A/N: heyyo! not gonna say much, but apologize for taking some extra time on these. i was definitely on track to have them posted two weeks after the last one, but life stuff has been happening HARD. anywho! please enjoy these new chaps. if you're still here following along, i love you 3333

Prentiss approached the wall device that controlled the alarm system in her home, and punched in the code… It didn't stop. The alarm continued as she tried the numeric sequence again, thinking maybe she input it incorrectly. But again, it persisted. Although she was lucky the British warning sound wasn't as ear-numbing as the States', it was still growing quite irritating to listen to. Emily huffed. Perhaps it was some kind of electrical trip outside, and the other lofts nearby were experiencing the same thing.

Thinking only of relief for her aggravated auditory sense, she cracked open her front door to peek out into the hallway. Yet, in an instant, she came to regret that very decision. A brute force ejected the door from her grip and pushed its way inside, and equal force was employed as a blunt object knocked her clean on the head. In pain, she stumbled back, but refused to completely lose her footing.

"Wha…who—" Prentiss collected the letters in her mouth.

"Don't move." The man spoke so low she almost missed it.

She remained still at the unmistakable noise of a gun suddenly cocking just inches away from her face. Emily looked down the barrel, across the hand and the arm, and squinted though the darkness to make out a face, but she struggled. An onsetting disorientation and blurriness of vision kept his identity concealed, and as thick streaks began to drip down her right temple, it seemed his plan was going accordingly. If her arms weren't outstretched to help her find her balance, Emily's hands would've flown to put pressure on the throbbing spot of her concussed head.

"Where's the boy?" The intruder asked plainly, his hostile intention not wavering.

Emily hung onto every word. She noted his tone and phrasing so as to piece together who this person was, and— besides holding her at gun point, what kind of threat he posed. Most evidently, he was asking about Teddy. So this wasn't some kind of random robbery, he was involved with the case. His tone was assertive and his silhouette seemed to show confidence, however, he was asking a question. And, why make inquires if you already know the answers? If there was air to speak, she needed to test him to see if he really knew just how close by little Teddy was.

"He's with his father…" Prentiss answered, her voice sounding like a foreign tongue to her own ears, "In the U.S."

"That's a lie, Emily." The man immediately denied her, "I know he's in the building."

For a split second, it disturbed her that he knew her name. Of course, there was public record, but somehow, he held it in his mouth like it was poison fruit and he was immune to it. This feeling of unpleasantness deep within her only intensified by his knowledge of Teddy's whereabouts. And then multiplied ten times over when she heard her name, this time coming from a distance, and from a familiar voice. Shit.

Morgan's footsteps drew closer and closer, and in a few short seconds, he was right where she absolutely didn't need him to be.

"I believe you have something of mine." The intruder spoke.

Rotating her gaze, Emily saw her partner back up in the slightest. One hand hovered at his waist, while his second palm faced out in half-surrender to de-escalate the unsub.

"SSA Derek Morgan," Morgan identified himself, "Put your weapon down."

It was now occurring to Emily that the alarm had shut off, and that it had likely been off since this man forced his way into her home. With some sudden clarity, she could now see that the alarm was the ruse. And if this person were one and the same with the unsub who killed Elana, he was intelligent enough to have concocted a couple different ruses to serve his evolving purpose: which was now to kidnap Teddy.

It was hard not to feel helpless with her head spinning and her own defense weapon locked tightly away and far out of her reach. She stood tensely between two armed men. One with the intention to kill her and the other to save her. This unsub sounded mature, and from what physical features she could make out, he looked like he was maybe in his early 30s. He was threatening, but not menacing. Then again, in the dark, it was hard to tell. All that mattered right now was who had a clear enough shot to shoot effectively.

"One step closer and I'll put a bullet in her head." The unsub warned Morgan, "I'm here for the boy."

Her mind raced. Even though she would rather Derek be with Teddy, Emily knew her odds against this attacker were better with him by her side. Two against one, but still, she didn't want to risk too much. Not yet. If at all possible, they needed to talk him down. Even more than that, they needed to get out of this alive. So she summoned all her field expertise, and the underdeveloped makings of her unsub profile and just began to talk.

"You know my name, but I don't seem to know your's." Prentiss blurted.

"Irrelevant. Bring me the boy." The man repeated his demand.

"The money you asked for in your emails is no longer equal in value to you?" Prentiss asked.

A low, frustrated grumble escaped his throat, before he spoke again, "I gave you a chance to pay, but you betrayed me."

Betray. Okay, that was something she could work with. How was he betrayed? Was it referencing something deeper than money? Was a missed payment the triggering offense? Now, that he was confirmed as the same person who'd been sending her ransom demands via email, she could connect those dots.

"How could I betray you, when we don't even know each other?" She reminded him of their disconnection, "What's your name."

"If you know them, then you know my name." The unsub claimed, his voice darkening, "You know what they did to me. And you shouldered their debt when you betrayed me again. You have to pay. This is what they owe me now."

Still profiling, Prentiss continued to break down his language and use it to her own advantage. "Them" was likely in reference to the Foster family again. However, she couldn't shake the fact that, while this unsub had the confidence, something in his speech made him sound like— a submissive partner. He was juggling, sometimes speaking almost as if he were coming into his own. "You have to pay" vs "You will pay" or simply "Pay." Although vocally intimidating, at times, he seemed to be reading from a scripted rule book.

Then she pondered the knowledge aspect. Yes, she worked for the government and had plenty of access, but when an unsub wouldn't give up information because they insisted that the negotiators already knew more than they were letting on, it often benefitted to play along. Most time's this assumption by an unsub was a byproduct of a certain paranoia and, in severe cases, could be sustained by a delusion of some kind. If he was delusional, she could use that. It would be enough to leverage and to make him waver.

"You're right. They did betray you." Emily consented to that part of his narrative, "But taking him won't fix the wrong that was done."

"It must. This family will know what they cost me." Said the unsub, "If they don't pay, their suffering will match my own."

So, it was revenge. An eye for an eye, in a sense. Like underground debt collectors, money could easily hold someone off, but the moment the bill goes unpaid— and continues to go unpaid, the debt usually gets paid back in violent ways. This unsub was here to collect the physical payment, and it would serve as the ultimate, most desired kind of payment of them all. And yet, the syntax, called for pause. His words were like something he was repeating… maybe not from a script, but from words he'd heard many times before.

Adrenaline pumping as she stood centerstage of what could soon be a deadly shoot out, Emily milked her analysis skills for all they were worth. It was past time to call him something— a title established rapport. And as new puzzle pieces were finally falling into place, she went off her hunch from a few days ago. Of course, the practiced nature of his speech and the fact the he hadn't once referred to Teddy by his name made it less of a hunch and more of a reality.

The unsub consistently called him the "the boy" not because he didn't know his name. He did it because it was very likely that the name stimulated memories. It reconnected him to who he was. Not a killer, but a boy himself. Whether he had cleverly put on a dominant persona or was unknowingly struggling with a split personality, this mysterious figure had to be Elana's long lost family member, mentally manipulated and gone horrendously rogue.

"Theodore…" Emily tried.

He inched his gun closer to her face, "Turn around slowly and bring him to me."

"Teddy, you know I can't do that." She said, this time appealing to the little boy buried deep inside of him.

"What?" The man responded more genuinely now than he had since he broke in, "That is not—"

"Okay, okay what can I call you?" She asked as her hands cautiously raised out in front of her.

He gritted his teeth and took a large step forward,"You can hand over the boy."

"Back up, man." Derek growled.

But it was Emily who moved back just a touch. As the person in the middle, her subtle readjustment seemed to draw the three of them closer to the safer arena of the low lit living room— but on top of Morgan's retort, it may also have upped the unsub's sense of urgency. This was evident in the way the man shifted his gun to Morgan, finding a bigger threat in the only other speaking individual with a gun.

Emily remained levelheaded, but as each of the small risks she took seemed to fail, she knew their chances were slimming. The only thing that kept her from losing her head, was knowing that she had one last line of defense not within this loft: her team. She expected that it was only a matter of time before they were at her door.

They had a plan in place for an occasion such as this. Overnight back up was stationed a couple blocks over, and in the event of a break-in, their plan of action dictated that the initial few minutes would be for Morgan and Prentiss to do their best to negotiate their way out of the situation. For a case as high-profile as this had become, Interpol would want an arrest over putting the unsub down.

However, in the end, the agents' safety is what counted. The team would arrive on the scene exactly when they were needed, and Emily sensed they were just passing that initial negotiator mark. The only thing left to do was stall.

"If you're going to shoot anyone, shoot me." Emily blurted, "You want Teddy, then you have to shoot me."

"Emily…" She heard Morgan's voice under his breath, behind her. Clearly he didn't approve of her decision to taunt the unsub.

"Just know that Teddy has no one, but us." Prentiss continued, "He has nightmares about losing his mom. And you know how that feels, don't you, Theodore?"

"That name doesn't belong to me." The unsub snapped.

"You know how it feels to be separated from your family, and not know how to get back to them."

"Bring me the boy." He said, his patience disintegrating.

"You know what it's like to wake up in the night crying for your parents, but all that surrounds you is darkness."

"Stop it!" He bellowed, "Hand over the boy!"

"What do you want with him, Theodore?" Emily persisted, "Will you kill him?"

"No…" The man said with a reflective pause. Strangely and suddenly, his wave of aggression calmed as a hollow, deadpan expression ushered itself in. His voice tipped lower in pitch, "I won't kill him. He will be… my legacy."

"Emily, get down!" Morgan shouted her name.

With the click of a trigger, a round went off. The unsub gripped his gun a little tighter, aimed, another click, and a second round went off. The mere sound of it, splitting her already sensitive ears. Luckily, her reflexes were enough to save her— even if it was a millimeters width away from puncturing her flesh. Hugging the floor, Prentiss made a b-line for the guest room where Teddy was staying.

The unsub made a barreling attempt to follow her directly to where the little boy was hidden, but Morgan intercepted and tackled him to the ground with the fervor of a college linebacker. Behind her, she could hear them rumble. She could also hear how their brawl became far more of a physical struggle than she imagined it would. As Derek fought to remove the weapon from the intruder's hand, another shot went off; this time shattering though a window.

Emily continued her journey up the stairs. Although she had confidence in Derek, she felt torn in two directions. There was something inevitably distressing about leaving him behind. The sound of this struggle while she remained helplessly bound to another task was a sort of haunting deja vu. Only this time, she wasn't physically chained to a wall. She could help him. And yet, the fact remained that her primary obligation was to ensure that Teddy was safe and secure.

Moving farther from the fight and pushing past the door to the guest room, Emily left off the lights and rushed to bedside. Immediately, she fell to her knees, her hands frantically moved over the terrain of covers only to find that Teddy's little body wasn't wrapped within. She inhaled, and moderated her worry, and remembered this was the child of an FBI agent; a child whom she'd originally found huddled underneath a side table in his childhood home.

So, crouching over, Prentiss lifted the bed skirt and scanned the dark space for the small silhouette of a scared little boy. She continued to hold her breath, however, when she wasn't able to locate him hiding there either. Needless to say, it was worrisome. But just when that seed of doubt began to sprout in her mind, it's roots coiling down and grabbing ahold of her fear for nutrients, a small voice whispered her name.

"Emily?" Teddy whimpered.

The brunette whipped around, her eyes focusing on the direction of the voice. In the corner, tucked just behind a dresser, Teddy stood sheepishly.

Crawling, she slowly approached, "I'm here, Teddy. I'm here." She assured him and reached for his hand.

"I— It's happening…" Teddy said as he placed his hand in her's.

Downstairs, another shot sounded off. Emily felt the boy twitch in her grasp, scared because he was facing the same threat for a second time this week. Seeing him safe was the first objective, the next was to make sure that he stayed that way while she intervened. The clock was ticking and the longer the unsub was in her house— and as long as he remained angry and delusional while firing his weapon— everyone's chances of survival were narrowing.

Her heart rate picked up in pace as an umpteenth shot went off. Only this time, the sound of the rumble and tussle downstairs had come to a complete stop. Had Derek shot the unsub or was it the other way around? In the sudden silence that followed, there was no way of knowing. But in order to truly investigate any further, she needed more authority than her dwindling physical capabilities could offer. She needed to procure her own weapon.

"Hey, hey, listen," Prentiss whispered adamantly to Teddy, "I'm so glad you're okay, and I hate to leave you right now, but I need you to stay right here for me, okay?"

Emily kept her voice as even as possible so as not to worry the little boy any further. He nodded, and she squeezed his hand, then worked herself back to her feet. With pumping adrenaline and grounded steps, she headed straight for the doorway. But just as she was about to cross the threshold, she found herself face to face with the unsub's stout, brawny figure.

She stood still as if all the blood in her veins had turned to ice, and the man expelled heavy breaths from his nostrils like the combination of climbing the flight of stairs and going toe-to-toe with Morgan had worked every last drop of his energy.

Well… not every last drop.

Without hesitation, the man's arms jutted out so as to manhandle her. And while Emily easily could've shut her eyes tight to endure another knock on the head, giving up without a fight wasn't in her blood. In a dizzy rush, her combat training instinctively kicked in. She blocked his brute force and dealt a strike of her own, just enough to catch him off guard. Just enough to send him stumbling a foot back, where he was more in the hallway than in the room.

Then, in a fraction of a second, before he even had a chance to retaliate, the sound of a gunshot pierced the atmosphere. Never blinking, Emily watched, almost in disbelief, as the color red began to spill from his neck, and as his body dropped to the floor. She crept forward if only to stand over him; at first, like a medical observer, clinical and cold (at the rate his wound was leaking, he only had second's left.) Then slowly, she knelt to his level to peer into his eyes.

His dilated pupils locked with hers. Even though he was just moments ago attempting to kill her and to kidnap the most innocent little boy, she saw something in his dark brown orbs. He looked relieved. His last breaths were escaping his lungs, yet he looked relieved and a bit sorrowful, but also victorious and grateful. Without being able to say anything, the man looked like he'd recovered his soul, and now his soul was finally being set free.

"Prentiss!" Emily heard a female voice heading towards her.

Sluggishly, but surely guiding her attention to the sound of footsteps, she spotted Lelant landing at the top of the stairs. The agent quickly made her way over to Emily's side and began to assess the scene. She holstered her gun, and took the unsub's pulse. He was dead, and as the curly haired woman was the first agent from her team that Prentiss was encountering in the moment, it wasn't hard to deduce that it was her bullet that killed the intruder and saved her life.

"You're injured." Lelant noted, then offered her palms to help Emily off the ground, "We need to get you some medical attention, honey." The agent ogled her head wound, "And maybe a plastic surgeon, that is not going to look hot."

Emily groaned, the woman's joke only sinking in a couple of seconds after she said it, "Don't worry, it'll go nice with my countless other battle scars."

Lelant smirked, "Where's Teddy?"

"He's in this room," Emily gestured to the guest bedroom behind her, "Hidden behind the dresser."

"Okay, I'll get him— Can you walk?"

Lelant barely had a moment to finish asking the question before Emily had practically catapulted herself over the dead body in her hallway, and made headway towards the living room. Yes, her brain was operating at much slow speeds, and her response time was tragically impaired, but even in her impending state of scrambled mindedness, the only thing she could think of was Morgan. Where was he? Did he make it out? Did her team arrive only in time to save her?

From a short distance, the scene on the first level of her home was no prettier than the scene she'd just abandoned. The main window in her living room was shattered, glass covered the floor and every piece of furniture that could be shifted, was completed displaced from where it was at the beginning of this evening. Among the mess, a couple paramedics rushed in with a stretcher, and another turned the corner into the demolished living space.

"Chief!" Emily heard another one of her titles coming from down the hall, but without ever taking her eyes off the scene unfolding in her living room, she knew the person calling her name wasn't from the voice she needed to hear the most.

Padded in kevlar, Hughes did as Lelant before him did. He stopped her in her tracks, and forced her to look at him as he inspected her wounds. He shook his head, and very much attempted to throw her arm around his neck so that he could help her walk out to the ambulance and receive that aforementioned medical attention. But Emily couldn't have cared less.

Breaking away from Hughes and rounding the lopsided couch, Emily staggered into the center of her home. Almost instantly, she released her long stifled exhale. There, urgently being tended to by a paramedic, was Derek. His face was scrunched in pain, and he was testily responding to the paramedic's numerous questions while they patched up what looked to be a bullet grazing on his shoulder. Back propped against the base of the couch and a lovely purple-black eye, he was alive.

The brunette plumped down beside him, and burrowed herself snuggly against his uninjured arm. Just as her fingers found their way to interlocking with his, her mouth found a way to softly kiss him on the lips. In the aftermath of this break in and their brief separation, her craving for physical contact as a form of safety and reassurance was immeasurable.

"Nice concussion." Morgan remarked, taking a pointed glance at the laceration on her head.

Prentiss managed a giggle, "Nice bruises."

He cracked a smile,"I'm glad you're okay…"

"I'm glad you're okay." She emphasized, "And I'm sorry. You were right to be cautious. This whole thing— I put us in harm's way, and I don't know what else to say, but to apologize, and—"

"Hey, hey, Emily," Morgan contested, gripping her hand a bit tighter as he pulled it up, close to his heart, "Teddy's okay?"

She nodded, "Yea…"

"Okay, then. This isn't on you." He assured her, "You're a team leader. You did what you thought was right… and that's all you can do."

It softened her deeply to hear him use her own words to stop the escalation of regret amounting inside her mind. Outside of her own rationale— outside of her own capabilities and expertise, she was so apologetic because, admittedly, she was worried and terrified. Even if she knew there was plan in place, the amount of risks taken in this situation could've sent them all hurdling towards a much more undesirable ending.

It made her ill just thinking about what may have happened if the unsub had succeeded— directly under her watch, no less. But she needed to find solace in the fact that the risks, in the moment, were worth it. To hell with the "could've" and the "would've". She was glad to have spent the evening baking cookies with Teddy, to have shared a nightcap with Derek, and in the end, she was content that her home played an integral role in bringing down an unsub and protecting the life of a child.

Unable to suppress the impulse, Emily placed a gentle kiss on the bruised spot of Derek's eye. He winced, then, she placed and even gentler kiss across his lips.

"Thank you…"

"Always."