Heal Me

Sometimes, to fix the broken, you have to break the rules.

. . .

Chapter 8

George Orwell wrote; He who controls the past commands the future. He who commands the future conquers the past.

. . . .

Emily sat curled up on the couch of her apartment, numb yet shaking as though she was cold. Dave was here, in her new hometown. He was here and she had been close, oh so close to touching him, to holding him. She had wanted to run full pelt, across the street and into his arms. She wanted him to fold her into an embrace and carry her away from this, all of this. Away from the constant fear of Doyle's hunt, away from the lonely sleepless nights she spent wishing that Dave was with her. A lone tear passed over her cheek but she just let it fall with a soft ping into her stone cold cup of coffee.

She really should leave. This was exactly the situation that would call for her immediate removal from the area. Especially with a serial killer on the loose. The papers said that the Unsub was killing brunette women in their early twenties. That he stabbed them; massive overkill. One of the victims; the most recent, Jocelyn Mare, had left behind a three year old son. The pain that Emily carried within her heart intensified as she took in the photo of Mare's son. He was a pale skinned, blonde haired boy. His blue eyes had reminded her in full force of Declan and for a moment she wondered where he was. Then reality had grabbed her hair and yanked her back.

Emily wanted to pick up the phone and call Dave. Or JJ. Or Hotch. Any of them so that she could run home, be loved and not be alone ever again. Her gaze flitted over her home phone and she swallowed. Making up her mind she grabbed for the phone and held it to her chest.

This is wrong! Put the phone down Prentiss! No don't you dare dial Dave's number! Don't you dare! Why are you still dialling? Hang up now! Hang up hang up!

Emily pressed the phone to her ear, waiting as she listened to Dave's mobile ring. Part of her wanted him to answer; the other part hoped he didn't.

"Hey you've reached David Rossi. I can't come to the phone right now but leave your name and number and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. If this is my agent, please email me I'm probably on a case"

Emily pressed the end call button and pressed her lips to the handset. Good, he was safe from her for now. She sighed, the ache in her chest returning with a wallop. She dialled Hotch's number with shaking fingers and once again held the phone to her ear.

"This is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. Sorry I missed your call; leave a message at the tone please"

Emily hung up for the second time and hung her head. Hotch had gone out of his way to protect her from Rossi, when in fact it was Doyle she needed protecting from. Emily never hated him for trying to keep her from Dave. Aaron knew that Dave was a philanderer yet Emily had a hunch that this had all changed in the past six months since Doyle had disappeared. Still, she wondered if Dave knew what Aaron had done, how far he had gone to ensure that Emily was safe from what her perceived was her greatest threat. The threat of having her heart broken. She laughed dolefully. That world seemed so far away now. How could she have been so naïve as to think that Doyle would not find her?

You fucked him and left him, she thought as she dialled JJ's number, serves you bloody right.

"Jareau" a soft voice greeted down the line.

Emily's mouth fell open in shock. JJ answered!

"Hello?" JJ said.

"Jen?" Emily whispered.

JJ's tone changed immediately. "Who is this?"

Then, Emily realised what she was doing and ended the call, throwing the phone across the room. It broke as it impacted with the wall, falling in broken pieces. Tears broke through her walls and she curled up into herself, letting her sobs rack her body and she knew that there was little to no hope of her ever returning to her loving family. Even if she did return they would not be very loving then. She could just imagine how they would react. Morgan would shout, Ashleigh would cry uncontrollably, Spencer would shrink into himself and Garcia would pretend she was still dead. And that was the worst pain of all.

Knock. Knock.

She looked up and wiping her eyes quickly she padded to the door. Peering through the keyhole she saw Alice and sighed inwardly. She wasn't in the mood to deal with the louder woman but she knew that Alice knew that she was home. She had told her that she was having a night in.

"Just a sec" she called, setting to work on the dead bolt.

Pulling the door back she met eyes with Alice, then her heart almost stopped and for the first time in months she felt an itching to reach for her gun which was constantly tucked into the waistband of her jeans. Alice was shaking and holding her hands above her head, crying silently.

"Julie? What's going on?" she pleaded.

Emily stood there, stunned into a silence.

"So that's the name you took is it love? Julie? I must admit that it's not as appealing as Lauren was" Ian Doyle said, stepping out from behind Alice, gun raised at Emily's head.

. . .

Pain. God this was worse than the first time he'd found her. Her skin was on fire, had he put her in a kiln? Where was she?

Emily's eyes flew open. It was dark, too dark, her eyes couldn't penetrate. She drew in a shaky breath, smelling gas and something that resembled dried blood. Her tongue felt dried out, how long had it been if she felt this thirsty? Emily tried to move but found, much to her chagrin and panic, that she was bound tightly by electrical cord. Crude setup, even for Doyle. God damn it. What had happened?

"Co-operate and Barbie lives"

Alice! Oh God. Emily struggled again, hissing in pain as the chords cut into her wrists. Doyle was going to pay for this, like the heartless bastard he was. But – Emily froze – was he really all that heartless? She had been the one to drive a knife through his heart and had taken away his son, the only good thing that he had apart from her and well, Lauren was a fake woman. So in all honesty he had every right to be angry at her. But to take it out on Alice that was not fair and just sadistic.

"Don't struggle love. The pain gets worse if you do"

"A slip knot" Emily stated.

"Precisely"

Ian Doyle appeared before her eyes as bright lights flooded the space. Emily cried out as the harsh severity hit her corneas. He chuckled low in his throat and she squinted up at him. Age had not been kind to him over the past six months. He looked tired, drawn and the lines on his face were more pronounced. Yet his blue eyes shone like they did the first time they met back in Boston. Doyle reached forward and wound his hand into her hair, yanking her head back forcefully.

"Hello Emily" he whispered. "Or Lauren. Whichever you prefer"

"Age must have smacked you in the face with a shovel Ian – you're looking a little tired there" Emily taunted, through the pain.

Doyle's grip tightened. "Do not test me darling" he warned. "Unless you want your little blonde friend to die"

Emily's eyes, though adjusted, narrowed further. "Leave Alice out of this you sick son-of-a-bitch" she spat.

Doyle chuckled. "You don't get to make threats to me. I'm the one who has you tied up, remember"

"Yeah well I remember one time where you liked being –"

"Shut up!" Doyle's voice, harsh and loud, cut into her as hard as the slap he delivered to her.

Emily's face snapped to the side as Doyle released her hair. She sat panting, staring at cool hard concrete. She shook her hair back and stared up into the face of Doyle, whose expression seemed calm. Yet his eyes glinted and for a moment Emily couldn't quite figure out why. Then she saw the knife.

"Fucking wonderful" she murmured.

"I told you your death was going to be long and painful" he said softly.

"As I seem to recall you liked it when things took longer" Emily insinuated, staring defiantly at Doyle.

The cool blade of the knife was held at her throat. Doyle's eyes glinted with rage, haunted by memories of life long ago with Lauren Reynolds. Long, passionate nights which Emily knew he was remembering. The thought made her shudder and she desperately forced the memory of Dave back to the forefront of her mind. She knew Doyle would not kill her now; he'd only just got her. She had time to figure out a plan to escape.

"Love do not push me" Doyle whispered. "I have been festering for six months"

"You didn't even know I was alive" Emily countered swiftly.

That earned her another slap to the face, backhand this time. Blood painted her tongue and she laughed weakly, trying desperately to get Doyle so angry that he would have to walk away from her for fear of killing her too early. Doyle leaned forward and drew the knife across her shoulder. Emily clamped her teeth together, swallowing her scream. Blood trickled down her arm, cool and crimson. As Emily watched Doyle drew the knife across her other shoulder, producing a wound identical to the one he'd just made.

"Painful isn't it love?" Doyle whispered.

"Nah just imagining you being hit by a truck, and having to clean up the mess" Emily said breathlessly, trying to work through the pain.

Remember me Emily, Dave's voice echoed into her mind, remember me and the pain won't be as bad.

Doyle's knife slid into her thigh, narrowly missing an artery. "Do you really want me to keep this up?" he hissed angrily.

Emily let her head fall back as pain ripped through her. "Ian I've been through a lot in the last six months – nothing you can do will rival any pain I've felt in that time" she admitted.

She saw his grip tighten on the knife and then let out a breath as he relaxed his grip. Doyle straitened his back and took a step back from her, sheathing the knife. That glint was back again. Emily's eyebrows twisted together, knotting in confusion. He was up to something and confusion kept the pain at bay if only for a little while.

"You've changed since that time" he said softly. "Now why would that be?"

"Maybe because I've spent the last six months hiding from a sadistic, self-loving, sociopathic serial killer" Emily mused. "Or it could be that chicken I ate last night"

Doyle frowned. "Don't play games with me love"

"Don't call me love"

"I wonder" he mused and turned away from her to patrol the room. "Does your team know you're alive?"

Emily's eyes rounded. "Leave them out of this Doyle" she bit.

He chuckled darkly. "Maybe they should suffer for harbouring you for so long" he teased.

"I swear to fucking God if you hurt them Ian, I will end you!" Emily cried.

He was up in her face then, too close for Emily's liking. Slowly he reached up and grabbed her face roughly. His eyes were glinting more than ever and Emily held her breath, wondering if she had pushed him just that little bit too far. Silence echoed and if Emily strained her ears she could just hear the soft patter of rain against steel.

"It won't be me hurting them Lauren" he whispered. "It will be you"

. . .

Author Note:

I realise that this is a shorter chapter than normal but I want next chapter to be really explosive so I'm not gonna give anything away. Sorry for making you guys wait! I really hate Doyle in this chapter and I can't wait to get justice on him. I know you guys hate him too! Don't worry this story will have a happy ending, I promise.

Many thanks to all my regular reviewers! I can't believe how many people actually like this story so far. Please keep leaving reviews, it really inspires me to keep going! Special mention to Rosajean who has been a faithful reviewer! Your kind words are greatly appreciated.

Can't wait for the next chapter. Much love to you all and I hope you guys are all happy and well.

Rusty
xx