A/N: Apologies for the delay. I have this whole story whirling round in my head but have very little free time at the moment to write it down. Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing. I hope this chapter was worth the wait.

/
/

"Ma'am?" the officer repeated, when Emily remained quiet.

She cursed internally, her gun suddenly feeling like it was burning a hole through the all-too-thin material of her sweater. To the outside world she was not a federal agent, with a legitimate explanation for carrying a concealed weapon and being in the middle of a dodgy neighbourhood in the middle of the night. She was Claire Winter: a new mother who should have been home with her baby.

"Can I help you, Officer?" she responded, after taking another moment to steady her agitated nerves. Her voice was calm but lacked confidence - just as she'd intended and just as she'd imagined Claire would sound if approached by the police.

"I, err, I need to see your licence and registration," he stuttered, causing her to notice for the first time that he was just a rookie.

Slowly, so as not to alarm the officer and give him any reason to pry or search further than was necessary, she retrieved her purse from the floor and produced the documents. They might have been fakes but they were flawless and she had no doubt they'd be accepted.

As the officer scrutinised her photo she watched his partner skirting around the back of the vehicle, crouching down and examining every inch of the area. They had to be looking for something. The older officer looked at the younger and nodded.

"Ms Winter, can you step out of the vehicle," he instructed.

"Is something wrong, Officer?" she asked with an air of innocent confusion.

"Just routine," the senior officer replied, studying Emily with the same intensity that he had her car.

She sighed inaudibly. This couldn't have been further from a routine stop. She placed both hands on the steering wheel, well within the sight of the two men and turned towards the younger.

"I should make you aware that I have a a Glock 19 in a holster on my right hip, underneath my sweater. How would you like me to proceed?"

It was better to alert them to the fact she was alarmed than to have her weapon discovered at a later time. Or at least that was what she assumed to be best.

Before the words left her mouth she found herself staring at the business end of a police issue handgun.

"Easy," the other officer instructed, prompting his strangely jumpy colleague to lower his weapon. "Step out of the vehicle. Slowly. And keep your hands where we can see them," he added, turning his directions to Emily.

She did as she was told, holding her hands up in front of her chest and maintaining eye contact with the young officer. It didn't seem like it would take much to cause him to accidentally squeeze the trigger.

As soon as she was clear of the car, she was pushed up against the hood, roughly, as he hurriedly retrieved her gun. Passing it to his colleague, she could swear the man let out a sigh of relief. Emily winced, her shoulder throbbing painfully from being thrown against the vehicle. For all the officer's nervousness, he certainly wasn't afraid to get physical.

"Do you have a permit for concealed carry?" the older man asked, sounding hopeful that she wouldn't.

"Yes," she replied, grateful that whoever had produced her fake documents had thought of every eventuality. "It's in my purse."

"Cuff her while I check," he directed, stepping round to the driver's side of the vehicle.

Without further warning Emily's arms were hauled behind her back. Reflexively, in response to the sharp pain which shot through her still healing muscles, she lashed out, almost knocking the officer off balance.

"That hurts!" she snapped, momentarily forgetting the meek character she was trying to play.

The officer, startled by the swing of her arm, didn't pay any attention to her words, or hesitate in throwing her back against her car. This time her cheek collided with the cold metal. The rain battered down, soaking her hair and clothes, and trickling into her eyes as he held her firmly in place. Not wishing to explain the partially healed bullet wound, she bit her lip against the burning sensation which travelled across the muscles in her shoulder.

"Permit checks out," the older officer announced, ignoring the scuffle which had just occurred. The disappointment was evident in his voice.

Emily thanked Garcia for making sure there was an electronic trail to match the hard copies of her documents.

"Have you got anything on you that you shouldn't have?" he enquired, leaning down to speak to her where her face was still pressed against the hood of the car. He shone his torch up and down her body, letting it linger over her face so she had to squint against the light. The longer this encounter went on, the more she was convinced that whatever was going on, the officers hadn't been tipped off by someone working on the same side that she was.

"No," she mumbled, resisting the urge to fight back against the pressure holding her down. She had to tell herself that there was no point in getting into further trouble just to satisfy the urge to smack both men in the face.

While the younger officer maintained his hold, the other rooted through her purse, and the interior of the car. He finished his search by frisking her, taking his time over the back pockets of her jeans. A nod to his junior saw Emily released.

"Looks like you're good to go, Ms Winter," he remarked, as she straightened up, placing a hand over the area which hurt the most in a hope to stem the pain. He stared once more at the photo on her driver's licence, shining the torch into her face once again as he compared the image with the person before him. With some reluctance he passed her belongings into her waiting hand, hesitating as the gun changed possession.

Whatever, the officers had been hoping to find, it appeared they had been unsuccessful.

"Take care, Ma'am," he told her, his eyes never leaving hers. "Guns can be awfully dangerous in the wrong hands."

/
/

No matter how high she turned the heat on the drive home, Emily couldn't seem to get warm. She was soaked through from her time outside with no jacket. But she suspected it was more than the cold which was causing the shuddery feeling which had taken root inside. Marissa was potentially at even greater risk than she'd anticipated. Especially after their meeting. And she couldn't get the image of the officer's face as he'd handed her her weapon out of her mind, or forget the feeling of his hands over her body.

By the time she pulled up outside the dark house, she'd doubled back on herself multiple times and taken several detours. It was safe to say that the night's events had left her rather shaken and she was eager to be inside and, more importantly, back with someone she knew was on her side.

Sitting in the dimly lit living room, where he'd soothed Lucy to sleep an hour or so before, Derek was almost as agitated as his partner. He hadn't expected her to take so long and she wasn't answering her phone. Knowing where she'd been going only made him worry more than the last time but he was equally frustrated at her for disappearing out of reach again. At the sound of the engine outside, shortly followed by her key in the door, he was in the hallway to meet her.

"Why aren't you answering your phone?" he demanded, with his concern trumping any anger. "What happened?" He kept his voice low, given that there was a sleeping baby cradled against his shoulder, but that somehow made his questions all the more urgent.

She looked confused as she closed the door behind her. After their last argument she definitely wouldn't have ignored his calls, especially given that they were in agreement that her visit to Marissa had been risky. He hadn't called; she'd have heard it.

"You didn't..." she trailed off, patting her pockets as she searched for her cellphone. A look of realisation dawned over her face as she felt the soaking material of her clothes and remembered what else was missing. "I don't have it," she told him with a sigh.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his worry only increasing as he thought of what could have caused her to lose something so important.

"Marissa has it. I gave her my jacket and then some cops showed up and she took off. I forgot it was in my pocket."

"Some cops showed up?" he questioned, the whereabouts of Emily's phone suddenly paling in importance.

She nodded, subconsciously wrapping her arms around herself against the cold and grimacing at the remaining pain from her encounter with the officers.

"It wasn't by chance that they showed up when she was meeting me," she frowned.

"But she got away?"

Emily nodded again. She was still unsure whether the fact brought her relief or not.

"With your jacket and cellphone?"

"Hotch is going to kill me," she murmured. There was no way this extra-curricular outing was going to be missed.

"You're safe; that's all that matters," Derek insisted, wrapping his free arm around her and pressing a kiss on top of her damp hair. She was shivering and her skin was cool beneath his hand. "Get a shower and get warmed up," he instructed. "I'll make sure the house is secure and put this little lady to bed." He pulled her closer into a tight and relieved hug. He wasn't sure he could cope with her undertaking dangerous assignments on her own. Each time only seemed to get worse.

"Aarrghh," Emily hissed, trying to disguise the discomfort which was caused by her shoulder coming into contact with his body.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, urgently, withdrawing from her and scanning her cold, wet form for any possible injury.

"It's just my shoulder," she assured him. "The police officer was a little rough," she added with a dry laugh, though her smile didn't reach her eyes.

Derek's eyes widened in alarm.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his free hand gently resting on her arm so as not to hurt her further.

"They searched me and the car," she explained. "And cuffed me and threw me against the hood in the process." She left out the part about the thinly veiled threat which formed the senior officer's parting words, but Derek could read the unease from her face.

"Do you think they were dirty?" he asked.

She nodded silently.

"What if they know who I am?" she worried aloud. "What if they hurt Marissa?"

Though she blinked them away in a second, Derek caught sight of the tears which prickled her eyes. And he knew they didn't stem from a fear for her own safety. The queen of compartmentalising didn't get upset over cases. Maybe he'd been right in thinking that she was too close; that this case was too much

"It's going to be okay," he assured her, pulling her into a more careful hug. "They didn't see her with you." He knew his reasoning wasn't entirely convincing but he had to try something to stop Emily's mind going into overdrive. She'd clearly been spooked by the officers and he needed her to calm down. "We'll find her again and we'll get her somewhere safe."

Emily remained quiet, as she again chastised herself for her failure to force Marissa to relative safety. What if it was already too late?

/
/

The silver bracelet hung from the man's finger like he was presenting the crucial piece of evidence to prove her guilt beyond all doubt. The young woman's eyes widened with fear as she traced around her bare wrist.

"So how did it get to be outside her car?" he demanded, swinging the piece of jewellery back and forth.

"I told you I don't know who Claire Winters is!" she insisted, closing her eyes in anticipation of what would follow.

"Liar!" His hand collided with her already bruised face and she spat blood across the floor of the dirty kitchen. "I found her jacket and cellphone, burning in the dumpster, just before I found you."

The young woman kept her eyes on the floor, counting down the seconds until the next blow. This one knocked her from the chair to the ground. The time Emily had spent cleaning her wounds hadn't really been worth it.

He knelt on the floor beside her, stroking his hand through her messy hair several times, before he grabbed a handful and pulled her upright.

She screamed at the pain, though she knew it only ever encouraged him.

Holding her chin in his rough palm, he tilted her face towards him and forced his lips over hers, smirking as the metallic taste reminded him she was bleeding.

"You know what I want, Marissa," he prompted, softening his voice. "And you owe me that much. It's up to you how this goes."

His hands worked their way down her body towards her skirt, before he slid them under the material and over her thighs.

She closed her eyes, praying she could be somewhere else and desperately hoping for a way to make him stop.

The answer came to her in a moment which she'd later blame on the ache of her jaw and the feeling that letting him touch her one more time might kill her.

"I can help you," she whispered, raising her eyes voluntarily for the first time since he'd dragged her into the house. "I can get you the baby."