I stare out the window of the jet, trying and failing to keep my mind from replaying the last few days over in my head. Every conversation crawls through my mind, demanding attention and examination. I rub my eyes, willing the thoughts back into the boxes I locked them away in all those years ago.

Almost on queue someone settles into the seat directly across from me. I sigh in silent frustration. Of course they've all noticed. Out of the corner of my eye I see Emily Prentiss' head tilt ever so slightly to the side with a sympathetic half-grin on her face. Her eyes are soft and unalarming, but I feel my skin crawl under her gaze.

"Tough case," she murmurs in an unreadable tone.

As if my brain were simply waiting for a moment of distraction, a flash of memory bombards me. The sound of shattering glass fills my ears. I've lost my breath as slivers of glass wedge themselves into my skull and back. His voice rings in my ears, and the fear is real again. His hand wraps around my throat, suffocating me...I pull myself from the memory and swallow before answering. "How much have you guessed?"

"We don't do inter-team profiling, remember?" She chides.

I scoff and roll my eyes. "Right, and Garcia doesn't track our cell phones after hours either."

Emily laughs and nods her head. "Exactly," when I don't offer anything, she asks, "Do you want to talk about it?"

A reluctant shudder passes down my spine. "I guess that depends on how much you've guessed."

Emily hesitates, pricking the side of her mouth with her tongue as she always does when she has to say something she would rather not. "Daryl was an addict, too," she finally quips.

I pause, taking a moment to steady my breath. "Yeah, it got pretty bad at the end. It's why - it's why I left him."

Emily's face hardens. "That couldn't have been easy."

"What? Being married to an addict or divorcing one?"

"Both. Sometimes...it takes just as much strength to leave as it does to stay. Perhaps more...You know you did the right thing...now and then, right?" She says.

"I know. I have no regrets for leaving him...only that I didn't leave sooner. There are some things I had hoped would stay in the past though, away from prying eyes, you know?"

Emily nods. "Yeah, I do." After several seconds, she lays her hand on my knee, "Hey, listen, do you feel up for drinks when we get back? Garcia just texted me, demanding that I invite you and J.J. to her house for wine and an impromptu girls' night."

I chuckle, welcoming the change in subject. "Only if you bring the booze. You have the best wine collection I have seriously ever seen this side of the Atlantic."

Her face brightens into a mischievous grin again. "Good, I was worried I was going to have to be the one to tell Pen you weren't coming, and I didn't feel like dying tonight."

I laugh out loud. "Well, now I just may back out. I don't think I am feeling so well," I smirk.

"Oh no you don't. You can't back out now if I have to drag you there. I'm texting Penelope right now." She pulls out her cell phone and immediately begins sending the word out. I chuckle as I feel my own phone buzz next to me.

"Looks like my fate it sealed."

Emily meets my gaze with a twinkle in her eye that only appears when she is truly enjoying herself and usually involves alcohol of some sort. "Oui ma chérie. Ce soir on boit jusqu'à l'aube!"

Several hours later, J.J., Penelope, Emily and I are curled up comfortably on Penelope's couches enjoying some rather expensive wine from Emily's personal collection and a magnificent cheese plate Pen put together while we were on our way back. I sigh in contentment as I savor the vibrant flavors of the drink in my hand. "Em, you really do know your wine," I murmur gratefully.

Emily chuckles. "Nothing but the best for my girls." She is sitting across from me with her legs curled up under her. J.J. is next to her on Pen's loveseat, with her feet tucked under Emily's legs. Penelope is sitting next to me, as close as she can be without sitting directly on top of me. Her hand rests easily on my knee as I sit crosslegged and lay my head on her shoulder, enjoying her proximity and company.

For several long moments no one says anything, but the silence isn't uncomfortable. It's full of words which don't need to be spoken. Each one of us is supremely content with the presence of the others. But, of course, Penelope cannot handle the silence for too long.

"Sooo..." she grins turning to face me with her eyebrows raised and a cheeky grin covering her face.

I groan. Historically, it is never good for the person who Penelope fixes with that look.

"I would like to know how it is that I have known you now for years, invited you over to my house numerous times for girls' night, gone out dancing with you, had you out to dinner and in all that time you failed to mention to me that you were married."

I feel my stomach sink instantly. I take the time to set my glass down on the coffee table. I feel each of their eyes on me, and despite the moratorium on inter-team profiling, I know they are measuring each one of my movements and examining my every expression.

"Yeah, well, it didn't end with a happily-ever-after...obviously. It's not exactly something I am proud of, and by the end of it, I didn't even recognize myself anymore. It's not exactly a time in my life I like to remember." I confess. Perhaps it is a combination of the wine, the late hour and the incense Penelope started burning an hour ago, but I feel like I can finally speak out loud the thoughts that have been running through my mind since Daryl walked into my lecture days ago. For a moment, part of me wonders if this were really Emily's plan all along, but before I can follow that train of thought, Penelope has taken a hold of my hand and grips it tight.

I meet her sympathetic look with a weak smile and pat the top of her hand in mine. "It was a long time ago, Pen, really, a lifetime ago...I've moved on, and he's sober now - "

"He was an alcoholic?" Penelope gasps.

I hesitate before answering. "Among other things. It started with Adderall though then escalated to other drugs as well."

"Tara, I am so sorry," she breathes.

I offer another probably unconvincing smile. "Thank you, but really, it's over now."

"Was this the first time you've seen him since the divorce?" J.J. asks.

I nod. "It's been, god, fifteen years now," for some reason that surprises even me. Has it really been fifteen years?

"And he never tried to contact you after?" Emily poses.

I inhale deeply. Of course it would be Emily who asks the question that I have no way of escaping without deceiving these women who I have come to accept as family. In some way I know they deserve to know if anyone does. I swallow hard, knowing that after I say this next sentence there will never be any going back. "No, I, uh, I filed an order of protection against him before the divorce was even finalized. He didn't have a choice."

I hear each of their quiet intakes of breath then a heavy silence follows for the next few seconds. Penelope's hold on my hand tightens to the point that I am sure I have lost all circulation to that part of my body.

J.J. untucks her feet and leans forward across the couch. "Tara, I'm so sorry. We - we didn't know."

I bite my lip and meet each of their eyes. "Thank you," I sigh. "Wow, you know, I've never told anyone that except my therapist."

Garcia lifts my hand and dramatically plants a firm kiss on it, sound effects and all. "We love you, my dark and beautiful mega-crimefighter. Thank you for sharing. We are here for you always, and if you ever need a personal assassin I know a few." She glances impishly at J.J. and Emily sitting across from us on the loveseat then back at me. Her hopelessly innocent yet mischievous smile pulls a grin out of me.

"Just tell us when, Boss," J.J. returns.

"Je ne laisse aucune trace," Emily smirks. "Consider us Tara's Angels," she finishes in English.

I throw my head back in laughter. "There was a time when I would have taken you up on that offer, but really, I've worked through it all, and I am happy for him that he got his life back from his addiction."

"Well the offer stands for any future relationships as well," Emily quips. "God knows we all need the support since J.J. took the last viable donor," Emily laughs as she punches J.J. in the leg playfully.

The blonde smirks. "No argument there."

"Ugh!" Penelope groans loudly, causing us all to turn to her, "I can't wait until we all have our men and can gossip freely about them while they take care of our progeny!"

The four of us are bent over in laughter for several minutes, the wine of course contributing to the longevity of our hilarity after Penelope's dramatic woe. When we are finally in control of ourselves again, I wipe several tears from my eyes. "Okay," I breathe, "I've confessed my darkest secrets. I need some reciprocation, so I don't feel so pathetic."

"You are not pathetic," Emily returns quickly, meeting my eye with a half-amused, half-you-better-believe-my-every-word glare.

I roll my eyes. "You know what I mean. Spill, Unit Chief. Whatcha got? I need something good."

Emily's eyes widen. This is obviously not the direction she saw the conversation going. "Sorry," she smiles a moment later then winks at me, "that's classified."

J.J. scoffs, "Literally."

"Oh c'mon, Em. I've worked for you for over a year, and I barely know you at all."

"You know me," she corrects.

I raise my eyebrows at her. Emily sighs heavily and lifts her wine glass to her lips. She finishes off a significant amount of wine in only a few gulps. She stares at the empty glass in her hand for several seconds. I can see an internal battle waging in her mind. With one final sigh, she meets my gaze. "What would you like to know?"

J.J. spits out the drink she had just taken and stares incredulously at Emily. "Wait, really?"

Emily pricks her tongue to the corner of her mouth. She glances at J.J., opens her mouth then shuts it again. "Look, when I came back to the B.A.U. I promised myself I wouldn't keep any more secrets. I've tried to live up to that promise." She turns back to me. "So, Tara," her tone and expression become playfully challenging, "whatcha got?"

I'm genuinely surprised by her willingness. In the year that I've known her, she has never offered up personal information, and I never challenged it. Perhaps more than most, I understand the desire for privacy and strive to respect that desire, but, well, how can I turn down the opportunity to finally get to know the mystery that is Emily Prentiss? "Let's start with something simple. Did you organize this girls' night just to check in on me after this case?"

Her face falls into a sheepish grin. "You looked like you could use a pick-me-up."

"You didn't!" J.J. exclaims.

"Wait, it wasn't about wanting my cheese plate?" Penelope frowns. "You were just using me?"

"No, Pen, it wasn't just about the cheese plate. It was also about the wine," Emily returns pouring herself another glass out of the almost empty bottle sitting between them.

I narrow my eyes at her. "Next question: who are you always checking in with after our cases?"

"Oh, that's a good one! I've been wondering that myself." J.J. grins, raising her glass in my direction.

Emily chuckles and rolls her eyes, "I have to check in with a lot of people after our cases. That's part of the glamour of being Unit Chief."

"No, you always call someone after our cases, away from the rest of them so that we can't hear who it is. Got a boyfriend there, Chief?"

Emily's eyes widen in recognition then close. She sighs deeply and rubs her eyes with her hand. "It's not a boyfriend that I call. It's...a boy named Declan."

"Doyle? You...you call him?" J.J. says. Obviously the name means something. I run all the cases that I can remember through my head, but I come up empty. I vaguely remembering hearing the name Doyle, but I cannot place it anywhere with meaning.

Emily nods. "Yeah, I try to once a week. He's in his senior year of high school right now." A proud smile crosses her face. "While I was in London he reached out to me, asking me about colleges and if I would be a reference for his applications, and the calls just...never stopped. He really is an amazing young guy."

"He is. When Morgan and I were watching for - " Penelope stops - "well, you-know-who, he seemed like the perfect kid. I'm glad he still has his super-spy in his life."

"I think I am missing something here. Who is Declan Doyle?"

Emily bites her lip. "Yeah, you are. Declan...oh, god, where do I start?" She sighs again deeply. When Emily meets my eyes again her expression is unreadable. She shoots me a crooked smile, but unlike her smiles up to this point in the night, this one never reaches her eyes. "Would you like to be able to dispel all the ridiculous rumors about why I faked my death in 2011?"

I can feel the instant shift in J.J. and Penelope's behavior. Their bodies stiffen, and their expressions fall into hard grimaces. J.J. begins staring at the wine she is twirling slowly in her glass. Penelope sighs deeply in sudden sadness. "Not if that is a secret you don't want me to know," I say finally.

"I appreciate that, but like I said, no more secrets."

"Okay, well, when you're ready."

Emily glances at J.J. who meets her gaze. The two agents share a meaningful moment, and I am reminded of how much these two women have been through together. I am sure I only know a fraction of the stories, but what I do know only makes me admire them all the more. J.J. reaches out to take Emily's hand in hers much like Penelope had reached out for mine minutes ago. Emily seems to draw strength from J.J.'s touch. She closes her eyes for a long moment. When she reopens her eyes, she fixes them on a spot on the wall somewhere behind Penelope and I.

"Before I was in the B.A.U. I worked for the C.I.A. During my last few years in the Agency, I was assigned to an international anti-terrorist task-force made up of agents from just about every international intelligence agency. Our team was called JTF-12. We studied and infiltrated terrorist cells in order to build profiles on them. We'd hand the profiles over to whatever government wanted them and move on to the next mission."

"Wait," I gasp, "like a spy?" I can't help my reaction. Honestly I can't say I am surprised, but damn, a spy?

Emily huffs but smiles at me weakly. "Yeah, I guess." she nods. I can see the pain growing in her eyes. She swallows hard before continuing, J.J.'s hand still tight in hers. "When I was first assigned to the task-force...I was so excited," she stares down at her hands, "so damned naive. I saw it as the opportunity to finally not be 'Ambassador Prentiss' daughter' but to really make a name for myself...to be my own person and not live in my mother's shadow like I'd done my whole life."

"Em, you've never said that before," J.J. says gently.

"I mean it's kind of embarrassing right? I was in my late twenties and still trying to prove I could live without her."

"It's not embarrassing. You did live in your mother's shadows. It's understandable you would want to be recognized for your own abilities." Penelope murmurs.

Emily is silent for several seconds.

"But it wasn't about proving it to the Agency or anyone else. It was about proving it to your mother." I offer.

Emily meets my eyes and nods. "Yeah, but with each mission...it just got harder. It seemed like with each new assignment we had to get deeper in than the last one. We had to blur more lines between right and wrong in order to build our case until there wasn't much difference between us and the men we were hunting. We were selling them the very chemicals or weapons they were planning on using. We were drawing up their schematics then arresting them for possessing them...innocent people were getting hurt in the name of justice..." she shakes her head in frustration. "I may have taken the job for my own prideful reasons, but I also took it because I thought I would be fighting for the good guys. I thought it would make a difference, but after awhile, it became impossible to tell the difference between delusion and reality.

"After five years of moving from one cell to another, I told Clyde Easter, my team leader, I wanted out. I was burned out, and honestly I had no right to be in the field, but I was too damned proud to admit it." She chuckles darkly. "I think Clyde saw it too, and to this day I'm still not sure why he asked me to stay. I figured after I had nearly gotten myself killed in Prague - "

"Okay, you definitely have never mentioned that!" J.J. interjects.

"Again, not exactly a story I am proud of. It's actually a really stupid story, and one I will have to be way more drunk to share," Emily matches. I notice that she keeps massaging the right side of her chest like something is paining her there. Almost as if she could read my thoughts she brings her hand down quickly to her side again. "Speaking of being drunk," she reaches across the table to grab her glass of wine. After several prolonged droughts, she carefully sets it back down.

Returning her gaze to the spot on the wall behind me, she continues. "Clyde talked me into staying for one last job. He said it would be the team's last and then we were disbanding."

"Doyle," J.J.'s tone is heavy with anger, and something else. Fear?

Emily's body stiffens at this name, and her body language with J.J. shifts noticeably. Up until this point, it has been obvious she is drawing strength from J.J.'s presence, but now she withdraws from the other woman's touch in favor of holding her own hands together and creating some space between them. J.J. makes no protest, but as if refusing to be separately by any degree from Emily, J.J. places her hand gently on Emily's leg.

"I didn't know you requested to be taken off the team right before Doyle, Em." Penelope says.

Emily licks her lips, and I can see her begin to pick at her fingernails, "Yeah."

It's at this moment when I remember where I have heard the name Doyle before. In 2011 every government agency in the West was on the hunt for a man named Ian Doyle. I remember reading the report in an email, but never thinking much of it at the time. I can't remember any other details except that he was suspected in the murder of several overseas agents and one F.B.I - "Oh shit," I gasp. I stare at Emily as the dominos she has been laying begin to fall into their places.

Emily fixes me with her eyes. "What?"

"I remember...I remember reading an email back in 2011 about a man named Ian Doyle who killed some foreign agents and one F.B.I. agent. That was...you."

I can see the color draining from her face. "Guilty as charged," she smiles weakly.

"Ian Doyle was your last mission on JTF-12, but...how?" How did Doyle even know Emily existed? Didn't the C.I.A. cover their tracks better than that? And if they were able to develop any working profile, how in the hell had Doyle been loose enough to murder agents in multiple countries? Why did Emily have to fake her death? Did they suspect he was coming for her? Why not just protective custody?

"You remember that I said we infiltrated terrorist cells, right? Ian was provisional I.R.A. turned 'freelance.'" In my shocked state I still register her use of his given name as something wrong. Even when profiling our unsubs, we attempt to maintain as much personal distance from them as possible, including avoiding first names. "Well, when we got the recon report back on Ia - on Doyle we discovered that he had a type."

"A type?" I ask in disbelief even as my brain has already made the horrific connection.

"A...romantic type." She shakes her head as if shaking away unwanted memories. For the first time, tears begin to form in the corners of her eyes.

"Which you fit." I finish, not needing her to answer. The panicked expression that has already come over her is enough of an answer. "Emily, I'm so - "

She waves me off. "Don't, don't apologize for the decisions I made."

"Those decisions were made for you," J.J. corrects sternly, forcing Emily to meet her eyes.

Emily shrugs, "It doesn't matter much now."

"Except it does because someone above you decided that you were not a high enough cost to pay, and that is their wrong, not yours."

"You mean Clyde, of course," Emily challenges, and for the first time I hear a note of defensiveness in her voice.

"He used you."

After a pause, "I volunteered," Emily returns flatly. "It was my idea."

J.J.'s hand recoils from Emily's leg. Penelope's hand falls from mine. For several seconds, neither woman says anything. "You're lying." Penelope finally says. "You're lying to protect Clyde." I can hear tears in her voice.

Emily and J.J. still haven't broken eye contact with one another. I feel like I've intruded on the middle of a conversation between intimate friends. Emily's face shows no evidence of defensiveness. She isn't challenging J.J., she is waiting for the other woman's verdict of her. Her eyes are wide, and her lips are tight with apprehension. Their interaction only increases my confusion. Who is Ian Doyle, and how was he able to cause division between these two women who have always been inseparable?

J.J.'s face is inscrutable. Finally she says, "No more secrets."

Emily shakes her head, "None."

Almost immediately J.J. responds, "Why did you volunteer?"

Emily shifts her weight, but she never drops her eyes from J.J. "I was willing to do anything and everything at that point, and I...I didn't know who I was anymore. I wanted to escape."

"You wanted to die." J.J. finishes.

Emily closes her eyes and sighs heavily. "I wanted it to end."

"I still hate Clyde for letting you go through with your damned idea," J.J. glares.

"Yeah, I kind of still hate him too, but for a lot of reasons," Emily half-smiles, a little light returning to her eyes.

"Doyle is the one you should hate," Penelope quips. Emily's face drops instantly.

"Pen - "

"No!" Penelope interjects slamming her wine glass on the table with enough force to spill its contents.

"Penelope!" J.J. hisses, but now Emily and Penelope's eyes are locked.

"Doyle is the one who killed your team. Doyle is the one who kidnapped you. Doyle is the one who held a gun to your head and staked you through. Doyle is the one who branded that damned clover onto your chest. Doyle is the reason you had to leave us, the reason we had to live our lives without you for seven months. Doyle is the monster, not you. Never you."

Penelope's body is shaking, and I can hear the tears in her voice. My mind is slowing building a story from her words, and with each realization it becomes more impossible. I stare at Emily, hoping she will contradict what our technical analyst has said, hoping she will make some sense of what I am hearing, but her eyes show no signs of contradiction, only sorrow and even panic. She may have offered this conversation, but it is clear that she isn't ready for it.

"Emily, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to drag up - "

But she waves me off with her hand and breaks her eyes away from Penelope. "You didn't. This conversation is always...difficult."

Garcia huffs dramatically next to me. Emily purses her lips as if debating her next words. She stares down at her hands. I can just see the remnants of her wine shaking in her glass. The air is heavy is with conversations and emotions I can only imagine. "You know," Emily finally says, "when...when I was in that warehouse...all I could think about was you guys. I knew he was going to kill me..."

"Emily, that's enough. You don't have to say anything else," J.J. interjects, placing her hand on Emily's.

Emily's mouth twitches. Perhaps that's her attempt at a smile. One of her hands moves up to rub the right side of her chest again. For the first time in a while, she meets my eyes. I don't say anything. What can I say?

When she finally speaks again, her voice is the strongest it has been. "Declan is Ian's son. While we were...while I was undercover, Ian told me about him, but no one else knew who he was. After it was all over...I couldn't tell anyone about him. I knew what they would do to him, a little boy, just to get his father to talk. I faked his death and hid him with Ian's housekeeper in D.C. Declan got a new life, one away from his father, but when Ian escaped...I knew he would come looking for me. I knew he would need his revenge."

"That - that was incredibly brave, Emily," I murmur as my mind continues to try to process all this new information.

"Oh, don't encourage her!" J.J. moans, rolling her eyes but a moment later an impish grin covers her face. Emily flashes another half-grin her way as if relieved.

"How did you finally catch him?" I ask.

"It was Derek, and of course, our favorite technical analyst," Emily returns, and I can't say I am surprised by this answer. "After Ian...after the warehouse, they found Declan, and when Ian came looking for him, well, they were ready."

Penelope huffs next to me and crosses her arm. "If Derek would have just shot the son of bi - "

"Penelope!" J.J. hisses.

"What? We know it's true. It's what he deserved!"

My eyes are locked on Emily who has gone the palest I've seen her all night. Her lips are pursed tightly, and her eyes have gone glazed. I know that look, and suddenly I know that I understand this part of Emily more than even J.J.

"Sometimes it takes just as much strength to leave as it does to stay," I repeat her words back to her. "Maybe more."

She meets my eyes, but what I see are the memories waging where no one else can reach.

"He died in my arms," she whispers quietly. "He was caught in the cross-fire. He always hated irony." She chuckles with a shake of her head.

J.J. and Penelope don't say anything. "I'm so sorry, Emily." I murmur.

By the sudden tears that well in the corners of her eyes, I know this must be the first time anyone has said this to her. A silent moment of understanding passes between us, us the two women who fell in love and stayed in love with men who hurt us.

She lifts her head, for half a moment our eyes meet. In less than a beat of a heart, memories - both feared and coveted - pass between us. Perhaps not the details but the shared pain. In the next second, her eyes are again locked with J.J. "He's in the past. It's all in the past." She turns to Penelope and a smile as bright as the mid-night moon shines in her eyes. "And I have you now. All of you," adds to me.

A pregnant silence follows. Emily is now refusing to meet anyone's eyes. One hand is firmly wrapped in J.J.'s. The other she is holding close to her chest, just under her ribs. He's the one who staked you through. Penelope had said.

Finally, "So you almost died in Prague?" J.J. quips.

Emily's face lifts. A single tear falls from each eye but in the next moment, it is just as Emily said: Ian Doyle fades to the past where she left him, where he died and she lived.

"Specifically, I almost died during Fashion Week in Prague."

"WHAT?" Penelope's mouth hangs open.

"Oh yeah," Emily continues with a mischievous wink, "do you think I actually pay for my Gucci bags on a government salary?"

"Okay, now you're lying." J.J. says.

Emily shrugs. "Maybe or maybe you should start being really nice to be right before Christmas."

Before anyone can react a pink and orange blur launches the distance between the couches and lands directly on top of Emily. "You. Better. Be. Lying. Because. I. Swear. To. God. If. You. Have. A. Gucci. Insider. And. Didn't. Tell. Me. I. Am. Posting. Your. Wednesday. Addams. School. Pictures. Everywhere." With each word, Penelope lands another blow on Emily's shoulders.

The Unit Chief is pinned down, her arms locked under Penelope's legs. "Tara! J.J. Do something." She cries.

"Shall we?" J.J. smirks, motioning.

"We shall." I return. J.J. and I throw our weight onto Emily. She lets out a loud cry before falling into a breathless laughter beneath us. It isn't lost on me in those moments that after my ghosts came for me, these women, each in their own way, have pulled me back from a lingering darkness.

In the tangle, Emily's eyes meet mine again. She winks and then disappears under J.J.'s torso.

"Since it is so likely that children will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage. Otherwise, you are making their destiny not brighter but darker." C.S. Lewis