A day late, but it is a longer chapter *seeks forgiveness*

Thank you to those who reviewed – please do review if you can. It takes a good few hours to write each chapter, and only a few seconds for just a short review, and they are much appreciated!

Anyway... recap time!

Last time on Criminal Minds... (well, I had to, didn't I?)

On returning home after the case in Utah, Rossi was the target of a explosion at his home. He wasn't injured, but this led to the team having to leave Quantico behind and take refuge in a safe house. In the meantime, Agent Mansfield , who was investigating threats to the BAU, was murdered in his house, making the investigation more personal for his second in command, Agent Boyd, who has taken it upon himself to investigate without the team's expertise, and has a suspect in his sights.

While based in the safe house, further threats were made, and Prentiss and Morgan were run off the road and injured leading to a hospital stay. After being discharged from hospital, Emily was told by Hotch that he thought their relationship should be put 'on hold'.

The team profiled their UnSub to be someone working for the FBI, with an excellent knowledge of computers, who has felt aggrieved by each member of the team in some way. They profiled him to be a stalker, who has maybe fixated on one member in particular, but nothing in the past suggested exactly who that could be.

At the same time as the threats and attacks began, Strauss passed on a case involving the disappearance of a young boy, Alfie Fletcher. The case was to be kept quite as his father was a high profile politician and Alfie was the son of his mistress. Alfie's disappearance was linked with the cases of three other children; two of whom had been found dead several months later, the other had never been found. All parents had received strange letters before each disappearance.

Alfie's father, Geoff Thompson, had blamed Jennifer Keeley for Alfie's disappearance and had taken revenge into his own hands. Rossi discovered her body on Thompson's property. The case had then focused on Martha Moore, an elementary school teacher, and her husband John. She reacted badly to being questioned by Prentiss and was taken into hospital to be assessed.

And that's 30 chapters briefly summarised!

Where the Blue of the Night

"The worst lies are the lies we tell ourselves. We live in denial of what we do, even what we think. We do this because we're afraid. We fear we will not find love, and when we find it we fear we'll lose it. We fear that if we do not have love we will be unhappy."

- Richard Bach

Chapter Thirty

November 8th

Morgan was smiling when she saw him, his eyes on his computer screen, reading an email. But his smile didn't cover all of the shadows that still lingered there: it had been a tough couple of weeks with too many unresolved issues that still had no sign of being put to bed.

"Something amusing?" Emily said, sitting down next to him. Hotch had disappeared to the office he'd claimed to grab some papers, and Emily felt glad to have a few minutes where he wasn't around. His brooding was more intense than usual, and she was finding it a little stifling.

"Just an email Reid sent a couple of days ago – you'll have seen it. He copied us all in," Morgan said, resting back against the sofa tentatively. "What's been happening this morning?"

"Aside from you being followed back from hospital, and nearly ending up back there?" Emily said, almost collapsing onto the chair adjacent to Morgan's sofa.

"Llewellyn's a decent driver," Morgan said. "He had us covered. He's trying to I.D. the car as we speak."

Emily nodded, letting silence reign for a minute or so, giving them both time to think and contemplate.

"You and Hotch," Morgan said eventually. "Garcia said - "

She shrugged. "He has issues."

"He shouldn't."

"It's not that straightforward, Derek," Emily kept her voice low, aware that Hotch could enter the room at any point. "Getting involved with a colleague is totally out of character for Hotch..."

"It's totally out of character for anyone who was married for as long as him," Morgan said, interrupting. "He made a decision back in South Dakota that he wanted to get involved with you as more than a colleague. Now he's done a complete three-sixty on that. Has he even said why?"

Emily screwed her mouth up a little. Morgan was right; there had been no clear reason given for his change of mind, not that she had ever expected a full explanation anyway. "Not really – I kind of always just assumed it wouldn't last very long."

"That doesn't say much for your opinion of him, Em," Morgan said. "This happened just after our crash?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, the day after."

"You think that's why?"

"What do you mean?"

Morgan shrugged as if it was obvious. "He can't handle you being hurt. This job – we put ourselves in danger even when we don't mean to. He can't always be there to save you Prentiss, and that's what he thinks his role should be. I also doubt he's used to having to deal with the different feelings the crash would have caused."

"So, given your vast experience of the dating scene, Morgan, how would you go about this now?" she said, glaring at him, unsure as to whether she wanted him to interfere in what was going on, but curious as to what his advice would actually be.

"Confront him. Ask him what the deal is. Cause the chances are, he's not sussed out himself yet what is actually going on in his head..."

"And whose head might that be?"

Emily and Morgan both looked up a little too quickly on hearing Hotch's voice, and Emily began to will the floor to open up and swallow her whole, spitting out her bones in some undiscovered part of the Sahara.

"John Moore," Morgan said. "You know, maybe we've pussy footed round him a little too much. Been too nice. What's Rossi's latest?"

Emily wondered how much practice it had taken for Morgan to be able to smooth over a lie like that.

Hotch raised his eyebrows, clearly not buying it, but saying nothing. Avoiding the conversation. Emily began to feel determined to force the topic at some point when they were more private. "Rossi called a few minutes ago. He's been with John Moore for the past hour or so, and hasn't got much further with him. He seems very naive in some ways, but then something slips and Rossi says it's almost like he's playing a part. Reid's been speaking with an acquaintance of the Moores' who's at the hospital visiting her mother, but again, he's just getting feedback of them being a lovely couple. Apart from what we heard at the park, we're not hearing anything useful."

"Any news on the warrant to search their home?" Emily said, sitting up a little straighter.

"The officer in charge is still working on it," Hotch said. "We're leaving that to the locals rather than us doing it. After Morgan was followed today we need to keep a lower profile and stay out of the way."

Morgan nodded, an action which surprised Emily. "A search of a school teacher's house in connection to a missing boy is going to bring a lot of media attention to the case. As soon as the story breaks our UnSub is going to have a real good idea of what we've been working on since we moved out of Quantico."

A dark look crossed Hotch's face. "This could well be the last case we work for a while," he said. "We have a profile for our UnSub, but a suspect list that's too long to do much with. He's clever – but all we can do is wait for him to make a mistake."

"Then shouldn't we do the opposite of what we're doing now?" Emily said, frowning. She'd thought this before, but the need for caution had seemed greater then. Yet it had got them nowhere. "We need to provide a controlled opportunity for him to make a mistake."

Morgan looked brighter at the suggestion, while Hotch's expression had grown blacker still.

"Look, Hotch. There's no reason for any of us to be harmed any more than we already have. If we link ourselves to this case publically there's no way he'll be able to resist the lure of the media attention and the opportunities it will bring to make his story heard. He's clearly aggrieved by these things that we've done to him and wants us to apologise or make up to him in some way, but for him to do that, and for us to understand him further we have to be out there," she said, resolve gathering within her as she spoke.

She was met with silence as she and Morgan waited for Hotch's response.

"We need to ensure we have the person or people who have taken Alfie first," Hotch said. He looked pale, Emily noticed, and his eyes were dull, lacking their usual shine. "Once we've done that, we can arrange a press conference. We need to sit down and sort out the details."

Emily nodded, although she wasn't sure she agreed with him completely: taking a more prominent role now, although being careful about it would certainly draw their UnSub from out of the woodwork. However, now was apparently not the right time to debate this judging by Hotch's demeanour; she'd leave it until after she'd spoken to Rossi.

"How are you feeling, Morgan?" Hotch said, as if just realising that it was Morgan who was sat there.

Morgan nodded. "Not too bad. I guess it could have been a lot worse."

"There was no chance of you being followed back here?" Hotch said. Emily found she couldn't contain her annoyance at the insinuation that Morgan and Llewellyn would put the team in danger, but she said nothing, knowing her expression would do all the talking – if he noticed.

"No. Llewellyn made sure of it. He's been busy trying to get information on the car that was following us and writing up his report for you," Morgan said. Emily saw him glance at her, and his eyes change from wary to slightly amused.

"I'll go speak with him," Hotch said, starting to walk out of the room. "Make sure you take it easy, Derek."

Emily caught Morgan's eye as Hotch left and felt vaguely irritated at his all knowing expression.

"You need to talk to him," Morgan said. "In fact, make that talk at him."

"That'll make things worse," she said with a half sigh, sinking further into the chair.

"Can it get any worse?"

Rain began to hit the window so hard it sounded as if the glass would break.

"It can always get worse, Morgan. We should know that by now."

The cardboard cup full of something that was being passed off as coffee was almost too hot to hold, something else to cause him aggravation. The day had already been too long and the far away reality of a warm fire and a finger of malt whisky were almost too painful to contemplate. He was now stood near to the room allocated to Martha Moore half-listening to John Moore question the nurse who was looking more harassed by the minute.

"Has she said anything about wanting to speak to me?" he said, his voice urgent.

"We've not checked up on her for a while," the nurse said. "The officer has been with her and she asked us not to interrupt as Mrs Moore wished to talk. We have no concerns with your wife's physical health, Mr Moore. We're just waiting for one of the specialists to say she's okay to be questioned."

Rossi frowned, sipping the coffee and not tasting it. He'd often spoke to students about having a 'spider sense', an intuition that something was amiss. He would go on to explain that it wasn't some special power injected into the human body with the venom of a spider, but simply a gift at noticing things, and being observant towards peoples mannerisms, their tone of voice and facial expressions.

"How long is it since you last saw her?" Mr Moore said, and it was at that point Rossi slipped passed and pushed the door open to Martha Moore's room.

The nurse had rushed behind him, words about privacy still on her lips when he knew her mouth had fallen open without turning round to look at her.

"Where is she?" the nurse said.

Rossi turned to John Moore. "Maybe you can answer that?"

The look of confusion that crossed John Moore's face was worthy of a part in a soap opera. "I have no idea," he said. "I thought..."

Rossi waited. This instant was crucial. It would show whether or not John Moore was somehow involved in what his wife had done – was doing. Martha Moore had not lost the plot when she had hit out at Prentiss; the move had been a calculated one, one that would get her into a hospital, make questions be asked of her treatment, and then afford her the opportunity to slip out, to check on her pet. "You though what? I suggest you begin to elaborate."

"I thought she was talking to the police officer, you know, Lyndsay Bergamon..."

"Why do you know the officer's first name?" Rossi said, his eyebrows now into his hairline.

"I...I... heard her say it," John Moore said. "She said it before."

Rossi noticed the nurse shaking her head. "He's lying," she said to Rossi. "Mrs Moore was one of Officer Bergamon's elementary school teachers. I heard them talking about her other classmates while I was in the room."

"I didn't know that!" John Moore said, his words babbled. Rossi could see panic in his eyes, the sort he'd seen in hunted animals the moment they were caught.

"Let's get you down to the station and we'll talk there. I suggest you sit down and have a long think about exactly how you're going to help us," Rossi said, pulling out his cell phone.

The whisky grew ever further away.

Calverville Point, South Dakota

"You heard from that FBI agent of yours recently?"

Jolene looked up from the tap she was refitting behind the bar and took in the recently dyed hair of Leonie Tucker. "Yesterday," she said, having to think about it. There had been that many things to do in the past twenty four hours she'd lost track of time.

"He say anything about Sophie being there?"

Jolene frowned, trying to think. The last conversation they'd had had been a lengthy one, but she was pretty sure he'd not mentioned Sophie at all. "No. She wouldn't be there at the moment, anyhow. The whole team are being kept out of the way as some small minded ape is trying to mow them down. You remember me telling you about that explosion at Dave's a few days back?"

Leonie's face had started to turn pale, her eyes widening.

"You need a drink?" Jolene said, her hand reaching automatically for the glasses she used for gin.

Leonie shook her head. "No. But I need to you to get in touch with your man and tell him I've though Sophie's been with Agent Emily for the past couple of days."

Jolene poured the gin for herself. "What?"

Leonie sighed. "Soph said Emily had sent her a plane ticket to go see her in Washington for a few days. I agreed, even though she was missing a bit of school, but you know she's a good kid and I thought the trip would do her good. She sent me a message before she got on the plane and one when she landed, but since then I've not heard from her. I've tried phoning, but it goes straight through to voicemail. At first I thought she must have run out of charge on her phone, but she would have packed the charger. You know what a good kid she is, Jo. She would have phoned at least once a day to save me worrying."

Jolene added tonic. "Dave would have mentioned if Sophie was with them. He was talking about this safe house where they've just been put up..."

"Can you call him – let him know that she must be missing..."

"I can't, Leonie. I don't have him number – I can't have it. The only way I can get in touch is through the FBI itself, and I'll have to ask Officer Rawson for that. I'll do that now," Jolene said, taking a quick drink.

Leonie nodded, her silhouette darkening as Jolene stepped into the back of the bar to make the phone call that would draw Calverville Point in yet another nightmare.

It is a hard thing to contemplate, how you will die, and few people consider it unless they have to.

Lyndsay Bergamon was twenty-three years old. She'd been an officer for two years and had a date that evening with a guy she'd booked twice for parking offenses. She'd been looking forward to it, had picked out what she was going to wear and had been hoping that she would managed to get off her shift at the right time.

Dusk had just begun to take its place at the table when Martha had turned round and given her a wide smile. "I can't find the cat," she'd said, frowning. "It can't have gotten out."

"Has it gone down there?" Lyndsay said, pointing to the open cellar door from which a dreadful draft was rising.

Martha shuddered and looked perturbed. "I hope not. It's a bit of a mess down there. I've only been down once."

Lyndsay sighed. They had already taken longer than she'd anticipated, stopping first at Martha's house to get the neighbour's key, then at her school so she could nip into her classroom as she hadn't found the key at home, so she thought it must have been there. They'd been gone well over an hour, and would definitely have been missed by now. Lyndsay hoped they could say Martha had had to visit the bathroom, otherwise she'd be in for a disciplinary. "I'll have look. Where are the lights?"

"I don't think there are any."

Grasping hold of the metal bar that led down the cellar, Lyndsay began to walk slowly down the steps, noting how narrow each stair was. She could feel the coldness grasping round her, and she shivered, feeling scared by what was down there.

But it wasn't what was down there that she needed to be scared by, as Martha Moore stroked the wooden handle of the pickaxe that her neighbour kept in the little cupboard in the kitchen, right next to where she'd stored the cat food, before the cat had been rehomed six years ago.

Lyndsay Bergamon had never thought about how she would die. But as the moment came, it wasn't death that was on her mind, but what shoes she should wear that night for her date, followed by the heavy metal of a pick axe, that stayed on her mind in a very different way.

I've just answered some questions for ilovetvalot for the Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum. I imagine they'll be up soon in your interested.

They'll be an update at the weekend.

PLEASE REVIEW! Let me know if this fic is still doing it for you!
Sarah x