A/N A guest reviewer asked for an Elizabeth Prentiss chapter, I got excited and wrote it. Thank you to that guest for saying they loved my story! That means a lot. Everyone else, please R&R! Hope you enjoy!

"I will not say do not weep, for not all tears are evil." -J.R.R. Tolkien

Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss was sitting at her desk working on her new assignment. She had seemed to have a steady flow of them since her conversation with her daughter a few years earlier. She couldn't help but think Emily was involved in that somehow, but however the assignments landed on her desk, she was grateful.

But her good mood was short lived as her thought drifted back towards her daughter. Emily. She hadn't spoken to Emily in-God how long had it been? She counted backwards. It had been a good 2.5 years since she had spoken to her daughter. They had scheduled a dinner that, to say the least, hadn't gone very well. Emily's walls were always up around her-and frankly Elizabeth couldn't blame her. She had barely been there throughout Emily's childhood, and that childhood definitely wasn't a stable one. It was one of her biggest regrets, and she wondered if she would ever be able to repay her daughter for her mistakes.

Then her phone rang with news on her assignment and her momentary concern of her and her daughter's relationship was diverted back to her work, as usual. Just like she had for years.

Two weeks later, Ambassador Prentiss was sitting at her desk again when her secretary buzzed her.

"Ambassador Prentiss? You have a visitor. Clyde Easter. He said it's urgent. It's about your daughter," her secretary said.

"Send him up," Elizabeth replied, hoping it was nothing too serious.

"Ah, Ambassador Prentiss. Always a pleasure," Clyde said, shaking Elizabth's hand. "I just wish it were under better circumstances."

"I'll bite. What is it Clyde? Is my daughter okay?" she asked.

Clyde hesitated, "That's, uh actually what I'm here about. You were aware, I'm sure that your daughter worked for Interpol and with the CIA I'm sure?" he asked.

"Yes, of course. What is this about?" Ambassador Prentiss asked.

"It seems one of Emily's assignments was... compromised. One of the men she nailed, Ian Doyle, escaped and came after her... Emily died in the ICU last night," Clyde said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry."

"No. No, there must be a mistake. Emily can't be dead. She can't. No one could have killed her. She's fine. She has to be. You must be mistaken. That girl's too stubborn to go out like that," Elizabeth said, standing up, her voice raising in pitch and volume.

"Ambassador, I'm sorry. She really is gone. Emily's dead," Clyde said, trying to get it into the now hysteric mother.

"No Emily can't be... She's not gone," Elizabeth said again, her voice wavering.

"Ms. Prentiss, I'm sorry but-" Clyde started.

"She can't be- I haven't talked to her in over two years she can't... I needed to apologize for not being there when she was a kid I-" she had tears streaming down her face, her mind latching to the denial.

"Elizabeth-" Clyde tried once again to cut in.

"She died thinking I didn't lover her, Easter. She's gone and I can't fix it..." her voice trailed off as she broke into sobs. Easter remained quiet, while watching the ambassador's uncharacteristic display of emotion.

"I'm so sorry ambassador," Clyde said again, as Elizabeth started to calm down. She wiped the tears from her eyes as she got a hold of herself.

"I'm sorry about my...outburst," Elizabeth said quietly, avoiding eye contact.

"Your daughter just died. tears aren't always a bad thing," Clyde said.

"No, in my line of work, you can never show emotions," Elizabeth said.

"Well I won't say anything about it," Clyde promised.

"When will the services be?" the ambassador asked.

"They'll be burring her in three days-Thursday. The service is at 3 and the burial is at 4:30," Clyde replied. Elizabeth nodded and the two adults sat in silence for a few minutes, just remembering their own version of Emily.

"Did she go quickly at least?" the ambassador asked.

Clyde looked away, wishing he could at least offer that comfort. "She was stabbed in the stomach with a stake," he said flatly, and the ambassador cringed.

"I guess I ought to be going," Clyde said after a few more minutes of quiet conversation. "If there's something I can do, just call," Clyde said knowing very well that Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss would never ask for help.

"I will," she replied. He nodded at her and left. Once he was gone, the ambassador sat back down in her chair and put her head on the looked up and grabbed the picture on her desk of herself and 10 year old Emily. She clutched the picture to her chest as the tears fell.

Meanwhile, Clyde Easter was back in her office on his computer going through files. There was something fishy with his friends death. He wasn't sure what, but his first tip off was that Emily was being buried. She always talked about being cremated, and he knew fir a fact that it was in her will.

A few hours later, a couple hundred files, and about 10 phone calls later, Clyde Easter cracked a smile for the first time since he heard of Emily's death. He knew a cover-up when he saw one. Emily was alive, probably in France. He knew she loved France... He just felt bad for her family and friends who actually thought she was dead. But knowing Emily was safe was good enough for him.

"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They are messengers of overwhelming grief and unspeakable love." -Washington Irving