A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates, but unfortunately, this is not my regular day job. THAT has been extremely busy so I can only sneak in bits of writing here and there when other things aren't going on. I also never meant for Gibbs and NCIS to play such a big role in this story, but Gibbs just doesn't seem to want to let go. Hey, he's worried about Emily. It's understandable. Hope you enjoy.

Gibbs waited impatiently for someone to answer the front door. He could hear hurried footsteps on the other side before it suddenly swung open. The NCIS man found himself once again face to face with Aaron Hotchner.

"Hotchner."

"Gibbs." Hotch stepped back to let the other man into the house.

"Emily tell you what I'm looking for?" the older man asked as he strode into the living room.

"Yes, though I can't remember if there were any stains on my clothes from last night. However, we're lucky Kramer didn't confiscate them as evidence. That was a mistake on his part."

Gibbs turned to regard Hotch. "You're right. That is a mistake. Kramer usually doesn't make them, but it could be that he's being extra careful because of who you are." He looked around. "Where is everyone?"

"Emily is getting the spare key to my place and the others are following up leads."

"You're here, alone with Emily?" Gibbs didn't bother to hide the annoyance in his voice.

"Yes." Was Hotch's short and curt reply. "Is there a problem Agent Gibbs?"

"We just discussed this afternoon how someone, namely your psychotic girlfriend might be targeting Emily, and everyone leaves her alone?" Gibbs was furious.

"She's not alone, I'm here," Hotch snapped back.

"Because you did so well with Doyle," Gibbs sneered. "What was your solution? Pack her off to Europe where she was by herself! You don't protect Emily, you just push her aside so you don't have to deal with her."

"Stand down, Gibbs," Hotch growled.

"I'll stand down when someone decides to stand up for her because she sure as Hell isn't getting it from you or anyone else on this team!"

"You know nothing about our team or me. This isn't any of your business!"

"Emily is my business!"

"Not when she's here. Not on my watch."

"Your watch isn't worth shi-"

"What is going on here?" Emily cried out. She walked into the living room to find Hotch and Gibbs almost nose to nose, shouting at each other.

The two men glared at each other but Hotch finally bit out. "Nothing. Just a disagreement."

Emily looked between the two men, waiting for an explanation for the angry voices she had heard. Both men clamped their mouths shut, refusing to say anything further. She could hear the tone of their voices but was unable to make out the words until she was right at the door and all she heard was Gibbs' interrupted sentence. Her lips thinned into a line.

"Fine, don't tell me what you guys were arguing about, I hope it wasn't about me in any way," she said in a quiet voice. She held up Hotch's apartment key. "Here's the key, let's go."

Gibbs and Hotch stepped in her path as she started to move forward. She looked at both men in surprise and exasperation.

"Come on guys, let's not play this game," she sighed.

"Where do you think you're going?" Gibbs frowned at her. "There could be some psycho out there," he threw Hotch a disdainful look, "Probably his psycho, who could be gunning for you."

"For once, I'll have to agree with Gibbs," Hotch said in a cool tone, practically curling his lip as he said the other man's name. "It's best if you stay here, Prentiss. Gibbs and I will go to my apartment."

The NCIS agent stared at Hotch. "You're not coming with me. You can't leave Emily here alone!"

"I'm not going to have you wandering around my home by yourself."

"But you're willing to leave Emily alone and exposed? Oh, that went so well last time with Doyle!"

"Stop it! Stop talking about me like I'm not here!" Emily barked at both of them. "What is wrong with you two?" She sighed in exasperation and ran her hands through her hair. "This isn't helping at all. Look, I know you two would rather eat glass than work together, but the less internal fighting we have the faster we'll solve this." She took a deep calming breath and knew it would be up to her to settle tonight's argument. "Gibbs, take the key and get the clothes. Hotch and I will stay here." She laid a placating arm on Hotch, knowing he hated when anyone, let alone a man he had nothing but hostile feelings for, wandering around his sanctuary. "Gibbs is only interested in getting the clothes you wore yesterday. Just tell them where they are. I thought I saw your suit and shirt lying on a chair in your bedroom. It looked like what you wore yesterday. Is it?"

Hotch nodded. He wouldn't admit it, but Gibbs was right and he couldn't leave Emily alone. While he knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself and that Rossi had a state of the art security system she could arm to protect herself, he would feel better if she was with someone at all times. He would never forgive himself if something happened to her.

Gibbs took the keys from Emily. He nodded once and started to move away, but stopped and said to Hotch, "Hotchner, walk me out." He turned and didn't wait to see if the other man followed him.

Aaron looked at Emily who shrugged. She knew Gibbs wasn't going to apologize to Hotch. The man didn't believe in apologizing, let alone to someone he didn't like, so she had no idea what he had to say to her supervisor.

Hotch smothered a sign of annoyance and followed the NCIS man outside where he found Gibbs standing by his car looking up into the night sky. It was an almost full moon and very bright. The light made Gibbs' silver hair shine in the night, a beacon in the dark.

"Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?" Hotch asked, not wanting to spend any more time with the other man than was absolutely necessary.

"I wanted to ask you, your girlfriend know a lot about computers?" Gibbs shot out.

Hotch blinked for a moment, processing the abrupt question. "Beth? No. I mean, I don't think she knew more than an ordinary person. She could use a computer and the programs she needed for work. She had a smart phone and an iPad, but I don't think she was especially adept on them."

His answer troubled Gibbs. He turned to look at Hotch with clouded eyes. "Then we got a problem. If she wasn't a computer geek like McGee, then how could she switch around her dental x-rays or mess around with the security footage at her place?"

Hotch had been concentrating on his situation so much that he hadn't thought about these other details. Their importance hit him now.

"It means," Aaron said slowly, "That she either had computer skills I am totally unaware of…"

"Or she's working with someone who does." Gibbs let out a breath. "Or that body at the morgue is really Beth and someone else is doing all this."

"I like the first option," Hotch replied grimly.

"That would be the best one."

Hotch sent the man a piercing look. "But you're not convinced it is." It wasn't a question.

"My gut is telling me there's a lot more to this case than we know about." Gibbs sighed and opened the driver's side door of his car. Before he got in, he sent Hotchner a piercing looking. "Watch out for her. I can't shake this feeling Emily could be in a lot more danger than we think."

"Gibbs, despite what you think of me, I would never let anything happen to Emily." He owed the NCIS agent no explanation. Despite what Gibbs' opinion of him, Hotch would willingly lay his life down for Emily. He would do it for any of his teammates. And he would go to whatever lengths to protect her. Maybe he held back some with Doyle, not realizing at first what a threat the man was, but Hotch would not make that mistake again.

Gibbs took a step towards Hotch and spoke with such an intensity, the younger man couldn't help but be drawn in. "Good," Jethro said in a low voice, "Because let me tell you, Hotchner, when a woman you care about dies on you, and you know it's your fault, that her death was because of your actions, it'll haunt you for the rest of your life and eat you up alive. Nothing you do will make it right. Nothing will bring her back. You know can never make up for it. If anything happens to Emily, be prepared to live with that." His eyes turned into twin orbs of knife sharp blue crystals. "And if anything happens to Emily because of your psycho girlfriend, I'll make sure you pay for it."

Before Hotch could reply, Gibbs was in his car and driving off in a squeal of tires and the smell of burning rubber.

Hotch walked into the kitchen and stood there watching Emily as she did the dishes from their dinner. Her back was to him and for a moment, she looked small and vulnerable to his eyes, with her slender frame and dark hair cascading down her back. He thought back to Gibbs' words. He knew what it was like not having her in his life. While he knew she was alive in Paris, he too mourned her absence. She brought a steadiness to the team, a sense of humor and warmth. Some may assume JJ was the mother of the group, but Emily displayed far more maternal concern to her team members than the blonde did. She might have had her secrets, but she didn't hold her emotions back.

And for him? Unbeknownst to Hotch, she had become something of an emotional rock for him. After his divorce, New York, Foyet, Haley's death, it was always Emily's steady presence he could rely on. The others would be there, but at a distance, either unwilling to intrude on his privacy or uncertain what to do. But Emily, like she was for the rest of the team, was always there and he had never thanked her for it. Instead, he allowed a mentally imbalanced woman turn her into a target.

Not his finest act.

Cleaning always cleared her mind so hand washing the dishes gave Emily a chance to calm down from her anger at the high handed and overly alpha way Hotch and Gibbs had been acting. Her nerves were already on edge given what they found out this afternoon about the cameras in her apartment and Beth copying her wardrobe. The last thing she needed was hearing Hotch and Gibbs arguing. Correction, that was the second to the last thing. The last thing she needed were both men treating her like some porcelain doll that needed to be tucked away behind glass.

Emily knew how to deal with psychopaths. She caught them for a living and she's had one or two of them focused on her before. She knew how to take care of herself and she didn't need two Neanderthals acting like they knew better than she did.

"Dammit!" Emily cried out as she cut her finger on a knife that was sitting in the sink. She had been so preoccupied, she was careless and now she was bleeding.

"Here, let me see that."

She started, not hearing Hotch's approach. He took her hand and ran it under the water for a few seconds before he grabbed a paper towel to pat it dry.

"It's nothing," she said dismissively as he peered at the cut. "It's just a small cut."

"It's still bleeding," he replied calmly as he applied pressure with the paper towel.

Emily huffed out an annoyed breath and then became acutely aware that Hotch was still standing there, holding her hand. He was so close, she could smell his unique Hotch scent of sandalwood, musk and something completely male. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet and gently tried to tug her hand from his grasp. He didn't let go immediately, instead raising his eyes to look into hers. Time seemed to stand still and the only noise was the sound of their breathing. His grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly and he started to pull her towards him, her body willingly following.

Emily's phone rang, causing Hotch to drop her hand and both of them to step back from each other. He ran a hand through his hair as she scuttled away to pick up her cell phone from the island countertop.

"Prentiss." Her voice sounded a little ragged to her own ears. "What? Oh…" Emily's voice changed and she glanced over at Hotch. "Uhm, excuse me, this is just a personal call." She turned and walked out of the room, but not before Hotch heard her voice dip slightly into a soft, intimate coo as she said, "Hey, honey."

Hotch didn't realize his hand was curling into a fist.

Gibbs moved silently around the apartment, noting the neat, organized state. He knew Hotchner had a young son though he had never seen the child before. Emily had mentioned the boy was out of town with his aunt visiting his mother's side of the family. Good, no child needed to be exposed to this sort of thing. He moved towards the bedroom and paused to look at some framed photos hung on the wall. The boy was a bright haired thing with serious eyes. He could see some of Hotchner in the child, but a glance at another photo told him he also took after his mother.

Gibbs knew Haley Hotchner's story and he felt sympathy for the woman whose life ended too early and for the boy who lost his mother. He even felt sorry for Hotchner. When he had reamed out the FBI agent earlier about being prepared to live with the consequences knowing an innocent woman paid for his actions, he had forgotten that the man already knew what it felt like. Haley Hotchner had died because her ex-husband had pissed off a serial killer.

He really should apologize to the other man, but it wasn't in Gibbs' nature to do so. What happened with Haley should have made Hotchner more careful, more alert. Instead, he allowed himself to be sucked in by some flattery and a semi-pretty face, and Emily was likely going to pay the price for it.

Though, Gibbs thought as he made his way to the other man's bedroom, things weren't still adding up. He found Hotch's clothes, exactly where the other man said they would be. He didn't see any stains on them but Abby could find things the naked eye could not. He threw the clothes over his arm and as promised, started to leave the apartment.

Another photo on a wall near the door stopped him. It was a photo of Hotchner's entire team. It looked like it was taken at some office party. The blonde technical analyst was sitting in a chair, a party hat perched on her head. The others were gathered around her, leaning towards her for the photo. Emily was on the woman's right, one arm on the blonde's chair to help her balance. Hotchner was behind Emily, leaning towards the brunette, practically hunched over the woman's back. One of his hands was curled possessively around her waist and he had the biggest smile on his face that Gibbs had ever seen the man exhibit. Actually, Gibbs wasn't certain if he had ever seen Hotchner smile before. He definitely hadn't seen this somewhat giddy grin on the FBI agent's typically grim countenance.

He wondered for a guy who was supposed to be so smart and know so much about human nature why Hotchner didn't see his own feelings for Emily. Not that Gibbs was particularly thrilled to know the man had feelings for his friend. From what he had seen of Hotchner, Gibbs was less than impressed with him. A cold, political bureaucrat, who, as this case showed, was easily fooled.

Gibbs' lips thinned. However, it was Emily's choice. While he didn't think much of Hotchner, if Emily decided he was the guy for her, Gibbs wouldn't, couldn't interfere. He could make his opinions known and be there for her should things go bad, but he couldn't dictate her choices.

Before he left, he paused and took one more look around the apartment. Gibbs tilted his head as his eyes scanned the living room. It was dark so he had had to switch on the overhead lights. Shadows were cast throughout the room, but something had caught his eye. He tilted his head again and shifted his feet, trying to recreate the position he was in before and then he saw it: a faint glint on the floor right next to the couch.

Gibbs walked forward and bent down to retrieve the small memory card that was no bigger than half an inch. It was almost completely under the couch and its coloring blended with the carpet, almost camouflaging it. If the overhead lights had not just hit it a certain way and if Gibbs had not been standing where he had been, it would have been easily missed.

He examined his find. It was a memory card that looked similar to the ones that were in the cameras they used at NCIS. What was this doing here?

Garcia let out another small shriek of frustration as the trace she tried to run came up empty again.

"Are you alright, dear?"

The blonde's head snapped around and she saw Mrs. Mundy standing in the door way, a concerned look on her lined face.

Garcia tried to swallow her frustration and give the woman a pleasant smile. No, she wasn't okay. She had spent the last few hours futilely trying to find the source of the cameras that were set up in Emily's apartment and she was coming up with nothing.

"Just running into some issues, Mrs. Mundy," the younger woman said.

"Perhaps you should stop. You've been at this for hours and it's late."

Late? Garcia blinked and realized how dark it was. She glanced at her watch and gasped. It was almost midnight.

"Oh, Mrs. Mundy, I'm so sorry we've been here so long!" Garcia apologized. Where was Morgan?

As if reading her mind, Mrs. Mundy waved off the blonde's apologies. "Don't worry about it, dear. But you should get some rest. Your friend is already asleep."

"Asleep?" Morgan fell asleep on the job?

"Well, he was moving a lot of furniture around for me today and I'm afraid he exhausted himself. He fell asleep on my couch." She came forward to sit next to Garcia. She regarded the tech analyst with kind eyes. "What seems to be the issue?"

"Oh, er," Garcia said in a wary tone. "I'm just having trouble figuring out why Emily is having all these technical difficulties with her, uh, connections. WiFi and such."

Mrs. Mundy still looked kindly at the woman. "Bull feathers," she said in a pleasant tone. "Please, do you really think I was fooled by that young man's nonsensical dribble? Now, do you want to tell me the truth?"

Garcia swallowed. "Uh, we're trying to find the source of a signal."

"Hmmm, a backtrace," Mrs. Mundy mused as she leaned towards Garcia's laptop screen. "What protocols?"

"Huh? Wha-, wait, what do you mean?" The blonde gaped at the old woman in surprise.

"Dear, just because I'm old doesn't mean I know nothing about computers." She put on a pair of glasses. "They say two heads are better than one and from the looks of this you've been trying to trace a feed that's been bounced off of multiple servers in various countries."

Garcia could only gape at Mrs. Mundy.

"I won't ask what this is about, but if it's going to help Emily, I'm more than happy to lend a hand." Her fingers began to fly over the keyboard but paused when Garcia continued to stare at her. "Is something wrong, dear?"

"It's just-, I-, Morgan…"

"Oh that." The old woman blushed. "Yes, I guess I should have said something earlier but I did need a few things moved about, though maybe not that many." She blushed an even deeper pink. "I was trying to get the young man to remove his jacket and hopefully his shirt but I believe he's a bit shy."

"Mrs. Mundy!"

"Dear, I'm old, not dead." She snorted delicately. "Besides, trying to fool me with words like "megatron"? Really?"

Garcia smiled at the other woman and then patted her shoulder. "I think you've just become my new hero, Mrs. Mundy."