A little later than Wednesday, but hey, better slightly late than very late! Thank you to those who reviewed – feel free to go back and drop a review for the previous chapter if you haven't done so :)

I feel very rusty writing again after nearly a month's break – hopefully it'll get easier!

Thanks to the reviewers, notafirsttimereviewer and Kim included, and to Chiroho for the beta for this chapter. I'll aim for Sunday for the next chapter.

Where the Blue of the Night

"There is no such thing as a weird human being, It's just that some people require more understanding than others."

- Tom Robbins

Chapter Twenty Three

November 7th

It would be another forty five minutes before anyone else could be out there. Even the locals – who weren't actually that local – were too far away to provide any assistance that would be useful, so Rossi was left to think on his feet. He could assume that Thompson was aware of their arrival, a least it would be safest to, and therefore he and Agent Llewellyn would have to play innocent as to what they had just found.

Thompson opened the door looking significantly worse for wear. His hair was dishevelled, and he appeared to not have shaved for several days. There was an aroma about him that told of a strange dance with a bottle of bourbon, and Rossi doubted that he was sober at that moment.

He was going to have to buy time. Back up was needed before they could even think of arresting him, and that body in the lake would be going nowhere fast, being too caught up in the reeds. "Mr Thompson," Rossi said. "May we come in?"

Thompson hung onto the door and looked at them with untrusting eyes. "Why are you here? You found Alfie?"

Rossi shook his head. "No. We haven't found your son."

"Then what the fuck are you doing here? You should be out there looking for him." The words were predictable, and Rossi imagined that should he ever be in that position, he would probably say the same thing.

"We have several leads to follow at the moment, Mr Thompson, and one of them is the disappearance of Mrs Jennifer Keeley," Rossi said. "I'd much prefer to discuss this inside." He knew he needed to be able to contain Thompson; to try to settle him down and disperse some of the agitation that was clearly built up within him.

Thompson's eyes flickered towards the lake. "What makes you think Mrs Jennifer Keeley has disappeared?" he said, the name emphasised, almost sarcastically. "She's probably hiding somewhere with my son, hoping to spite his mother."

It was the first time Rossi had heard Thompson refer to Alfie as his son, and it told him more about the state of his relationship than anything that had been said previously. "We need to discuss that, Mr Thompson," Rossi said. "And I'd rather do it over a coffee, somewhere warm, if that's okay?" He heard Llewellyn's phone ring, and the other agent moved away to answer it, hushed tones inaudible against the rattling remainders of leaves blowing in the wind.

"Come in then," Thompson said, finally pushing the door away from him, allowing Rossi to catch it open and enter the cabin.

It was untidy inside, the signs of a fight with inner demons apparent in the detritus that had been left lying about. Rossi found himself sympathising with Thompson, understanding what had driven him this far. He walked slowly into the kitchen, Thompson following him while Llewellyn was still on his phone outside. Thompson appeared to be unarmed, although Rossi had noticed a handgun near the door. A passing thought of an easy way out, maybe.

Thompson leaned against a tall cupboard, his eyes half closed. A glimmer of sunlight fell through the window onto his face, causing him to squint, lines deepening around his eyes.

"Shall I make some coffee?" Rossi said.

Thompson watched him, shrugging. He said nothing as Rossi used the pot to pour water into the tank on the back of the coffeemaker and began to open cupboards, finding the coffee and cups in the most predictable of places. He heard Llewellyn's footsteps as he came through to the kitchen, casting Rossi a knowing glance before sitting on one of the breakfast stools. "This is Agent Llewellyn," Rossi said, gesturing to make sure Thompson understood. "He's assisting with the investigation. I don't know if Ms Fletcher told you, but we had to call in agents from outside the BAU as there have been so many possible leads in this case."

"And yet you have no idea where Alfie is?" Thompson's tone was flat, as if he had accepted what the outcome would be already.

Rossi shook his head. "The delay in contacting us has not helped matters," Rossi said. "And the disappearance of Mrs Keeley." He looked at Thompson, not stopping his eyes from telling what he knew.

Thompson looked away, a hand rubbing at the messy stubble.

"How do you take your coffee?" Rossi said, the aroma filling the air, taking away some of the staleness of the room.

"Black. One sugar," Thompson said. His posture told of a battle that had been lost. Rossi was now sure that Thompson posed no threat to him or Llewellyn; there was no fight left, just resignation as to what was about to happen.

"They said fifteen minutes," Llewellyn said. "The call –"

Rossi nodded, pouring the coffee. "Time for a drink then. What's the fishing like here?"

"Good," Thompson said. "Part of the reason I bought the place."

"Is the lake deep?" Rossi said, his weapon burning his side. He wasn't intending on antagonising Thompson, but instead developing a scenario where he could take the man's confession.

"Deep enough," Thompson said, ignoring the coffee that Rossi held out to him.

Rossi put it down on the counter. "You've met Jennifer Keeley before?"

Thompson shrugged. "I guess I saw her once or twice, outside Juliet's. She was always around."

"What made you so adamant that she took Alfie?" Rossi said, noticing Llewellyn glancing out of the window.

"She seemed like the obvious person." Thompson looked at the floor.

"We've searched every property she has any connection with, and have found no suggestion of Alfie having ever been there, or anything to say she might have been planning to take him," Rossi said. "It's highly unlikely that Mrs Keeley had anything to do with your son's abduction."

There was a silence that hung in the room like a dense fog.

"Why are you here?" Thompson said, eventually breaking the quiet as Rossi knew he would.

"We're investigating the disappearance of Jennifer Keeley," Rossi said, waiting for the tirade about not doing enough for the missing child.

Thompson didn't respond. Instead he took the coffee and began to drink it slowly.

"It's an investigation we'll be able to close as soon as her body has been identified," Rossi said.

Thompson was emotionless. He wasn't going to offer an explanation, or confession, and Rossi had no doubt that in the time that it took to remove the body from the lake Thompson would have lawyered up.

"You must have known we'd come looking here," Rossi said.

"I expected you sooner," Thompson looked out of the window, towards the dense forestry. "And I expected you to have found Alfie."

"Maybe we would have already, if we hadn't had to waste our time." The sound of sirens hollered in the distance, reverberating around an empty shell of a man, and another place that would never be the same.

"You okay?"

Emily turned around to see JJ unzipping the thick coat she had been wearing.

"You feeling any better?"

Emily nodded, not sure if she was lying or not. "I'd rather be out there doing something useful, instead of stuck in here going through paperwork."

JJ moved around the furniture and Emily's stack of files and sat down in one of the chairs. "Has Hotch been checking on you?"

"A fair bit," she said, truthfully. It felt awkward; every time he had come into the room her head had began to thump and she'd felt remarkably like the fourteen year old girl she thought she'd outgrown decades ago.

JJ gave her a puzzled look before recounting what had happened that morning. Emily knew she wouldn't be able to hide what had happened for too long, although she knew that JJ would be empathetic enough to wait for Emily to say something before diving in for the not so juicy details.

"I heard a few minutes ago that Geoff Thompson has been arrested for the murder of Jennifer Keeley," JJ said. "Rossi's on his way back now – I think he wants us to go over the details again, looking at Martha Moore as the UnSub."

Emily focused her mind on what she had been reading that morning. She had been skipping between the two cases; looking through the files Hotch had passed to her containing details of Bureau employees ,and glancing at information Kevin had been sending out via the secure intranet he and Garcia had set up in record time.

"She's had a strange past," Emily said, hoping that discussing the case would stop JJ from picking up on her mood. "She moved between her mother and grandmother as a child, while her mother toured in various dance troupes around the country, even going to Paris at one point."

"Not your average childhood," JJ said. "But then who has one these days?"

Emily nodded, looking away , scared that JJ would be able to read the thoughts behind her eyes. "Morgan's improving. The doctors think he be discharged tomorrow."

"How did we get that information?"

"Strauss. She figured it'd be safer for her to call the hospital."

There was a silence during which Emily felt as if she was under as much scrutiny as she had been at the age of fifteen.

"You want to tell me what's eating you?" JJ said. "Is it Hotch?"

Emily nodded slowly. There was no point in denying it. "He said he wasn't sure. That he needed to work things out. He's sleeping in one of the other bedrooms."

"But this was something you expected, right?"

JJ was right; she had expected it. It had always been there; the possibility that he would have to move backwards and away from her, like the outgoing tide, carrying her heart along with the rest of the driftwood. "Yes," Emily said. "I guess it was inevitable."

"But he hasn't said it's over, has he?"

"No, just – the space thing." She'd heard it before; a common brush off.

"Then that's what he means," JJ said. "He's not your average guy, Emily. You being hurt got to him. You have a job where you put your life at risk each day. Hotch has got to know how to deal with that if you are more than just a colleague."

"I know." The front door creaked, an unwitting notification that someone had just entered, and their conversation ceased.

"We'll talk more about this later," JJ said, standing. "I'm going to go check on Henry before we're all summoned."

Emily forced a smile, pushing herself out of the doldrums and back into the coping mode she had utilised so many times before. There was work to do, work that left no time for self-pity.

The rows of children were neatly ordered, the desks equally spaced, each containing only the necessary equipment. Nothing to fiddle with, nothing to be distracted by. God only knew that children were over stimulated these days with all the action on TV and computer games. They didn't know how to be bored, and so make up their own games, thus never developing an imagination.

And that included Alfie.

He had never once given any sign of being able to create, and it was a crying shame. Still, a little time alone ought to help.

She'd taken him lunch, neatly packed in the new lunch box she'd bought. It was a healthy meal and he'd seemed appreciative of it, eating it greedily, even though it had contained carrot sticks and hummus, things she doubted he'd ever tried before. He'd looked pale, and tired, and she could tell he'd been crying. To no avail of course. There was no one there to hear. Especially as her neighbour was now in hospital.

Martha Moore looked at the neat line of children, their faces covered with their lunches, their hair mussed from playing outside, and she swallowed a moment of disgruntlement. Somebody should clean them up. Somebody should look after them properly. Only that wasn't her job.

She wasn't their mother.