a/n: I know I said Gone was done, but I lied! I got a few messages saying that I didn't write about what happened to Emily, and I was like aw dude i should write something. Then I had a brain cramp and didn't know what to write about, but I was inspired by mother's day! Enjoy this absolute absolute final chapter and THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the support. Love love love! xoxoxox-Kaitlin3

Emily Prentiss POV

I shuffled through my mail, tossing aside magazines and junk mail, and carefully placing bills. I got to one envelope with my name and address handwritten. There was no return address on the front or the back. There was something hauntingly familiar about the handwriting, though. I took the letter and moved to my couch. I sat down next to my cat, Sergio, and ran my hand through his fur.

"Let's see who this is from, Serg," I said quietly. I gently tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter. I read it out loud.

"Dear Emily, Happy mother's day. Hope your day is great. You of all people deserve it. You're always in my thoughts and prayers. Love, Kaitlin." I put my hand to my cheek and felt a few tears. I quickly wiped them away. Why was I crying?

I flipped over the letter a few times. That was it. There was no hidden message, code, or at least a return address. Maybe that was ok, though. There was no way for me to thank her or at least know that I got it. Maybe that's how it was supposed to be. That part of her life was over and now it had to be over for me too. All i could do was hold on to the memories and move on. I put the letter aside and sighed. I picked up the TV remote and put on the news. A woman was having a live press conference and the caption said: FBI's BAU Unit Chief, SSA Kaitlin Taylor. My jaw dropped.

"Kaitlin?" I asked aloud.

"We are looking for a white male in his forties. He is…" Kaitlin was speaking, but I had zoned out. All I could think of was that she was my daughter.

"She was mine, Serg," I whispered. I said that to my cat, but maybe I was reminding myself.

"My daughter…" I whispered and this time the tears were tears of joy and I didn't bother wiping them away.

"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love."

-Washington Irving