Author's Note:

Okay, I'm really sorry for the unintended suspense. I've just been really busy lately, but I fully intend to add a bit today since I can.

Also, to quell fears people have been having (only one reader's voiced them, but I'm pretty sure others have them, too), Amy is not pregnant. No, that would be way out of my comfort zone, thank you very much. No, it is only stress with a cold.

I apologize ahead of time for the sudden and extreme leap in time.

Monday, February 6th, 2012 6:10 PM
BAU Headquarters, Quantico, VA

Reid slowly sipped the remnants of his coffee, hoping to stay later than usual. So far he had found nothing. The message on his computer screen had vanished once Garcia had seen it and taken a screen shot, nor had any more shown up. Stan's website yielded no additional information, as there had not been an audio file uploaded since the Latin message.

Emily walked by his desk, then noticed he was still there. "You still here? You're normally out of here by five thirty on the dot!"

Reid sighed. "Yeah, I'm still here. I have nothing else on my mind at the moment."

"Ah." She set her empty coffee cup on his desk, then dragged over a chair. "Amy on the mind?"

Reid nodded.

"Listen Reid. You have to get over it. So far nothing's happened, so we can't do anything about it. Hotch's right. We did our job," she said.

Reid looked her in the eyes. "Amy took a bold move and tried to contact me, knowing I'd be doing everything within my power to help her get out of there." He turned to his computer and pulled up the webpage. "See? There's all of this, and more. But here's the one that was meant for me." He scrolled down to where the Latin audio file was the day he'd first seen it. However, it wasn't there.

Emily didn't see it, either. "Where is it?"

"It isn't here anymore. Stan must have deleted it," Reid said with fake firmness, but he barely hid his worry for Amy's safety. "But he sent me a message somehow, one that would have taken years to learn how to do." He minimized the window and opened the screenshot file. The message was still written the way it had been.

Emily's hand flew to her mouth. "It can't be. Has Hotch seen this?"

Reid shook his head. "No. He wouldn't believe me. He doesn't seem to trust me anymore."

"You too?" Emily asked. "He's been acting the same way towards Morgan, Garcia, and I! Rossi seems to be the only person he trusts now."

Reid thought about that with deep consideration. "Is he still here?"

Emily stood. "Yeah, he's up in his office right now, talking to JJ about something. Why?"

Reid grabbed a small manilla file and printed a copy of the screenshot. "I'm going to go ask him something."

Emily watched as he walked away, then said, "I'm going to get myself more coffee, like I had planned to do before we started talking."

"You go do that!" Reid said, then knocked on Hotch's door.

"Come in, Reid," said the older agent.

"Hotch, what's going on?" he asked. "I'm starting to get concerned. Now you don't trust anyone besides Rossi and JJ. Why is that?"

Hotch looked at Reid in anger, then sighed. "Close the door."

Reid obeyed.

"Reid, Amy's my daughter. Rossi and JJ are the only ones that know besides you now." Hotch's voice rang with truth.

Reid's eyes widened. "It can't be true."

"I've been telling myself the same thing, but that doesn't change the facts. I've been trying to convince myself I'm not, but it hasn't been working."

"Then why did you let Stan become her guardian?"

"It was only right for her to be with someone she knew."

Reid shook his head. "No, it was so you could feel like you weren't her father. How do you even know she's your daughter?"

Hotch pulled open one of his desk drawers, and pulled out a small, locked box. He unlocked it with a key he found from his key ring, and pulled out letters and portrait-style photos, most likely from school pictures. Each image showed a smiling young girl who closely resembled Amy at various stages of life. Reid examined each image, but each one definitely was not Amy.

Reid shook his head. "These aren't of Amy."

Hotch looked up at him. "Then can you explain the rest of my memories?"

Reid nodded. "Yes, actually, I can. It would help if you knew that Domonick and Amy were adopted."

It was Hotch's turn to be shocked. "What?"

"I had Garcia look up and find out everything she could that might be useful, and it turns out Amy and Domonick Nickhoales started out life as Amy and Domonick Fernand. Their birth parents, Freidrich and Jessica Fernand, were both killed in a massive drunk driving accident on their way home from a dinner with friends when Domonick was twelve and Amy only nine months old. By the time she turned one, the woman she would forever call "Mom" came into the adoption agency and decided to adopt the siblings. It would make sense for you to not know that the child you were the father of that just so happened to share the same parent as Amy and Domonick ended up dying of lukemia when in sixth grade. No, Hotch, the child you fathered was not Amy Nickhoales, but Amanda Nickhoales, with the nickname of Amie by friends. Her mother spelled the nickname wrong."

Hotch sank into his chair. "And all this time I've felt terrible about something I did right?"

Reid shook his head. "No, you had the right notion to feel terrible about allowing Stan Fields to become her guardian. With this note, it would be a miracle if she were still alive." With that, he placed the file and the screenshot on Hotch's desk and walked out of his office, planning on going home.

Monday, February 6th, 2012
Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalacians, United States

Journal,

I think it might be safe to say that after my headaches have gone extreme, the "love sessions" are few and far between, but kissing me full on the mouth has become a bit more common than before.

With this in mind, dancing has become easier, and Stan doesn't play the music too loud anymore, but always makes sure I'm healthy. My dinners have gone from one course to three: salad, main meal, and then dessert. Dessert has gone definitely to the extremes, ranging from tiramisu to chocolate cake, from brownies to tartufo, from various cheesecakes to various cookie platters. I still have yet to gain additional weight, but the weight I lost is back now, even though I'm still technically underweight.

Dances have started to vary, as have the music Stan's been teaching me. Already we've gone through the Legend of Zelda music books and all of the soundtrack to The Twilight Saga movies, and we've already covered singers like Josh Groban, Kelly Clarkson, Taylor Swift, and many more. Soon, he says, I'll be learning the soundtrack to the Lord of the Rings movies as well as songs from various musicals. I've been singing less but playing instruments more, and just the other day he bought me a keyboard for my room. I've enjoyed playing that, but all of my happiness here is short-lived because I know it will only be a matter of time before he sees another young girl he loves, and won't love me anymore, and then what will happen?

Stan's been out the entire day, and it's starting to worry me. He's been leaving a lot more often lately, often coming back and telling me he needs sleep, but something about him makes me think he's been killing people lately.

Must go. I promised I'd visit Mrs. Meyes, Mr. Bronsky, and Cameron since Stan won't be back until tomorrow, as he said. I'm not one to break promises.

Amy

By the way, is it odd to be grateful for one's monthlies?

Amy closed her diary, shoved it back in its place, and dropped her pen back in the drawer of her nightstand. Then, after changing her outfit yet again to something a bit more comfortable and throwing on Mrs. Meyes fleece over it, she walked quickly and quietly to the basement door. Then, she carefully opened it, stepped on the small landing, closed the door, and walked gracefully down the stairs. The pleasant faces of Mrs. Meyes, Mr. Bronsky, and Cameron greeted her once she got to the base of the stairs.

"Hello Amy," Cameron said with a smile.

"Hey," she said back with a weak wave.

The group talked and played a few card games, then Amy left and headed back into her room, not sure how much time had passed. When she entered her room, she collapsed in the chair by her keyboard, and started composing yet another song, then another, and another, until enough time had passed that she really did begin to worry again about Stan's absense, knowing that an absense of this length could only be comprised of doing something wrong then trying to make it up to her by giving her gifts of some sort, and expensive ones at that.

How true were her thoughts.