A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing. There will be answers to what's going on soon, but for now there's a little more confusion and despair. It's for a reason so I hope you'll trust me on that, and that you enjoy the chapter!

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"Agent, can you confirm that there were fatalities during yesterday's incidents?"

"Were your gunmen aware that there were children in close proximity?"

"What will the police and FBI be doing to reduce the risk posed to the public by your ongoing operation?"

Hotch tried to force his way out of the precinct and through the crowd of bloodthirsty reporters. Cameras flashed and microphones were thrust into his face as he struggled towards the specially erected platform just outside the entrance. He'd emerged from his meeting with Strauss, the Assistant Director and an assortment of police chiefs, tasked with facing the media. There had already been an outcry, based on the shooting of a suspect and the death of the agents outside of the safe house. Everyone had been very quick to wash their hands of responsibility for the operation and it seemed the buck would stop with the BAU. In the days JJ had taken on the role of presenting the Bureau's "united front" to the press, he'd given little thought to the difficulty of keeping personal feelings restrained and sticking to a script.

"My name is Special Supervisory Agent Aaron Hotchner. I have a short statement in respect of yesterday's events. It is with regret that the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the Metropolitan Police Department confirm the death of two agents in the line of duty. I reiterate that those injured at Meadow Drive were federal agents. No members of the public were involved," he stated.

"What about Anacostia park?" a voice shouted from the crowd.

They really were like vultures.

"In a connected incident, a suspect opened fire on an agent in Anacostia park. That agent sustained minor injuries and has since been treated and released from the care of medical personnel. The suspect was fatally injured in the attempts made to neutralise the threat he posed to public safety. We are still seeking a number of men in connection with the incidents. I would urge anyone who witnessed suspicious activity in the vicinity of either incident to contact the MPD tip line at the earliest opportunity. Thank you."

The moment his pre-prepared statement came to an end, a chorus of questions and accusations rang out from the crowd. He wanted to answer them, to defend his team and all those who had done exactly what was expected of them. But instead he nodded towards the journalists and reporters, thanking them again for their attention, and stepped down from the platform. Just as he'd been instructed.

/
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"He doesn't even sound like Hotch," Reid remarked, glancing up to the screen, where a 24 hour news channel played the footage of their boss.

"Turn it off," JJ muttered. She'd been up all night, taking care of Lucy and piecing together the fragments of evidence which were supposed to help them build a profile. Her ribs hurt, she'd burnt her tongue on the steaming cup of coffee in front of her, and she was in no mood to watch Hotch being thrown to the wolves.

Rossi and Garcia completed the team which, despite being depleted in both in numbers and spirit, was attempting to move forward from the mess of the previous day. While, officially, no one had been working overnight, the ground they had covered showed that no one had made it home to bed.

Rossi looked up from the documents spread across the table with a sigh. Throughout the night they had poured over the findings from the crime scene and preliminary medical examiner's reports, and concluded that a shot at almost certainly been fired from outside the safe house.

"I should have listened to Emily," he muttered for at least the tenth time.

"It wouldn't have made a difference," JJ assured him. "Chances are they were long gone before you even arrived on scene." The one point which could be agreed on, in the absence of even a scrap of a profile, was that the gunman did not want to be found.

"Garcia, have you found anything?" Reid asked, as Rossi returned to frowning at the papers, and JJ paced across the room to the whiteboard to try to spot something new amongst the scribbles of marker.

Penelope had returned to Quantico early in the morning, having spent the night watching over her friends at the hospital. While Emily had enough drugs to block out her pain, Derek had to make do with the reassuring squeeze of his best friend's hand and her often feeble attempts at humour. It had been a long night and then, on her return, she'd been tasked with tracking down the man Marissa had identified as her pimp. From what the girl had described, it seemed unlikely he was the shooter, but he was their only lead. Not that it was proving particularly useful.

"Do you know how many dark haired, thirty-something men, called Mark, currently live in the DC area?" she responded, sounding unusually irritable and frustrated. "I'm sorry," she added, cringing at Reid's taken aback expression.

"Why don't you take a break?" Rossi suggested. "We all need to get something to eat." Seeing Garcia devoid of her bubbly personality was enough to convince him that they all needed some time away from the case. They'd be no use to anyone if they burnt out.

"Well, I'm getting nowhere here," JJ sighed, gladly turning her back on the whiteboard. "Spence?"

The youngest agent, who was so far faring better than the others, nodded in agreement and put down the transcript of JJ's interview with Marissa.

"Come on, Penelope," Rossi prompted, gently taking hold of the technical analyst's shoulders and directing her away from the laptop. "Let's get out of here."

The case would still be there in an hour, and for the sake of their sanity, they needed to get away. If they were lucky, they might even be reunited with their unit chief by the time they returned.

/
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It was now well after eleven o'clock, but the hospital remained relatively quiet. It wasn't yet visiting time and the doctors and nurses were occupied making their morning rounds and ensuring their patients had eaten breakfast and were settled for the day. Emily's tray of food lay untouched as, for the time being, she was allowed to sleep on. He'd make sure she ate later but, for now, it wasn't his girlfriend that Derek was trying to coax into feeding.

"You need to drink up so that you get big and strong," he explained to the baby, as Lucy turned her mouth away from the teat of the bottle. "You're not going to be a football star if you start skipping meals."

Unsurprisingly, the little girl did not respond.

"Maybe she wants to be a cheerleader," Emily mumbled sleepily. She'd opened her eyes several minutes before and had been watching him interact with the child. There was no denying that the small smile on her lips came from observing her boyfriend's paternal side.

Derek looked up at the sound of her voice, feeling the knot in his stomach loosen slightly at her healthier complexion and more alert state.

"She still needs to eat," he responded with a grin.

"Try sitting her up," Emily suggested, wincing slightly as she adjusted her own position.

"Are you okay?" he frowned, diverting his attention from the child.

She nodded, pursing her lips together. The perpetual headache was becoming very old very quickly, as were the aches from every other part of her body which had collided with the stairs or her assailant's fists.

"Are you sure?" Derek pressed, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

"I'm better than last night," she assured him.

Still not quite convinced, but letting Emily hold onto her stubborn strength, he returned to feeding the baby, shifting her into the suggested position.

"Told you," she smiled, as Lucy accepted the bottle.

For the best part of a minute, they quietly watched the baby feed, almost soothed by the steady sucking sounds. But they both knew the peace wouldn't last long.

"Once you're released from the hospital, I want to go to Chicago," Derek announced unexpectedly, not bothering to step around the issue which had been on his mind as he waited for her to wake. "We need to get away from here until this is over."

At first Emily simply looked surprised, but it didn't take long for the sigh to escape her body.

"Derek, we can't just run away," she told him.

"That's exactly what we can do," he responded. "You'll be on medical leave for a couple of weeks and you can't just sit around waiting for them to take another shot."

"It's not me they want," she reminded him, her eyes lingering on the baby who was now contentedly drinking the bottle, with no need for encouragement.

"Exactly - that's why you need to get away from Lucy."

It was more difficult for him to say than he'd imagined, especially when the child was nuzzled close to him, but he had to remind himself that she was only a part of their job. Taking care of the baby was supposed to be a temporary arrangement, and now that their plan had fallen apart, they needed to move on. It was best for everyone involved.

"But I promised Marissa..." Emily began, resurrecting the tired excuse for her involvement in the case.

"Marissa sold you out," he snapped. "She got JJ shot."

He hadn't meant to sound so aggressive, but it seemed his anger had only been compounded by a night sitting by her hospital bed. It was going to take more than losing his temper with Hotch to burn out everything which had been building up over the past two weeks.

"What?" she exclaimed, sitting straighter, despite the pain. "JJ got shot? Is she okay?"

He immediately regretted his tone, and the statement, as Emily's face contorted through several different expressions of distress.

"She's fine," he soothed, his voice softening as he realised his mistake. She'd known nothing of what had happened in the time she'd been fighting for her own life. "The bullet hit her vest."

Emily still looked upset but the worry in her wide eyes diminished.

"Please, Em," he begged. "You've got to get better somewhere you're not just going to get sucked back in. Don't let him destroy you."

Emily felt a lump form in her throat. There was an "us" implied in his "you".

"Could you really leave her?" she asked.

He looked down at the bundle in his arms. Her eyes were growing heavy and her feeding more lazy, as she drifted closer to sleep. He'd been with this little girl almost every day of her life and he'd seen every minuscule change in her appearance and personality. There was a bond that shouldn't have been there, but it was. Emily wasn't the only one who was too attached.

"Yes," he lied, tearing his eyes away and turning them back towards his girlfriend.

His answer came out clear and definite, despite his doubts. She studied him closely, wishing she could tell exactly what he was thinking. Was this the final straw for him? She'd pushed and pushed, and if she kept going then they'd reach a point from which they wouldn't come back. For as long as she could remember, she'd been fighting. Against Strauss and then against Doyle. For the team, and for Marissa and Lucy.

Yet in the moment she'd truly believed she would die, her mind couldn't have been further from those battles. Maybe it was time to fight for something different.

"Okay. We'll go to Chicago."