A/N: Thanks to Southunlady for the review! Keep them coming guys. I love to hear from you. I went back to the earlier chapters and realised how much my writing has changed even in that short time, so I'll go back at some point to edit the earlier chapters and expand on the content.

Chapter 46: Lauren

"If he had us in his crosshairs, she wouldn't run, she'd take the fight to him," Rossi said, studying Hotch's face for a response.

Hotch nodded, staring at the ring in Rossi's hand. He shook his head, "We need confirmation that she's in Boston before we go fly out," he replied, "Morgan, tell Garcia I need to see her. Rossi, check in with Seaver and Reid. They're looking into Prentiss' history and might be able to find something to link her to Boston."

Both men nodded, starting out of the office, but Rossi turned back, holding out the ring for Hotch to take. Hotch reluctantly held out his hand, letting Rossi drop the small object onto it, but he couldn't bring himself to look down at it. The ring was cold against his skin and, as he looked up at Rossi, Hotch unconsciously ran his thumb over it, feeling the softness of the chain, the grooves of the heart and hands.

"This doesn't mean what you think it means, Aaron," Dave said, a stern look on his face, "Emily needs us to trust her. She needs you to believe in her and everything this team has shared in the last five years."

Hotch held the ring loosely in his hand and his eyes dropped down to it for the first time since Dave had handed it to him. He knew what Dave was saying was true, but his mind was travelling to some fairly unflattering places. He couldn't help it. Hotch looked up at Dave and nodded, waiting for him to turn and leave the office before he walked back and dropped into the chair behind his desk.

He ran his thumb over the gold, disconnecting the three rings and pushing them back together. The hands, the heart… the gold. His heart dropped at the thought of Emily having to put herself in the position to seduce a terrorist. He could reconcile himself to the facts, that Emily was doing her job, that she was operating under a different set of rules to the ones they follow in the FBI, that her actions would have likely saved thousands, maybe millions, of people.

Staring at the ring, Hotch knew he wasn't upset because Emily had done all of that. He was upset because she hadn't trusted him. She had told him months ago that trust was the most important thing to her, and when it came to their work, to their lives in DC, she had let him in. But this, her past… these secrets that she'd been keeping for eight years… she didn't trust him with that.

And it broke Hotch's heart to think that Emily was alone, and that she thought he wouldn't understand. Or worse, that she thought he wouldn't still love her if he knew.

He sighed, knowing that they had work to do, that Emily was out there, alone, fighting Doyle and they needed to find her.

But Hotch couldn't help the places his mind was taking him right now. He felt like he'd lost his breath. He felt like he was losing the person he could have spent a lifetime loving. He felt like he was losing the only person on the planet who had seen him in his darkest moment – clutching the lifeless body of his wife and covered in the blood of the man who killed her – and Emily had still seen the light in him.

Even after his harsh treatment of her when she first started, Emily had been endlessly kind. She had been there for him when his life was falling apart. Hotch sighed as he remembered… Emily had quit the FBI for him. She came back for him. Got smacked in the head with a 2x4… for him.

The endless dishes of comfort pasta, the nights spent watching Jack when Hotch couldn't be there, the hours spent holding space for both of them to grieve and cheering them up when they were ready, the beach house…

Hotch kept going, running down the list of every single thing Emily had done for him, to show him that she cared and that he could trust her. He never asked her to do any of it, she just did it.

In that moment, as he ran down the seemingly endless list of loving and supportive ways that Emily had tried to show him that he wasn't alone, Hotch realised that they could never be erased by this one thing. In fact, Hotch realised that what she was doing now, taking the fight to Doyle, was exactly what she'd been doing for the last five years.

Protecting her family.

He looked at the ring again and decided that he needed to give Emily the same, unconditional support that she had given him. He ran his thumb over the gold bands again, this time looking at them in a different, more hopeful light.

He was roused from his thoughts by a knock at the door, and he looked up to find Garcia waiting outside.

"Come in, Garcia," Hotch called out, gripping the ring in his closed hand.

Furrowing her brow and studying Hotch's face as she entered the room, Garcia pursed her lips, "Sir," she started, waiting for Hotch to nod, "Are you alright?" she asked, shrugging, "Aside from the obvious?"

Hotch nodded, reaching down to open his desk drawer and gently placing the ring inside. As he closed the drawer, he stood from the desk and held out a piece of paper, "That's a list of all of Emily's old numbers," Hotch explained, "I need you to try them all and see if she's using any of them. If she picks up, we may be able to trace her."

Garcia nodded, slipping the paper into her pocket, "The alert is up for Clyde Easter," she replied, "I'll let you know if we get something back."

"Thank you, Garcia," Hotch said softly, watching her turn and head back out the door.

Clyde let out a creepy chuckle and stood from the table, "Nice try… but I'm curious," he said, causing Hotch to turn before he reached the door, "If I'm a sociopath, I should feel no empathy, correct?"

Hotch furrowed his brow, "You're not the sociopath. Doyle is…" he paused, schooling his features, "I thought you were a better profiler."

Hotch turned and walked through the door, leaving Clyde locked in the room. He let out a sigh, wishing he had permission to turn off the cameras and beat that smug look off the Englishman's face until he cooperated. He rolled his eyes, knowing he'd never be able to break those rules… besides which, he might come to his senses and actually help them and that wouldn't work well if Hotch assaulted him.

As he opened the next door down the hall, he stepped into the observation room, just as Rossi and Reid got started with Fahey. They were starting with classic interrogation techniques, asking a few simple questions about Fahey's history in Boston. He was a fan of big-noting himself, and Hotch thought a different tactic might work, but he didn't want to interrupt.

Hotch shook his head and sighed, staring down at his feet and feeling a sudden urge to run, to kick down every door in Boston until they found Emily.

He took this rare moment to himself to think about what they had so far, running the information through his mind and wondering if any of his interactions with Emily would shed some light on how to find her. Every time he tried to go down that track, however, his mind went straight to memories of Emily and Jack playing. Tickle fights, hide and seek, chasing each other in the park, falling asleep in Jack's bed while they read stories together… so many memories, but never enough time. Hotch wondered if there was something to that… if there was a connection there… or if his mind was just trying to remind him of happier times, before the shit hit the fan.

His train of thought was broken when he heard the door open, and he looked up to see JJ stepping into the room. He shifted uncomfortably in his spot. Hotch had worked hard to avoid being alone with JJ, knowing that she was the only one in their family who was aware of how close he and Emily had become. It hadn't been that long since their picnic, and the families had spent more time together since, barbecues at JJ and Will's and pizza nights at Emily's.

JJ made her way over to where Hotch was standing, staying silent and studying his body language. His arms were crossed, his face taut with worry. The way his hands were digging into his arms suggested the interview with Fahey wasn't going well.

As she drew closer to Hotch, JJ leant against the table, and as she'd hoped, Hotch backed up to join her, bringing his hands down to rest by his side. She watched his face carefully, taking note of the creases in his brow, the new worry lines that this situation was writing on his face. She looked down at his hand that sat between them and she reached down to lift it into her own.

JJ squeezed Hotch's hand tight, "We will find her, Hotch," she said softly, waiting for a reaction. But he stayed still. So she said it again, this time with a little more confidence, "We will find her, Aaron."

This time, Hotch looked up and JJ saw the emotion in his eyes, the intensity shocking her. He shook his head slightly and swallowed hard, "And what if we're too late?"

It was a reality that Hotch had been trying to avoid thinking about. That they would find her, but she'd already be gone. That they could put a bullet in Doyle's head, but it might come too late. That Doyle would take Emily's life before they could take his.

JJ swallowed over the lump in her throat and bit her lip, squeezing Hotch's hand again, "What do we say when we don't have a body?" she asked, "Think about this like any other case."

Hotch sighed, "We keep fighting until we find them, one way or the other."

JJ nodded, offering a sad smile, "So unless we have a body, we keep fighting until we find Emily. We don't stop until we have her back."

Hotch nodded, turning back to look into the interrogation room and furrowing his brow. He didn't have time to break down right now. It wasn't time to mourn Emily, because Emily wasn't dead. She was alive and she was out there, somewhere. They just needed to find her.

Shouting from the other side of the glass broke the relative silence, and JJ dropped Hotch's hand. They both jumped up from the table to watch the scene unfold in the other room.

"Lauren Reynolds," Reid said anxiously, "Where's Lauren Reynolds?"

Realisation flooded Fahey's face and an unnerving smile grew, "Oh… friend of yours, is she?"

Rossi sat in front of Fahey and moved in close to his face, "You tell us where she is, right now, or I swear, I'll send you to a prison where they'll teach you what a hood-rat is."

Fahey nodded, shrugging smugly, "And by the time you do, she'll be in pieces, so uh…" he paused, "… my price just went up."

Hotch ran into the room, finding Emily on the ground and Morgan hovering over her, his hand on her belly. He moved quickly to where they were, dropping to the floor and looking up at Morgan, a terrified look on his face. One of Morgan's hands was being gripped by Emily, while the other was holding a wooden stake in place where it had been pushed into Emily's belly. Hotch looked down at the object, horrified by the amount of blood that was already pooling on the floor.

"Is she…" Hotch paused and looked down at the spot where Morgan's hand was holding the table leg. He couldn't finish the sentence. Much to Hotch's relief, Morgan didn't need him to, and he shook his head.

"No… she still has a pulse," he said softly, "Hotch… it's really faint."

Hotch couldn't leave her, but someone had to find the medics and Morgan was holding the table leg in place, trying to stop it from moving… or worse… falling out. Emily would probably bleed out the second the leg was removed, so they couldn't let that happen until she was at the hospital.

Hotch pushed himself up from the ground and reluctantly ran back down the hall, bumping into the medics as they wheeled the stretcher across the concrete. "She's this way," Hotch explained, leading them into the room.

One of the medics lowered the stretcher and grabbed the board, while the other ran over to Emily and Morgan to check her vitals. They worked quickly, moving her onto the board while Morgan kept his hand in place. One of the medics told Morgan to keep as still as possible, and he nodded in replying, ignoring the worry evident on Hotch's face.

As they rounded the final corner, Rossi and JJ were waiting, keeping everyone back while the group of men pushed Emily down the ramp and towards the rig. Hotch and the medics held the sides of the stretcher, lifting Emily into the rig, while Morgan carefully climbed in next to her, keeping his hands on the table leg.

"We can't take all of you," one of the medics said quickly, "And we have to go or we're gonna lose her," he continued, glaring at Hotch until he stepped back onto the ground and watched them close the doors.

Morgan looked back at Hotch through the small windows in the back of the rig, grimacing at the look of pain on the man's face. Even though Morgan was glad to be there with Emily, a part of him wished that he could've traded places with Hotch, imagining the heartbreak that he was feeling right now.

Seconds after the doors closed in front of him, Hotch watched helplessly as the ambulance made its way through the gates of the complex and disappeared onto the streets of Boston. He knew it made sense for Morgan to go with Emily, since he had his hand keeping hold of the table leg, but Hotch knew that Emily could be gone by the time he reached the hospital and he might never get the chance to say goodbye. He felt his heart beating fast in his chest and the tears forming in his eyes, and he knew that he wouldn't even have a chance to worry… they had a crime scene to clean up.

Hotch dropped his head when he felt her standing next to him, and as JJ reached up to squeeze his arm, she felt his body shake.

"You two should go," Rossi said gently, reaching up to squeeze Hotch's other shoulder, "We can take care of things here… she should have people there if she wakes up."

Hotch looked over to his friend and opened his mouth to tell him that he needed to stay. He was the Unit Chief and Doyle had escaped… this wasn't over just because Emily might be dead. But before he could get the words out, Rossi shook his head.

"No, Aaron," Rossi urged, "You need to be there."

He reached into his pocket and held out a set of keys to JJ, to started off towards the SUV that was pulled up down on the street. JJ was already a few feet away, but Hotch hadn't moved, so Rossi gave him a gentle nudge to get him started. He was relieved when Hotch's feet started moving on their own and Rossi waited until Hotch caught up with JJ. Once he saw that they were moving together, Rossi turned back to the scene, searching the area for the head SWAT agent.

Hotch turned back to the visitor's lounge, leaving JJ in the hall, and found the rest of the team waiting where he'd left them. They looked up at him when he walked through the door, likely expecting some wise, comforting words… or instructions. But he had nothing. There was nothing he could say to make them feel better about this.

There was nothing anyone could say to make him feel better about this, and at least he had the comfort of knowing that Emily was still alive.

"Guys," he said softly, emotion evident in his voice and waiting for the five agents to look up at him before he continued, "You should all go home…" he paused and shook his head, looking down at his shoes, "I'll talk to Strauss and tell her not to expect us to be in for the next couple of days."

"We're not done, Hotch," Morgan said in response, standing from his seat and dropping Garcia's shaking hand, "We have to find the bastard that killed her."

Hotch shook his head, "Not tonight," he said sternly, "You five will take the jet back to DC, and JJ and I will sort things out here," he explained, "I'll see you back at Quantico in a few days."

"Hotch," Morgan called out as his boss started to walk away, "Hotch!"

Morgan waited until Hotch stopped in his tracks, not turning back and keeping his hand on the door. Morgan looked at the others and held up a hand, "What, are we supposed to just drop this now?"

JJ reached out a hand to squeeze Morgan's arm, "Derek," she urged softly.

"Emily's not even cold yet and we're supposed to just move on?" Morgan exclaimed, shoving JJ's hand away and walking up to stand in Hotch's face, "If this is your reaction to losing Emily, I'd hate to see how little you cared if it was the one of us."

Hotch couldn't hold back at Morgan's words and he grabbed his friend by the collar of his shirt, and pushed him against the wall. Hotch was silent as he stared at Morgan, gripping his shirt in his hands, not trusting himself to say anything. He was worried that, if he said what he was thinking, he and Morgan might never come back from that. As it was, Hotch was fighting the temptation to punch Morgan in the face for what he'd just said... and that was something they definitely would never come back from.

Rossi jumped up from his seat and grabbed Hotch by the arm, pulling him away from Morgan and holding his hands up between the two agents.

"Ripping each other's heads off is not going to help," Rossi shouted, relieved when Morgan turned away and punched the opposite wall of the visitor's lounge, instead of punching Hotch, "Morgan… take a walk."

Morgan shook his head, turning back to shoot Hotch a look that was equal parts fury and heartache, before he stomped down the hall and out of sight. He was pissed, but he knew he'd overstepped, but the Hotch he knew didn't give up like this. The Hotch he knew had hunted down the man who had killed his wife, beating him with his own hands. This wasn't the Hotch that Morgan knew.

As Morgan reached the emergency room, a realisation came to him. Just because Hotch wasn't going to get upset in front of the rest of the team, didn't mean that he wasn't completely distraught by what had happened. After everything that Hotch had been through in the last few years... Morgan huffed... through his entire life, maybe he couldn't feel this level of pain anymore. At least not in public. Morgan closed his eyes as he pushed through the front doors of the emergency room… he would only do that with Emily, and now she was gone.

Morgan wondered if he should go back now and apologise to Hotch, tell him that he understood and ask him if there was anything he could do to help. Hotch wasn't being a cold, unfeeling bastard. Morgan knew how much he cared about Emily, he had seen it with his own eyes, and he had just blown the man to shreds in a moment where his heart was already in pieces. Morgan stopped in his tracks, ready to turn around, but then stopped himself. He needed to give Hotch some space... he could apologise when they were both back in DC.

Rossi watched as Hotch dropped into one of the chairs, his head falling to his hands. The older agent made his way over and sat next to Hotch, reaching up a hand to his shoulder and squeezing tight, but Hotch couldn't move.

"Morgan didn't mean that," Rossi said, soft enough so that only Hotch could hear, "He's just angry."

Hotch nodded and looked over to Rossi, pain in his eyes, "I know," he replied. And Hotch did know. He knew Morgan so well, and he knew that Morgan was blaming himself. For not getting there sooner. For not putting a bullet in Doyle's brain. For not finding Emily in time. Most of all, Morgan was angry at Emily for not trusting them enough to share the burden. And because Morgan was angry at Emily, and as far as Morgan knew, Emily was gone, he was even angrier with himself.

Rossi frowned and glanced up at JJ and Garcia, standing a few metres away, before he turned back to Hotch, "What do you need, Aaron?" he asked.

Hotch shook his head, "I don't know, he replied, almost in a whisper, pushing himself up from the seat and walking down the hallway where JJ had appeared a few moments ago. He knew where he was going, but he wasn't sure if he'd get in. He shrugged… actually, he was sure he'd get in, but the question was whether it would be with or without bloodshed.

Rossi stood from the seat, heading over to join JJ and Garcia. He reached up to pull Garcia into his side, holding out a gentle hand to JJ, and the three of them stood in silence for a moment, sharing in their grief.

JJ sniffed, breaking the silence, "I'll take care of this one," JJ said, gesturing in the direction Hotch had left, "You take care of that one," she finished, gesturing to the hall Morgan had gone down.

Garcia tipped her head, "Stay safe," she said softly, not sure of what else to say in a moment like this, "Call us if you need anything."

JJ nodded and reached up to wipe a tear from Garcia's cheek, wishing her friend didn't need to be in this much pain. She knew they had to keep this secret, to keep Emily safe, but it was breaking JJ's heart to see the team like this.

"Someone needs to inform her parents," Rossi said, "I can take care of that when we get back… Emily mentioned something about them being in Italy, but I'm sure I can figure it out."

JJ nodded and stepped back from Garcia, leaving her with Rossi. She gestured over her shoulder and tipped her head, "I need to go and find Hotch… I'll see you guys back in DC in a few days."

Before they could ask any more questions, JJ turned and headed in the same direction that Hotch had left a few minutes earlier. She suspected he was going to try and see Emily, and she figured she could take her time and give him a moment to say everything he needed to say, whether Emily could hear him or not.

Hotch slowly made his way down the hall, his shoes clicking on the linoleum as he neared the door. He pulled out his credentials, flashing them to the guard at the door. The guard looked at his badge, then down at the clipboard in his hand, then back up to Hotch, and Hotch prepared himself for a fight. But much to his relief, the guard handed Hotch's badge back to him and stepped aside for Hotch to enter the room.

He slowly opened the door, closing it gently once he was inside. From the entrance, all he could see was the large, blue curtain draped around the perimeter of the bed, but he could hear the beeping of the machines. He made his way over to the curtain, slowly pulling it back and he could have sworn he felt his heart break at the sight of Emily in the big bed, so many tubes running in and out of her body.

The tubes that gave her life.

Hotch walked slowly to the side of her bed, reaching up to touch her hand. He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but he could swear she shifted slightly at the touch. He looked up and down her body, her thin frame covered in the light blue hospital blankets. When he reached her face, he felt his heart constrict at the sight.

Hotch reached up, brushing a stray hair behind her ear and tucking it in. He leant forward, careful not to interfere with the tubes that were around her, and placed a gentle kiss on her pale forehead, his lips surprised at the coolness of her skin. His lips lingered for a moment, wishing he had the same magical touch as the characters in the fairy tales he had watched Emily read to Jack. When she didn't wake miraculously at his touch, he sighed and stood up, keeping a hold of her hand and squeezing it gently.

"I'm so sorry, Emily," he said softly, not caring if she could hear him, "I'm so sorry that I didn't trust you. That you felt like I wouldn't still fight for you. I'm sorry that we were too late to stop you from being hurt. I'm sorry that we didn't kill him."

Hotch sighed, shaking his head, wondering if she could hear him… hoping she could hear him. Because he had one more thing left to say, and he couldn't leave before he said it. For months, years even, he had been wanting to say it, but something always stopped him. But now, there was nothing left in his way. This was the moment, and Hotch had decided that, if he couldn't tell her now, he didn't deserve Emily Prentiss.

Hotch leant close to her ear, leaving a miniscule gap between his lips and her skin, "Just in case I never get to tell you again…" he paused, a tear dropping from his cheek and onto the pillow, "I love you, Emily Prentiss."

As he stood, Hotch kept hold of Emily's hand, squeezing it gently. He wished he could keep her with him, but he knew it wouldn't be safe. He wished she could wake up, before he had to leave, so he could know that she had heard him. He wished he could hunt Ian Doyle down and put a bullet through his brain. He wished he could turn back the clock and find Emily in time.

So many wishes, none of them granted.

Hotch took a moment to just study her face. To lock in his mind the image of Emily Prentiss, before she disappeared from his life. He didn't know how long she would be gone, and the thought of her being out there, all alone in the world, terrified him.

He knew he didn't have long, and that JJ would be coming to find him soon, so Hotch leant down one last time and kissed Emily's hair. He had no idea how, but it still smelled like coconuts. He stood from the bed and made his way to the door, stepping into the hall and finding JJ waiting. As he walked up to speak with her, he cleared his throat and schooled his features.

"We have to find him, and we have to kill him."

Hotch watched from under a tree as JJ shook hands with a young woman that Hotch had seen in photos at Emily's place. Emily had told him that she was a social worker that she had met on a case, and they had stayed in touch ever since. Emily often called her, to meet for a drink, when they had cases involving kids who would likely end up in the foster care system, and they drank and shared their frustrations… and their hopes. Hotch felt a small smile on his lips when he thought about how Emily had told him that they didn't like to end their catch-ups on a sour note, so they always tried to take something positive away.

As JJ headed back towards him, Hotch frowned, spying Emily's parents standing by the grave and talking with a young man. When JJ reached him, Hotch's gaze shifted down to her, and he sighed.

"You ready to go?" JJ asked, "I think the others were heading to the bar."

Hotch shook his head, "I need to go and speak with Emily's parents," he replied, gesturing to the couple.

JJ turned to look over her shoulder, and when she turned back to Hotch, she sighed, "I hate that we can't tell them," she said softly, "If it was Henry…" her voice trailed off and she watched Hotch carefully.

Hotch nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I know, but we can't JJ," he replied. He'd had the same thoughts. What if it were Jack? He would hate for someone to keep such a secret from him if it concerned his son, and he would probably come up with a laundry list of horrible things to do to them.

JJ nodded, glancing back at Emily's parents and wrinkling her brow. There was a young man standing with them, and as JJ looked more closely, she realised it was the same man who had come to pick Emily up from the Academy, after she'd been in a car crash in New York. JJ wracked her brain, trying to remember the name Emily had told her when she'd introduced them to each other.

James?

Matt?

Ryan?

Zac!

JJ's eyes grew wide when that name popped into her head… Zac.

"Any idea who that is with Emily's parents?" Hotch asked, nodding over to the three people in question. He had met Elizabeth and he had met Simon, but he hadn't ever seen that man before. There was something familiar about him, but Hotch couldn't put his finger on it.

"Yeah… I just realized," JJ said, looking up at Hotch, "He came to pick Emily up once, from the BAU… remember when she was in that accident in Lockport?" At Hotch's nod, JJ continued, "Emily introduced us… his name is Zac."

Realisation spread across Hotch's face at the mention of his name. The man whose name Emily had said so many times, that it had become a complex for Hotch. The man who had called Hotch only a few months earlier, when he hadn't been able to get through to her directly. Hotch studied the young man and wondered who he was to Emily. This person whose existence had been such a mystery to him from the first mention of his name out of Emily's lips.

"We should probably go and speak to Emily's parents now," JJ said, gesturing with her thumb over her shoulder, "Before they leave."

Hotch nodded and they started to walk towards the other side of the grave, where Emily's parents were waiting. As they neared the group, JJ and Hotch watched as Zac covered his face and Elizabeth placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, reaching up to wipe tears from her own cheeks while she tried to console Zac. They saw Zac bring his hands down, revealing the emotion on his face, and JJ and Hotch exchanged a look. Just as they were reaching the group, they saw Zac reach down to pull Elizabeth into a hug, then Simon, before he shook his head and walked away.

Simon turned to Elizabeth and she simply held a hand up to her mouth in shock. As Simon was wrapping a tender arm around his wife's shoulder, he looked up and saw Hotch and JJ coming closer, dropping his head and whispering in Elizabeth's ear. As the agents stopped, Simon and Elizabeth pulled apart, reluctantly, to greet them.

Hotch stopped in front of the couple and held his hands by his side, unsure of what to do. What could he say to these parents, grieving their only child when they didn't need to. He looked over to JJ, who seemed to be having the same degree of difficulty figuring out how to start, but then he watched as she held out a hand to reach for Elizabeth's.

"Ambassador Prentiss," she started, her tone soft and tender, "I am so sorry."

Elizabeth looked up from the ground and sniffed, moving away from Simon and pulling JJ into a tight hug, her slight body shaking in JJ's arms. JJ just held her, unsure of what to say to Emily's mother. Emily had trusted JJ enough to detail the tension in her relationship with her mother, but had been speaking in the past year about the work they'd been doing to mend bridges. And now here Elizabeth was, unconsoleable in her grief.

Hotch held a hand out to Simon, and they shook, but Hotch couldn't meet the man's gaze. Years ago, when Simon had visited Emily at the BAU, Hotch had promised to take care of her. And now, he felt like he had failed. Even though she was alive, the man who had tried to murder her had gotten away and now Emily was at more risk than she was before.

Looking up when Simon cleared his throat, Hotch looked up.

"Seems wrong for the sun to be shining like this, doesn't it?" Simon remarked, his voice catching on the last word. He shook his head, trying to get his emotions under control, and shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit.

Hotch frowned and shook his head, mirroring Simon's stance and looking at the ground, "I know what you mean… but I think Emily would have wanted it this way."

Simon nodded and smiled bitterly, "Less dramatic than the rain," he replied. He looked up at Hotch, knowing the thoughts that were running through his mind, and before Hotch could open his mouth to turn those thoughts into speech, Simon held up a hand.

"Don't…"

Hotch sighed and shook his head, wishing Simon would just let him say it. He needed to say it. He needed to tell this man how sorry he was. That he knew he had let him down, let Emily down. But he respected his wishes and stayed silent, Hotch's apology left unspoken. He stared at his shoes, selfishly wondering how much longer the Ambassador would hold onto JJ, how much longer until they could go to the bar and drink and remember… and forget.

Hotch raised his head when Simon spoke up again, lowering his voice and stepping closer to Hotch so that Elizabeth couldn't hear.

"You find that bastard, and you put a bullet in his brain."