The panic room door opened with a soft, hydraulic hiss, putting Rossi and Morgan nose to nose.

Disheveled, worn, clearly running on adrenaline and not much else, Derek tottered to one side, allowing his rescuers access. Seeing Hotch lying so very still, his head cradled in Prentiss's arms made Rossi's heart squeeze. It nearly stuttered to a stop when she raised her face to him, eyes exhausted and mournful, and rasped, "He gave up. Hotch gave up."

"Here. Let me." Dave knelt beside Emily, easing Aaron out of her hold; transferring the unresisting shoulders to his own lap. Hands trembling, his fingers danced across the man's neck, seeking a pulse…finding it. But so faint, so fragile. Still…it was something.

And the sirens had stopped. The ambulance must be here. Thank God.

"He didn't give up, Emily. He just gave in." He settled himself to stay with his friend. "Go take care of yourself. You, too, Morgan. Reid…" Rossi glanced up at the only other able-bodied member of the team. "…Go make sure the EMTs get in. I don't think our friend, the doorman, works well under pressure."

"Got it." Reid had been scanning the room. He hesitated before leaving. "Rossi?" The older man looked up once more. "There's a camera in here, too." Spencer raised his chin, indicating the lintel over the door.

Dave shook his head, returning his attention to the unconscious man in his grasp. "I don't really give a rat's ass if that bitch is watching or not."

"Right." Reid took off, loping back toward the elevator.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The penthouse boasted three full bathrooms, but Prentiss and Morgan were way past the point of modesty and, now that relief was in reach, didn't want to travel even a few yards more than necessary. They availed themselves of the closest source of running water and toilet facilities.

Bladders emptied, thirst slaked, they finally looked at each other. Weary eyes locked as they let themselves believe in their own survival.

There was still so much unfinished business. Too many unanswered questions.

Prentiss sat on the edge of the tub that seemed to be a descendant of an Olympic-sized swimming pool. Morgan leaned his length against the wall facing her.

"I'm gonna find her. I am. And if Hotch doesn't make it, I'm gonna kill her. Even if he's okay, might do it anyway. For the fun of it."

"Don't say that, Emily." Derek sighed, slumping. "She's not worth going to prison."

Prentiss shook her head. "I'll be the judge of that."

Both agents' heads swiveled as a contingent of EMTs, gear in tow, stampeded past with Reid in the lead.

Morgan slid down the wall, too tired to move to a seat more comfortable than the floor. "D'you think she was lying about Hotch? About him being able to hear us? To know what was goin' on around him?"

"I don't know." Prentiss closed her eyes. Bracing her elbows on her knees, she leaned over, letting her head hang. "I don't know. We'll have to ask him. If we can."

The sound of purposeful activity and low, urgent voices discussing vital signs filtered through from the panic room.

"Yeah. If we can."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

To satisfy Bureau regulations, Morgan and Prentiss were required to submit to medical evaluation despite their repeated assurances that there was nothing wrong with them that couldn't be remedied by a little rest and food.

They were anxious to continue the hunt for Megan. At least, now they could lay a name to the unsub, giving Garcia valuable information that might unearth any alternative hiding places now that the penthouse was cordoned off. CSI personnel were scouring it for evidence that would either aid in finding the culprit, or that would be held in abeyance pending her prosecution.

Jeff-the-doorman did a quick fade to obscurity. No one thought he was smart enough to be a true accomplice, but Rossi was still toying with the idea of throwing a scare into the man by having him dragged down to PD headquarters and interrogated.

For the moment, though, the senior agent had other things on his mind.

All the new information swirled around and away from Rossi. His primary concern was Hotch.

He let the others continue on as they wished while he sat in the Unit Chief's hospital room, staring at the pale, quiet face he wished would show some signs of animation. Whatever drugs the unsub had administered to him were already metabolized. All the doctors could tell Dave was that the primary motor cortex, the section of Hotch's brain responsible for motor control had been affected. They held out hope that any side effects would dissipate in time, but all they could do for now was replace lost fluids and wait for the patient to regain consciousness before any real assessment could be made.

So, with the spectre of brain damage for company, Rossi wanted a few hours to keep a lonely vigil at his friend's side before rejoining the hunt for Megan Kane.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Two hours after she'd placed a call to the Dallas PD and sent an ambulance to her former penthouse address on a disposable cell she'd crushed afterwards beneath the delicate heel of her Louboutin sandals, Megan roused herself from the doze into which alcohol had sent her.

She rubbed the grit from her eyes, glanced at her diamond-crusted watch and decided it was time to rise and shine. Even if it was late in the evening.

Megan thought of herself as a dark star. Or maybe a black hole. She'd always preferred irresistible power to ostentatious glitter. Let the others twinkle and shine. She would envelop and absorb and erase if she could get close enough.

Leaving corpses was much more memorable than leaving satisfied customers. But Megan didn't kill all her clients. Only those who deserved it.

She believed her motives were evolving to a higher plateau. If some of her men deserved death, she herself deserved a little pleasure along the way to balance the scales. She'd earned it. As surely as she'd earned her homes and jewels and clothes and anonymity, Megan felt she merited some pure, blissful pleasure.

A short time later, fresh from the shower, she toweled her luxuriant, blonde mane and felt a kittenish smile coming on. She'd chosen the ambulance service with care and forethought. She knew the hospital the company favored. It would be easy to verify that Aaron had been admitted.

She padded to her closet and threw the doors wide, surveying the contents. Megan's eyes narrowed. She would have to be careful. But not as much as one might think. She knew men. They noticed silhouettes first. Which meant they could be fooled as simply as padding one's body.

But the woman…Emily…she wouldn't be so easily misled.

Tilting her head to the side, Megan sighed. She selected jeans and a silk blouse.

She had some shopping to do before she looked in on Aaron.

But look in she would.