Hotch's news stunned the team into silence. After a moment Rossi cleared his throat and was the first to say what he knew was running through everyone's mind. "Well boys and girls, it's safe to say we've got our work cut out for us this time and frankly, I'm not sure how we're going to get around this one."

"A Federal Judge? UN-freaking-believable." Morgan shook his head in disgust. "Hotch, if a Judge is somehow connected to all this, how the hell are we going to get any kind of court approval to do what we need to do? Or warrants for that matter. Never mind doing it all without alerting the bastard to our every move. The guy's gotta have more connections than a nest has wasps, and guaranteed they'll be just as territorial and swarm just as quickly, if we start sniffing too damn close to their home."

"Morgan's right. We can safely assume that if we go shaking any branch of this particular tree a little too hard, we're going to get stung - repeatedly." Rossi crossed his arms and met the eyes of his teammates. "If we're going to catch him, we're going to have to play our cards closer to the vest than we ever have before."

"Well that's a cheery thought." Emily made a face as their words danced nasty images of swarms through her head. Giving herself a mental shake, she faced Hotch. "So what can we do to ensure we'll stay flying under Caslansky's radar while we build this case?"

"Well for starters, we have no choice but to go it alone as much as possible," He began. "That means not only no help from the media or the public, but also anyone outside this team, or even outside this room. We have no way of knowing who is and who isn't in the Judge's pocket. If we aren't careful enough and Caslansky has the power and connections we think he does, not only will we lose any chance of finding the victims, but it'll most certainly spell the end of our careers too. Before we go any further, I need to know right now if you're all okay with that possibility. Once we get started, there's no going back."

"Hotch, I can't speak for anyone else here, but I couldn't live with myself knowing I didn't do everything humanly possible to save those women and children. No job is worth someone's life. If they want my job, they can come and take it, but until then, I'm sure as hell not going just stand by and make it easy for them. I'm all in."

Morgan's solemn and heartfelt declaration was immediately followed by the unanimous agreement of each team member, and it made Hotch feel incredibly blessed and proud to be a part of this team.

"Alright then. Let's get started and get these people home to their families."

Derek Morgan

Angel's heart beat a wild staccato inside her chest and she audibly expelled a hiss of air, as her head swam with the knowledge. It didn't matter how much she wanted to deny it.

Agent Derek Morgan was the man in her memory. But how can it be?

Even as astonished by the revelation as she was, it was painstakingly apparent that all along her heart had inexplicably known he was telling her the truth, even though her head adamantly refused to believe it. It also explained why she was so fiercely and intensely attracted to him from the first moment she laid eyes on him. Not to mention how she was able to kiss a man she'd known for less than an hour, so heatedly and without an ounce of reservation, and then feel the sharp sting of rejection and hurt so acutely when he called her by another woman's name. It was obvious they had a history together. But it was a history she couldn't remember.

Angel's bottom lip quivered and she wanted to cry. Not because her discovery made her feel particularly sad, but more because she felt both incredibly confused and utterly alone. It'd only taken her seconds to realize that aside from the last five minutes of remembrance, every last thought in her head from the past year, was somehow nothing more than a murky product of a carefully designed fabrication. Her friends and family, her memories, her whole life. And going by the conversation within this particular recall, that included her clearly nonexistent french accent too. All of it - all lies. Her eyes began to fill with unshed tears as she stared hard at the face in the mirror. But no matter how hard or how long she continued to stare, now that she knew the truth, it remained the face of a stranger. In her mind she might know her real name, but past one single memory, she still didn't have a clue about who she really was.

Hidden behind the wall that separates the inner bathroom from the entrance, J.J. silently peered around the wall's edge, just enough to observe Angel's actions undetected. Without qualm, she was up and following Angel, seconds after hearing her vague and halfhearted excuse. From the first tentative touch of her fingertips to the now tearful display, J.J. witnessed it all. She didn't have to be a profiler to know the woman staring so intently into the mirror, was hurting, deeply lost, and no doubt feeling particularly vulnerable. She also knew that based on everything she just saw, the woman standing before her was her best friend, Penelope Garcia, and she didn't need a test to tell her what she could see with her own eyes.

J.J. could feel her own eyes welling up and she sharply pulled back around to the other side of the wall, taking time to pull herself together. After a few deep, but quick breaths, she slipped out of the washroom as silently as she came in. With renewed purpose in her step, she strode over to the analysis unit to get their results and get them NOW. No more waiting, no more guessing. She may not need the fingerprint analysis to confirm her friend's identity, but her friend did.