A/N: Heyyy, I'm back with some new chapters... Finally lol. Once again, thanks for the follows and favs! And I super appreciate the feedback. I feel like I've spent too much time with these, so I'm just gonna put them out here. This week's chapters are picking up where we left off, and this story keeps unfolding for me like it does for you, slowly but surely. Ah, how I wish I were a writing machine...anyways, I'll leave you to reading. ENJOY.

The image perturbed her greatly. It looked like a meteor had crashed, spinning its jagged surface through the house, and tearing open a large, ugly hole. There was nothing left of the roof, or what used to be the second floor. The lingering billows of smoke from the subsequent fire were beginning to dissipate, but that did nothing to appease her conscience.

Prentiss found herself fastened to stock stillness as she internally grappled with small grief, horror, and a desperate yearning for the ability to turn back the clock. They'd arrived on the scene 10 minutes ago, and it was aptly crowded with the fire department, police cars and CSI workers. But standing out in front of the house— staring at the remains of it, it was unspeakably hard not to feel somewhat guilty.

Of course, she had no hand in setting off the explosion, but as the broad daylight beamed down onto the dreadful silhouette of Elana's house, her intrusive thoughts grew louder. This happened last night. She had just seen the girl and now she was gone. And while she was confident this feeling would pass, the weight of knowing that this happened under her supervision— after Elana had trusted her with the case, was getting heavier and heavier.

"Walk me through what's going on." She said, as she resettled herself behind her office desk.

"Alright." Elana nodded, "A week ago, last Saturday, my father passed away. And I know it sounds like— a strange way to start, but I think… his death is an important factor."

Emily smiled subtly with both sympathy and care. Aware of the agent's self-consciousness, she hoped it would ease her and her need to apologize for every statement she made, "You don't have to backtrack," She said evenly, "Just tell me the details."

Elana nodded once more, her physical posture relaxing, and she continued,"Two days after his passing, I received an email from an unknown address." She pointed at the manilla file folder Prentiss had placed in front of her, "I have a copy of it printed there, but it simply says that I've inherited a debt."

"Unfortunately, that's not uncommon." Emily remarked. In her teen years, living in community with politicians and old heads with old money, she knew it could often happen that— even with estate coverage, family members would find themselves inheriting the debt of the deceased.

"Which is why the email didn't bother me at first."

"What changed?" Emily asked, whipping out a pen and a notepad to document the information being shared with her.

"I spoke with my mother, who was just as close to the family's personal books as my father." Elana explained, "She assured me that he wasn't in any sort of debt— neither was his company, to the best her knowledge."

"His company?" Emily cocked her head in curiosity.

"My father was the CEO and founder of Foster Energy." As the division chief scribbled down notes, the agent carried on,"Every morning since receiving the first email, I have received the same email, but the amount keeps increasing with each day. The tone is not threatening but — I got concerned by the fluctuation, so I started going through some old files on my father's desktop computer. It was there that I found bookkeepings going years back— to the 80s. Payments large and very similar to the one's being requested of me."

"And you haven't paid money on this or to anyone yet, correct?"

"No, ma'am."

"Good." Emily said, making a note of that on her paper, "Now, can you explain to me how is it you believe your brother's abduction is connected to this? You mentioned seeing him the other day…"

At the mention of her long lost sibling, Elana inhaled deeply, "The same morning that I received the first email? I later went to drop my son off at kindergarten. I can't describe it, but as I was driving off, I felt as though someone were watching me, so I looked in the direction where I felt the attention— and I saw him."

"Across the street from the school?"

Elana bobbed her head in confirmation, "Of course, he was much, much older than when I last saw him 20 years ago, so to be completely sure, I pulled away from the drop off zone at the school, unbuckled myself and hurriedly exited out of my vehicle. However, when I finally managed to open my car door, he was gone."

Although the girl seemed perfectly sane, if not a bit overwhelmed by all that was occurring to her, this was the part of events that Emily was still most skeptical about. But it was important to her that, concerning every aspect of her case, Elana knew she had her full attention and respect. Therefore, she didn't let on to her own doubt, but persisted with her questioning.

"Let me ask you this," said Emily, "When your brother went missing, was there a search for him?"

"There was a report filed with the police, but after I revisited the case file a few days ago, it seems it was closed 2 days after opening it…" Elana paused, her gaze suddenly shifting to the ground.

Only a brief moment had passed between saying the words, and her mood suddenly shifting. It was evident that the thought of everyone giving up on him or letting the case go cold to the extent that he was never found — cut deep. When she lifted her hazel eyes, they were gleaming with tears. The pain of not knowing what happened, and of loosing an older brother covered her completely.

"I've known about this case for years, and it always seemed to haunt me in different ways," Elana spoke softly, water in her voice,"But I think that this is the most it has ever been this alive. And I'm trying to face it bravely, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit terrified."

Emily stood up and came around the front of her desk so she could be closer to offer the agent some comfort,"What I would like to do is gather my team in the morning so we can work leads. We can pull bank records, work victimology, and… assess the potential of your brother living off the grid all these years."

"Of course. That sounds perfect." Elana said, as she pushed away her tears,"Besides, it's very late. You probably want to get home to your partner."

"Will you be okay?" Emily asked.

"Oh yes, I'll be fine." The agent responded, "My mother's been staying with me since the funeral. And actually, she's at home watching my son for me now."

Prentiss exhaled, more mentally than physically. She was relieved to know that she wasn't sending a distraught young woman home to empty rooms and fearfully dark thoughts,"How old is your son?"

"Theodore? Well— we call him Teddy for short. He's 5 years old." She said, a smile instantly breaking across her face,"He's such a sweetheart, I do love him so."

For a moment, it was refreshing to see the girl slip into a place where she could find joy. Working in law enforcement for as long as she had, Prentiss was not unfamiliar with the toll each case could take on the individuals involved. Each missing child, every murder cheated many people of their tenderness— and how could it not? But in order to cope and ensure that the experience was not all grief, they had to lean into what they still had. Elana's was her son, and she smiled and spoke in a way that only a loving mother could.

"I'm glad the three of you are holding up."

"We're doing our best not to loose sleep." Elana said as her soft smile warped with a hint of worry, "It will be much better now, knowing that someone is working to solve this. So, thank you for your help, Chief Prentiss."

"Please, call me Emily."

"Oh— well, thank you Emily." The young agent said.

"Emily?" A voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Prentiss?" Came another voice quickly.

She blinked, her focus snapping back to the grey and dismal reality. Approaching her from a short distance were Morgan and a member of her team. There were so many what if's and if only's racing though her mind, that it wasn't clear to her when either of them had left her side, but it seemed they were now returning from speaking with the fire department, as they were both geared up with yellow hard hats.

"You good?" Morgan asked as he arrived in front of her.

"Yep." She responded tersely.

"Did you want to look around inside the home?" Her agent and teammate, Ellis Hughes, offered in his gruff, accented voice, "The head honcho just okayed investigative presence on the scene."

Hughes was an eclectic sort of man. Tall, athletically built, and with an angular face, he looked like a cutout from a NYC street fashion magazine. His silver hair was always freshly cut and combed back, and his overall disposition could often be perceived as aloofness. But he cared very deeply about the people he worked closest with.

In his 60s, he had much in the way of both life and work experience under his belt. However, his last gig, before being recruited to Interpol 3 years ago, was an extended position as an MI5 weapons specialist. Aside from a few formal meetings, Emily hadn't had much time to get fully aquatinted with her staff of over 150 agents, but in a few short weeks, she had come to appreciate Hughes' artful expertise and his innate sense of wisdom.

With his large hand, the older agent offered Prentiss a yellow hat of her own. Promptly, she took it, fixed it on her head, and together, they all started toward the charred remnants of the home.

Morgan hadn't even entered the place and was already going on about bomb theory, and how the explosion was centralized, targeted to go off in an incredibly specific radius. As they continued their journey, Emily listened to his remarks, then entertained Hughes as he quickly debriefed her on the few bits of information the team had gathered before she arrived. According to him, they hadn't yet found the son, but the remains of Elana and her mom were being transported to the coroner.

As the three crossed the threshold into the house, Morgan immediately tore away to inspect the most damaged area for bomb particles, and Hughes went to collaborate with his teammates. This left Emily in the perfect position to slide back into her own private thoughts. And although being within the walls of the home further stirred up her remorse, she was able to compartmentalize the feeling and exchange it for a more investigative mindset.

Ducking under some dangling piping, she passed by yellow walls that were charred and charcoaled by smoke. Installation and broken wood scattered the hallways, but they did not prevent her from maneuvering until she entered into a room that was relatively untouched by damage: the kitchen.

Emily glanced around the space. Her eyes hovered over a window located above a stainless steel sink, an arrangement of fruit in a bowl centered atop an island counter, moss green cabinetry, and a wooden table surround by four chairs. Unlike the front half of the home, the kitchen was warm and inviting, but what managed to capture her attention the most was the sight of a child's drawing and family photos on the refrigerator. Instantly, Emily approached to examine them.

Bright crayola scribblings across the page formed the shape of a female figure dressed in purple with stiff lines for a dark ponytail, and a littler figure dressed in blue with coily black lines springing from his head. Both stood out front of a stone house with a big yellow sun shining above them. The words "I love you Mum", written in backwards and upside down letters, encouraged a small smile.

The drawing itself wasn't dissimilar from the 5x7 photo adjacent to it, which captured the young woman and her son sitting on the porch of their home, smiling wide and holding each other. Emily noted that there was no father figure in the drawing or the photos. Just a mother and a son, and a few images with an older woman and an older man. Likely, they were the recently passed grandfather and… now, grandmother.

Emily sighed. Tearing away from the fridge, she mused around the kitchen a bit more, trying to profile and assess what was right in front of her. What was unscathed proved more useful to her than the rummage that lay outside. But after looking over the counters and cabinets, she exited the kitchen and progressed into another portion of the home.

Rounding the corner, she stepped down a shallow hallway with two doorways in it. There was some debris but not so much that she couldn't explore the area safely. Curious but cautious, she moved to the first door on her right and it pressed open. A small restroom with nothing and no one inside, she promptly dismissed the area and made her way to the second door.

With the same effort, she pressed on the wood, however, the door didn't budge. Rather quickly, she figured that something might have fallen behind it and jammed it shut, but in hopes of gaining entrance another way, she fiddled and jerked the knob a few times for good measure. And it was in the middle of giving it one last firm tug that someone came up behind her.

"Whatcha doing?" Came the question.

Emily could've jumped out of her skin, but was determined not to let the person behind her know they'd frightened her. She turned with relative calm as her heart pounded.

"Oh, hey…" She exhaled. Upon recognizing him, her brain began calling off the alarms,"Derek, I'm trying to get this open. I don't think anyone has checked this area yet."

He nodded as his eyes examined the everything from the from the frame to the keyhole, "Standard model of the home would suggest it's a basement, maybe a cellar."

"Great, but can you help me get inside?" She griped, still attempting to jog the door open.

Gently, Morgan placed his hand on her shoulder, then gestured for her to move out of his way. It didn't take much for her to comprehend just what he had the intention to do, so she backed up. The man inhaled deeply as he took a very specific stance. Then, aiming his foot at the door, he lunged forward and shunted ruthlessly. The sound of splitting wood and grating metal reverberated as the door flung open, and was swinging by its last hinge.

Before she even had a moment thank him or to be worried about how he might've added to the weakening form of the house… or even be slightly turned on by his display of strength, Emily infiltrated the space. A set of creaky but carpeted stairs were the first to greet her. And it was dark. She would have felt around for a light switch, however, the electricity in the house had been shut off for hazard purposes, so instead, she pulled out her mini flashlight.

With Morgan close behind, the two entered further into what appeared to be a finished basement. Nestled away in the hollows of the home was a cosy loveseat couch, a television, and large rug with toys spread out all across it. Everything from action figures to race cars, legos and cartoon figurines scattered the scene.

"Her son…" Morgan remarked lowly, stopping to observe the obvious evidence of a child's play area.

"Teddy is his name…" Emily responded.

"Do you think the unsub took him?"

"It's a possibility." She said sullenly,"The original case Elana asked me to consult on was the abduction of a young boy…"

Emily moved into the center of the living space, but focused her flashlight on the upper surroundings of the room. She inspected the ceiling for any severe structural damage, yet this level— much like the kitchen— seemed to be untouched. It was almost as if the bomber wanted this side of the house to be persevered.

Shifting the light slightly downward, she pointed the beam into the distance to better see the opposite wall, which was decorated with more photos and drawings. Curiosity pulled her closer, but she would've been smart to keep the light at her feet. Using a narrow path between a side table and an accent chair, she was one step away from crossing to the outer edge of the room, when she stumbled over something and abruptly made contact with the ground.

"Whoa— Emily, are you okay?" She heard Morgan say as he rushed to her side.

"Yup." She gritted her teeth, and propped herself up from her fall, "I only shattered my hip into a million pieces."

With a weak laugh in response to her dry remark, he offered her his and pulled her up to her feet. She grimaced as she placed her hand over her side which was soon to be in need of an ice pack.

"What was that, anyway?" Emily asked openly, shining the light down at her feet.

She half expected to see another pile of toys at her feet— a nerf gun jutting out of toy bin or something equally as solid. But what the light revealed to her, made the blood drain from her face. It was an arm. A little arm outstretched on the ground. Crouching down slowly, Emily pleaded in her heart for the worst not to be true. And rather ceremoniously, it seemed the universe heard her.

The arm moved, quickly snatching itself back in close to the little body it belonged to. Cocking her head, Prentiss knelt down to get a better look between the arm of the chair and the side table. Shining the flashlight in the direction she wanted to see, the agent spotted him underneath the table, and he spotted her, big wide eyes staring back at her, then squinting tight as protection from the bright beam.

"Are you Teddy?" She asked softly.

The boy didn't speak. He merely buried his face in the carpet, and covered his head with his arms. After he decidedly closed himself off, Emily didn't expect much more of a response. Yet, after a brief moment, she could see his mop of dark curls shifting in such a way that indicated a nod.

"Teddy, my name is Emily." She paused after introducing herself, but as no verbal response came from him, steadily and gently, she continued to speak,"You're safe with me, okay? I'm here to help you."

In an effort of comfort, the supervisory agent reached out and endeavored to pat him softly on the back, but as soon as the boy felt her hand against him, he recoiled. Understanding, Emily made a mental note not to try that again… or at least not until she was able to make eye contact with him once more.

"How'd you get under the table here, sweetie?" She asked,"Are you playing hide and seek?"

Teddy offered another subtle nod. Almost instantly, Emily drew back and glanced at Morgan. In the low glow of their flashlights, his face mirrored her same concern.

"Were you playing with your mommy?" She returned her attention to the young boy.

She waited and watched as his little frame seemed to make itself even smaller, his arms and legs being pulled closer to his core at the mention of his mother. The agent inhaled before she asked him a question she even wasn't sure she wanted the answer to.

"And then… did you hear a very loud, booming noise?"

Teddy managed a slow nod, and it was followed by what was most likely the sniffle of a silent cry. Then Emily nodded, her tongue racing across her bottom lip. There was only one entrance to the basement and one way out, so it was pretty clear that the boy had been down here when the explosion tore through the home. That he appeared physically unharmed was a miracle, but emotionally, it seemed he was quite scarred.

The real concern was building rapport in a small time frame. She needed to help him out from under the table and into a safe environment, but that was only possible if he could learn to trust her. So, mustering up every drop sincerity and the little she knew about him, Emily spoke to coax him out voluntarily.

"I know a lot of scary things happened today, and if you're scared that's okay." She assured him,"But when things get scary, Teddy? We shouldn't sit in the dark alone."

Her expression softened as she noticed his limbs loosen and his face reveal. And even though his cheek rested on his forearm and his gaze didn't meet hers, she was pleased she was making progress.

"It's best to be together, in the sunlight." Emily continued, recalling the bright yellow shape he'd drawn in his rendering of him and his mother, "Will you come see the sunshine with me, Teddy?"

There was no definite response to her question, but a wave of triumph washed over her when he finally lifted his eyes to meet hers. Even in the low light, his hazel brown's shimmered like his mother's. Again, he squinted at the harsh florescence of the flashlight, so Emily promptly directed it out of his face to soften the haze. Then, seeing he was still positioned underneath the table, the profiler concluded the little boy needed space to make his decision.

Scooting back and sitting in a criss-cross position, she waited. But not for long. Shortly after she repositioned, he scurried out from under the table and darted toward her, crashing into her chest with desperate impact. Wordless, he flung his arms around her neck as his whole body fastened itself to her like a baby sloth to a tree.

She could feel her eyes were wide open with surprise, and as she tossed a look to Morgan, it was apparent that his brows were raised in the same emotion. Teddy was holding tight, and she had a feeling that he wouldn't soon let go. This, of course, made it hard to push off the ground in order to regain her footing. So, Emily reached her hand up to her partner, and he extended his palm to her, once again helping pull her up to her feet.

Teddy's limbs stayed wrapped around her, and his face was now buried in the crook of her neck. Prentiss handed her flashlight to Morgan. This way, as she held the boy close and covered his head with her hand, he could lead the way up the stairs, back through the kitchen and under the dangling particles of the house.

Their journey was brisk, and when they emerged, the warm summer sun beat down onto their faces. And even though her eyes were somewhat shaded by the hard hat she was wearing, Emily squinted in the bright light. Once her vision readjusted, they made their way out into the sea of emergency vehicles. Several of her agents rushed up to her with questioning faces, and in due time, she would have answers. But for the moment, she walked past them and headed straight to a nearby ambulance.

"Who do we have here?" The paramedic asked, as the three of them approached.

"Emily Prentiss, Interpol Division Chief, and my partner, SSA Derek Morgan," Emily instinctively introduced herself, "And this is Teddy Foster. We found him in the basement of the home. The environment was mostly undisturbed, but I think he needs to be checked out."

The medic nodded and reached for the boy, and Emily shifted, attempting to exchange him into the arms of another professional, but he tightened his grip. Quiet but audible, he made a soft grunting noise in defiance of what she was trying to do.

"Well, you're a shy little fella, aren't you?" The medic offered a knowing smile to Emily, aware that it was likely more than shyness that was causing him to react this way.

The brunette breathed into the moment. Graciously, taking every second to be empathic and patient with him, she pressed her cheek to his head and rubbed his back gently. Then she spoke in a lower tone, just above a whisper to address him personally, "Teddy, I need you to visit with Miss Joyce now, okay?" Emily said, spotting the name tag embroidered onto the worker's shirt, "She's a very nice lady, and she's going to make sure you're feeling okay."

Prentiss didn't think it was possible, but his hold around her tightened even more. She could feel his hands digging into her back, and wet hot tears suddenly beginning to soak her shoulder. His response made her pause, her heart growing heavy— nearly breaking at the thought of what was going on in his little brain, causing such an intense reaction. How could she leave him? After losing so much, he needed more than patience, he needed time to unfold and become comfortable. He needed a little consistency, which is what she, as the person who rescued him, offered.

"I'm so sorry," Emily apologized to the paramedic,"If I ride with you in the back, can we try to check him out on the way over to the Interpol office?"

"Yes, ma'am." Joyce assured her, and then broadly gestured to the open door of the ambulance.

Before hopping into the back of the vehicle, and beginning her unconventional escort to headquarters, Prentiss turned to Morgan.

"Meet me at my office in an hour?"

"Of course." He replied simply.

In her absence, Emily was trusting him to convey to her team where she was going, and to work with them to uncover any important information still at the scene. She felt sure that that was understood and communicated through a look, but shortly, she would shoot him a text for a paper tail and as evidence just in case anyone questioned his authority.

Once Morgan had walked away, she ducked into the yellow and green emergency vehicle, Teddy still soundly in her arms. The ambulance took off not a moment later, and as they rode, she rubbed his back in a consistent motion. Even with the hum of the engine rattling the cabin, she could feel his little heartbeat slowing, and his tightened muscles finally relaxing. After a few more minutes, he was fully asleep.

Prentiss lowered him off her shoulder and cradled him in her arms. Now was the perfect opportunity to move him to the stretcher and have the medic inspect him for any serious injuries, but before she moved, she found herself taking in his soft features. His long dark lashes, the slope of his nose, his warm complexion, the look across his face. He looked so peaceful. And for his sake, she wished he could always be like that, always without worry or fear.

Emily frowned. It was an unfortunate fact of reality that he would not. So unsuspectingly, this little one had his entire life turned upside down— even if he didn't fully known it yet. It was a relief to have found him alive, but a grief to comprehend what he had to witness at the cost of it. The only thing she could do for him was make sure that he stayed safe and well cared for. That began with making sure he had a physical. So, after the moment passed, the agent rose to her feet and gently placed little Teddy across the stretcher.