Ta-da! Another update! Again this isn't beta'd, and to be honest, I haven't even read it through so there's bound to be loads of errors.

My lovely beta, Chiroho, I have not ceased to bombard thee with chapters, just trying to get ahead of myself and get back into the usual manic writing routine.

Thank you for the reviews – they did make me get writing when I got in from work tonight. Fingers crossed for another update tomorrow or Wednesday, but it does depend on the reviews!

I haven't had chance to do review replies yet; I wanted to get this up quick, so please take this chapter as a big review reply!

Where the Blue of the Night

"Frustration is the first step towards improvement. I have no incentive to improve if I'm content with what I can do and if I'm completely satisfied with my pace, distance and form as a runner. It's only when I face frustration and use it to fuel my dedication that I feel myself moving forwards."

- John Bingham

Chapter Twenty Eight

November 8th

He'd known he wouldn't be able to keep up, but it was still a disappointment and now he was feeling angry, as if someone had flicked a switch and changed who he was. He hated them, hated them so much that it was eating him up from the inside, nibbling away at every organ and injecting a poison that was killing the person he'd once been.

The car had been ditched, of course. He'd found some homeless guy who'd looked stoned out of his head, and had offered him the keys. The guy had taken it, of course, no questions asked, and when the car was traced, which he was sure it would be, they'd be no sign of him, not until any forensic evidence came back from the lab, which would no doubt be a couple of weeks at least.

By which time, he'd have finished his plan.

The cafe where he was sat was busy, clearly popular with the local business population. He'd been ignored, of no interest, while they got their lattes and cappuccinos to go. That was the problem – being ignored. He knew they did it on purpose, to get to him, to irritate him, trying to show that he was of no use, that no one would find him interesting. Just like the members of the goddamn behavioural analysis unit had done.

He wondered if they'd analysed their own behaviour yet, if they'd worked out what they'd done. He knew they were hiding out somewhere, in one of the government's safe houses, and he had a rough idea of the area in which it lay. Unfortunately it was somewhere off the grid. If only the idiot agents hadn't noticed him – they'd have taken him straight there.

Then he could have exacted the rest of him plan, but now that seemed unlikely to happen.

He needed to change it. He needed to get her alone and make her see.

The glass didn't break.

For a moment Emily couldn't quite grasp that she was still on both feet, on the second floor, in a room, and not toppling down through the air to hit the concrete beneath. She regained her faculties quickly, grabbing hold of both of Martha Moore's shoulders and stopping her from moving, making her freeze.

The few seconds of madness were followed by a silence as cold as the window against which she had been thrown. Then came Martha's tears and she collapsed onto the bed, tortured sobs filling the room. Emily couldn't help but feel pity for the woman. There was always the chance that they hadn't got this right, that they had focused on the wrong person.

"Martha," she said, ignoring the pounding that had restarted in her head. "Martha. Tell me what you know."

"He is such a sweet little boy," she said. "So loving. He had a temper tantrum one day a couple of weeks ago and threw some clothes over the fence. I picked them up and washed them, meaning to drop them back off..."

"Why not just hand them back straight away?" Emily said, not wanting to increase Martha Moore's sense of security right now.

There was a heavy sob. "Because then he would have been in even more trouble. I was trying to protect him, help him out a bit. It wasn't fair, his mother being away all the time and having a nanny. Poor boy. Poor, poor boy."

Emily stood back, the woman's sobs dissolving into hysteria. She looked to Hotch who seemed his usual calm self and her heart twinged.

"We have a doctor on the way," he said. "And we haven't enough to take her into custody. I suspect she'll be admitted into hospital for a psych evaluation based on what she's just tried to do and her current mental state."

"But what about the clothing?" Emily said. "We can't take what she's just said for granted."

"Circumstantial. We need to find out if he had two of the same items of clothing. It will be enough for a warrant to search the place, and we will be able to hold her for assaulting an officer, but any decent lawyer will get her off that charge in minutes."

She could tell by his tone that he was frustrated by what had just happened, retreating back into his shell and suppressing whatever emotion was hanging around behind a thick brick wall. "Then we have to take a step back and look at what evidence we have. I still don't feel like we know everything." She looked about the room which was slightly shabby although not through lack of care.

Footfalls sounded as they came up the stairs, a doctor and an ambulance driver.

"Can you stay with Mrs Moore while she is taken to hospital?" Hotch said to the officer who had been present throughout.

The officer nodded, her eyes remaining fixed on the woman who was still on the bed, sobbing hysterically. Emily knew that some sort of sedative would be administered, something to calm her down. There was no way they would be allowed to interview her while she was in such a state, and it would be useless anyhow. She was incoherent, nonsensical.

They left the room, Emily following Hotch to the top of the stairs, but instead of going down them, they stayed, listening to the cries from the master bedroom.

"This house," she said. "It's in an area that is way out of what the Moores could afford on their salaries. She's an elementary school teacher, he's a handyman. Unless he's doing something else on the side, this house had to have been inherited – or maybe her ex-husband was richer than we had previously assumed."

"She moved here after the divorce," Hotch said, keeping his voice low, almost inaudible. "The house was part of a legacy left by an aunt who was also childless. The aunt died some time before Martha's marriage ended, and this place was left to its own devices. Why it wasn't sold I'm not sure."

The door to one of the smaller bedrooms was slightly ajar, and Emily peered through the gap seeing another room with decor that looked like it had been chosen by her grandmother. "I doubt they've had any money available to redecorate," she said. "Unless this was too her taste already."

Hotch nodded discreetly as Martha Moore was escorted out of the bedroom by the doctor, the officer following close behind. "She looks older than she is, and she appears it in her manner too. I can understand why the principal was so shocked when she announced she was remarrying."

"We need to question his motives for the marriage, Hotch. Although he isn't the most intelligent of people, he is attractive to the extent they make an odd looking couple. People generally seek someone who is of a similar level of attractiveness to themselves – that's psych minus one-oh-one – and that is totally disproved here," she glanced at him, wondering how they matched up themselves.

"We should find Rossi and Reid, see what they got out of the husband. I doubt they're still interviewing him. He must have heard his wife's cries even if he was down in the basement," Hotch said, starting to take the stairs.

"What happened upstairs?" Reid said as they reached the living room, the temperature low as the front door had been left wide open.

"A slight altercation between me and the window," Emily said, thankful to the person who had made sure that the windows were strong and secure. She'd figured it was one of the few changes that had been made to the house, probably due to John Moore. "What did you get from the husband?"

"I assume he's gone with Martha to the hospital?" Hotch said before anyone had had a chance to answer.

Reid nodded. "He was very concerned, and it seemed totally genuine. Whatever the differences between them physically, there is a close bond between them – on his part at least."

"He talked about Martha's sadness at her inability to have children," Rossi said, his finger sweeping along a sideboard. It was clean on inspection; dust free. "And how she had been like a saint in helping him get over his first marriage. He seemed a genuine guy, Hotch. Completely bewildered as to why we would be here."

"So he's either telling the truth or he's a completely convincing liar," Hotch said. "Reid, what do you think?"

"He's telling the truth. If the Alfie's disappearance does have something to do with Martha Moore, I can't see John Moore being involved," Reid said. "Shall Rossi and I head over to the hospital? We need to speak with her as soon as she's fit enough."

Hotch shook his head. "We should get back to the safe house. Martha Moore will be under police supervision while she's being treated. As soon as she's well enough to leave, we'll have someone call us and we'll go to the hospital. I know it's not exactly a short journey, but after what's happened with Morgan this morning, we can't take any chances of hanging around places where the press might turn up."

Emily saw him glance at JJ, as if asking for an update.

"I've had one or two phone calls from reporters who have been forwarded to me by the local police departments, and so far I've managed to pacify them into believing there's no story at present. However, as soon as they get wind of Geoff Thompson's involvement we'll be faced with a barrage to deal with."

Emily felt Hotch's body heat as he stepped closer to her on his way to the door and felt her skin bump. She tried to lose the reaction quickly, hoping her expression didn't give away the combination of hope and hurt she was feeling.

"Hotch, I'd feel better if I can go check on Martha Moore with JJ and Reid at the hospital," Rossi said, Emily noticing the brief but odd look he gave her. "I'd just like a word with the nurses in her care. You should get Emily back and check on Morgan. We can't lose sight of our other mission too."

It was too obvious an instruction, its meaning too clear and Emily wished she could get into a Tardis and step back a few seconds in time to gag Rossi.

"Agent Boyd has got a lift back to Quantico," JJ said, and Emily was sure there was a hint of a smile there. "He said there was something he needed to check on."

A thoughtful look crossed Hotch's face. "I'm not sure about these missions he keeps sending himself on. He's acting like he has information that the rest of us aren't party to, and that concerns me. Has he said anything?"

"He mentioned in the car on the way here that he thought our UnSub was targeting his department rather than the BAU," Emily said. "He seemed quite set on the idea."

"I'll call Garcia and have her monitor what information he's pulling out of the computer," Hotch said, his cell phone already out. "Dave, feel free to head over to the hospital and check on Martha Moore's condition, but stay away from pressuring her or her husband to talk any further. If they've any sense they'll brief up as soon as possible."

Rossi shook his head. "I don't think they will. Martha's in no fit state to consider it, and I doubt it will cross John's mind. He has no concept of the fact that they could be in real trouble here. I assume we're getting a warrant?"

Hotch nodded, and Emily wished the conversation would hurry up. She wanted the time alone that Rossi had magicked out of thin air, even though she had cursed him for it just a minute before, and she also wanted to get back to somewhere she knew was safe at the moment; that open door blowing in fear along with the air.

"Deputy SIngleman is on it," JJ said. "But he thinks the judge will take his time agreeing to it as it's his golf day."

"Is there no one else?" Rossi said, now sounding impatient, which didn't bode well for whoever crossed his path next.

JJ shook her head. "No one who wants to tread on the judge's toes, anyhow. We could have the warrant before we leave the hospital, then we could return for the search."

"As long as the media haven't caught onto this by then," Hotch said. "I know we all want to throw ourselves into this case like we normally do, but have got to be concerned with our safety. We'll see you back at the safe house. Keep your phones on at all times."

There were a few brief nods, and then Emily left the house, feeling as unsure as the sun trying to break through the thick, grey clouds.