Adversity draws men together and produces beauty and harmony in life's relationships, just as the cold of winter produces ice-flowers on the window-panes, which vanish with the warmth.

Soren Kierkegaard

Lisa wasn't surprised to hear that Lynch had already heard about the explosion. She'd been working with him for nearly a year and where he was no Penelope Garcia; the guy knew his stuff and was usually two steps ahead of everyone else. By the time she'd called him; Lynch had already hacked into NYPD's system and was maneuvering past their fire walls to the dispatch records.

Cradling the cordless receiver of her landline in her shoulder, she paced the living room, listening while he furiously tapped and muttered to himself.

"Okay," he said, "This is interesting. It looks like signals for all of the cameras in the New York surveillance grid are being diverted to this one ip address."

"All of them?" she asked, knowing that had to be one hell of a lot of camera feeds.

"There's over 4000 of them," he said, then, "That's got to be where Garcia is."

"Can you contact her? Without being detected?"

Lynch laughed, "can the Pope speak German?'

"God, I hope so," she sighed, feeling a faint glimmer of hope begin to rise.

"Okay, I sent a system query box, but overwrote the pre coded message asking her the status of the team," he rambled.

Lisa knew a bit about computers, but not that much, "Okay?" she said, more of a question than an affirmation.

Sensing that she was lost, Lynch explained, "The system query is usually a box that pops up and has some pre coded message about what the program is searching for, such as virus scan running, searching for free space…something like that."

"Okay," she nodded, "But won't someone be able to see that message?"

"No, not the way I've done it. They'll think they're seeing the precoded message. Only Pen's computer monitor will have the actual message." He stopped, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. "Now, let's just hope she answers, he concluded, a tinge of worry in his voice.

Lisa wore a fond smile, "I'm sure she's okay, Kevin," she assured him.

"And I'm sure Agent Hotchner is, too," he added in kind.

"Agent Hotchner?" she asked, curiously. Did he think she was involved with Hotch?

"Yes, Ma'am. I know that you two are…" he seemed to be searching for the right word. "Close?"

"We've been friends for years, Kevin," she dismissed, "We started in the BAU about the same time."

"Yes, Ma'am, I know," he returned, with a knowing tone.

She swore that if she could see him, he'd be winking. What the hell was he thinking? Hotch? That would be like dating her brother! She almost corrected him, almost blurted out that he had the wrong SSA, but instead, she stayed quiet. She let him go on with the wrong idea.

Lynch's excited voice came back over the line. "She's okay," he answered.

"What? How do you know?"

"I got the following response," he said, then, reading, "This is Officer Bartleby from NYPD. I've been working with Penelope. She's fine, but upset."

"And the rest of the team?" Lisa demanded.

"She didn't say, Ma'am, but I've messaged her back."

"Shit," she spat, pacing harder.

"She just wrote back," he said. "She says, two injured, all others okay."

"Two injured?" she said, fear gripping her heart. "Which two?"

"I asked her, I'm waiting for a response. Stay calm…"

"I'm trying," she lied, picking up her cell phone and again dialing Rossi's number. Once again, it went straight to voice mail. "Did she answer?"

"Not yet…"

Lisa looked at the television, noting that the anchor was talking about baseball, she hissed, "Goddamn baseball, who gives a rat's ass?"

"Excuse me?" Lynch asked.

"Sorry, Kevin," she tiredly said, "MSNBC is showing something about the Yankees. Who the hell cares?"

"Still no word, Ma'am," he dutifully reported.

"Thank you, Kevin, I really appreciate this."

"Not a problem, any time I can help," he returned, then, "Just heard back. She says, not sure, one of the older guys and a woman. Sorry I don't have more details."

"One of the older guys," Lisa repeated, "What in the hell does that mean?"

"Well, to me, that would indicate either Agent Hotchner or Agent Rossi," he said.

His words rang in her ears and she felt sick to her stomach. She sat down hard on the sofa.

"Agent O'Reilly," Kevin said, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she choked out.

"Ma'am, I know you don't know me that well, but if it's okay with you, I'd like to come over there," he offered, clearly nervous. "You probably shouldn't be alone."

"I'll be okay, Kevin. But you really are a doll for offering," she sincerely said.

"Are you sure?"

"I am," she agreed, numbness replacing dread. "I'll tell you what. I'm going to let you go, just in case Penelope calls. If you hear anything at all, will you promise to call me?"

"The minute I hear anything, I will call you."

"Thank you, Kevin," she softly said, "thank you very much.'

"Call me if you need me, okay?" he offered.

"I will," she said, as they broke the connection. Hands shaking, Lisa set the phone down on the coffee table. She took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down. "Come on, just relax…"

Without thinking, she picked up the cordless and dialed a familiar number. After two rings, the line was answered. "What's wrong, Lisa Rose?" the gruff voice of Frank O'Reilly asked.

"What makes you think something's wrong, Dad?" Lisa smiled.

"You're calling me at 10:30," he rationalized, "Last time you called this late it was to tell me that Nick left you. So, what's going on, Daughter?"

"Do you have to work tomorrow?" she asked.

"Not until 4," he chuckled, "So, I've got all night. Talk to me, Kiddo."

And talk she did. Over the next two hours, Lisa told him almost everything she'd been keeping from him. She told him how she'd started seeing Rossi again, about everything he'd done for her, about how they were making a go of it and things were going well. She told him all of it, except for the part about him becoming a grandfather. After he'd questioned her sanity and Rossi's intentions, she came back with her argument, convincing him, at least partly, that his oldest daughter hadn't completely lost her mind.

Then, once he'd heard all of that, she told him about tonight. He listened while she cried, talked her down from her anger, recited the Lord's Prayer for her, and made her promise that she would call him when she heard anything. It was nearly one am when she looked at the clock. "Shit, Dad, I've talked your ear off. I've kept you on the line for three hours."

"And if you were closer, Reds, I'd be there holding your hand," he softly said. "You know, I love you, don't you."

She felt her eyes filling with tears again, "Yeah, Dad, I do. I love you too."

"You want to keep talking? I can brew up a pot of coffee."

"No…" she said, interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone. She looked at the display screen, reading Rossi's number. "Dad…"

"Go, Reds. Call me in the morning."

"Bye," she said, disconnecting the cordless and picking up her cell. Flipping it open, she placed it to her ear, "Hello?"

"Lisa," Rossi's voice began and in the one word she could hear so much emotion.

"Oh my God," she said, her voice a whisper, "You're okay."

"I'm okay, Little Girl," he assured her.

"Was it Hotch?"

"He was in the SUV," he calmly explained. "He's okay…"

"What happened?"

"Sweetheart, I love you and I will tell you the whole story, but not now. I just lived it. I need to digest it."

"Is Hotch hurt badly?" she asked, frightened for her friend.

"No, he suffered some hearing loss and a few bruises," he said.

"Who was the other agent? I heard two agents were injured."

"Kate Joyner from the New York office," he said.

"How is she?"

"She didn't make it."

Emotion over took her and the tears started again. This time, she didn't try to stop them.

"You okay?" he quietly asked.

"No," she returned, choking back a sob.

"Hey," he soothed, emotion straining his voice, "No tears…"

"I can't help it," she went on, giving into the overload of emotions she'd experienced that evening. "I know, that whatever you went through was infinitely worse, but I've been sitting here...not knowing…"

"I couldn't call you, I was neck deep…" he trailed off.

"I thought you were fucking dead," she cried.

"I'm okay."

"I know…"

The sound of her sobs tore at his heart and he wished he was there to comfort her. He spoke, quietly, his voice echoing in the empty hotel room.

"I'm sorry, My Love," he quietly said, "I am so sorry. Please don't cry."

"I'm sorry," she sniffed.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for…"

"Neither do you…"

"Hey, come on…" he said, unable to listen to her sobbing. "Do you want me to drive home?"

"No," she sniffed, willing herself to stop crying. "No. You're exhausted; I can hear it in your voice. I don't want you driving. Just go to sleep. Rest…"

"Listen, we're all going back to the BAU tomorrow when we get home…"

"I'll be in my office," she said.

"It's late, you're tired, maybe you should…" he began, but she cut him off.

"I have to be there. I have a conference call at 9."

"Okay, do me a favor?" he asked, "Go lie down, get some sleep. I promise, as soon as I sign off on the paperwork, I'll come to your office, okay?"

"Okay," she quietly said.

"I love you, Little Girl," he softly said.

"I love you too," was her quiet reply. "Good night."

Before he could answer her, her voice was replaced by the dial tone.

"The advantage of the emotions is that they lead us astray."

Oscar Wilde

Yawning, Lisa disconnected from her conference call and picked up her coffee cup full of Dr. Pepper. After taking a long drink, she set the mug down. She was exhausted and seriously contemplating leaving the office. But she knew she couldn't. She had way too much work to do.

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, centering her exhausted mind. Hearing the sound of her office door closing, she opened her eyes to find Rossi walking across the room.

She stood up and walked around the desk, meeting him in the middle of the room.

"Hi," she said, studying him. He looked tired and drained, but he wore a smile.

"Hello, Lisa," he said, holding his arms open.

She stepped to him and he pulled her close. They stood, holding each other tight.

"You're going to tell me the whole story," she said, pulling back and looking at him.

"I promise you," he seriously said, taking her face in his hands. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

"Show me," she said.

"Here?" he asked, brow raised. "Where everyone can see it?"

"Shut up and kiss me, Damnit," she said, leaning forward and kissing him. At that point, she didn't care who knew about their thinly veiled relationship. She just wanted to hold him in her arms.

He pulled her close and returned the kiss. Holding her tightly, he breathed in the scent of her perfume, its light floral scent familiar and reassuring. Breaking it off a few moments later, he pulled back and locked her eyes with his. "Come home with me."

"But…"

He shook his head, "It's not a request, Lisa. The team's on stand down and I need to get away from here for a couple of days. Come with me to my place. I want you with me. I'll clear it with Strauss, if you need me too, but you're leaving with me now."

"Dave, I don't exactly have a ready bag full of clothes that will fit. I need to pack…"

"Screw the packing," he dismissed. "You need new clothes; I'll take you to the outlets in Williamsburg tomorrow."

She didn't even try to mask her surprise. "You're willingly offering to take me shopping? You really must need to get out of here."

"Little Girl, in the past 24 hours I've helped to thwart a terrorist plot and very nearly lost a very dear old friend. I've been pissed off, frustrated, and haven't slept worth a shit. And believe it or not, through out it all, I kept thinking that everything would have been a little bit easier to take if I had you to talk to, if I could just see your smile."

"Sweet talker," she laughed, but his serious expression didn't waver.

"So? What do you say? I'm going to Little Creek and turning off the phone. I don't want to see or hear from anyone remotely connected with the FBI, except you. Come with me."

His expression was so serious, so earnest and his voice revealed the emotions that were bubbling just beneath the surface. Sure, she had work to do, but she always did. She was exhausted and drained and felt as if she could sleep for days. She knew she could duck out early with no problem; she'd just take her laptop and check in from Little Creek.

"What are we waiting for?"