something, but her voice got caught in the back of her throat.

Seeing that she was at a loss on how to proceed, Morgan reached for her hand. Carefully, without question, she pressed her palm to his, and he gave her a little squeeze. His hand strong and warm, he used it to pull her close to him, so that they were mere inches apart. Another lump formed in her throat. After the number of times she'd allowed it in the past hour alone, Emily really didn't want to cry. But it was coming, fast and relentless whether she wanted it to or not.

"Derek, I—" she choked out the words, but before she could finish he quickly wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and tight.

"I know." He said, "I know…"

She drew in close to his chest. Purposefully to be nearer to him, subconsciously so she could hear his heartbeat. She needed to know he was real. And he was. He buried face in the space between her shoulder and her neck. They were far from understanding how this all ended the way it did. Far from knowing how the team found them or how the unsubs were apprehended, but the technicalities paled in comparison to this: their ability to hold each other and know that they were both officially and finally safe.

A/N: Whatcha think? Hehe. Freedom tastes great, yea? Take a breather, and then let's keep going... ;)