An hour later Emily returned to her room in the suite. As she quietly slipped in she could hear soft snores emanating from the other bedroom. It was nice to know some things never change, she thought wryly as she closed her door and locked it. More than once when they were on a case she had been stuck next to his room and had spent the night listening to his snoring when the walls between the rooms were paper-thin. Of course he had denied that he ever snored, as all snorers were wont to do.

She made a beeline for the shower to rinse the chlorine out of her hair and off her body. Once she had found the proper settings, Emily stepped in and sighed contently as the warm water washed over her. The time spent in the pool had done her a world of good. She was exhausted, but relaxed so she should sleep soundly tonight. Well she hoped she would, mentally crossing her fingers. Nightmares of Doyle still plagued her sleep, but they were occurring with less frequency as she continued to adjust to being home and she prayed she didn't have any while she was here in Paris with Gideon. It was one thing to have one in front of the team; it was a whole different matter to have one while in the company of a man she now considered a stranger.

Emily could have remained in the shower for hours enjoying the various setting on the showerhead, but she didn't want to turn into a wrinkled prune. Reluctantly she climbed out, toweled off and dried her hair before pulling it back into a ponytail. Then she donned her cool weather pajamas: a long sleeve dark blue Henley and a pair of blue and red plaid flannel pants.

Just as she was folding back the covers on the bed, her cell phone began to ring and skitter across the nightstand. Emily caught it just before it tumbled over the edge. She checked the screen and slowly shook her head.

"I should have known," she sighed in resignation as she thumbed the phone on and placed it against her ear. "Hey, JJ. What's up?"

"Nothing really," she replied from across the pond. "I was just making sure you made it to Paris all right."

"I did, even though there was that scare when one of the engines flamed out. Luckily the pilots got it to restart before we crashed into the ocean," she deadpanned.

"Wha…what?" she stammered in shock. Then the line was filled with a pregnant pause. "You're pulling my leg, aren't you?"

Emily laughed. "Guilty as charged."

"You really had me going there," JJ scolded.

"Sorry. I couldn't resist." Emily was still chuckling. "I'm fine, JJ," she said when she stopped. "You don't have to check up on me."

"I know, Em, but I still worry."

"Don't. I'll be fine." She was touched by the blonde's concern. It was nice to see her in her mother hen role. "So why don't we stick to what we agreed to in the ladies room that I will call if I'm feeling overwhelmed?"

"Okay," JJ conceded. "I'll try my best."

Emily smiled. "That is all I'm asking."

There was a pause. "So…how is Gideon?" JJ asked.

The brunette searched for the right words to describe the ex-profiler. In the end she settled for, "Gideon is Gideon. He's still brusque and aloof. We didn't talk much on the plane."

A rumbling snore followed by a snort rattled the door. "And he still snores," she said with a sigh.

"How do you know that?"

"Did I forget to mention that we're sharing a hotel room?"

"What…no," JJ gasped. "Why?"

Emily chuckled at her ability to reduce her friend to single words. "The hotel lost our reservations and all they had available was a two bedroom suite. Gideon ignored my objections and booked the suite. So here I sit listening to him snoring across the room."

JJ laughed. "I'm so sorry, Em. You're just going to have to grin and bear it."

"Or smother him with his own pillow tonight," she muttered darkly. Suddenly the snoring stopped prompting Emily to glance at the door with hopeful eyes. "Oh thank god! I think he rolled over."

The blonde laughed louder at her friend's discomfort. And before she could suggest that Emily buy some earplugs from the gift shop or bury her head under her pillows, a small voice rang out behind her.

"MOMMY!" Henry yelled.

Emily smiled into the phone. "Uh oh. Sounds like you are being summoned. I better let you go."

"Yeah. That's probably a good idea," JJ agreed. "Usually when he sounds like that it means he's done something that he shouldn't have. Promise to call if you are struggling?"

"I promise. Night, JJ."

"Night, Emily," the blonde said and hung up.

Emily made a mental note as she put the phone down on the nightstand and crawled beneath the covers to pick up presents for Jack and Henry and maybe Russ before she left. She was pretty sure they would all like a little piece of France. The two younger boys would be pretty easy since they would be thrilled with any toy she brought them. Russ would take a little more thought. With that matter settled in her head, Emily turned out the light and went to sleep. She was in a deep, dreamless slumber when the snoring resumed.

Back in the States the demolition of Emily's row house concluded for the day. With the teenagers helping, Derek was able to accomplish more than he would have on his own. The first floor was completely gutted. Russ and his friend Jimmy had worked hard at tearing down and hauling away. Derek was pretty sure what they had enjoyed the most was destroying the walls with sledgehammers. Within minutes they had been covered with drywall dust and grinning from ear to ear.

As a reward for a good day's work, Derek treated the boys to pizza and pop. He sat back in one of the lawn chairs set in the middle of the gutted first floor and watched the teenagers inhale two of the three pizzas and half of the a two liter bottle of pop. He shook his head in amusement wondering where they were putting it. They must have hollow legs or something, he thought. Then he remembered his mother saying numerous times that if he didn't stop growing he was going to eat her out of house and home. He chuckled at the memory, prompting both teens to glance at him in curiosity.

"It's nothing," he said, answering their unspoken question.

The two teenagers shrugged at each other and returned to their pizza devouring. A few minutes later Jimmy's pants dinged. He fished out his phone, glanced at the text and gave his friend an apologetic look.

"It's Amber…" he trailed off.

"Go," Russ said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'll take the subway or catch the bus."

"You sure?"

"Positive. I'll see you back at the dorm."

Jimmy grinned in relief. "Thanks, man. See ya," he said and hurried off to meet up with his girlfriend.

The redhead helped himself to the last piece of pizza in the box. "When Amber texts, he jumps."

Derek chuckled. "That's the way it's supposed to be," he explained, taking a sip of his beer. "You dating anyone?"

Russ shook his head as he topped off his glass of pop. "Nope. Don't have time with classes, my job and baseball. You?" he asked, downing half in a giant gulp.

"Nope. My job takes up most of my time. I barely get enough time to sleep. Emily said you're attending Georgetown on a baseball scholarship. That was how I got into Northwestern. Only mine was for football."

"Didn't you want to go pro?" Russ asked in curiosity, thinking about the baseball scouts that had been sniffing around and urging him to enter the draft.

"I did then I blew out my knee, effectively ending my football career. So I focused all my energy on obtaining my degree."

"What was it?"

"Law," Derek said with a grin. "What are you planning on majoring in?"

The teenager shrugged. "I don't know yet. For now I'm taking all the required basic classes. I'm hoping one will really jump out at me."

"Don't rush it if you're unsure. You have a couple of years before you have to declare a major."

"That's what Emily said."

Derek finished off his beer and set the empty on the scarred wooden floor next to his chair. "You should listen her. Emily's a smart woman."

"She is," Russ agreed with a nod. If she hadn't gotten involved in his life and got him on the right track, he doubted he would have gotten into college. Right now he would have been stuck in a dead end job making minimum wage.

Fiddling with his cup in the moment of quiet, Russ couldn't help but think about something that had been on his mind lately. Actually since he found out Emily was still alive. Derek was the perfect person to ask and he took the opportunity to do so. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Kid. What's on your mind?"

Suddenly he was very nervous about asking. He took a deep breath and spit it out. "I was wondering if you could tell me about those five months Emily was gone. I just want to know why she had to fake her death."

Derek blinked. That wasn't the question he had been expecting and he wasn't sure he should even be talking about it. "Russ, I don't think it's my place to answer. You should really ask Emily about it."

"I've tried several times," he said in frustration. "But she always changes the subject."

"It was a difficult time for her. You know she is a very private person."

"I do," Russ sighed. "I'm sorry I bothered you with it."

Derek could tell by the look on the teenager's face that he hadn't been asking out of simple curiosity. He genuinely cared about her, not as a friend does for a friend, but as a son does for his mother. He picked up his beer, went to take a sip and realized it was still empty. Maybe he could give the boy a very watered down version and then tell Emily about it so she wouldn't be blindsided if Russ were to ask again.

"Okay, here's the deal. I'll give you the basics. If you want more details then you will have to ask her, but don't be surprised if she refuses to answer. You cool with that?"

"I am."

Now how does he word it without going into greater detail? "A man Emily helped to put in prison escaped and came after her. He almost killed her, but in the end he got away."

He was still kicking himself for not getting there sooner to capture Doyle. If he had, Emily never would have gone into hiding and would have had her friends and family at her side while she recuperated.

"To protect Emily while she recovered from her injuries, she was placed in the witness protection program."

Russ nodded. "And this guy who hurt her, did you catch him?"

"We did and he's dead."

Deep in thought the teenager wondered how Emily had felt about that. "Good," he said clearly and profoundly.

From the way the young man's eyes flashed when he had said 'good', Derek knew he was glad Doyle was dead. And so was he. If Emily hadn't killed him as they had fought, he would have.

"Satisfied?"

"Yeah, I am. Thanks for telling me, Derek."

"Just remember what I said about asking Emily if you have more questions. Make sure you tell her the real reason why you're asking. Don't say I'm just curious. That would make her shut down."

"I will," Russ promised. He glanced at his watch. "I better get going. Thanks for letting me help with the demo."

Derek stood up when he did. "If you want I can give you a lift back to your dorm."

"Nah, that's okay. I'll just take the subway."

"No problem, Russ. Thanks for pitching in. You and your friend were a big help."

"I had fun." The teenager made his way to the door. There he paused and turned around, a hopeful look on his face. "Would it be all right with you if I came back to help when I could? I've always been sort of interested in remodeling. The closest I've come to it was the woodworking class I took senior year."

Derek grinned. Here was a kid after his own heart. "Sure. Are you available tomorrow evening? I was planning on gutting the basement."

"I sure am," Russ said eagerly. "I can be here whenever you need me."

"Six works for you?"

"Sure thing, Derek. See you tomorrow."

Russ disappeared through the door before Derek had a chance to say goodbye. Emily had over the years molded that boy into a fine young man. Now it was his turn to add a little spit and polish.

Emily awoke refreshed the next morning and ready to face a day with Gideon. It was going to harder for him than her. He had the unlucky job of identifying his nephew's body while all she had to do was to translate if necessary. She took a quick shower, got dressed and was down in the dining room promptly at nine. On her way out of the suite she hadn't bothered to check if he was still in his room because she knew he wasn't. If he stuck to old habits, he would have arrived ten minutes before the appointed time and he had. Gideon was at a table by the windows, cup of coffee in front of him and frowning at the newspaper in his hand. Emily made a slight detour before joining him.

"This might work better," she suggested, handing him a copy of the English version of the New York Times International. "Since you can't speak French I doubt you can read that other one."

"Thanks, Prentiss." Gideon flipped through the pages until he found the daily crossword puzzle. He pulled out a pen and commenced to solve it.

She nodded as she sat down in one of the vacant chairs. "Have you ordered yet?" she asked, perusing the menu.

"No. I was waiting for you."

"Then I'll be quick about it."

Emily made her selection and signaled for the waitress. Once their orders had been placed silence fell over their table. Gideon was focused on his puzzle so Emily picked up the copy of Le Parisien the most neutral of the daily newspapers and started reading. The only time he looked up was when the waitress refreshed his coffee and brought Emily her orange juice.

"No coffee?" he asked with a frown, remembering she always had a cup with breakfast.

"I gave it up. Trying to relax more," she replied, giving him the same excuse she had given Derek when he had asked about it one time. It wasn't anybody's business that coffee and her ulcer hadn't gotten along.

"Ah," he said with a nod and returned to his puzzle for which Emily was extremely thankful.

When their meals arrived Gideon attempted to focus on his own, but his eyes wandering over to Emily. Like yesterday he noticed subtle changes in her. Once a profiler always a profiler no matter how long you have been out of the game. She seemed more vulnerable and reserved, less out going. And though Emily didn't realize she was doing it she was hyper aware of her surroundings. When she had sat down at the table she had chosen the chair that was crammed up against the wall like she wanted to protect her back. She was also glancing up periodically while eating to scope out the room.

Gideon was never shy about voicing his opinion. "You've changed."

Emily's eyes shot up from her plate. "Pardon?" she asked in confusion.

"I said you've changed."

She quickly masked her annoyance. "Time changes everyone," she said flatly. "Look at you," referring to his scruffy beard, unruly hair and paunch.

"Physically, yes. But not like this. Things like that, changes in mannerisms and quirks, they only happen when someone goes through something and it weighs on them. Something traumatic, perhaps?" he hinted.

She locked eyes with him. "My personal life is none of your business, Gideon. Leave it," she warned.

I've hit a nerve, he thought and quickly backed down. "I'm sorry, Prentiss. I didn't mean to intrude."

She nodded and turned her attention back to her meal even though she was no longer hungry. Gideon's unwanted probing had hit too close to home for her comfort and ruined the good mood she was in. Emily didn't need any more reminders, even accidental ones, of how messed up she was after Doyle. The city of her exile was doing a good job of it all on its own.

The same awkward silence that had descended on the table tagged along on the cab ride to the Instit Medico-Legal where his nephew Noah's body was being kept. It also joined them in the waiting area as they waited for the attendant to arrive and guide them to the morgue proper.

Emily decided to be the first to break it. "Is there something in particular you want me to do?" she asked, having a little flashback to the first case they worked together.

"Just listen and observe. I don't want them to know you can speak French. I want them to think we are two dumb Americans and speak more freely in front of us."

"You want me to eavesdrop on them?" she asked with a dubious look.

"I do."

"May I ask why?"

Gideon crossed his arms. "I believe there is still some corruption within the Paris police force so I don't fully trust them to tell me the truth. They're only going to tell us what they think we want to hear."

Emily's eyes narrowed in suspicion. That wasn't an answer. There was something he was holding back. She could feel it in her bones. But before she could ask about what he wasn't telling her, the attendant entered the room.

"Monsieur. Mademoiselle," he said with a polite smile. "If you would follow me."

After casting Gideon a second suspicious look, they followed the man down the long corridor to a set of double doors. He opened one and gestured for them to enter. The overwhelming smell of decomp smacked Emily in the face the second she stepped through the door and she swallowed hard to keep from throwing up.

God! I hate floaters, she thought as she resisted pinching her nose closed. They were the worst. They smelled and looked horrible. Breathe through your mouth like Reid told you. Breathe through your mouth. Next to her Gideon coughed to cover his gag reflex.

Three men stood on the other side of the sheet-draped gurney. Two were dressed in the uniform of the Police Nationale and the other in scrubs. The taller of the two officers detached from the group.

"I'm Capitaine Dubois," he said in flawless English, holding out his hand. "You must be Jason Gideon and…" He looked at her expectedly.

"Emily Prentiss," she volunteered, shaking hands with him. "I'm—"

"A friend of the family," Gideon smoothly interjected. Emily kept the surprise off her face.

The Capitaine didn't seem to notice. "I apologize for dragging both of you across the ocean to our fine city for such a gruesome task."

"I understand."

Emily chose to remain silent and fade into the background where she would be able to observe the Capitaine and his unnamed Lieutenant. As much as Gideon had been annoying her this morning, she didn't envy him for what he was about to do.

"I'm afraid your nephew's body is not in the best of shape. The Coroner believes he was submerged in the Seine for several days. The marine life was active so we were unable to take fingerprints or do a facial comparison with his passport."

"I see," Gideon said with a grave nod.

"Did you bring the dental records that we requested? It is just a formality," Dubois said quickly. "It's like that American saying, we have to dot all the I's and cross the T's."

"I did and its not a problem." He handed over the manila envelope he had been carrying since they left the hotel. "How did he die? Drowning?"

Dubois exchanged looks with the other two men. "It was murder, Monsieur Gideon. He was strangled and his body dumped into the river. There wasn't any water in his lungs."

"So he was dead before he hit the water."

"Oui."

"May I see him?"

"Of course." The Capitaine nodded to the man in scrubs who scurried over to the gurney. With great care he folded back the sheet to expose the head and shoulders.

Gideon slowly approached the gurney with his hands clasped behind his back, the corners of his mouth turned down into a frown. He stared at the corpse with such intensity it looked like he was trying to memorize his late nephew's face. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

"It's not him."

I want to thank everyone who nominated and voted for my last story 'The Perfect Storm' during this years Profiler Choice Awards. I was stunned that it won for Best Characterization of Emily Prentiss. It means a lot to me to know I have some very loyal readers out there. Thank you.