Hotch lead the way back to the BSU office in his big, black, FBI issued Suburban. He hadn't thrown on the lights and sirens, but as I watched him step up into the SUV, I saw him consider it. Reid hitched a ride with Morgan who was directly behind me in our caravan of cars. It was going on four in the morning so the streets were fairly free of traffic, which made our trip to the office quick.

We parked side by side in the underground parking garage attached to our building, rode the elevator to the entrance of the building then strode past our bullpen into the conference room in which we usually held our pre-case briefings. We gathered in around the table but nobody sat, nor did they stand as near to me as they normally would have. It was an isolating sort of feeling and the room was ripe with tension and confusion. Reid and Garcia stood close together, shuffling their feet, staring and the floor. Derek stood erect, hands in pockets. He stared straight at me, but not in a hostile way. His eyes sent a distinctive message of solidarity and sympathy, which I greatly appreciated. JJ refused to look at me, arms crossed and lips pursed.

Hotch entered, shut the door and motioned for us to have a seat. Seconds after the sound of chairs dragging on carpet and general settling in, Reid looked up, glanced back and forth between me and Hotch, who was directly to my left and still standing. Reid licked his lips nervously, fingers interlaced as his hands rested on the table. "What's the plan?"

At this, Hotch looked to me, as did the rest of the team.

"I already had some CSU buddies do an extra thorough sweep of my place the minute I found out. Nobody could find anything in her room or the rest of my apartment. Nothing on the note, either." Reid nodded, as if encouraging me to continue. "I was able to convince some cops from the 12th precinct to let me look through the footage of surveillance cameras in the area, but they were either scrubbed or the unsub had some other way of avoiding cameras. None of my alarms were triggered." I shrugged.

"Emily…" Reid's voice was soft and low, "Why didn't you tell us? In the beginning we were strangers but now we're…" His voice tapered off, strangled by the lump in his throat.

"We're family." Derek supplied quietly for Reid, who nodded mutely.

"He said no cops, no feds. I couldn't be sure he wasn't tracking my movements, recording everything I did. I just wanted her to be safe." I sighed, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

"Why tell us now?" Jennifer accused.

"I got an email. The message scared me. He's done waiting, I guess, I don't know. He just said, 'I'm done playing.' Well, so am I. This need to end. I need to get my baby back." At this point it was a struggle just to breathe, let alone hold back tears. I shook my head, took a deep breath and pinched my leg underneath the table, willing myself to suck it up and be strong. Garcia took mercy on me first.

"What's her name?" Garcia asked, her wide eyes teary too.

"Amy." I replied with a watery smile.

"That's a good name." Garcia smiled, as did Derek and Reid. They were struggling with my lying to them for so long, but they were still trying and they still wanted to help me. That was what set this team apart from any other I had worked on previously. "We're family."

Hotch, always on track, steered the conversation back into his control, back into information gathering. "Emily, I hate to ask this but...what makes you think your daughter is alive after two years?"

"I get emails with these short little videos. Proof of life videos. She'll be playing with a toy or eating or taking a nap. No one is ever in the videos with her, there are no windows that can be seen on the tapes, no audio. Nothing that would indicate where she was held." I say, preempting Hotch with the answers to the questions I know he'd ask. Turning to Garcia I say, "I've already had some contacts from Interpol try to trace the IP address, with no luck, but if you're willing to give them a shot… Well, no one knows this kind of thing like you do."

"You got that right, sugar." Penelope agreed with a toothy smile.

"Emily, had you been working on any cases when this happened? Received any threats?" Reid asked cautiously.

"No, that week was mainly for paperwork that needed to be completed on a case I had closed out. I have no idea who it could be-I mean, of course I do but…"

"But in our line of work the list of people trying to kill us is sometimes longer than the list of people not trying to. Comes with the territory." Morgan noted. I nodded in agreement.

That was the hardest part of the job. Saving people, serving justice, doing good, all of those are what make the job worth it, all were rewarding but there are two sides to every coin, as the saying goes. And, if we're completely honest, most days aren't full of heroics. Not all cases get wrapped up in pretty bows. Not all bad guys get collared and not all victims were saved. Justice doesn't always get served. Mostly, the job was exhausting. Taxing. Emotionally draining. Seeing the worst humanity has to offer is not the best way to keep the glass half full. Cynicism and rage and fear and bitterness and jadedness are the name of the game some days.

Which is not to say that I don't love my job. I do. And so do most people in our line of work. But just because we love the job doesn't make what we think or do or see easy.

Nothing we think or do or say is easy.

A/N: look at you guys, so lucky. All these updates! Don't worry, we're going to get into the thick of it soon, you'll see. The hammer will drop soon! Read and review, loves, that's how you get more. :)