A/N: Thank you for everyone's patience regarding my fics. An assorted series of things, mostly work related, has prevented me from doing too much writing. If I can make the same kind of money from writing fan fic, I'd rather do that!

I hope folks enjoy this. It is getting closer to an ending. Let me know what you think.

Hotch placed his trembling hands under the cold stream of water as it flowed quietly from the faucet. He cupped a small amount and bent over to splash it onto this face. He repeated this several times before he raised his head to stare into the mirror, hands gripping the sides of the sink. Beads of water dripped down his face as his shadowed eyes stared back at him.

His recently regained memories played out in a kaleidoscope of disjointed scenes, some clearer than others, all leaving him unsettled. He could remember the ugly, twisted look on Beth's face as she snarled out the obscene plans she had for Emily, but he couldn't remember what the man in the apartment looked like. He could remember the cold panic that filled him as his limbs refused to work. If he didn't move, if he didn't stop them, they would hurt Emily. He couldn't let that happen, but he was powerless to do anything. That inability to move, the helplessness sent him back to his time with Foyet. Had he been able to work his limbs, they would have been thrashing about in fevered panic.

His hands. Hotch could remember the other man's hands as they closed around Beth's throat, cutting off her screams in a strangled gasp as he tightened his grip. They were large hands. Strong hands. A that scar ran on his right one. His hands, Hotch would remember the man's hands, but he couldn't remember his face.

He could almost hear the sick sound Beth's body made as the man let go and she hit the floor, dead. He could do nothing as the man wrapped her body in a blanket and left the apartment with her. He came back for Hotch, throwing him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Hotch was a big man, tall and lean with muscle that made him heavier than he looked, but this man carried him easily and with little difficulty, only omitting a soft grunt as Hotch was hoisted up.

His memories become fuzzy after that. Hotch remembered the vague sensation of being jostled about as the man went up and down stairs. He found himself being dropped unceremoniously into a bed, his bed. The scent of the sheets were familiar but not comforting. He could feel panic rise in him again with the thought of a stranger in his home, and he helpless. He flashed back to Foyet again and while he desperately struggled to get up, but his body failed to respond. He could only lie there helplessly as the man moved around in his apartment. Hotch waited anxiously, wondering what he would do next.

He could feel the man stand next to the bed, looking down at him, but he couldn't turn his head to see the man's face.

"You don't deserve her," the man said in a gruff voice. "Any man who could pass over her for a cheap whore like Beth Clemmons, doesn't deserve someone as fine and wonderful as Emily. She's better off without you. You don't deserve her. Cheap trash, that's what you deserve."

Hotch waited for a blow, a strike from this man who stood over his helpless body, but the man simply moved away. Hotch could hear him moving around in the apartment and the front door close after him. He was alone, but still helpless.

His memories completely disappear after that and Hotch realized he must have fully succumbed to the effects of the drug and fallen unconscious.

Hotch hands gripped the sides of the sink and he peered at his reflection in the mirror. Adrenaline coursed through his body as the remembered panic and fear from that night filled him. It was natural to be scared in that situation, to feel that fear, but Hotch knew it wasn't all about himself. That night, he wasn't so much frightened for himself, but for Emily.

Beth wanted to hurt her, torture her before she killed Emily, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was powerless and all he could do was listen to every sick detail of Beth's plan. But it wasn't even Beth that scared him the most. It was the man. The faceless man with the scar on his right hand. Hotch could almost feel the danger radiating off of him. This man wanted Emily. This man would hurt Emily. This man would kill Emily, but not for a very long time. He would prolong her suffering for his own sick desires.

And Hotch could not stop him.

Hotch stared at his reflection and watched as his mouth thinned into a single line, his lips disappearing as his eyes hardened into the cold onyx.

He was no longer helpless, no longer paralyzed by whatever drug was given to him. He could protect Emily Prentiss now. No man was going to get near her. Hotch didn't realize it as he stood in the bathroom, wiping his face dry with a towel, but his own situation became secondary in his single-minded focus to make sure that this faceless, nameless threat got nowhere near the beautiful brunette.

For the first time in 48 hours, Hotch felt focused, determined. The confusion, the doubt was gone and he knew what he had to do, what he would do. He opened the bathroom door to return to the living room and almost ran into Gibbs who had been waiting for him in the hallway.

The two men silently regarded each other, one man, a man of few words, the other who knew the power of silence. Gibbs' icy blue eyes scrutinized Hotch closely and the younger man submitted to the intent examination. Hotch had never met a man as hard to read as Gibbs. Nor as cold. Yet, Prentiss seemed to find something inside the man that made her feel comfortable enough to go Gibbs and ask for help, something she resisted doing with her own teammates, with him. The BAU members had to practically strong arm Emily to accept help, yet she was the first to give it.

However, with Gibbs, she never hesitated in seeking him out. A flare of jealousy went up in Hotch that he tried to hide. He thought he was successful, but something in his eyes must have betrayed him as Gibbs' gaze sharpened. The NCIS man took a half step towards Hotch, his intense stare never wavering.

Hotch felt his irritation and anger flare wildly up within him. Who did this man think he was acting so territorial about his Emily?

His heart and all thoughts stopped saved for one, His Emily? In that single moment, everything became so simple and clear: his overwhelming desire to protect Emily, his intense fear for her safety, his jealousy over her relationship with Gibbs. Hotch realized then and there, he had feelings for the brunette. Strong feelings, perhaps he was even in love with her.

He couldn't hide his emotions this time and the stunned look on Hotch's face told Gibbs that the FBI agent realized something Jethro had suspected for a while: Aaron Hotchner had feelings for Emily.

"You going to do anything about it?" was Gibbs' quiet question.

What "it" was didn't need to be explained. Hotch knew his feelings were written all over his face and that Gibbs had read them accurately. However, Aaron had no answer for the NCIS agent's question. What was Hotch going to do about his newly realized feelings?

"Now's not the time," the dark-haired man replied slowly. He shook his head. "Not with this murder investigation hanging over my head."

"And the threat to Emily," Gibbs added. He watched as Hotch's gaze hardened to the same look he saw when the younger man exited the bathroom. He let out a soft grunt of satisfaction. "Nice to know you're thinking straight. Kramer is looking for this 'other woman'. If he catches wind you're interested in Emily, he'll drag her into his investigation." He looked sharply at Hotch. "I won't have her go through that, have her be the subject of whispers and glances. She's been through enough with Doyle."

"And you don't think I know that?" Hotch snapped.

"I sometimes wonder," Gibbs growled back. "You were after all the one who cut her off, set her adrift while Doyle was out there."

Hotch swallowed an annoyed retort. It wasn't the first time he had this argument with Gibbs and every time the other man brought it up, he felt the same overwhelming feelings of guilt over his decision to send Emily into hiding. At the time, he thought it was the only option open to them, but with the luxury of distance from the situation, he now doubted the wisdom of his actions. He had essentially left Emily alone, only able to rely on herself, exactly what the team had rebelled against when she decided to take on Doyle alone. Hotch had forced her into that situation and he regretted it every day.

But he wasn't going to admit that to Gibbs.

"I am well aware of your feelings," Hotch replied in a cold voice. "Right now, that incident and this conversation are irrelevant. We have a killer to catch, a killer who appears to be focused on Prentiss. That takes priority."

Gibbs' mouth thinned and his eyes bore into Hotch. The other man glared back unflinchingly. The staring contest might have gone on for longer if Rossi had not stepped into the hallway looking for both men. Dave glanced from one to the other, trying to discern what had occurred.

"Am I interrupting anything?" he asked in the mildest of voices.

Two heartbeats went by before Hotch answered. "No, nothing. Right Gibbs?"

Another two heartbeats passed before Gibbs merely grunted and swung around to look at Rossi. "No nothing." His head tilted to the side. "You got those tapes?"

Rossi looked at the two men a moment longer and then nodded. "We're just about to fire them up."

Gibbs merely grunted again and brushed passed Rossi. Dave stared after the NCIS agent's retreating back for a moment before he turned back to look at Hotch, an eyebrow raised in inquiry. "Everything okay?" His sharp eyes didn't miss the fact that his friend's shirt collar and cuffs were slightly damp.

"I remember a little more from that night," Hotch replied reluctantly.

Rossi straightened and his eyes sharpened. "You do? What do you remember?"

"They wanted to hurt Emily. That was their plan, I think. Hurt her and frame me for it. Beth, Beth intended to make her suffer first," Hotch responded slowly.

"They? You remember another person?"

"A man. Can't remember his face or if Beth ever said his name. Big brute, strong and he has a scar on the back of his left hand. A curving scar near the knuckles. I do know he's the one who took me back to my apartment."

"Then we need to take a look at those tapes," Rossi replied. "If he took you back, he should show up on one of them."

Hotch nodded. "Let's go look at them. The sooner we ID this guy, the sooner we can stop him from coming after Emily."

The two men headed back to the living room where Morgan and JJ had joined Gibbs and Prentiss.

"Emily was telling us you remember a little bit more that night," Morgan asked Hotch.

Hotch glanced at Emily who looked at him with worried eyes. He nodded in response to the other man's question. "There was a man there with Beth. They drugged me and I think they might have been planning to do something to Prentiss and frame me. The man killed Beth. I can't remember his face, but he has a scar on the back of his hand. I do know he was the one who took me back to my apartment. He has to be on those tapes. Every entrance has a camera on it as well as the stairwells, one on each floor."

"Could he have disabled them?" JJ asked as she loaded up the video on the laptop.

"They're very discreet and on a closed system. Hard to hack into and if you don't know where the cameras are, hard to take out all of them."

"Well find out," JJ murmured as she pressed play.

It took JJ a few minutes to find the appropriate time period. There were four different entry points into Hotch's apartment building. They skipped the front entrance for now and started with the least used doors which were the back and west side entries. After an hour of looking through video for the four entrances, they had found nothing.

"It has to be here," Hotch murmured. "There wasn't even a blip to show the recording had been stopped or edited."

"Where do you park your car?" Gibbs asked.

"Garage," Hotch replied. "But the elevator from there is well trafficked." He sighed. "But worth a shot. JJ, plug in that video."

Fifteen minutes later they came up dry, the garage elevator video showing nothing.

"How the Hell did he get you into your apartment, Hotch?" Morgan asked in frustration.

"I don't know!" Hotch was equally frustrated.

"Think harder," Gibbs' hard voice ordered. "There's got to be another way upstairs."

Hotch glared at the man but knew he was right. He stared off into space, trying desperately to think of another way up to his apartment. There weren't many options, it was a secure building. It was why he was living there. Then it hit him.

"Service elevator in the garage," Hotch blurted out abruptly. "It's at the far end of the garage."

"Is there a camera?" JJ asked as she pulled up the menu that organized the entries for the different cameras.

"Not in the camera, but in the elevator itself. Sometimes residents use the service elevators if they're transporting large things to their car in the garage. They installed the camera to make sure nothing happens to anyone." He leaned over JJ's shoulder and pointed to an entry. "SEG1, I think that's the entry for it."

JJ started the video and found the right time period. She was still scrolling through the video when Emily cried out. "Stop! Right there."

JJ immediately paused the film, rewound it a bit and allowed the video to play at normal speed. They all watched as a large man entered the elevator carrying rolled up rug thrown over one shoulder.

Rossi whistled. "Big brute," he murmured as he peered at the screen. They couldn't see Hotch, but it was obvious he was in the rolled up rug.

"He's not looking up into the camera," JJ murmured.

"Without seeing Hotchner, we can't even prove that's anything more than a rug," Gibbs added.

"But it's him," Hotch replied grimly as the man reached up to adjust his burden. He reached over JJ to freeze the picture. "The scar on the back of his hand."

"We need to see his face," Morgan replied.

"We're not getting it off this tape," JJ sighed as the man stepped off the elevator, the camera never once catching his face.

"Maybe we do," Emily replied as she moved over next to JJ. She rewound the tape and then paused it. "What do you see?"

Everyone peered at the tape, but couldn't see what Prentiss was excited about. "You can't see his face, Em," Morgan replied.

"Yes, you can, his profile at least," Emily told him. "Look at the control panel next to him. It's highly polished and reflective. What do you see there?"

They all gazed at where she indicated and just there, they could make out the hawk-like profiled of the killer.

"Gotcha," Hotch breathed out.