[Trigger Warning: Mention of suicide]

*

"Derek, I don't think I'm–"

"I know being on camera makes you uncomfortable for your own reasons. But this is a time sensitive matter," cut Derek as he tried to convince me to go on the camera and lead a press conference in order to lure our unsub out. "You matched the profile of his vic. If you go now we will save a lot of time from searching for another volunteer for this task and better chance for Tiffany to come out of this alive."

"You are right, Derek. I hate cameras," I confessed with a pit in my stomach. "I even hate my picture taken. What makes you think I can endure leading a live press conference out there in front of those people? How am I going to answer their questions?" I defended myself, "Those reporters are savages."

"Cookie, you're nervous about this, I understand. But Tiffany Hutchson's life is on the line," he stated matter of factly, "I know you are scared, but I also know that you have a knack for being an actress yourself. Treat this one job as one of your acting classes in high school."

"Derek…" I shuddered at the thought of having to go on national television. For years I had done absolutely everything in my power to minimize my digital presence; to be comfortably invisible. This task will put all those years of work into jeopardy.

Derek took a seat next to me, and slid his chair close to me so our knees touched. He placed his hands on either sides of my jeans-clad thighs. Despite the pretty harmless touching that Derek and I comfortably shared, I couldn't help but feel that his touch was sending thrills through my spine, but not enough to pry my anxiety off of my mind.

Unaware of my thoughts, Derek locked his deep chocolate eyes with my hazel ones rather seriously. "Elizabeth."

Ugh, I hated it when he used my name in times like this.

"I don't know what gets you so scared out of your mind about this, but if you are, know that I will be standing next to you through the whole thing. And if going out there makes you a target for our unsub, then believe me, honey, he won't be able to come anywhere near you, because God is my witness, I will be there protecting you with my life," he swore. He cupped my cheek gently. "I promise that as long as we haven't caught our unsub I will never let you out of my sight. Hell, I'll camp at your room and sleep on the floor if I have to," he said with an unmoved determination in his intelligent eyes. "Please, believe me."

I thought of Tiffany Hutchson and realized that I had to stop being a coward if I wanted her name to make it to my notebook. I looked into the intense, pleading eyes that was Derek's and made my mind.

"Angel of mine?" I murmured.

This line brought a sweet yet handsome smile on Derek's face. "Yours, baby," he responded tenderly, patiently waiting for my next words.

"You have always been, my guardian angel. You're one of the few good things that comes into my life and I hope you know that I never once doubted you, Derek Morgan," I said with a wistful smile, and nodded to myself, "I'll do it."

A brilliant smile that melted my insides flashed on Derek's devastatingly handsome face. "That's my good girl."

After airbrushing a finishing a touch of a nude, pink lip to my look, I took off the clip that was holding my hair together, letting my hair down to my back just on top of my shoulder blades.

After years not bothering to, I was honestly a bit surprised that I hadn't lost my touch in the make up department. The bedroom-eyes eyeliner and shadow were rimming my flicked eyelashes, making my eyes looked more awake–doll like, just the way our unsub liked it.

I shuddered at the thought and began to quickly putting the make up I borrowed from Prentiss in its bag. Not wanting to waste any more time alone in this public bathroom, I quickly straightened my formal, but timeless white blouse that I donned specifically for this press before exiting.

Upon exiting, I inhaled and let out a nervous breath of air as I watched uniforms and detectives buzzing around the train station that was the ground zero for the abduction of two females who looked just like me: tiny stature; green/hazel eyes; red hair; fair skin.

"Lizzie."

I forgot that Derek had been waiting on me outside the bathroom. He was serious about his promise earlier about not taking his eyes off of me. He was leaning his toned back against the wall, his arms folded in front of his chest, making his maroon, henley shirt stretched tight against his muscly biceps. He removed his weight from the wall as soon as he saw me out of the door.

Gosh, he looks like he jumped straight out of a men's magazine.

"Here's your coms," he said before helping me put on the coms and hid the cables under my clothing behind me. When were done testing the coms, I exhaled, trying to calm my nerve.

Derek was looking at me intently. At first I thought he was going to made a cheeky comment about me wearing a make up for the first time in front of him, but the teasing words never came out of him.

"How do I look?" I asked, looking up at him from under my prickly lashes laced with quite a heavy amount of mascara. "Think I can get our unsub's attention?"

My question elicited a dark, brooding expression that I couldn't decipher across Derek's face. That look made my stomach hurt with anxiety.

"You've always been beautiful, Elizabeth," he answered with a low voice, "But looking like this… Those eyes? He won't be able to resist looking at you. And I hate that."

Under any other circumstances, I would've melted into a puddle at the flattering praises that came out of his lips. But given the dark implications that his words suggest, his praises didn't manage to make me blush, but instead, sending a chill down my spine that made me shiver.

Derek noticed, and gave my shoulders a comforting squeeze. "I will be there with you the whole time," he said as he led us towards the waiting crowds of reporter outside. His expression and body language tense, all-business only. "When you get up there, wait a moment until the crowd settles then begin talking about Tiffany Hutchson. Any other questions that you can't answer, direct them back towards her. Focus on humanizing her. You got this."

Derek let me go the moment we stepped outside, on a cold, snowy night. Flashes of camera lights blinded me momentarily. Fighting the need to hide, I placed my hands flat on top of the podium, willing my expression to stay calm and official as I waited until I get the media's full attention before starting my act.

"Tiffany Hutchson went missing two days ago. We have received over 3,000 calls…"

*

Someone knocked on my hotel room door as I was just finished taking my night shower. Putting on the hotel's white robe over my body quickly, I stepped out of the bathroom and peeked through the peephole on my door to see Derek standing there, his eyes seemed to be scanning the hallway as he waited for me to open the door.

"Hey, cookie. I come bearing gifts," he said as I let him enter my room. I noticed the ice cream he was carrying in the paper bag. "Ben Jerry's. You do realize it's snowing outside and this hotel's heating system is almost kaput at best?"

He turned back to me, raised an eyebrow in thoughts as if he was just considering that fact, then shrugged, walking as if he was about to exit my room again. "Well if you don't want it…"

I intercepted him and looked inside the paper bag, pulling out a pint of ice cream and inspected it. "Chocolate Mint. You're forgiven."

Derek finally broke into a smile and went back to my room, plopping on my bed and clicked the remote of my tv on before putting his hands behind his head and relaxed. "If it makes you feel any better we can have tea with the ice cream. They go well together–Hey lookit, doll. They have your favorite on," he referred to the tv.

After I closed the door, I went to see what was on tv while drying my wet hair with a towel. "Aw, Lord of The Rings," I sighed happily as I watched Gandalf revealing himself as Gandalf the White.

I dried my hair more quickly as I started to feel the cold that the room heater insufficiently get rid of. Besides, I wanted to quickly get to watch my comfort movie again.

I climbed on the bed on Derek's left side, bringing both of us each a cup of hot tea to go with the ice cream. I slid under the cover in an attempt to stay warm, while Derek, seemingly unfazed by the cold, stayed on top of the covers but still able to wrap his arm around me, pressing me towards his warm chest. Keeping my eyes on the screen, we both silently shared the ice cream that he brought and watched the movie while occasionally took a sip of our tea.

"What we need is a few good taters." Came the sound from the movie as my favorite character conversed with his to-be enemy. "What's taters, precious? What's taters, eh?"

"Po-tay-toes," I murmured in sync with Samwise Gamgee's line on the tv, "Boil 'em, mash 'em, stick 'em in a stew," I copied before sticking my ice cream spoon into my mouth.

Derek scoffed in amusement next to me. "Nerd," he mocked, making me smile. He offered the ice cream pint my way.

"No. I'm done. My insides are going to be freezing," I declined.

Derek put the rest of the ice cream on top of the nightstand at his side before pulling me closer to him. His palm rubbed my left arm absent-mindedly to warm me up. His eyes were bleary as he stared at the screen.

He looked tired, just as we all were. But it warmed my heart to know that Derek kept his promise to me hours ago: that he's not letting me out of his sight as long as we haven't caught our unsub.

Feeling secure and warm as I rested half of my upper body on top of his firm one, my eyes began to close as I drifted to slumber.

My phone rang, jolting me up. Derek's dominant hand instinctively reached the gun that was strapped to his hip.

"It's just my phone," I informed with bleary eyes as I tore my body away from his warmth to get to my phone.

2.12 a.m.

Opening the text, I sat up straight as soon as I read the message. "The patrols found Tiffany Hutchson," I said before quickly getting out of the bed, looking for a fresh new clothes as I was still in my hotel bathrobe.

"It's Hotch. Come on, cookie, we gotta move," he too moved as he read the text on his phone. "Where's your laptop?"

"In the safe. 190467," I told him the combination so he could retrieve my baby. His back was on me as I fished a pair of jeans and a button up flannel shirt. I heard the safe beeped as he punched in the code. "Don't turn around just yet. Let me change."

Derek obediently stayed there on the floor beside my bed, kneeling as he held my laptop in his arm, and only got up and faced me as soon as I said, "Done."

"That's quick. I think you beat my record when I was still in the academy," he teased, commenting about my attire changing speed. I took my laptop from his hands.

"Thanks. Can you also get the earpieces set? There, the black box at the table at the corner. We'll need it."

Derek nodded an affirmative to me after putting his phone back inside his pocket, "I got it. You go out first."

"Okay."

As soon as I opened the door, both Emily and JJ were just exiting their rooms too. From behind me, I heard Derek greeting them.

"Hey, girls," he said as he closed the door behind us.

JJ and Emily both had conspiratorial smile on their faces as they saw Morgan exiting my room with me.

I gulped. "I know how this looks. I can explain," I said quickly. Behind me, Derek chuckled at my stupidity.

"Yeah. That doesn't sound pervy at all," he commented. I ignored him.

Emily and JJ looked at me with a grin now. I clutched my laptop tighter in my arms. "What happened between us was Lord of The Rings: The Two Towers, and a tea party."

Emily and JJ chuckled.

Derek's smirk faded, replaced by a feigned offended look. "Seriously, woman? I think it's better if we don't explain at all next time. You're tarnishing my reputation."

I grumbled as we four walked towards the elevator. "What about my reputation?"

*

The team had had their bulletproof vests on, sans me who was staying behind in the van with all our tech to provide remote backup. Hotch wrapped up the briefing.

"Anyone have eyes on possible suspect, let the rest of the team know. Dawson will send additional patrol that way. JJ, Rossi, you two cover the west side of the parameter. Morgan and Reid will cover the east side while I and Prentiss cover south. A police barricade has been set up on the north. No one gets in or out. And Dawson," Hotch turned his unreadable yet focused eyes at me, "You missed a button," he referred to my shirt, then quickly turned his eyes to the team. "Let's go."

Emily and JJ were barely able to hide their snickers while Derek, well, being Derek, didn't exactly try to hide his amusement that I didn't understand right away at the time. As the team began to disperse, I looked down to my shirt and finally noticed that in my hurry of putting my clothes on, I had missed a button, and judging from the confused look Spencer throw between me and Derek, I cursed inwardly, knowing how it looked from the outside point of view.

I blushed all the way down to my toes in embarrassment.

The plane ride home was spent enduring Emily and JJ's suggestive remarks between me Derek. When she thought no one was looking, Emily even made the humping gesture that made even Hotch broke a secretive yet amused smile.

After we touched down, we all went our own separate ways, as per usual, to enjoy the few days off after a closed case. This time, it was a good one. I smiled as I started my car and drove to the church where Reverend Chris were.

"What number are you on, Elizabeth?" the good priest asked kindly.

"Sixty seven," I told him as I looked at my notebook with a small smile. "I'm halfway there. Then I'll be free."

The priest sat back, his index finger tapping lightly at the holy bible he was carrying. His expression peaceful, non-judgmental, though his eyes were concerned. "I wouldn't call that freedom, Elizabeth. You know where the church stands on suicide."

"You against it," I nodded knowingly. I studied the long line of numbering I had written up to one hundred and thirty six, with empty blank space next to the numbers, waiting to be filled with survivor's names to balance the ledger.

"It will cost you your eternal life," Rev. Chris said with a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I believe that God did put you in the FBI. You have done a lot of good in there. But I don't believe that was so that you can meet the quota that you set for yourself and stop living."

I let out a bitter smile, tearing my eyes away from the book to look at the cross before my eyes. "This book is what keeps me going this far. I don't know how else to live."

"What happened was terrible; but it was an accident. Even if you don't think so, God has forgiven you, Elizabeth. But it is your choice to extend that forgiveness to yourself."

"So I should just accept his forgiveness, then forgive myself? That's it?"

"As simple as that."

I chuckled in disbelief. "You expect me to do nothing and just accept it."

"That's why it is called grace. We don't deserve it, we don't actually work for it; it is a gift, given to us by Him when He died for our sins on the cross."

I glanced at the cross and didn't buy the logic.

"Look, even he has to give something to save us. His life," I reasoned. "It's the same concept, father. I have to at least try to balance the ledger to atone for my sins–not that I can actually do that, but I must at least try. Then I want out."

*

I unlocked the door to my apartment and put my groceries bag on top of my counter. Hanging my car key at its place, and dropping my go bag on the couch, I then went back to my door to close and locked it. Sighing in relief of being home again, I took off my thick winter scarf and made my way towards the couch, thinking of resuming on my tv show binge watch.

As I turned the corner, someone blew a white dust on my face, momentarily stunning me. I staggered backwards as I wiped my face from the unknown substance. But when I came to it, my sight was blurred.

Dazed and recognizing that I had been attacked, I used what was left of my strength to move towards my phone in my go bag to call for help.

The effect of the drug was almost immediate. In seconds I lost my ability to walk straight; crippled. Ended up on all fours on my floor, I pushed through the panic and the darkness that began to weigh me down, and I crawled.

I got to my bag and managed to open it; the contents, including my notebook were scattered on the floor. Blindly I tried to reach for my cell. It was just within my arm reach now.

My limbs felt like lead. I almost got to my phone, but a boot kicked my phone away from my hand, as if taunting me. A male chuckle filled my ears, then I felt myself being turned so that I was facing the ceiling and my hands were locked in a tight grip.

He didn't even need to grip so tight; I wasn't going anywhere. I was blind, and I was paralyzed, both from fear and from the drug effect that had now overtaken me.

I felt his breath on my cheek and my neck as he straddled me. Disgusted, I wanted to scream on top of my lungs, but what came out of me was barely a choking sound as I gasped for air.

I felt weak and pathetic. Even my vocal cord was not working. Tears of frustration trickled down my cheeks, I felt them trailed down to my ears as I heard him speak.

"My, you are exquisite."

*

[Author's Note: This was probably the darkest chapter yet I have ever written in my entire life. Comment, leave votes/kudos/like if you dig the story so far. Any discussion of what is happening is welcomed as well. Please be advised, this book has a happy ending. Thanks for reading!]