Sorry for the delay. Thanksgiving threw me out of whack, but now I'm back on schedule. Enjoy.

Emily was nestled in a plush leather chair in the library of the Hotel de Pontalba, the official residence of the U.S. Ambassador; book in hand and a glass of white wine on the side table. Now that Noah was safe and the journal that caused all this was in the hands of the proper authorities, she could kick back and relax. Last night was the first time in a while that she had slept soundly and without disturbing dreams and she hoped many more would follow.

The sound of footsteps on hardwood caught her attention and she knew she was no longer alone. Marking her page, Emily looked up to find Noah coming to a stop in front of her. "Hi, Noah," she said in greeting.

"Hi. This place is fantastic," he enthused.

She smiled. "Been out sketching the architecture?" noticing the brand new sketchbook he was waving around.

"And inside. I especially love the gatehouse."

"Well it and the portals were left intact when the residence was substantively renovated in 1876."

"Sweet. It's always fun hearing little details like that."

"Plans to see anymore of Europe's architecture?"

Noah shook his head. 'No. I think I've had my fill of traveling. Besides I really want to go to Germany to attend Rolf's funeral. I consider him a friend and I owe it to him to be there. If I hadn't brought him to the café, he wouldn't have been killed."

The guilt on his face was as clear as day. Emily was well familiar with where his mind was and what he was feeling. She had played the 'what if' game many times over the years and she has yet to win. As much as you try, you can't change the past.

"Rolf's death isn't your fault even if it feels like it is."

"I know. Uncle Jase told me the same thing."

"Your Uncle Jase is a smart man," she said with a smile.

Noah's smile matched hers. "That he is. He's going to the funeral with me."

"That's great. How does Amie feel about that?"

He went to stand by the windows with his arm crossed, gazing out at the extensive snow covered lawn, all his excitement gone. "I wouldn't know."

"No? Why not?" she asked, though she couldn't say she didn't see the answer coming.

"We broke up," he said with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, Noah." Emily truly was. She may have not liked Amie and what she stood for, but she really liked him and hated to see him hurt. "When did this happen?" she asked even though she had a good idea when and where it occurred.

"Back when we were hiding in the treehouse. There wasn't anything to do except nervously wait and talk.

There was nothing like fearing for your life to trigger a heart to heart talk. "What did she have to say?"

"She has no desire to settle down," he huffed. "She's enjoying her new found freedom and wants to travel. All I want to do is to go home and get back to my studies."

Emily got up and went to rest a comforting hand on the young man's shoulder. "I don't blame you. After everything that has happened to you over the past weeks, home looks awfully good right now."

"It sure does."

"I know it hurts and it will for a while, but be glad you found out now and not months down the line when you were more invested in the relationship."

"That's true," he said with a shrug and turned to her. "Thanks, Emily, for the advice and helping Uncle Jase to get me out of this mess."

"You're welcome, Noah, for both. You have a safe trip to Germany and home."

"I will." His face spread in a wide and somewhat sad smile as he held up the sketchbook. "Well I'm going to do some more drawing before we leave in a few hours."

"Have fun," she said with a light laugh. "Try the east wing. There's a lot of features you may find interesting."

"Cool," he said and hurried off.

Emily watched him leave with a bemused smile. She felt bad for him, that a girl, who obviously wasn't right for him, has broken his heart. But Noah was young; he will bounce back quickly and pursue a girl who shared his likes. Or in this day and age, be pursued by the girl. She resumed her seat, opened the book to where she had left off, took a sip of wine and resumed reading.

She had barely gotten through two paragraphs when another person entered the library. Emily repressed a sigh as she closed the book, wondering with the place turned into Grand Central Station. There was no need for her to see who it was since she easily recognized Gideon's heavy tread. Closing her eyes, she listened to him making his way over to the mini-bar in the corner and pouring a glass of Glenfiddich single malt scotch whisky. She only reopened them when he settled into the other leather armchair.

"I see you made yourself at home," she said with a smirk.

'When in Rome, do as the Romans do," he replied, taking a sip of his drink.

"This is Paris, not Rome, Gideon."

He shrugged. "It still applies. Besides it's there, right? Might as well help myself." Emily scoffed at that. "So you lived her as a child? It must have been exciting."

Emily gazed around the library as her mind went back in time. "If you like living in a museum. There were so many things I wasn't allowed to touch. I swear I spent half my time walking around with my hands behind my back or stuffed in my pockets." She smiled fondly. "But I know this place like the back of my hand. I explored every inch of it and knew all the best places to hide."

"Bet that drove your parents nuts."

"And the staff. I could easily disappear for hours on end."

"That's one long game of hide and seek."

She grinned. "And I always won," she said, causing him to chuckle. "Noah was just in here and he said the two of you are going to attend Rolf's funeral in Germany."

"Yes," he agreed with a nod. "And from there, home."

Emily finished off the rest of her wine before leaning forward in her chair. She remembered that she had decided not to pry into his personal life early on in the trip, but Gideon kept putting his nose into hers since so it was time to turn the tables. "So where exactly is home? You didn't drop a line to anyone, especially Reid, saying where you ended up. All we knew," She waved a hand vaguely in the air, "Was that you were out there somewhere."

Gideon wasn't surprised, having expected his whereabouts to come up at some point, but he hadn't guessed it would take her this long to ask. Apparently she wasn't interested or she has more control over her curiosity than he thought. If it had been Garcia, she would've been peppering him with endless questions the second she saw him.

"I wandered the country for a while before I finally settled in a small town in the Cascade Range in Oregon."

Oregon, she thought in surprise. She hadn't thought he would end up on the west coast. She assumed, incorrectly, that he traveled a bit before returning to Roanoke and holing up in his cabin like a hermit. A smile tugged at her lips. He was already rocking the look with the unruly hair and beard.

"You like it there?"

"I do. It's a quiet town with little or no crime. I have a place of a secluded street that gives me all the privacy I need and I can do whatever I want: bird watching, fishing, relaxing."

"Sounds like you're happy."

Gideon didn't even have to think about it. "I am, very much so. In the end, leaving the bureau was the best thing I ever did besides coming a father."

He polished off his drink and got up to make a fresh one, asking along the way if she wanted a refill. Emily said please and he poured her a second glass. He resumed his seat and they spent several minutes in companionable silence before he spoke up.

"You seemed reluctant to come at first. I thought it was because of me, but you have a lot of history here, far beyond what I know."

"I do," Emily agreed, gazing into her glass.

"And I pushed you to come, but I can't say I'm sorry I did."

What was Emily supposed to say to that? She didn't know, so she stayed silent to see what he'd say next.

"I could tell it was rough for you, especially at night," he said pointedly, letting her know he was still curious about that. There was a lot left unsaid there. "But you got through it, and I couldn't have gotten through all of this without your help."

"Of course not. You don't speak French," she jokingly pointed out.

"No, I don't," he agreed with a chuckle, "and I don't have your connections, but I wasn't talking about just that."

"I know."

"What I'm trying to say is thank you. Thanks for your help. Noah, Amie and even I owe our lives to you."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"No?" He said, and she shrugged.

"You would have survived without me."

"Maybe. The truth is that I could have helped them, but we would have been sitting ducks without you here. So I'm glad you decided to come. I know I kept you here longer than you planned. So, again, thanks."

"You're welcome, Jason."

To Emily's surprise, especially because she spent them in the company of her mother, the next three days passed rather quickly. They were still working on rebuilding their relationship so they did have their ups and downs. But the good times outnumbered the bad ones, though there were some moments when Emily felt like she was on the verge of being smothered to death. As much as she loved Paris, she wanted to go back to the one place that felt like home and that was the winery and possibly the cabin after her mother left and the weather held. Elizabeth readily agreed and they made plans, but before they left the city, she accepted the invitation to have dinner with Sebastien and his family. He was disappointed that Emily didn't bring her nice gentleman friend along, but Elizabeth was a very welcome addition. As Emily predicted the meal was delicious, especially Marie's Gigot D'Agneau Pluereur and Profiteroles.

The next morning over breakfast, Elizabeth dropped a little bomb on her unsuspecting daughter. "Let me take you shopping before we head to the winery, Emily. We can go to all the shops you loved as a child, visit a few that I love, get some new clothes and trinkets. It would be fun. Just us girls. And we can stop a patisserie. I can taste the madeleines already."

Once she got over her initial surprise, Emily tried to get out of it. "I don't know, Mom. I don't think I'm up for it."

"I insist. You deserve a little shopping spree. You can buy whatever you like."

"I've already been shopping."

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "Did you buy anything for yourself?"

"Well…no."

"Then it's not a valid argument. Think of the shoes, dear. There's a Gucci store not too far from here."

"I don't need expensive shoes."

"Sometimes it's not about need, Emily. I'm offering to buy them for you. The cost is irrelevant."

"I don't think it is," Emily protested, knowing she was fighting an uphill battle. Soon her mother would play the guilt trip card and she would end up caving.

"Please, Emily. It's just a few hours. Is it really that hard to spend time with your poor, old mother?"

Ahha, there it is and right on schedule. "Aren't you laying it on rather thick, Mom?'

"Yes and its only going to get deeper and thicker until you agree to letting me spoil you."

Emily sighed. She knew when she was beat so she caved and agreed to go shopping.

It turned out to be a pleasant couple of hours flouncing about from shop to shop. Emily found she was actually enjoying herself and, surprisingly, had to teach her mother a lesson in restraint, doing her best to keep costs down. Neither of them needed as much as Elizabeth wanted to buy. It was a battle at times, not in a bad way, to keep Elizabeth's spending under control. She wanted to buy everything under the sun for her daughter, but Emily happily accepted the new pair of boots and a few outfits her mother willingly purchased. They didn't have this magical bonding experience, but they did enjoy each other's company and take the time to be with one another without pressure of working on their relationship or any threats of danger looming. They simply had a few hours of easy mother-daughter time.

On their last night before Elizabeth had to leave for her next assignment, they sat before a roaring fire at the manor house, sipping on the winery's first attempt at a mondeuse blanche. Both detected the aromas of magnolia and acacia, followed by the hazelnuts and rich plum flavors. The snow gently falling outside made it the perfect night for wine testing and contemplation.

"I think Robert got it right. This wine is wonderful," Emily said.

"It is and it will be an excellent addition to the winery's selection," Elizabeth agreed.

They fell silent, quietly swirling the wine in their glasses, examining it further before taking a sip and letting the liquid slide smoothly over their tongues and swallowing. At one point Elizabeth put her glass down and fixed her gaze on her daughter.

"Sweetheart, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Elizabeth took a moment to compose her thoughts. She had so many questions about the Doyle situation, especially about what happened afterwards, but she had been afraid to ask because, at the time, their relationship and Emily herself was still fragile. But now both were on firmer ground, they were more comfortable with each other, making conversations easier. If she got Emily to open up about what happened, it would help some of the mental wounds heal. Emily was very much her daughter, having the same ability to keep everything bottled up inside instead of talking about it.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," Elizabeth waffled. "I completely understand if you're not ready."

Emily hadn't seen her mother this indecisive since the other day when she couldn't make up her mind which outfit she wanted to buy. She ended up getting both. It also meant that Emily wasn't going to like the question, but she couldn't refuse to answer until she knew what it was.

"What do you want to know, Mom?" She asked and steeled herself for what was to come.

"What was it like?"

"What?"

"Being gone or being dead to everyone while in hiding. What was it like for you?" She only got the bare bones when Agent Hotchner called to inform her that Emily was actually alive.

Emily stared into her wine glass for a long time, making Elizabeth think she wasn't going to answer. Then she pulled her gaze away and shared a solemn look with her mother. "It was five months of hell."

Elizabeth held her tongue, knowing it would prompt…well…hopefully prompt Emily to say more.

"I spent two months in the hospital, two weeks unconscious. Luckily for six of those eight weeks I had JJ at my side. She read to me and kept me company. Every day I looked forward to her visiting because she was my only link to the outside world."

"Why did she stop?"

Emily looked away, took a sip of her wine and grimaced like it had just gone sour. "Because I kicked her out after she told me Hotch faked my death and I was going to be relocated to Paris. I was so pissed," she set the glass down, fearing in her anger she would squeeze too hard and shatter it, "and I'm afraid I took it out on her."

Elizabeth could sympathize with that. Agent Jareau appeared to be the only one, besides Agent Hotchner, who knew she was still alive and that would make her the easiest target. "Have you apologized to her?"

"Yeah, when I got back. When she came to Paris to drop off the fake passports and the bank account numbers, I couldn't look her in the eyes because I was angry and embarrassed by my behavior."

"You still sound angry."

"I am…at Hotch. I know it was the right thing to do and he had no choice, but I'm still pissed. He took my life away without consulting me."

Apparently her daughter's anger toward her boss was just as strong as her own. The man let her think Emily was dead instead of letting her in on the secret. She would have kept it and played the role of a grieving mother to perfection, but he wanted the genuine deal to sell it. Elizabeth kept her anger to herself because she had promised Emily that she wouldn't act on it.

"Have you talked to him about how you feel?"

There was a quick shake of the head. "No, I haven't and I'm not sure I can…ever. Only time will tell."

"That's understandable, but you should at some point. You shouldn't keep it bottled up. It'll eat at your from the inside."

Talk about the pot calling the kettle black, Emily thought sourly. Who do you think I learned it from? "I know. After being relocated here, I spent about a month in a convalescence home and the rest holed up in a dingy one bedroom apartment in a rundown neighborhood. I wasn't exactly living in the lap of luxury," she said, letting out a rueful laugh.

"I lived in constant fear for my life. I rarely went out and when I did, I gave people a wide berth and jumped at the smallest of shadows. I had no appetite. I hardly slept because of the nightmares and I always had my hand wrapped around my gun when I did. Most nights were spent pacing or staring out the window watching life go on while mine was frozen in time. I never felt so...so lost and alone."

Just talking about it brought all the feelings back. Emily could feel every bit of fear and sadness that she felt then, so much so that she was barely keeping herself from looking around in a hyper vigilant surveillance effort. She had done a lot of healing, but it wasn't gone. She couldn't erase what happened or the scars, physical or mental, from her body, it would stay with her forever. She just hoped that one day she could talk about it without getting that uncomfortable nauseous energy.

Elizabeth, saddened by the things her daughter had to go through and seeing how much it was still getting to her, acted on impulse, spontaneously reaching over and hugging Emily, telling her, "I'm so sorry that happened to you. So sorry you had to face so much alone."

Then she surprised her daughter by saying, "You weren't the only one that felt that way. Alone. When I thought you died...you are my only family Emily, and a mother should never outlive her child. I spent everyday regretting not spending more time with you, not trying to make things better between us and working on our relationship. I couldn't think of one thing I did right to hold on to and I didn't think I'd ever get the chance to have any more good memories with you."

Those months were dark for her. She shared in Emily's loss of appetite, her emotions overpowering everything else. Everyday she yearned to hear her daughter's voice one more time, to tell her that she was sorry for not being a better mother, and, mostly to make sure Emily knew how much she truly loved her. There were days when she wholeheartedly believed Emily died thinking her mother didn't love her the way a mother should. That was one of the things that hurt most.

Emily returned the hug, knowing she was the source of her mother's grief. If she hadn't gone after Doyle instead of asking the team for help, Elizabeth wouldn't be in pain. It was all her fault and she would never forgive herself. She'll just add it to the guilt she was already carrying.

"I think we're having a good memory right now."

Her attempt at humor broke the tension hanging in the room and both women laughed. They sat back in their chairs. "There is one thing I did learn when I returned to my old apartment in Paris," Emily said as Elizabeth refilled their wine glasses.

"What's that?"

"No matter how painful and how alone we felt we survived it. Those five long months are a part of us and we are stronger women because of it."

After Elizabeth departed for her assignment, Emily decided to spend the rest of her unplanned vacation up at the cabin. Winter made it feel more cut off from the rest of the world and its trouble, but this time she didn't mind the isolation because she voluntarily chose it unlike her time in Paris. Like before, the moment she set foot across the threshold, she felt closer to her grandfather. This was their place and it was where she felt safe and happy. As she gazed around fondly, Emily saw all the personal touches her grandfather had added as he built it from scratch and she realized she had stayed away for far too long. His death tore a big hole in her heart and she couldn't bear coming back here without him there to welcome her. Inadvertently she had left the cabin as short of a shrine to him and she knew he wouldn't want that. He would want it used.

Maybe it was time for Emily to make it hers. Her grandfather left it to her in his will so she was free to do whatever she wanted to do to it. Right now it had a very masculine feel to it right now. Perhaps she could soften it up with splashes of color while maintaining its original charm. She could also bring it into the twenty first century by adding electricity. Running wires up the mountain would be astronomically expensive, but some solar panels might work. Just enough power for a few small appliances, a couple of lamps and a water pump for indoor plumbing. It would be so nice not having to bundle up in your warmest clothes to make a run for the outhouse. She could have an addition put on where the back door is, large enough for a bathroom and a mudroom.

Emily quickly warmed up to the idea and spent the rest of her days off, alternating between relaxing and making lists of what she wanted to make the cabin feel more like hers. She also drew diagrams and took measurements, intending to run them by Derek and see what he thought. It would be expensive, but she had the money and was in no hurry to get it done. She would, in turn, put the remodel in Robert's capable hands for he would make sure it was done correctly. And before she knew it, her time was up and she had to go home.