The show had been exceptional. Emmy had performed for an hour, playing her favorites. Spencer had found himself being swept away by her as she crooned. He could tell she really related to the songs she sang. Not only was she a gifted singer, but she was a good piano and guitar player as well, further impressing the young genius. The notes she played seemed to take him to another place, a place where it was just her and him, with no threat of dangerous unsubs or of a mundane life. It was a place where they were happy just being with one another. She had received a standing ovation and people had called for an encore, which she politely declined. She had, however, met Spencer's eye on more than one occasion, hoping that he realized the words she sang were meant for him.

Garcia had sat back and enjoyed the show, but Morgan had been observing the crowd from where he sat. No one in particular jumped out at him, but the three leads the team had kept flashing through his mind. He knew Reid was fond of this girl, and the last thing he wanted was for his best friend to be hurt because of some psycho. As Emmy stepped out of view of the audience he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable not being able to see her. He tapped Garcia on the shoulder and simply stated, "Let's go." Reid understood exactly what Morgan was feeling and was more than happy to follow his partner to the backstage dressing room where Emmy would be waiting. The problem was that she wasn't waiting backstage.

Instinctively both Morgan and Reid looked towards each other, a cautious hand on their guns, while Penelope began rambling off places where she could be. "She could have gone to the restroom, or back to the stage…oh, she's at the front of the house! I remember reading in the program that there was going to be a meet-and-greet after the show…" Reid's eyes grew wide. It would be the perfect location for someone to take her away from, simply leading her off to talk in a less-crowded area and then drugging her…

"Pretty Boy, let's go!" Morgan's urgent voice drew him back to reality, and he all but sprinted to where the hundreds of audience members stood trying to interact with the star of the evening. His eyes quickly scanned the room, trying to find her, and he let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding when he saw her, about twenty feet away, talking to an elderly couple. He made his way toward her, not caring how rude he seemed, and he caught the tail end of her conversation with the elderly gentleman standing in front of her.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Donelly. I really appreciate all you do for the arts here at NYU. Lord knows it got me through college." The older man squeezed her hand and then gave her a peck on the cheek. "You're going to go far, my dear," his wife beamed, and Emmy thanked her graciously.

"Well, I suppose Joseph Donelly is out of the question. The man is older than dirt," Morgan muttered just loud enough for Reid to hear. The younger man couldn't help but chuckle at that remark, and he felt better knowing that they had narrowed down the leads to two. Penelope had shuffled toward the object of her young genius's affection, and she swiftly embraced Emmy in a hug. "Oh you were so amazing!"

"Thank you so much! What was your favorite part?"

"That's gotta be either when you belted out 'Bring on the Men' or when you sang 'I'll Be Here'…I had tears in my eyes on that one. Oh, who am I kidding? I loved every bit of it. Seriously, there was not one single song that you did not sing perfectly."

"I'll say," a tall man in his forties appeared from behind Emmy, extending her a bottle of water. "Here you go, Ms. James." She took the water and quickly took a sip, nodding her thanks. As she swallowed, she voiced, "Thank you, Bill. Needed that." The man simply nodded and walked off, glancing back over his shoulder at the young girl as he did. Garcia couldn't help but feel like the man looked at Emmy like she was a piece of meat. Not wanting to be nosy, though, she continued on. "Maybe when you land on Broadway I can finally convince Morgan to take me to a show."

"If I make it on Broadway, you mean." Emmy smiled, and Garcia laughed. Then, out of nowhere, "Penelope, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure thing, honey buns."

"I know that this might sound crazy, since we only met, like, a day ago, but…"

"Yes. The answer is yes." Emmy looked at the woman quizzically; she hadn't even finished her sentence. "Darling, he couldn't take his eyes off of you. Trust me, I've known my Junior G-Man for a while now, and he has never talked about a woman the way he talked about you."

The blush crept into Emmy's cheeks as what Garcia was telling her registered – he felt the same way about her as she felt towards him. "So you don't think I'm being stupid or girly or childish?"

"It is never stupid to love someone. And you'd be hard pressed to find someone as good as Spencer Reid."

"I'm starting to realize that, I think…thanks, Penelope." She then composed herself as Spencer and Derek walked up. "You were amazing, Emmy," Derek complimented, and she answered with a polite thank you. She took another drink of water, this one more generous than the last, and she realized then how thirsty she had been. After downing three-fourths of the bottle, she addressed Spencer. "So did you have a good time?"

"Yeah! You were amazing. I've never heard anyone like you…the way you play guitar and piano is astonishing. You have a gift, for real." His voice trailed off. He sounded lame in his ears, but to her he was saying everything she had ever desired to hear from a man. Before she could come up with a reply that wouldn't' reveal just how lovesick she was over him, Jamison and Mary Grace stepped forward. Mary Grace couldn't contain her excitement at how beautifully Emmy had sung, and Jamison gave her a peck on the cheek before telling her how proud he was of his best friend. He then turned to the trio of FBI agents and introduced himself. Emmy jumped in, introducing the three of them, and she saw the spark in Jamison's eye as she introduced Spencer. It was as if her best friend could read that this man was important to her, and he glanced at her as if indicating, "You and I will be talking later tonight via text."

"Well, it was nice to meet you all," Jamison stated, "but Mary Grace and I are about to go and grab dinner with her parents." Then, to Emmy, he added, "I'll talk to you soon."

"Sure thing, friend." He waved and then took Mary Grace's hand as they departed.

"Young love," Garcia quipped, and Morgan leaned in for a kiss, which she returned. Spencer looked over at Emmy, who had all of a sudden turned a little pale. "Are you okay?" He asked, concern creeping in. She smiled up at him, though not as brightly as earlier, and quietly stated, "Yeah, just a little tired all of a sudden."

"We don't have to go out for sushi. If you are too tired we can reschedule." The disappointment was evident in his voice, though he tried to hide it. She shook her head. "No, I definitely want to spend time with you…but maybe we could go back to my place and order take-out?" He smiled, glad that she wanted to spend time with him. Of course he knew Morgan would have a field day with the fact that she had invited him back to her place, but he didn't care. "That sounds good to me." Out of politeness, Emmy turned to Morgan and Garcia and asked, "Would you two like to join us?"

They glanced at each other and towards Reid before Garcia answered, "Not tonight. I think my man owes me some one-on-one time, if you know what I mean." The smirk on her face indicated exactly what she meant, and Reid felt the blush creeping into his face. Morgan only smiled and gave a small growl to his woman. Emmy couldn't help but laugh at the two of them before turning to Reid and saying, "I just need to grab my things. Meet me out back?"

It made him uncomfortable to leave her alone, but he also didn't want to seem like he was being pushy, so he nodded and watched her as she made her way backstage once again. "My man, my man!" Morgan exclaimed. "She wants you to go back to her place, eh?"

"Morgan, it means nothing. We are just going to talk and eat…nothing more."

"That's what you think now. Man, the girl likes you. Enjoy it."

"There's no way that she's interested in me, guys…"

"I have it on good authority that she is, my Junior G-Man," Garcia chimed with a smirk in her voice. The look on Reid's face was priceless, and Morgan clapped him on the back. "Do your thing, Pretty Boy." He then draped his arm on Garcia's shoulders and they left Reid standing alone in the theatre.

As Emmy made her way back to the dressing room she shook her head to try and ward of the headache and dizziness that had begun to assault her. I hope to God I'm not coming down with the flu, she thought to herself. She had taken a trip to the stage to retrieve her guitar and now entered the dressing room, storing the instrument in its case. She put her purse around her neck and picked up her guitar case before reaching for the bouquet of roses Spencer had brought for her. Another wave of dizziness hit her, and just as she thought the flowers would go crashing to the ground a set of hands reached out to grab them. She looked up to see Bill standing in front of her, concern in his eyes.

"Are you okay, Emmy?" She nodded lightly, and then vocalized, "Yeah, I'm just a little tired is all."

"Here, let me help you carry your stuff outside." He took the flowers and guitar from her hands, and she quietly issued thanks to him. She had never felt very comfortable around the man, but had had dealings with him as he was one of the voice professors. She was kind to him out of respect, something her parents had imparted on her from a young age. Even as he walked beside her now she felt a tension that she could not explain, so she passed it off to being tired.

"You really were astounding tonight."

"Thank you, Bill. I appreciate that."

"One day, some man is going to be lucky enough to have you for himself…" She glanced at the professor out of the corner of her eye. Before she could question what he meant, he continued. "God knows I'd consider myself the luckiest man in the world if I could come home to your pretty little self every night."

"Um, Mr. Shipley, I don't think this conversation is very appropriate…"

"I don't think you understand just how much I've done for you. I think the least you could do would be to entertain me sometime at my place."

"I'd appreciate it if you would stop. I can see myself out, thank you." She reached for the guitar case, but he pulled it away from her. She stumbled forward, the dizziness getting the best of her, and he pushed himself up against her as she hit the wall. He violently turned her to face him and pushed his lips against hers, She fought back as hard as she could, finally kneeing him in the crotch. He hissed in pain as she slid away from him. The bouquet had been dropped in the madness, landing near her feet. She grabbed them up along with her guitar case as Bill muttered "you bitch" and lunged for her. This time she was quicker though and it was he that landed on the floor.

"Don't you ever come near me again," she spat, all respect lost.

"I'd watch that pretty little back of yours," he countered. "There have been reports of some, shall we say, unfortunate incidents with our art students. We wouldn't want to lose another one, now would we?" His words caused her to stop dead in her tracks and her blood to run cold. As she turned to face him, he added, "And we wouldn't want your little FBI friends to get involved, now would we?"

"You son of a bitch," she whispered, the terror evident in her voice.

"Let's just keep this little encounter between us, shall we, my dear? We wouldn't want anyone to get hurt." She shot him a final look before rounding on her heel and making her way to the door. The fresh air hitting her face didn't help the feeling that she was suffocating, and she knew she needed to calm down before she encountered Spencer so as not to alarm him or alert him to the situation.

As promised he was waiting for her outside, and his smile helped calm her down a little bit as she approached. "You ready?" He asked.

"Yeah." A chill ran through her as she couldn't shake the feeling that Bill was watching them, and it didn't go unnoticed by Spencer, who shrugged out of his overcoat and offered it to her. She thanked him and slid it on, instantly feeling warmer. He then picked up her guitar and they began the walk home. As they continued Emmy felt dizzier and dizzier, causing her to remain quiet. Spencer kept stealing glances toward her, his profiling skills kicking in. She was uncomfortable, and he couldn't help but feel it was something he had done.

"You're quiet," he stated, hoping it wouldn't upset her. She smiled up at him and replied, "I'm just not feeling too well."

"Do we need to go to a doctor or something?"

"I don't think that's necessary…but thanks," she laughed a little at the end, thinking it was charming how concerned he was. She wanted to blurt out right then and there what had happened, but before she could say something he began, "I know that there is something else bothering you, and I can't help but think I did something wrong…"

"No! Oh my gosh, no! You have done everything right. Spencer, tonight has been amazing because you were a part of it." She was blushing and she could tell he was too.

"But if that's the case, then what is really wrong?" When she seemed hesitant to answer, he stated, "I'm not a profiler for no reason, you know." He expected her to at least half-heartedly laugh at the last part, but instead she looked up with terror in her eyes. They were two blocks away from her apartment, and she wondered if she should wait to get inside to tell him. Deciding it would be safer, she whispered, "When we get to the apartment I'll tell you everything. Please just trust me."

He understood immediately what she was implying – that she felt like she was being watched, that being on the streets was unsafe now. He protectively took her hand, interlacing her fingers in his, and quickened his gait. She was thankful that he had seemed to understand and sighed in relief as they neared the apartment. She entered the code to access the building and the lack clicked open for the two. He allowed her to enter before him and followed her up the stairs. She quickly unlocked her door and they entered in silence. Her dizziness had only increased as they had practically sprinted to her place, and now she was paying for it. Every heartbeat resounded in her ears, but she needed to tell Spencer what had happened.

"When I went to gather my things, I was confronted by one of my voice professors," she started, but was interrupted. "What is his name?"

"Bill Shipley." She saw the flash of recognition cross Spencer's face and she continued. "He basically told me that after all he had done for me and my career that the least I could do would be to offer a good night in bed. I told him that I felt uncomfortable talking about that with him and that he needed to leave, and when I reached for my guitar I guess I stumbled and he pushed me against the wall and kissed me." The anger was building inside Spencer. He already felt like he had failed this woman who he had sworn to protect.

"I kneed him in the crotch and he threatened that if I told anyone about what had happened that people would get hurt…" Her voice died, tears welling up in her eyes. Spencer walked toward her and pulled her into an embrace. Sobs racked her body as she whispered, "I'm so scared…"

"He's not going to get to you now…" He kept one arm around her while he fished out his phone from his pocket. Pressing "1" on speed dial, he urged Hotch to pick up.

"Hotchner."

"We have an issue. I know who our unsub is…"

"Is Emmy okay?"

"She's fine, but he confronted her after the show and threatened her…"

"Who is he?"

"Bill Shipley. Voice professor at NYU."

"Okay, Reid. Stay with Emmy. Keep her in your sight. Rossi and I are gonna track him down now."

"Alright. Keep me updated."

"You got it." He slid the phone back in his pocket and Emmy pulled away. Her eyeliner had smudged underneath her eyes, and he sadly smiled as he used his thumb to wipe it way. "Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For staying with me. For just being here…" She took his hand and led her to her bedroom. The first things he noticed were the books scattered around the room. She seemed to have a library stored in her bedroom. I knew I liked her for a reason, he mused. The second thing he noticed was the keyboard. There was sheet music scattered, and he picked up the first one he saw. He smiled as he recognized the tune from one of his favorite movies, Once. Sitting on the chair in front of the instrument, he began to play "Falling Slowly" gracefully. Emmy took the guitar out of its case as she sat on her bed, playing along. Just when she thought that they would be playing it only Spencer's voice resonated through the air, piercing her and causing chill bumps to appear on her arms. His voice was angelic, like nothing she had ever heard before, and when she added her voice to create a harmony they both felt the undeniable connection that only music can provide. She felt herself falling more and more in love with him as the song continued on, Penelope's words of affirmation swirling through her mind. As he finished the last few chords she got up and made her way to him. He looked up at her and smiled a goofy grin that only he could pull off.

"I didn't know you could play…"

"Well, it never really came up," he replied. He stood to be even with her, and it was in that moment that he knew he wanted her, more than he had wanted anything in his life. He leaned down and she closed her eyes, knowing what would happen next. When their lips met, she could have sworn she saw fireworks going off in her brain. It was unlike anything either of them had experienced, starting off slow and simple and then building into a flurry of tongue and passion. He felt drunk in her presence and she in his, and as they made their way to her bed she couldn't help but feel that whatever he wanted she would give to him. He was holding her tightly, like if he let go she would vanish, and she was running her fingers through his chestnut locks, willing him to stay with her forever.

They came up panting for breath moments later, staring into each other's eyes as if they could read the others' soul that way. He brushed a piece of her hair out of her face and she held his hand there for a moment before pulling away, smiling. "I'll be right back," she informed him. She made her way to the bathroom, grabbing a change of clothes from her closet as she went. She washed her face of the makeup that was now smudged and combed her hair, using her brush to remove some of the hairspray that would be washed out the next morning. She then removed her dress and slipped into a pair of oversized NYU sweatpants and a baggy show choir t-shirt from high school. Her hair was then thrown into a messy bun on top of her head, completing the ready for bed look. Hopefully she wouldn't scare him too badly. Her thoughts were interrupted by yet another round of dizziness, this time accompanied with nausea. She willed herself not to throw up and promised that she would go to the doctor the next day after her voice lesson.

Whatever form of reaction she thought she would get out of Spencer was definitely not what she got. His breath caught in his chest and he could only whisper, "God, you're beautiful." She laughed and replied, "You're crazy."

"Seriously, you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he stated as he made his way over to where she stood. He bent down to kiss her forehead, and as he did she began to sway. He quickly took hold of her and questioned, "What's wrong?"

"Dizzy…" she whispered, then jokingly added, "You're intoxicating, Dr. Reid." He would have thought it funny if she hadn't begun to fall forward into him. "Emmy? Come on, let's get you into bed." He was concerned, to say the least, but he held out hope that it was nothing serious. She allowed him to guide her to the bed where he tucked her in and kissed her on the forehead. He turned to walk away but before he could go far she grabbed for his hand and whispered, "Please stay with me…"

He turned back toward her and saw how frightened she looked. He nodded and said, "Okay." She was having a hard time keeping her eyes open, sleep threatening to take hold of her, but before she let them close for good he heard her say, "Sweatpants third drawer in closet, t-shirts first drawer…" He smiled a little and followed her instructions to find his sleepwear for the evening. When he had changed he placed his gun on the stand beside them and slid onto the bed beside her, staying on top of the covers. Her breathing had slowed and evened out, a telltale sign that she had drifted into unconsciousness, but as he put his arm protectively over her and held her hand she slid a little closer to him.

"Goodnight, my songbird," he whispered, closing his eyes and indulging in her sleeping presence next to him.