"Phone Lucy," Hotch demanded.

"She's not answering," Morgan said, phone still to his ear, listening to her voicemail.

"Try her again."

He shook his head. "Still nothing."

"Try their home number."

"Straight to voicemail," Morgan answered, shaking his head, looking grim. "Would she be at the Ballet by now?"

"Garcia, get us the Company's direct line," Hotch ordered.

She dialled as asked, trying not to show how worried she was. After a brief phone conversation, she turned to the rest of the team with panic in her eyes. "Guys, Lucy didn't show up for rehearsals this morning...and last night, after the show, she was supposed to go to a fundraiser gala thing, but she never showed up."

After a moment of silence filled with understanding glances, Seaver asked, "Would Doyle go after Lucy?"

"Absolutely. He's going after families and Lucy is the only family she's close to," Rossi said.

Garcia gave a little squeak. "So, you think Doyle's got Lucy?"

"We have to assume that he does," Hotch said grimly. "And we have to assume Emily knows." For a moment, he let the implications of that sink in for everyone before he started giving orders, "Garcia, I want you to see if there's any security footage from last night that might give us an idea what happened to Lucy and where Doyle might have taken her. He's had her for over twelve hours by now, that gives him a big lead..."

Doing his best to quash his anger, Morgan continued searching the en-suite bathroom while Rossi fished the necklace out of the toilet. With a frown, he opened the medicine cabinet, then hummed a little noise somewhere between interest and concern.

"You find something?" Rossi asked.

Plucking a glass vial from the cabinet shelf and examining it, he was silent for a moment before responding. "Emily ever mention anything to you about either of them being on some kind of injectible medication?" he asked.

Rossi shook his head, brow furrowing at the odd question.

"Because there are a hell of a lot of vials here..." Morgan continued, tone grim.

"Call Reid," Rossi suggested. "Maybe he knows what they're for." He wasn't certain it was in any way helpful to the investigation, but they were in no position to overlook potentially helpful information.

"Hey, kid," Morgan said when Reid picked up the phone.

"You got something?" His voice was filled with obvious worry, but there was a note of hope that maybe – just maybe – they were calling to say they'd found Emily.

"Possibly," he said, wishing he had more helpful news. "I'm going to give you a list of prescription drugs – can you tell us what they're used for?" he asked, proceeding to list off the medications.

"That's not good," Reid said, more to himself than to Morgan.

"What's not good?" Rossi asked from over Morgan's shoulder.

Reid hesitated a moment before delivering the news. "That's a cocktail of drugs used before artificial insemination. I'd guess they were prescribed to Lucy – they require frequent OB/GYN appointments to monitor hormone levels and we would have noticed if it were Emily."

Rossi frowned, then asked the question they were all thinking but hadn't dared voice, "Could Doyle know she was on them?"

"If he's been following them long enough," Reid supposed quietly.

"Then that's a problem..."

Emily was struggling against the ropes keeping her wrists and ankles bound when Ian walked in carrying a laptop. "Good to see you awake, Love," he said, almost conversationally.

"Fuck you, Ian," she growled, immediately dispensing with all niceties.

"Ah-ah," he scolded. "Mind your manners. I was just coming to give you a gift."

"I don't want anything from you," she snapped.

"I really think you do," he insisted as he set the laptop down, opened the screen.

Emily maintained her stony glare as he pressed a few keys, the screen coming to life. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dark background, to make out what she was supposed to be seeing, then there was movement, causing her to gasp sharply. "Lucy!" she cried out, watching her wife stare at something just beyond the camera – likely whoever was keeping her captive. "Lucy!"

Ian dialled a number, spoke briefly into the phone in Gaelic, then hung up. For a brief moment, nothing happened, then suddenly, Lucy looked up sharply, staring at the camera. "Emily!" she nearly sobbed. "Oh, God, Emily, I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry – I should have listened to you, I should have..."

"No, Lucy!" Emily insisted. She struggled harder against her bonds. "No, no, no! This is not your fault, okay? None of this is your fault!"

Tears streaked down Lucy's cheeks. "Emily, if I never get to see you again..."

"No, Lucy!" Emily choked, tears building in her own eyes. "Don't say that – I will see you, okay? I will get out of here and I will find you. I promise!"

"Oh, Emily..." Ian scolded, "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep."

Emily did her best to block out his taunting, to focus on her wife because hard as she tried to deny it, there was every chance this was the last time they'd ever speak to each other. "Listen to me, Lucy. I love you! I love you more than life itself. Don't ever forget that, okay? Promise me."

"I promise," Lucy vowed. "I love you, Emily, I love you so much, I..."

"I think that's enough," Ian said from behind her, hand creeping along her neck.

"No!" Emily begged, "No, please, just a little longer..."

Ian hummed a note. "As touching as this is, I'm afraid your time is up. Say goodbye."

Before she had the chance to say anything more, there was movement behind Lucy and she started struggling in vain. "Emily!" she cried out, "Em-" Then, the video cut out.

As much as possible in her restraints, Emily rounded on Ian. "You have me, you bastard! Let her go! She's done nothing to you!"

"I already told you, Love – this is retribution. You took my son, you earned this."

"But she didn't! I'll do whatever you want, I'll be Lauren, please, just let her go," she begged in spite of having told herself she wouldn't. "Just let her go..."

"You know," Ian mused aloud, "I could really take a liking to her... Maybe once I've done away with you, I'll keep her. I could never quite break you, but I think she'll be easier to mould into what you refused to be: the perfect little wife and mother."

Chest heaving with panicked breaths, Emily growled, "You'll never break her and she'll never love you! If you kill me, she will never do what you want, I promise you that."

"We'll see, won't we?" he said, almost pleasantly.