Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, Criminal Minds.

Who We Are
Part 13

By N. J. Borba

Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly even though the car had been parked and turned off for nearly twenty minutes. Fingernails dug into the hard plastic underside of the wheel as she sat in the driveway of her parent's residence. The structure's brick façade stood there before her looking strong and timeless, but she spotted the small cracks here and there that had formed over the years. Like the cracks that had recently crumbled the bedrock of her life. She'd been pondering whether or not to confront her parents since the second she'd left Dr. McCleary's office over an hour ago. His words still echoed loudly in her head. In his mind there was no error of doubt about her paternity. But there was still plenty of doubt in Emily's scattered mind.

A deluge of rain suddenly burst through the gray clouds above her. It splattered heavily against the hood of her car and ran in rivulets down the windshield, prompting Emily to search deeper for internal guidance. Throughout her life she'd always used diversionary tactics more so than taking action when it came to dealing with her parents. Growing up, her rebellion had trickled forth in the form of smoking, dying her hair or wearing clothes that pissed them off, among other things that they'd never learned about. For the first time in her life she was tired of being covert. She wanted answers, and hard as it might be, she needed them from the source.

As calmly as possible, Emily exited the vehicle, walked toward the house and entered into the public reception area of her mother's office. The assistant's desk was clear of almost everything that had once resided there, including the assistant who was nowhere to be found. Emily remembered her mother talking about retirement, but she couldn't fathom the ambassador spending her days knitting or doting on her grandchild. Those activities just didn't go along with what she knew of her mother.

She let herself into the main office where her mother was seated behind the large desk. The slender woman was hunched over her laptop and typing periodically, eyes darting back and forth between computer and the open file beside her. Emily stood there quietly for a long time, silently scrutinizing her mother and waiting to be noticed. Nearly a minute or two actually passed before Elizabeth's head rose and her eyes widened a little in recognition.

"Emily," the older woman spoke, sitting up straighter. "This is a surprise." She watched as her daughter remained rigid, not budging from her spot and not speaking either. "Is everything okay?" Elizabeth asked, dropping both hands into her lap. She rose to her feet a second later. "Is something wrong with your sister?"

The panic that laced her mother's tone finally caused Emily to snap out of her dazed state. "No, Anna is…" even as upset as she was with her mother, Emily didn't wish for her to worry about Anna any more than was necessary. "She's fine." Emily took a shallow breath and resumed course. "I came here this afternoon to speak with you and daddy," she finally revealed, keeping her voice as neutral as possible even though she wanted to shout out what she'd learned from Dr. McCleary.

"Well, your father's at work," the ambassador spoke dismissively as she retook her seat. "Is there some sort of message I could relay to him for you?"

"No, I need to speak with both of you," Emily maintained. "Now."

Elizabeth exhaled in an exaggerated manner, as if dealing with a difficult toddler who wasn't listening. "And I just told you…"

"I heard what you said, mother," Emily stopped her, still managing to keep a civil tone, but only barely. "I need you to call him and have him join us."

"Don't be silly," the older woman nearly laughed, though she sensed something about her daughter was off. "He's probably in a meeting at this time of day. I can't just call him whenever I feel like it. You know that."

Emily felt her resolve begin to snap. "Call him, mother," there was a distinct note of urgency in her tone of voice. Her eyes narrowed as she continued. "Now," the last word was more serious than any she'd spoken before that moment.

Seconds ticked by as the two women stared at one another, dark eyes mirroring each other. The elder finally backed down, picked up the phone on the desk beside her and dialed a number she knew by heart. Emily inhaled and exhaled slowly as she listened to the one sided conversation. She could hear the obvious disturbance in her mother's voice, and sensed her father's confusion by the responses emitting from her mother's lips. After a short time the phone was replaced in its cradle and Elizabeth sat back in her leather chair. "He'll be here in a half hour. That's the quickest he could get away," she announced.

"That's fine," Emily replied as she turned her back to her mother and perused the books on the shelves. For exactly thirty-two minutes she pretended to be interested in the hardbound titles as she ignored all of her mother's attempts to talk, which had only lasted for the first five or so minutes. And when her father finally entered the room, Emily felt the last of her restraint slip through her fingertips. She faced him boldly, cutting him off half way through his greeting of: hello, pumpkin. "Did you know?" the words fell from her lips like boulders that were far too heavy to be carried on her back any longer.

Joseph Prentiss was a tall, smartly dressed man with the intelligence to back up his appearance. But at the moment he was feeling rather confused, glancing back and forth between his wife and his younger daughter. "Know what?" he asked, watching Emily even closer. He'd never been in the running for father of the year, but he felt he knew his daughter well enough to know there was something very off about her at the moment. "Emily, you seem upset. What's wrong?"

"Did you know you weren't my father?" she wasted no time with frivolous words, surprised by how easily she'd asked the question. It was in drastic conflict with the overwhelming beat of her heart.

The man's whole face paled as he sucked down a shaky breath. His eyes locked with his wife for a moment and then he turned back to his daughter. "No," he replied. "I didn't know, but…" Joseph paused a second before he spoke the last few words. "I knew it was a possibility," he finally admitted.

Emily turned toward her mother, knowing instantly that she'd grossly underestimated her mother's ability to conceal the truth. "When I came to you months ago asking about Anna, curious if maybe daddy had been the one to have an affair…" she sighed, shaking her head. "But all this time it was you. And I'm nothing but…"

"Whatever you're thinking it's not true," Joseph stopped his daughter, worry etched upon every fine line in his face. He moved toward her, one hand outstretched as he tried to place a comforting palm against her shoulder. But she recoiled. He steeled himself against the icy rejection. "Emily, I never wanted to know the truth. In my eyes you have always been mine. From the second I first held you I believed you were my daughter, my little pumpkin. That's all I needed to know."

"Well, it's not enough for me. I need to know more," Emily replied, her voice so soft she could barely hear it herself. Her gaze bore through her mother. "Part of me wants to know why and how and…" a lump in her throat cut off her words. Emily swallowed the best she could. "But mostly I just want to know who he is, the man who's my real…" she had nothing further to say, though. Father, dad, daddy… none of those seemed to apply. "Just a name will be fine for now," she concluded, as if conducting a simple business transaction. But inside she was trying very hard not to let her body shake apart.

"You don't need to know who that man was," Elizabeth finally spoke for the first time.

"The hell I don't," Emily replied. It wasn't an exclamation or a huff, or even a demand. She mostly felt like the wind had been kicked out of her. "Who is he?"

Elizabeth Prentiss sat down at her desk. She leaned forward, hands folded atop the dark surface. Emily stood before her, brown eyes beseeching the truth. "Has it been easy for you being a woman in the FBI?" the ambassador asked. "Have you been fully accepted as a female agent? Or is it still somewhat of a boys club there?"

"What does that have to do with…"

"Has it been easy for you?" Elizabeth interrupted.

Emily's jaw clenched. "No," she revealed through gritted teeth.

"Now imagine how difficult it was for me forty years ago to fit in where men were predominately in charge," the ambassador continued. "In school, at work… right from the start during my internship it was such a boys club, and not just that," she expanded. "It was all about the people you knew, not what you knew. I had to fight every day to fit in, to find my place in this world."

"The Prentiss family name has power, has money, years of history in the area…" Emily tried to argue.

"In the business world, yes," her mother agreed. "But not political, not worldly," she countered. A deep breath was inhaled and slowly let out. "There was a young man in the internship program with me; his family was deeply rooted in the political circles of Boston and DC. He said he could help me…"

"So you slept with him?" Emily spat accusatorily. "You cheated on your husband to further your political career. You whored yourself out in order to…"

"You will not speak to your mother that way," Joseph's thick voice cut his daughter off.

All rational emotion was swallowed by a swell of pain. "You can't tell me what to do, you're not my father," Emily's words hung in the air for a long time. She felt like a cliché saying those things to him, and she regretted the hateful words slung at her mother, but she didn't know how to take them back. She was too angry. "You've ruined everything. Don't you understand that? I was probably Anna's last chance at fighting this cancer, but you destroyed that. You've killed her, and I will never forgive either of you for that," Emily had never felt such malice toward them before. "All I want is a name, I think you owe me at least that much."

Elizabeth Prentiss shared a glance with her husband before a name fell from her lips. "Steven Armatage."

xxx

There were no tears as Emily made her way down the wide, florescent lit corridor at the BAU. Mostly there was regret, not to mention curiosity, anger, fear and doubt all twisting her stomach into one giant knot the size of a Winnebago. She was grateful that their daily meeting that morning hadn't yielded a new case to work. It seemed timely to have a lull at the exact moment her life was completely unwinding. But Emily thought it best not to even think such things, because she knew cases had the habit of creeping up without warning. Kind of like everything in her life at the moment.

Voices flowed outward from the tech's office as she neared and Emily realized that she'd completely forgotten about Michelle. It was Monday, the day her mother had been planning to take her granddaughter to the pet store to buy fish for her aquarium. Somehow in all the chaos of the afternoon they'd both forgotten the child. Her heart sunk into that knotted up stomach, which only served to make her feel even worse. Emily stood just outside the partially opened door, watching and listening to the carefree tones of her niece, friend, and the man she loved.

"So, you got the privilege of picking up Miss Michelle from school?" Garcia asked Derek as she ran an affectionate hand over the child's short braid.

"Oui," Morgan responded in French, though the word had very little accented lithe to it.

The tech was still impressed. "Oui?" Penelope questioned with an arched brow. "Just out of curiosity, do you know how to spell that?"

"Um… W-E," he replied with a shrug and a lopsided grin.

"It's O-U-I, Derek," Michelle corrected him.

Morgan tugged gently on her braid. "Well, you never taught me how to spell the words, smarty-pants," he teased the girl.

Garcia caught the child's eye. "At least he didn't spell it W-I-I," she quipped, eliciting a round of giggles from herself and the child.

"Yeah, laugh if you want," Derek took the ribbing in good humor. "I've been learning a few things to impress Emily," he relayed. "I haven't tried anything out on her yet, though. But I think the only saying I really need is: Je t'aime."

Emily could barely stand how jovial they all seemed, nor could she stand the love she heard in Derek's voice. She felt about a million miles away from understanding that sort of happiness after the things she'd discovered the last few hours of her life. But if there was one thing she knew, it was how to compartmentalize. Emily stepped into the dimly lit room and made a small noise with her throat to signify her entrance. She then mentally stuffed everything into the darkest corner of her mind.

Michelle turned toward her aunt. A small smile formed to see the woman she loved, but there was a questioning undertone to the look. "Grandma forgot to pick me up at school today," the girl relayed. "And mommy couldn't reach either of you."

"I know, I'm… sorry," Emily apologized. She'd turned her cell phone off upon arrival at her parent's place.

"Mommy called Derek and he picked me up," Michelle explained.

Derek caught Emily's eye and instantly knew something wasn't right. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Emily promptly dismissed his concern. "Nothing, something just came up that I had to deal with. I should have called, but it slipped my mind," she replied with little emotion. "Actually, do you think you could take Michelle home for me?" Emily asked. "I need to follow up on something before the trail runs cold, some important research I could really use Garcia's help with."

"About a case?" Morgan inquired, still worried about her aloofness.

"Sort of," she lied. "I really need to do it right now."

He exchanged a look with Garcia who shrugged, not seeming to know anything more about what was up with Emily than he did. Derek wasn't convinced in the slightest by Emily's vague explanations, but he didn't think it was the right time to press her. He placed a hand against Michelle's back. "Come on, sweetness, let's get you home to your mom," he said. They walked past Emily and he restrained himself from pulling her close and finding out what was really bothering her.

Penelope watched them leave and then focused fully on her friend. "He's not an idiot you know," she voiced.

"What?" Emily blinked, arms held limply at her side.

"He knows something is wrong with you, even I can see that," the tech pointed out. "What is it?"

Silence hung between them until Emily was sure Derek had gone. "Joseph Prentiss isn't my father," Emily finally revealed, saying the words for the first time. "I'm not a Prentiss; I might not even be an Emily for all I know."

An amused chuckle escaped Garcia's lips, but she quickly stopped upon closer inspection of her friend. "Were you being serious just now?" she asked and watched Emily give a quick nod. "About all of it?"

"I need you to help me search for a man named Steven Armatage," Emily gave her answer. "I know he was an intern with the Council of American Ambassadors at the same time as my mother, so he's probably about the same age as her too. And I'm guessing he grew up on the East Coast, but I really don't know that for certain."

Garcia had to consciously close her mouth. She figured her shock level was considerably less than Emily's, even though the woman was speaking with such detachment that it was hard to tell. Her fingers began the familiar dance over her keyboard and she easily pulled up the council's records in a matter of seconds. "Got him," Penelope announced. "Steven Armatage was born in Boston on June 17, 1947. Harvard graduate. After his internship he was an ambassador in Japan for several years. That's all I can find on record here, but now that I have his basics I can…"

"Can you find a picture?" Emily asked.

"Yeah, there's one attached to the council's file," Garcia displayed the photo, revealing a young man with sandy hair and blue eyes.

Emily scrutinized the photograph. "I don't look anything like him." She wasn't sure what she'd been hoping to see in the man, an instant connection, an unmistakable spark of herself in his face. At the very least some small feature of similarity.

"You look a lot like your mother," the tech offered, not at all certain what she was meant to be saying. "There are a few more pictures," she added, glancing over her shoulder to see if Emily wanted her to scroll through them. A nod was her only answer. Penelope hit the advance button and a news article popped up with a picture in one corner. It wasn't a very good quality image, but it clearly showed three people: two men and one woman standing between them.

"That's my mother," Emily recognized the woman. Her eyes drifted toward the man standing to her mother's left, not the one she recognized as Steven Armatage. The taller man had dark hair, brown eyes and a slightly squarer jaw line. "Richard Hayes," Emily whispered the name under the picture. "She lied again."

Penelope could also see that her friend resembled the man on the left far more than Steven Armatage. "Richard Hayes. Maybe he's some sort of great descendant of Rutherford B. Hayes. You might have presidential stock in your veins," she quipped, trying to infuse some levity into the situation. But Garcia figured she wasn't doing a very good job by the perplexed look she spotted on Emily's face.

"Why would my mother lie about who he was?" she questioned. "Unless lying has become a hobby for her. Perhaps that's how she'll spend her retirement, not knitting… no, not my mother. She'll sit on a park bench and lie about things all day."

Garcia gulped nervously at what she read on the screen in front of her. "Or, maybe she didn't want you to know he's dead," the tech revealed, reading further down the news page. "Apparently he died not long after this picture was taken. You would have just been a baby at the time. It was a car accident, stormy night, curvy road; he'd been drinking and ran into a tree…"

"Great," Emily scoffed, further resorting to sarcasm as a crutch. "My real father was a lush."

Penelope's fingers hovered over her keyboard, still not knowing what to do or say. "You truly believe he's your real father?"

"Look at the picture," Emily's right index finger tapped against the computer screen. "I know you're not a profiler, but even you can see it plain as day. Can't you?"

The red-head didn't want to feel sorry for her friend; she knew Emily would hate that. She wanted to comfort her, but she wasn't sure Emily would respond well to that at the moment either. Garcia decided answers were the best way to get through to her. "Do you want me to dig deeper? Do you want to know more about him?"

"I don't know," a shrug raised one of Emily's shoulders a little. The fight was quickly draining from her. "I don't think so, at least not right now. I just want this picture," she continued to stare at her mother standing between the two young men. It eerily reminded her of another photo. "Can you print that for me?"

"No problem," Garcia replied, doing so instantly and handing it over when she was done.

Emily glanced at the printed copy. "Thank you, P," she whispered before slipping out of the room.

xxx

She didn't return home until the dreary, rain-laden sky had been sucked dry of all light. It was still fairly early in the evening, though, and Emily was greeted at her door by Derek. He wore a welcoming smile and kissed her cheek as they walked toward the kitchen. She could see that his jacket was slung over her sofa and he looked very relaxed in her place, like he belonged there. Anna was in the kitchen standing before the stove, stirring something that was sizzling in a frying pan. Michelle had a book open on the table and was filling in answers to her math homework worksheet. It all seemed so normal, and yet very out of sync with how Emily was feeling.

"Derek's staying for dinner," Michelle informed her aunt, a happy smile on her face about that fact.

Emily tried hard to smile in return, but her efforts fell short. It was taking all the strength she had to keep her secrets hidden from their view. She turned to her sister with an admonishing look. "You shouldn't be up cooking; it's too much strain on your body."

"There are very few minutes in the day when I feel well enough to stand," Anna countered, waving her wooden spoon in Emily's face. "Today I had a long string of them. Besides, it is just one of those frozen stir-fry mixes you bought. I did not have to do much." She began scooping the veggies out onto a platter, followed by the brown rice she'd prepared. "You do so much for us every day, Emily. This is the least I can do for you."

Morgan kept a close eye on Emily as Michelle cleared her things from the table and set out plates and silverware for them. The girl helped her mother bring the food over and dished it up for everyone. All the while Emily remained in some sort of catatonic state as she sat down to eat, as if she were watching a television show play out on screen. "So, how did your research with Garcia go?" Derek finally struck up some dinner conversation half way through their meal.

"Fine," Emily replied, taking a small bite of broccoli.

He ate for a few more minutes before trying again. "Did you talk to your mother about the mix-up this afternoon, her not picking up Michelle? Anna said she tried calling but never could get through. That's a little worrisome, don't you think?"

Her grasp on the fork in her hand tightened. "She's been disappointing me most of my life, why should this be any different," Emily ground the words out.

The remainder of their meal was silent. Even Michelle sensed something was wrong and stayed quiet. Derek helped the girl clear plates when they were done while Anna went to rest on the sofa with Emily. "What's wrong?" Anna asked her sister.

"Nothing," Emily quickly dismissed the concern she heard in the question.

Derek appeared beside them a few minutes later. "I should probably be going," he said, though he didn't really wish to leave. But the cold shoulder he was getting from Emily made him think it might be for the best. "Will you walk me to the door?" Morgan looked pointedly at Emily. She got to her feet and walked with him to the door, but still would barely look at him or even speak. He finally reached out to her, both hands at her waist. "What's going on?"

"I just want to be alone, is that a problem?" her words were swift and cold.

"No," Derek responded. "But it seems like more than that to me," he pushed a little. "It feels kinda personal. A few days ago we were baking a cake, sleeping together on your sofa, saying the words I love you with ease, and now… now I'm not sure what's going on with you, or with us."

Her eyes darted from wall to floor as she still managed to avoid eye contact. "Maybe I was wrong about being ready for this. I don't know what a relationship is meant to be. I'm not any good at it and you're better off knowing that now rather than later."

Morgan's head shook defiantly as he guided her chin upward with one finger. "Look at me, please," he pleaded with her. "Relationships are about love and trust, truth and respect. I just want to try and understand what happened between Saturday and today to make you this upset," he said.

"I'm not upset," her voice remained a monotone.

He was struck by a memory, something he recalled her being excited about; one of the last things she'd said to him on Saturday night. "Is this about the surprise you mentioned? Something about getting Michelle the best gift ever. Did that fall through? A package didn't arrive or something? Because you know Michelle doesn't need anything from you other than your love, and just being there for her."

"It wasn't something I could wrap up," Emily replied, her voice finally cracking with emotion. "It was meant to be so much more than that," she barely kept her tears at bay, but quickly pulled on another mask of false courage. "I just want you to go right now. Please."

"Emily…"

She pushed his hands away from her waist. "Please."

"Okay," he reluctantly agreed. "But that doesn't mean I'm giving up on you. Not now, not ever," he vowed. "If you need… anything," Derek stressed the word. "I will be here for you in a heartbeat," he concluded, leaning forward just enough to brush his lips across her forehead. He wanted more, to hold on to her and never let go. But he'd give her space at the moment, some time to figure out what she really wanted. He hoped that was all she needed. Time.

Her heart pounded in her skull as she watched him slip out the door. Emily was torn between wanting to go after him and wishing he would stay away for good. Only her sister's voice managed to get through to her. "You are not fine, Emily."

The younger woman walked back to the sofa and sunk down. She realized Michelle was nowhere to be found and guessed Anna had shooed the girl upstairs in order to talk privately. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

"Stop trying to protect me," Anna immediately replied. "I can tell something is eating you up inside. I see it in your eyes, and the tension of your hands. Please, tell me what is wrong," she implored.

A memory flooded Emily, recalling how she'd gotten Anna to open up shortly after they'd first met. That connection between them had been so strong even before they knew the truth about being sisters. She realized it was her turn to lean on Anna. The words spilled out in a jumble, but her older sister understood. Anna listened and offered what comfort she could. Then Emily bravely plucked the photo out of her pants pocket where she'd folded it and stowed the item for safe keeping.

One of Anna's fingers traced the man's small face, but her eyes never betrayed what she was feeling inside. "I always thought you looked so much like mother, but here," she continued to outline the picture. "Around the eyes… and his chin. I never noticed that before. Maybe I just didn't want to see it."

Emily's lips mashed together as she tried to understand what her sister was saying. Her profiler mind didn't have to work very hard to figure it out. She knew almost instantly what Anna was implying. Emily shot to her feet and took several steps away from her sister. She retreated, out of the living room, down the entry hall, and toward the door. Not even Anna's voice could compete with the unconscious flight of her feet.

"Please do not leave, Emily," Anna slowly and painfully stood. "I cannot follow you…" the front door opened and closed without another word from her sister. On the kitchen counter Anna spotted Emily's phone. Near the door was her bag. Only her car keys had been swiped from the table by the door on her way out.

Anna could only think of one thing to do.

xxx

He stood in the kitchen holding the photograph of Emily's mother and a man Anna had just told him was Emily's real father. "You're sure?" Derek hated to ask for confirmation, knowing the horrible ordeal that Anna had endured during her years spent with the man. But he needed to know everything that was going on in order to help Emily. He needed to figure out her state of mind. But if what Anna claimed was true, he feared Emily's state of mind was anything but stable.

"This man, Richard Hayes, he's the one I knew as Eli Wallace," she confirmed.

"Damn it," Morgan swore under his breath. But he didn't allow himself much time to dwell on the issue. He dialed Garcia straight away and barely spoke a greeting before getting to the point of his call. "I know Emily asked you to find information on her real father, and I know you gave her the name Richard Hayes," Morgan didn't bother with the details of how he'd learned those facts. "What else do you know?"

"She didn't seem very interested in finding out more," Penelope replied.

Derek nodded knowingly to himself. "But you searched anyhow," he guessed.

"I did," the tech revealed.

A feeling of guilt wafted over him, but it only lasted a second. He didn't like prying into Emily's life, but he was too worried to care at the moment. "I believe Richard Hayes is the man who kidnapped Anna and held her all those years. Did you find anything to confirm that?"

"Oh, God," a sharp intake of breath followed her words. "Eliot Meadows," she whispered.

"What? Who is that?" Derek demanded.

"I told Emily that Richard Hayes died in a car accident around the time she was a baby," Garcia began to explain. "But after she left I found police reports that indicated he hadn't actually been the one to die that night. It was a friend of his, Eliot Meadows. Authorities concluded that he faked his death or was killed some other way, because he was never heard from again."

Morgan thought that made sense, but it was only part of the puzzle solved. "So, he took on his friend's name. He went by Eli, but what about the name Wallace? Where does that factor into the picture?" he pondered aloud.

"Wallace was Richard's mother's maiden name," Garcia revealed. "I didn't think that much of it when I came across the information. I didn't connect the two until just now when you said he was the one who kidnapped Anna," she took a quick breath. "Is Emily okay? I can't imagine that she is, but…"

"I don't know where she is, baby girl," Morgan cut in. "She took off when she pieced all this together herself. Did you tell her anything about Richard Hayes? Maybe where he grew up? Any living relatives of his? Somewhere she would have gone to… I don't know, to confront the past?"

"No," Garcia's voice was little more than a whisper. "I just gave her the photo."

His head bobbed again. "I need a favor from you, darling."

"Anything," she agreed.

A few seconds later he ended the call and faced Anna again. "We figured out that Margaret Wilson was Eric's biological mother and that she killed her ex and took her son. But we never bothered to ask the question of why he took you."

"He was not coming after me that night, was he?" Anna realized. "He wanted to take the baby. He wanted Emily."

Morgan swallowed. "Most likely," he sighed. "Did Emily say anything else before she left? Do you know where she might have been going?"

"No, she was just quiet. So quiet. I wanted to go after her, but…"

He squeezed Anna's shoulder in a comforting manner. "Where would she go?" Derek thought aloud. "What about her weapon?" he finally asked with a heavy heart. Derek didn't want to believe she'd do anything as foolish as hurting herself, but he couldn't be sure. All he could remember was staring into her eyes earlier that evening. She'd looked so lost to him. He berated himself for not trying harder to get through to her.

Anna felt a little queasy. "She knew that I did not like having the gun around, even when she kept it locked in her bedroom. She started to keep it locked in a box under the passenger seat of her car," she explained.

Derek took a deep breath. "Garcia will be here in fifteen minutes, twenty tops. But I need to go find Emily now," he let her know, edging his way toward the door.

"Yes, of course," Anna nodded her understanding. "Please, go. We will be fine."

xxx

Derek peered through the rain splattered windshield of his SUV. The wipers were on their highest setting and still not doing a very good job of keeping the window clear enough to see. He steered the vehicle as carefully as possible through the downpour, but he was mostly driving aimlessly through DC. He'd called Hotch, Rossi, JJ and Reid asking them all in the vaguest of words if they'd heard from or seen Emily. Their answers had all been the same; a resounding no. He gripped the wheel tighter as a horn blared and a car swerved dangerously close to get out of his way.

He finally pulled to a curb realizing his emotions were going to get him killed if he didn't pull it together. Derek closed his eyes for a few moments, hands still glued to the wheel, wipers still whooshing back and forth across the windshield. An idea struck him and he cautiously pulled into traffic again. Morgan wasn't sure about his instincts at the moment, but he did recall that the place he was headed held some of his favorite memories with Emily. He prayed it did for her as well.

The park's gravel parking lot was completely empty except for one dark car. Even with his headlights blazing the way, Derek couldn't be sure it was hers until he was right up on it. Even then the license number was what confirmed it for him. He cut his engine, pocketed his keys and jumped out of the SUV. The interior dome light in her car was on, passenger side door wide open. Rain hit the back of his neck in heavy pelting drops as he squatted down. Her car was practically flooded inside as he reached underneath the seat for the metal box Anna had mentioned. He found it there, unlocked and empty.

"No," he whispered softly. "Come on, Emily, don't do this," Morgan stood and spun around to face the pitch blackness of the park's surroundings. "Please don't do anything stupid," he whispered again, trying to get his bearings. When he finally worked out the direction he believed their jogging and bike path to be, he headed off at a slow pace, mindful of the branches and rocks underfoot.

Only seconds into his heading he heard a loud bang in the distance and saw a bright flash of light through the trees. For a moment he tried to make himself believe it was thunder and lightning, except there'd been no thunder storm warnings for the night, only rain. Thunder and lightning rarely came at the same time. In fact, there was only one real explanation for what he'd just seen and heard. "Gunshot," the word was swallowed by the night as he ran faster.

To Be Continued…